Section 01 11.19.2006
Section 02 11.20.2006
Section 03 11.23.2006

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS, DINING ROOM – NIGHT

The dining room is paneled with blonde oak. The decorative inlay, even near the ceiling, has been cleaned and restored. Paintings hang on the walls, and the crystal chandelier, having been completely dusted, glimmers radiantly.

Mrs. Reynolds decides that the dining room table is too large for three people to sit and dine comfortably. In order to converse, they would have to speak loudly to each other across the expanse of the table, which would hardly be inimical to mood. However, since tonight marks a special occasion, she wants to use the room. She places bouquets of cut flowers, skillfully arranged, on half of the table to create a more intimate setting.

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS – NIGHT

Dr. Reynolds arrives home with a briefcase full of paperwork and office notes. He sets it down by the bottom of the stairs and hangs his wool overcoat on the clothes tree. The spicy scent of sandalwood and cinnamon precedes his wife’s greeting.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Welcome home, dear.

Dr. Reynolds is stunned to see his wife in a black formal evening gown complete with a double strand of enormous pearls, diamond earrings, and a butterfly brooch fashioned from gold, fire opals, and obsidian. He opens his arms to embrace her and give her a warm kiss on the lips, but she only gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

MRS. REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
I spent a lot of time getting dolled up and I don’t want to be mussed just yet.

DR. REYNOLDS
You look gorgeous. I haven’t seen that dress since our first anniversary. I don’t remember giving you that butterfly brooch though.

MRS. REYNOLDS
It’s been in my family for generations. I’ve never really liked it as a brooch though. Perhaps I’ll have it made into a necklace.

DR. REYNOLDS
I think it’s lovely as it is.

Detecting the aroma of dinner wafting from the kitchen, Dr. Reynolds sniffs the air and his stomach rumbles.

DR. REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
Something smells great.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Since I can buy directly from the local farmers, the quality is much better. Tonight, we’re having crown roast of pork with caramelized apples and sweet onions, garlic mashed potatoes, string beans with slivered almonds, and a simple mache salad with honey Dijon-mustard dressing. Dessert will be pears poached in port wine with creme fraiche.

DR. REYNOLDS
If you’re going to cook like that I’ll be home every night for dinner. Where’s Claire?

MRS. REYNOLDS
She’s in her room pouting. Apparently I caused some drama between her and one of her new friends.

DR. REYNOLDS
How did that happen?

MRS. REYNOLDS
Just a case of miscommunication. High school. Now go get cleaned up and come to dinner. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to prepare it, and I want us to enjoy it as a family.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Claire is sitting at her desk reading and doing homework when her father knocks on the door.

CLAIRE
Come in.

DR. REYNOLDS
Hi, honey. Mom said you had a rough day.

Dr. Reynolds puts a warm hand on Claire’s shoulder, squeezes gently, and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

CLAIRE
Tell me mother’s not acting funny. Did you see how she’s dressed? She forgot to pick me up after school. Do you ever remember that happening before?

Dr. Reynolds rubs his jaw thoughtfully.

DR. REYNOLDS
No. But we’re in different circumstances now. Can you forgive her this once? Come downstairs for dinner. It would mean a lot to her.

CLAIRE
She’s trying to get me to eat meat again.

DR. REYNOLDS
Well we can put a stop to that. Compromise okay?

CLAIRE
Okay.

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS, DINING ROOM – NIGHT

An uncomfortable absence of conversation reigns over the clash of silverware and plates. Claire sits sullenly picking over her salad. Mrs. Reynolds is displeased as evidenced by her quick jabbing motions with her knife and fork and the grim line of her mouth. Though dinner is superbly prepared and presented, Dr. Reynolds can hardly enjoy it, caught as he is in a war between the two most important people in his life.

DR. REYNOLDS
The food is delicious, dear.

MRS. REYNOLDS
I’m glad someone appreciates what I do for this family.

CLAIRE
It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you do, mother.

MRS. REYNOLDS
What if I told you everything here is locally grown and harvested? The pig lived a happy life, and was killed humanely before winding up on our dinner table.

CLAIRE
I don’t care. I’m not eating meat no matter how well it’s prepared.

MRS. REYNOLDS
You mean you don’t care about my feelings or how hard I’m working to bring our family together.

CLAIRE
We haven’t been a quote unquote real family in a long time. Dad’s always working late and I don’t think you’ve been happy since the day I was born.

DR. REYNOLDS
That’s not fair. It’s not easy to make ends meet these days, honey. I have to work long hours to support us. I’m needed, not just here at home, but also by the police department and the hospital.

MRS. REYNOLDS
No, Michael, let her finish her rant. She’s been hateful to me for a long time. I’m tired of her festering resentment. Let’s just get it all out in the open and deal with it once and for all.

CLAIRE
I’ve been hateful? Fine, if that’s the way you see it I know I won’t convince you otherwise.

DR. REYNOLDS
Okay let’s all take a deep breath and calm down. We agreed not to put undue pressure on Claire, remember?

MRS. REYNOLDS
You always take her side. Why can’t she be more open-minded?

CLAIRE
I’m so sick of this life.

MRS. REYNOLDS
It’s such a terrible ordeal isn’t it? Going to school, living beneath the roof we provide, eating the food we prepare, and shitting all over us with your holier-than-thou attitude.

DR. REYNOLDS
Audrey! That’s enough!

Claire pushes her chair back and stalks off. She won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

MRS. REYNOLDS
If you don’t do something about her negativity I will. Perhaps we have reached the end of our journey together, Michael.

DR. REYNOLDS
Please, Audrey. I don’t know what’s happened to you two. You used to be so close.

MRS. REYNOLDS
You’re blind to the truth, and until you acknowledge the spoiled brat that our daughter has become there can be no progress.

DR. REYNOLDS
We decided a long time ago that we would accept our daughter as she is. So she’s a vegetarian. That’s such a tiny thing in comparison to her qualities. She’s polite, intelligent, caring, artistic. Besides, studies show that vegetarians actually are healthier in the long term.

MRS. REYNOLDS
I expected more loyalty from you.

DR. REYNOLDS
Stop right there. Loyalty? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?

Mrs. Reynolds furrows her brow and looks at the ceiling. She lets out a long breath and laughs.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Perhaps you’re right, and I am being silly.

