Amelia looked awful; hair, usually so soft and feathery, was limp. She was so pale.Lifting her glasses, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, ...ave me a half-hearted smile, and reached for my hand. Her touch was delicate and her hand ice cold.Peter looked at me from behind her.“What did you do to her?” I asked in a whisper.Then all the memories flooded back. I inhaled sharply and winced at the pain. “Where’s Rufus? Is he okay?”Amelia nodded. She finally spoke. “He’s at the vet. "Mr. Black? Mr. Black, is that you? Where are you?" a girl's voice was calling as it came around the side of the house."I'm back by the pool! I need help!" I yelled.I heard the sound of sandals slapping on the brick walkway, and then the girl exclaimed, "Oh my God!' and started running. Finally I could see her; it was my daughter's friend Angela. She ran right up next to me and crouched down. One hand was over her mouth and the other reached out to gently touch my chest. She had started. More

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