DR. REYNOLDS
I’m glad to hear you say that. I think if we all relax, Claire included, everything will start to come together. In the past I haven’t been there for you or Claire, but I want to do better. I want a second chance to be the father I should be, and the husband I can be.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Of course you’re right. Finish your dinner, and I’ll go get dessert.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Claire is lying on her bed writing a note to Katherine:

Dear Katherine, sometimes we meet people and right away there is a connection. Although we’ve just met, I want to be your friend. I don’t think it’s right that you shut me out without a chance to explain. I know you and Collette have some bad history. Collette wanted to tell me about it, but I wouldn’t discuss it until I heard your side first. If I had known this was going to happen, I would have walked home from school, but at the time I thought my mom was in trouble, and it was an emergency situation. Please can we find time to talk? Your Friend, Claire.

There is a soft knock at her door. The knob turns slowly then stops because Claire locked it.
DR. REYNOLDS
Claire, are you all right?

CLAIRE
I’m fine, dad.

DR. REYNOLDS
Are you sure? Do you want to talk?

CLAIRE
Just tell her I’m sorry, okay?

DR. REYNOLDS
Can’t you let me in?

CLAIRE
I won’t do anything stupid. I promise we’ll talk tomorrow.

DR. REYNOLDS
Promise?

CLAIRE
Yes.

DR. REYNOLDS
I wrote a number for Dr. Amanda Trelane. Would you consider calling her? I think it’s important to continue your treatment since you’ve made such excellent progress.

CLAIRE
I’m fine.

DR. REYNOLDS
Just think about okay, honey? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

CLAIRE
I’ll think about it.

DR. REYNOLDS
You know I love you very much. And your mother loves you too.

CLAIRE
I love you too, dad.

A folded slip of paper slides under the door. Claire places the note in an envelope addressed to Katherine, and puts it in her book bag so she won’t forget it on Monday morning. The slip of paper she leaves lying on the floor.

INT. MANSION, LIBRARY - MORNING
Augustus Morgan paces in the cold hour before dawn. He scans the shelves, finds the spine of a book with which he is altogether too familiar. Pulling the tome from its resting place, he presses an almost invisible button set flush with the back of the bookcase. A disk of flooring at the bottom of the stairs slides away to reveal a matching set of circular stairs descending into a pallid gloom.

INT. MANSION, OCTAGONAL ROOM - MORNING
Carefully negotiating the stairs with an electric lamp, Augustus stands in an octagonal room hung with luxurious Belgian tapestries depicting the love triangle between Venus, Mars, and Vulcan. An enormous mirror set in a gold frame like the twisting rays of the sun is mounted on the only bare wall.

In the center of the room is a red chaise and a low, red-lacquered table. A small wooden box rests on the table.

Augustus advances on the mirror and stares into it searching the spaces between his image and the reflected edges. After a few moments, a dry voice like the susurration of serpent scales over desiccated leaves. Augustus lowers his eyes deferentially.

VOICE
They’re coming tonight?

AUGUSTUS
Yes.

VOICE
Wrap the box I left on the table, and give it to the daughter before they leave. Let her open it privately at home. The contents need not concern you. Have you had further contact with the alternate?

AUGUSTUS
No, but I am told she has taken an apprentice.

VOICE
She must not be allowed to train an ally. She has already become too strong, and fancies herself to be more important than her station.

AUGUSTUS
How shall we proceed?

VOICE
Do not contact the alternate directly, but slay her student. Discreetly. Use resources that cannot be directly connected to us.

AUGUSTUS
And the sample?

VOICE
Red and ripe, but the concentration was lacking.

AUGUSTUS
Additional funds are required. There have been additional expenses maintaining the estate and variations in the plan entail unforeseen expenditures.

VOICE
Monies will be transferred to your personal account. Manage them more wisely.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – MORNING

Sunday morning finds Claire wishing that it was a school day so she wouldn’t have to face her mother. She thinks of a special she saw on the National Geographic channel about the history of shaving, and how modern razor blades were so sharp that they could slip between molecular bonds. How easy it would be to run a hot bath, slip into the water as warm as blood, and glide a double-edged razor down the central veins of her wrists; letting the invisible keenness liberate her soul from her body as easily as it divided a strand of hair.

But she had taken that path before, and now over a year later, nothing had really changed. Claire touches the thick axial scars on her wrists that required her to wear long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. Would she forever be consigned to live in fall and winter because of them? Perhaps later she’d permit herself the fantasy of eternal slumber, the numbness of nonexistence, but for now she had promises to keep, and a friend who was alone and hurting. A knock on the door.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Claire, are you awake?

CLAIRE
Yes, mother.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Don’t forget we have dinner plans tonight with Mr. Morgan. I want you to be on your best behavior.

CLAIRE
Yes.

MRS. REYNOLDS
We’ll discuss what you’ll wear this afternoon. Shower early enough so that I have time to do your hair. Do we have an understanding?

CLAIRE
Mother.

After Claire rises, she notices the piece of paper her father slipped under her door last night lying on the floor like a dead butterfly. A pang of guilt causes her to pick it up and slip it into the pocket of her jacket.

INT. CARETAKER’S COTTAGE - DAY
In an empty room, Fitch arranges squat tallow candles around the edges of a large chalk circle. A square is inscribed inside the circle. Between each side of the square and the circumference of the circle is a rune.

INT. MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
Dr. Reynolds is getting dressed for dinner. He likes the cut of the vintage tuxedo his wife has chosen for him. Admiring his profile in the mirror, Dr. Reynolds feels years younger. Mrs. Reynolds sidles up behind him, and her hands glide up his arms before coming together in the center of his chest in a creamy embrace.

MRS. REYNOLDS
You look so handsome and delicious.

DR. REYNOLDS
You were right, dear. As always.

MRS. REYNOLDS
I want you to wear something else for me.

Mrs. Reynolds places a tiepin in his hand, a gold scarab with ruby eyes.

MRS. REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
Now if we do something about Claire, our family will be perfect.

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS - NIGHT
Claire is waiting by the front door for her parents. Her hair has been styled into an elegant French twist; several loose tendrils accentuate her wide-eyed innocence. She wears a long pink dress, a white cashmere sweater, a strand of pearls, and a small sequined purse. Dr. Reynolds whistles when he sees her.

DR. REYNOLDS
You look beautiful, honey.

Her mother descends the stairs like a smoldering flame. Her red dress hugs her slim figure in all the right places; the butterfly glittering on her breast. She has chosen to wear her hair in a cascade of loose auburn waves, a shade darker than Claire’s. Diamond earrings adorn her ears and a matching diamond necklace is balanced above her cleavage.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Are we ready to go?

CLAIRE
Yes.

MRS. REYNOLDS
I hope you have more than monosyllabic answers in your conversational repertoire at dinner, Claire.

EXT. MANSION – NIGHT

At the black gate leading to the mansion, Dr. Reynolds climbs out of the car and presses the buzzer. After speaking into the intercom, the gate swings inward allowing them to continue onward.

The winding drive takes them past formal gardens, ancient trees, fenced-in paddocks, and stables. The mansion was imposing even from a distance. Now nearing front entrance, the building trades its beauty for a forbidding majesty.

INT. MANSION, FOYER - NIGHT
A tall thin butler dressed in a suit fashionable a hundred years ago admits the Reynolds into the foyer. The vaulted ceiling dwindles into darkness. Wall sconces simulating candles scatter light across black granite tiles. An enormous stylized image of the sun created from Italian white marble and Jerusalem gold marble is inlaid into the floor.

BUTLER
Good evening, may I take your coats? Mr. Morgan awaits you in the Winter Garden.

DR. REYNOLDS
Thank you.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Magnificent.

CLAIRE
I’m cold. I’ll keep my sweater on.

After hanging their coats in the cloakroom, the butler leads them down a long gallery displaying sculptures, tapestries, drawings, and paintings by renaissance masters. Large mirrors in ornate frames are interspersed at regular intervals along the hallway. Hand-painted murals on the curved ceiling feature biblical and angelic motifs.

INT. MANSION, GREENHOUSE
The gallery leads to the greenhouse that is visible from the outside as a large glass dome breaking the line of the roof. Within, the enormous greenhouse brings indoors a large sampling of plants: small trees, shrubs, cacti, orchids, annuals, and perennials. The scent of many different flowers perfumes the air.

Augustus Morgan, dressed in a tuxedo, sitting on a bench, is drinking from a large snifter of cognac. A cigar smolders in a crystal ashtray at his elbow. He rises when he sees his guests.

AUGUSTUS
Welcome to my home, Dr. Reynolds.

DR. REYNOLDS
Thank you for the invitation, though I’m somewhat mystified as to the occasion. Have we met?

AUGUSTUS
We have not yet had the direct pleasure. Your family is lovely, doctor.

Augustus takes Mrs. Reynolds’ hand and bends over it, letting his lips brush the back of it lightly.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Audrey.

DR. REYNOLDS
This is our daughter, Claire.

AUGUSTUS
Pleased to meet you young lady.

Augustus kisses Claire’s hand in the same manner as he did her mother’s. Claire hides her distaste.

CLAIRE
Can I use your bathroom?

AUGUSTUS
Why certainly my dear. Gerald will show you the way, and then bring you to the dining room.

Claire follows the butler to the guest bathroom.

INT. MANSION, BATHROOM

The bathroom has modern amenities but is decorated with Spanish accents. The soap, shaped like seashells, look brand new. Claire puts her purse down and opens it. She takes a sterile cotton swab from a Ziploc plastic bag. Carefully she runs the tip of the swab over the area where Augustus’ lips had been pressed to the back of her hand. Then she replaces the cotton swab back in the Ziploc bag and seals it shut. She washes her hands, dries them, and flushes the toilet. After counting to fifty she exits the bathroom. The butler is waiting for her a discreet distance away.

INT. MANSION, BANQUET HALL – NIGHT

The banquet hall is a dramatic room crowned by an arched ceiling thirty feet high. At one end of the room is an enormous chimney, its three fireplace openings topped by a massive frieze of carved limestone depicting a hunting scene complete with horses, hounds, riders, and prey. At the other of the cavernous chamber, a raised dais supports a beautiful grand piano and an intricately carved harp. Belgian tapestries woven with scenes from Wagner’s operas hang from the walls.

Augustus sits at the head of the table, her parents on his left hand side. The butler pulls out the chair immediately on Augustus’ right for Claire.

DR. REYNOLDS
Claire, it seems we share a common ancestry with Mr. Morgan.

Augustus pats Claire’s hand, as pleasant a sensation as the slapping of a tarantula’s abdomen on her skin.

AUGUSTUS
Genealogy is a hobby of mine, and my research tells me that on your mother’s side, five generations back, we had the same grandfather.

MRS. REYNOLDS
That’s why Mr. Morgan invited us. He likes to meet his relations no matter how far removed.

AUGUSTUS
I fear I’m the last of my line, being without direct descendents.

MRS. REYNOLDS
No brothers or sisters or sons or daughters?

AUGUSTUS
None living. My wife died early, during labor, and I never fell in love again.

DR. REYNOLDS
My condolences.

AUGUSTUS
I’ve been blessed in many other avenues. I hardly have cause for complaint. My only regret is that this house and this land shall be divided up by the probate court after my death since I have no heirs.

Servants begin carrying in great platters of food: plates of cheeses, slices of pate, roasted pheasant with its head still attached, whole baked fish. The feature attraction though is a huge rack of standing rib roast. Claire cringes inside when the butler slices a thick slab of beef with an electric carving knife, revealing a rare red interior. Warm blood oozes from the cut, and soon the bone-white platter is red too, swimming in the blood-tinged juice.

A plate of red meat is placed in front of her, quivering like raw liver. The metallic smell of blood rises from the prime beef, making Claire nauseous. She chews on a dinner roll to quiet her stomach. Her parents watch her as they cut great mouthfuls of prime rib with sharp steak knives, chewing with undisguised pleasure.

DR. REYNOLDS
The prime rib is superb tonight. Look how tender and juicy it is.

Claire’s stomach roils as she watches her father excise a huge hunk of flesh and stuff it in his mouth, fat and all.

AUGUSTUS
Is the meat not cooked to your taste, dear?

CLAIRE
It’s cooked fine. It’s just that I don’t eat meat.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Claire, dear, if you would just try a bite I’m sure you’ll love it.

AUGUSTUS
Gerald will take you to the kitchen and the cook will prepare anything you like. I have some matters to discuss with your parents.

INT. MANSION, KITCHEN – NIGHT

There isn’t just one kitchen, but three fully furnished kitchens. There is a kitchen devoted solely to rotisserie, another one for pastries, and a main kitchen presided over by a short round woman in a white uniform and chef’s hat. A tall boy with curly brown hair, large dark eyes, plump red lips is setting a butcher-block table for three people. Wire-rim glasses give him a scholarly look, and he looks at Claire with a superior mien.

BUTLER
Master Alex, would you set another place for our guest?

Alex sighs and his shoulders slump as if he was being asked to bring golden apples from the gardens of Atlas, but he does as the butler asks.

COOK
Not liking what I cooked?

CLAIRE
I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a fine cook, but I’m a vegetarian.

COOK
A vegetarian? No wonder you’re all skin and bones. So you don’t eat steak or ham or chicken?

CLAIRE
No, but I do eat eggs and cheese.

COOK
How about a nice omelet then with Swiss cheese and wild mushrooms?

CLAIRE
That sounds delicious but it also sounds like a lot of trouble. I don’t want you to go to such fuss for me. You must be exhausted after cooking all the food in the dining room.
The cooks laughs, a loud braying sound.

COOK
Don’t you worry about me, dearie. Have a seat and I’ll fix you the best omelet you’ve ever had and a side of fried potatoes. I never met an Irish girl who didn’t eat potatoes.

CLAIRE
How did you know I was Irish?

COOK
Your hair is almost as orange as the carrots I pull from the garden, and your skin is as white as milk. I can sense things, and it’s clear to me that you’ve the luck of leprechauns about you.

Claire blushes.

ALEX
Fairy tales and nonsense. There’s no such thing as luck, only the known and the unknown. All things have a beginning and an end. Causality rules the universe. Just because we cannot see the impetus doesn’t mean that a body in motion moves of its own accord. Good fortune, like immaculate conception, is a myth.

CLAIRE
I believe in luck.

ALEX
Of course you would, you’re a girl being educated in a public institution.

CLAIRE
What makes you so smart?

ALEX
As I am being groomed to be the heir of Winterspring by Mr. Morgan, I have access to the finest tutors and materials. My future knows no bounds. After dinner I’ll show you the library. I’m reading all the books there, one by one.

INT. TRUFFLES RESTAURANT – EVENING

Truffles is a cozy French restaurant, understated and modern. There is a great curving oak bar where patrons may choose from an excellent assortment of wines or mixed drinks and order appetizers. The main dining area consists of only a dozen tables, but Truffles has always focused on quality over quantity.

Monica sits in a secluded corner of the restaurant drinking a crisp 2002 Chateau Montelena, Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley. Although still a young wine, the 2002 is drinkable now, showing great complexity including smoky notes beneath subtle layers of cinnamon, vanilla, and strawberry.

Truffles is Monica’s favorite local restaurant. The chef is capable and uses mostly seasonal ingredients purchased from area suppliers. The dishes heavily influenced by the chef’s classic French training, but with hints of South American influence. The plating is competent, and the flavors are intense.

Katherine’s discomfort contrasts Monica’s ease with the setting. Although her mind is resolute, a small fluttering in her heart fans a flicker of doubt.

MONICA
This is my favorite restaurant and I thought a celebratory dinner is in order to commemorate your passage from childhood to self-awareness. From now on your destiny shall be in your hands, and once you leave my service you shall know the world as I know it; the sun is a rose that blossoms for me, the night is my shield, and knowledge is a delicious spring ever flowing.

KATHERINE
I am ready to make whatever sacrifices may be necessary to achieve my goals.

MONICA
I believe that you are my dear. Have you given consideration to the fact that you will not know what gifts you will receive in exchange for your service?

KATHERINE
As long as I am able to speak with the dead, nothing else matters.

MONICA
Neither wealth or domination?

They fall silent as the waiter approaches to take their order. Monica chooses a number of small appetizers for both of them: Chilean sea bass with mushrooms and leeks, grilled filet mignon studded with garlic slivers, seared scallops with mashed potatoes and horseradish, foie gras and fresh figs, and finishing with a simple salad with a light buttermilk dressing to cleanse the palate. When the waiter leaves they resume their conversation.

KATHERINE
Those avenues didn’t appeal to me.

MONICA
I think you may be choosing a path that is too esoteric. You have a few days left to change your mind.

KATHERINE
Thursday, on Halloween, at midnight then?

MONICA
My house. Here is the address.

Monica gives Katherine a piece of paper. She pours a generous amount of wine into Katherine’s goblet.

KATHERINE
I don’t drink alcohol, I’m underage.

MONICA
Come now. The time for such considerations has surely passed. There’s no one here to tell on you, and it’s time for you to learn to appreciate the finer things in life. Take your glass, and I’ll propose a toast.

Katherine takes her glass uncertainly and raises it to her lips.

MONICA (CONT’D)
Not like that. Swirl the wine gently. Observe the color in the candlelight while it breathes. Wine is alive you know. There is a time when it is too young, and a time when it is too old. Between those signposts is a moment of perfection for the grape to transcend its flesh.

Katherine mimics Monica’s practiced movements.

KATHERINE
What shall we drink to?

MONICA
To an everlasting friendship of course.

Monica watches Katherine sip cautiously. She laughs at the face Katherine makes.

MONICA (CONT’D)
You’ll come to appreciate the darker, more noble vintages just as I have.
When the bill arrives, Monica glances at the total, and leaves $420 in cash, telling the grateful waiter to keep the change.

INT. MANSION, LIBRARY

Claire is full and content. The cook was right, she did prepare the best omelette Claire had ever eaten. Following Alex to the library, she isn’t sure what to make of Alex. On one hand, his arrogance disgusted her, but on the other hand it seemed to disguise something else. She detected nervousness beneath his apparent self-assurance, a disquieting fear despite his bluster about his forthcoming inheritance. Alex sweeps his arm across the vast vista of books.

ALEX
There are over ten thousand volumes in here representing a sample of the knowledge of the ages. Mr. Morgan is fastidious about his collection. Many of these books are first editions or out of print. He never lets them out of his sight. Gerald told me that years ago some extremely rare books were stolen, and Mr. Morgan has never quite gotten over it.

CLAIRE
How many have you read so far?

ALEX
Twelve.

CLAIRE
How long did that take you?

Alex fidgets.

ALEX
A year.

CLAIRE
I see.

ALEX
English isn’t my native language. I may start slowly but I finish quickly.

CLAIRE
That isn’t always a good thing.

ALEX
What do you mean?

CLAIRE
Never mind. Do you miss it much?

ALEX
Every day. Especially the sea. When you say Columbia, people automatically think of cocaine, but it’s not like that at all. We lived in one big house. My uncle fished during the day. At night we’d build a bonfire on the beach and eat and dance and sing.

CLAIRE
How did you happen to come here?

ALEX
I was the best student in my school. I won a scholarship, sponsored by the Morgan Education Fund, to study in the U.S. Mr. Morgan convinced my parents that I should continue to study here, and he offered to pay for my education through college. It was an offer and an opportunity they couldn’t decline.

CLAIRE
That’s certainly seems to be an example of good fortune.

ALEX
Luck has no place in my world. I reaped the benefits of my hard work and perseverance.

A bell chimes. Alex reaches into his pocket and answers his cell phone. He moves away in order to converse in privacy. Claire wanders around the library gazing at the various book titles. A wastebasket catches her attention. There are some papers in it. As Claire is working up the courage to take some of it, Alex calls out to her.

ALEX (CONT’D)
This place is so large we use cell phones to communicate. Apparently your parents are ready to leave. Come, I’ll take you to the foyer.

INT. MANSION, FOYER - NIGHT
Her parents and Augustus are standing in the foyer when Claire arrives with Alex.

AUGUSTUS
I see you’ve met my protégé, Alex.

CLAIRE
Yes, he showed me the library.

AUGUSTUS
I have a passion for books.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Thank you for inviting us to your beautiful home.

AUGUSTUS
It was my pleasure. We will have to visit again soon.

Augustus gives Claire a small box wrapped with gold paper and tied with a red ribbon.

AUGUSTUS (CONT’D)
This is for you my dear. Open it when you get home.

DR. REYNOLDS
This is too much.

AUGUSTUS
I assure you it is not.

Claire feels guilty; perhaps she misjudged the man on the basis of one outburst at the library. Maybe Katherine was wrong. She couldn’t imagine Augustus Morgan as a murderer.

CLAIRE
Thank you.

EXT. HILLSBORO – NIGHT

The drive home is quiet. Claire thought her parents would be upset with her for embarrassing them at dinner, but they are remarkably subdued and quiet.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Claire carries her present to her bedroom. She unties the ribbon and unwraps the box carefully, folding and preserving the wrapping paper. Inside is a small wooden jewelry box carved with tiny roses, leaves, and thorns. Claire opens the jewelry box and discovers and beautiful gold chain with a slim, heart-shaped locket set with diamonds, emeralds, and onyx. Inside the locket is a place for a small picture, currently empty.

INT. CARETAKER’S COTTAGE – MORNING

Fitch answers his door, sleepily, but also cautiously. Constant vigilance is the key to survival; however, he suspects it is Mrs. Crumb because his cat, who hates her, flees the room. Verifying that it is indeed Mrs. Crumb, Fitch allows her to enter.

FITCH
Did you have to come so early today? You woke me.

MRS. CRUMB
The fewer people that see me coming here the better. I may not have a chance to meet with you again until the ceremony.

FITCH
(yawns)
What a bother.

MRS. CRUMB
Just focus on the prize, you can do with a little less sleep for now. Next week you can rest all you want. Come to the school on Friday.

FITCH
What about the students?

MRS. CRUMB
School isn’t in session the day after Halloween. I’ve given the janitor the day off, and I will need you to replace him.

FITCH
(groans)
I’m not cleaning all those hallways and classrooms.

MRS. CRUMB
You won’t have to do any cleaning. I need your help to collect the material.

FITCH
Let’s not make it too early.

MRS. CRUMB
First thing in the morning, 8:15 A.M.

FITCH
You’re killing me.

MRS. CRUMB
Friday. Be on time or better yet be early so that you’re fully awake.

EXT. SCHOOL – DAY

At lunch, Claire finds Katherine at the same place, sitting in the shelter of the willow tree. Katherine isn’t writing in her journal though, she’s just staring into the distance.

CLAIRE
Hey, I brought you an extra granola bar.

Silence.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
I had dinner with Augustus Morgan last night. I thought maybe you’d like to hear about it. He gave me a present too.

More silence.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Can we please talk? It’s not fair for you to give me the silent treatment. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.

Claire digs in her backpack and finds the letter she wrote and offers it to Katherine.
Katherine won’t take it so Claire drops it in her lap. Without looking at Claire, Katherine takes the envelope, tears it into a few pieces, and scatters them on the wind.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Here’s your evidence.

Claire places the locket and the plastic bag containing the cotton swab on the ground in front of Katherine. Humiliation stings Claire’s eyes, she turns away, walks back into the school building.

INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – DAY

The office is beginning to show a semblance of order, but Dr. Reynolds’s sense of satisfaction is tempered by the tension at home. Even though he skipped breakfast, Dr. Reynolds doesn’t feel like eating. Considering that dinner is still at least six hours away, practicality wins out over emotion. Besides, he is curious to see what his wife packed in the rustic lunch pail. She had certainly spent quite a bit of time fussing over his lunch even with the specter of the messy kitchen looming over her.

A mouth-watering aroma wafts from the lunch pail as soon he opens the lid. Inside he finds a roast pork sandwich with cucumber slices and peppery watercress, potato salad garnished with capers, and a ripe apple with a leaf still attached to the stem. Paper napkins and plastic spoons would have been an insult, therefore white linen, silverware, and a decorative sprig of rosemary completed Mrs. Reynolds’s presentation.

Dr. Reynolds marvels. Certainly Mrs. Reynolds had always been a good wife, but now she was managing to surprise him even after eighteen years of marriage, exhibiting skills that he didn’t suspect she had. Dr. Reynolds says a little prayer and counts his blessings before tucking into his lunch.

At first he eats slowly, savoring each morsel of his succulent sandwich, alternating with spoonfuls of potato salad, and bites of crisp apple. He reads from a case file that requires a written report by the end of the day.

The food is delicious. After several mouthfuls, Dr. Reynolds eats with greater urgency, the case file forgotten. Then no more delicacy. He tears a great hunk of bread and meat with his teeth, chews minimally, and swallows.

The office is filled with the sound of his chomping and gulping. Bits of food fly from his mouth. Nothing matters to him now, except the insatiable desire to feed. Dr. Reynolds finishes his lunch all too soon - he is still hungry.

Dr. Reynolds curses his wife for not being more thoughtful: one sandwich, some potato salad, and a tiny apple. What was she thinking? He worked hard to support their family. He needed more consideration than that.

No. As head of the household, he deserves more respect, it is his entitlement, his due. He is a doctor for fuck’s sake. Rage scrapes his throat like vomiting dry bread. Dr. Reynolds roars and sweeps the papers from his desk.

Noticing a few half-chewed crumbs that escaped from his mouth, Dr. Reynolds drops to his knees, licks his forefinger to pick up the detritus from the floor.

INT. SCHOOL – AFTERNOON

The bell rings ending another day of school. Claire gets her jacket and backpack from her locker. She sees Collette, near the bathrooms, at the other end of the hallway, taking instructions from the school janitor, a tall gangly man in a dingy green uniform. Claire files in with the other students streaming out of the school.

Outside, Claire hears a girl call her name.

CHRISTINA
Claire, wait up.

CLAIRE
Hi Christina.

CHRISTINA
I’ll walk with you for a ways.

CLAIRE
You aren’t going to wait for Collette?

CHRISTINA
She has to help the janitor after school today as punishment for vandalism.

CLAIRE
What did she do?

CHRISTINA
Ummm ... She spray-painted Katherine is a witch on the back wall of the school.

CLAIRE
Did she really do that?

CHRISTINA
I don’t know. I wasn’t there, but it’s probably true.

CLAIRE
What’s with those two? Collette gave me a ride home last Friday, she said Katherine used to be her friend.

CHRISTINA
That was before Katherine’s mother put Collette’s father in jail for life.

CLAIRE
What?

CHRISTINA
You know, Katherine’s mother, Dr. Lynch was the previous coroner before your dad. She supplied the forensic evidence to arrest Collette’s father, James Hammond, for several unsolved murders. The first jury said her expert testimony was the deciding factor to convict. Collette’s family is poor, Mr. Hammond couldn’t afford an attorney, so the state provided one.

CLAIRE
But her mother was just doing her job.

CHRISTINA
Collette believed in her father’s innocence. She felt the state, the judge, and Dr. Lynch, railroaded him.

CLAIRE
Shouldn’t Collette be angry with Katherine’s mom then, not Katherine?

CHRISTINA
Collette thinks Katherine knew all along there was something wrong, because she was always close to her mom, going to the lab with her, having access to the files.

CLAIRE
I still don’t think it’s right that Collette takes it out on Katherine.

CHRISTINA
Katherine is the most convenient scapegoat for Collette. On appeal, an anonymous donor provided an entire defense team for Mr. Hammond, including their own forensics expert. They focused on discrediting Dr. Lynch, specifically her record keeping, lab procedures, and subsequent analysis.

CLAIRE
Let me guess - if Dr. Lynch was at all like her Katherine, then she was somewhat untidy.

CHRISTINA
That’s understating the situation. Mr. Hammond’s new defense team picked Dr. Lynch apart like a roast turkey at Thanksgiving. They destroyed her credibility. She broke down on the witness stand and had to be hospitalized. Mr. Hammond was found not guilty, and his defense team is now seeking to overturn his first conviction in appellate court. After Dr. Lynch was released from the hospital, the AG filed charges of criminal negligence against her. Then there were the civil suits brought by people her testimony helped convict in previous trials ... Katherine’s family was ruined.

CLAIRE
What a horrible mess. If Collette’s father is still in jail, how did Katherine’s parents die?

CHRISTINA
Murder - suicide.

EXT. HOUSE-WALTERS – MORNING

Collette sits in her car, idling, while waiting for Christina exit her house. After a few minutes Christina appears, her hair still wet.

CHRISTINA
Why do we have to go to school so early today?

COLLETTE
I’m hoping if I go in early, and help the janitor, he won’t make me work on Friday. Since there’s no school that day, I don’t want to make a special trip there, just to help him clean. Maybe he wants to take the day off too, and we can get everything done earlier before Halloween.

CHRISTINA
Remember you have to drive me and Eric around Friday night.

COLLETTE
Bollocks.

CHRISTINA
Bollocks?

COLLETTE
Well someone told me yesterday I look English so I’m trying to speak like them.

CHRISTINA
British. English is a language. You mean you’re trying to pretend you’re from Great Britain.

COLLETTE
Precisely.

CHRISTINA
Do you want me to get a date for you?

COLLETTE
No! Your idea of a date for me is the brother or cousin or best friend of whoever you’re interested in. I’ll get my own date, thank you very much.

EXT. SCHOOL – DAY

At lunch, Claire calls the number for Dr. Trelane. The receptionist informs her that the doctor is with a patient, takes her number, and tells her that the doctor will call her back.

INT. CORONER’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

Dr. Reynolds smacks his lips in anticipation. It is lunchtime. Before Dr. Reynolds can open his lunch pail, a knock at his door. Mayor Goldsmith enters, surprised to see the how neat and tidy Dr. Reynolds’s office has become.

MAYOR GOLDSMITH
You’ve done a remarkable job thus far, Michael.

Dr. Reynolds doesn’t like being called Michael. It is as if the Mayor puts himself on a par with him when the truth of the matter is that Dr. Reynolds is as high over him as a hawk soaring above a slug in the sun. Restraining his anger ...

DR. REYNOLDS
Thank you, Mayor Goldsmith, it looked worse than it actually was.

MAYOR GOLDSMITH
Don’t be so stiff. Call me Roger. How is the house coming along?

DR. REYNOLDS
Splendidly.

MAYOR GOLDSMITH
Good, good. Well I have a luncheon in Centerville. I just wanted to check in on you to see if you needed anything. Call me if you do, Michael.

DR. REYNOLDS
I will, Roger. Good day.

INT. SCHOOL - AFTERNOON
Collette hauls another wastebasket to the rubbish room and empties it in the dumpster. She will be glad when the week ends. Bill the janitor comes in with several wastebaskets to empty.

COLLETTE
Are you working on Friday, Bill?

JANITOR
No, Mrs. Crumb gave me the day off.

Collette breathes a sigh of relief. That means that she had only one more day of janitorial work, Thursday, and that was it.

COLLETTE
I’m sorry for causing you extra work. Now that I see what you do, I won’t do it again.
Collette vows to make her attacks on Katherine more personal in the future. That was Collette’s mistake, inconveniencing others, using a shotgun approach when she should have used a rifle.

JANITOR
(shrugs)
I’ve seen worse. Mrs. Crumb wanted me to tell you though that you have to come in at 8:15 A.M. Friday.

COLLETTE
Why? You won’t be here.

JANITOR
I’m not sure, but it does concern me. Mrs. Crumb said she has a few things in her office for you to help her with, and then you’ll be done. She thought you’d prefer clean work for a change.

COLLETTE
I’d rather do this with you, than anything with Mrs. Crumb.

JANITOR
Rightfully so. When people throw something away they think it’s gone, erased from their lives, as if it never existed, but it’s not that way at all. Trash lingers, a life, a fingerprint. Even when it goes to the landfill it’s not completely gone. You’d be surprised at how long it takes for something to completely decompose. When you’ve seen as much trash as I have, you become adept at reading it. See? I’m not a janitor, I’m a fortune teller these are my tea leaves.

The janitor upends a wastebasket into the dumpster and shakes it.

JANITOR (CONT’D)
Look here. This wastebasket came from Mrs. Crumb’s office. She was surfing the Internet, and printed out travelogues of vacation spots in the Caribbean. Here are extra copies of receipts from Travelocity.com, Amazon.com, and Hotels.com. What does that tell us?

COLLETTE
That she’s going on a trip?

JANITOR
Correct, and moreover, she is using governmental resources, and her time, inappropriately. Now if this was an occasional incident it’d be excusable, but I’ve been seeing more and more of it. Mrs. Crumb used to shred this stuff, but she’s gotten lazy over the years. She’s also taken an interest in the occult. I’ve seen shipping labels, printouts on black magic, receipts for books on voodoo and satanic ritual.

COLLETTE
You’re creeping me out. This is a pre-Halloween gag isn’t it?

JANITOR
Without getting into particulars about my employer, I can tell you that any negative feelings you have about Mrs. Crumb are probably accurate.

COLLETTE
Why are you telling me all of this?

JANITOR
I don’t think you should come here on Friday.

INT. PAWN SHOP – AFTERNOON

Rather than go home immediately after school, Claire takes a detour into the small collection of shops that comprise Hillsboro’s commercial district. She sees an interesting store with Halloween decorations in the window, crystal prisms, sun and moon mirrors. Inside the storekeeper is a middle-aged woman trying to affect a gypsy look despite her Anglo-Saxon face and blonde hair. She watches Claire suspiciously as she browses. Her cell phone rings with an unfamiliar number.

CLAIRE
Hello?

DR. TRELANE
Hi, Claire? This is Amanda Trelane returning your call.

CLAIRE
Who?

DR. TRELANE
Dr. Trelane, psychiatrist.

CLAIRE
Oh, I’m sorry. My dad gave me your number.

DR. TRELANE
Yes, I had a chance to speak with him last week. How are you feeling?

CLAIRE
Fine.

DR. TRELANE
Really?

CLAIRE
Yes.

DR. TRELANE
Then how many I help you?

CLAIRE
I’d like to make an appointment.

DR. TRELANE
My schedule is fairly full, but I can work you in. Your dad said you’re a junior in high school. Afternoons are probably best.

CLAIRE
I don’t have school on Friday.

DR. TRELANE
Would 12:00 noon fit into your schedule?

CLAIRE
I have to check with my parents, but I think I can make it.

DR. TRELANE
Good, come about fifteen minutes early to fill out paperwork.

CLAIRE
Okay.

DR. TRELANE
I look forward to seeing you on Friday, Claire.

CLAIRE
Okay.

EXT. CEMETERY – DUSK

Fitch, sweating despite the setting sun, digs in the wooden shed behind his cottage. Huffing and puffing, he pauses occasionally to wipe perspiration from his brow with the back of a hand like a ham hock. The locker is buried deeper than Fitch remembers.

A fleeting thought: Has Mrs. Crumb assigned someone to spy on him? If she did she’ll find out that he lied to her. But what difference did it make that he said he buried the book, the bell, and the dagger in a grave? Fitch has never completely trusted Mrs. Crumb and the artifacts represent his only insurance policy.

His shovel strikes a metal surface with a dull clank. Fitch widens the hole enough to drag the lock box out. A rusty padlock secures the locker. Having lost the combination, he breaks the padlock with repeated blows with the edge of his shovel. It occurs to him that padlocks are useful only for keeping honest people out; a thief will use any means at his disposal to steal the goods.

Fitch lifts the lid upward with a metallic squeal revealing a burlap knapsack. He gathers the knapsack in his arms like an infant and leaves the shed.

INT. CARETAKER’S COTTAGE – DAY

Fitch places the knapsack on the kitchen counter by the sink, cuts the drawstring tying it shut.

Kuma purrs and rubs against his legs, in the hopes that Fitch has brought home something good to eat. When no treat is forthcoming, Kuma begins biting and pulling on Fitch’s shoelaces.

FITCH
You be a good boy and leave daddy alone for a little bit. I’ll give you something warm and wet later.

Fitch squeezes the fat cat and kisses him on the forehead. Shooing Kuma out of the kitchen, he shuts the door, preventing further distractions.

He opens the knapsack gingerly, and lays the item he knows is inside on the counter: a bone knife curved like an eagle’s talon, the blade sheathed in leather, and the hilt set with uncut rubies.

Kuma is scratching at the door. Fitch stashes the dagger in a cupboard. Opening a can of cat food, turkey feast, he spoons the contents onto a saucer, and puts it in the microwave for ten seconds.

Plaintive meowing from the other room as the aroma of warm cat food suffuses the kitchen. Fitch sets the saucer on the floor. As soon as the door is cracked open, Kuma flashes through in a white blur. Fitch contents himself by scraping the can and licking the spoon while watching his cat gulp down the food, the fine needle-sharp teeth.

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS, DINING ROOM – NIGHT

Tonight, Claire’s parents are having spring lamb, rare. Her mother prepared a nice salad, baguette, and spaghetti with mushrooms especially for Claire. But seeing them eat, their mouths wet with grease, the blood on their plates, and the bones studded with fragments of flesh makes her queasy.

Her parents have never been so insensitive to her feelings before. Of course when she was a baby she had no control over what she ate. However, after Claire developed her own will and philosophy, the pressure to eat meat gradually dwindled to an imperceptible level; especially when Claire expressed her opinions rationally. Time supplied all the proof she needed, she had fewer health problems than her peers, and there was no evidence she didn’t have enough nutrition. This is the one area of her life that she feels is hers alone.

Mrs. Reynolds suddenly displeased.

MRS. REYNOLDS
Don’t stare at me like that. You’re ruining my meal.

There is no point in arguing. Claire pushes away from the dining table and stands. She is strong, she won’t let them see her emotional agony. But the windows of the eyes both reveal and betray. Claire sees nothing in the eyes of her mother and her father except an insatiable appetite. No love, no compassion, no pity - just a ravenous hunger, merciless and void.

Unbidden, burning salt tears sting her eyes as Claire gazes at these people who are her parents, and yet in a matter of days, have been transformed into cruel strangers. It’s as if a magician had swung a cape over her parents, replacing them with wild animals who merely wore their skin.

It begins with one drop, fattening on her lower eyelid, feeding on her pain. Claire cannot touch it or it will fall and her not-parents will see it. But it falls anyway, pulling a chain of tears behind it. Claire wants to wake up, for this to be a dream, for the world to return to normalcy. She cannot help but love her parents, even her mother, but now her love is tinged with fear, like the platter cupping the bleeding lamb chops, tinged with fear of blood.

MRS. REYNOLDS (CONT’D)

Go to your room Claire, if you cannot behave with proper decorum.

Dr. Reynolds’s fingers tighten on the handle of his steak knife. Mrs. Reynolds puts a hand on his arm. Claire backs out of the room, her cheeks wet and shiny.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Claire stumbles to her room, locks the door, and braces a chair beneath the doorknob. She remembers the uneaten granola bar she brought for Katherine today, still in her backpack, and half a bottle of water.

Claire struggles to formulate a plan to help her parents, but this is beyond her years and her experience. The one person who might know what to do, Katherine, won’t speak to her.

Claire, huddling on the bed, gingerly unwraps the granola bar, nibbles on a corner, quiet as a mouse.

INT. HOUSE-CRUMB – NIGHT

Mrs. Crumb, tired and arthritic, reclines in an easy chair listening to Buddy Holly. After more than four decades in education, what did she have to show for it? A two bedroom house in constant need of repair, an ancient station wagon, and forced retirement in three years. She had very little savings and no one to take care of her in her old age. She’d be damned if she was going to become a bag lady, creeping from street corner to street corner, with a shopping cart full of trash for her former students to sneer and laugh at. No, she has other plans.

Mrs. Crumb closes her eyes and pictures flash through her mind like flipping through a stack of photographs. Fitch’s house seen from a low vantage point, everything huge. This is earlier in the day, not much going on, boring. There are shoes walking, pant legs swishing, grimy floors. A cricket, I’m going to catch a cricket in the kitchen. Pounce. Miss. The fat man is coming home with a burlap sack coated with dirt. I want to see. The fat hand is pushing me out of the room. Wait, not yet, the cricket is jumping away. The door shutting, my white paw pushing and scratching at it. Forever later, the kitchen door opens, there is the fat man, there is cat food. Mmmm ... cat food. After the cat food there is the rubbing against Fitch’s pant leg. Looking up at Fitch’s smiling moon face, looking at Fitch leaning protectively against a cupboard in the corner of the kitchen.

INT. CLAIRE’S BEDROOM – MORNING

The next morning Claire is curled on her bed behind a rampart of pillows and blankets. She is still dressed in yesterday’s clothing, she hasn’t even removed her tennis shoes. Waking, she sees the chair jamming her bedroom door shut, and she knows last night’s events were no dream. The clock on the nightstand reads 5:55 A.M. She reaches over and shuts off the alarm even though it won’t ring for another thirty-five minutes.

Like most students, Claire isn’t usually eager to go to school in the morning, but this morning isn’t like any other. Quietly she slips out of bed, mindful of making too much noise. Cognizant of her disheveled state, Claire plans to wash her face and comb her hair in the girls’ locker room at school. Normally she doesn’t carry money to school, but today she grabs all of her savings and stuffs it in her pocket.

Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, Claire takes tentative steps to the bedroom door. She presses her ear to the door, listening, praying that her parents are still asleep. She eases the chair out from under the doorknob. Grasping the doorknob nervously, she opens the door a crack, and peeps out half expecting something to jump at her face.

The master bedroom door is still closed. They wouldn’t expect her to be out of the house this early since the school bell doesn’t ring until 8:15 A.M., a little over two hours from now. Even though Claire tiptoes, and walks along the edge of the hallway, the old wooden floor still squeaks and groans. She hurries as quickly as she can while making a minimal amount of noise.

INT. HOUSE-REYNOLDS – MORNING

Reaching the safety of the tiled foyer, which doesn’t creak like the hardwood floor, Claire grabs her jacket. She yanks the front door open and runs into her father who is retrieving the morning newspaper. Stifling a scream, Claire backs away. Her father grabs her arm and shuts the door.

DR. REYNOLDS
It’s okay. I had a long talk with your mother and everything is fine now.

Claire trembles.

CLAIRE
I don’t understand. At dinner last night you were both so, so ...

DR. REYNOLDS
There have been a lot of changes lately. Things are going to be better now, you’ll see. Come to the kitchen. Your mother got up early to go shopping. She’s making your favorite, blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. There’s fresh fruit too.
Claire hugs her father fiercely as if were drowning and he was a wooden plank that bumped into her at sea.

CLAIRE
Please tell me its all been a bad dream and I’m waking up now.

DR. REYNOLDS
Hush, honey, the nightmare is over.

INT. SCHOOL – DAY

Smiling jack-o’-lanterns, paper ghosts, and cotton spider webs festoon the classrooms and hallways. Some of the children, and some of the teachers, are already in costume. Collette is displeased. She finds Christina at lunchtime.

COLLETTE
Look at all these decorations. It’s going to be a bother to clean up.

CHRISTINA
Are you going trick or treating tonight?

COLLETTE
No, that’s kid stuff.

CHRISTINA
Do you want to go to a costume party with me tonight?

COLLETTE
Sure, where is it?

CHRISTINA
Rose’s house first. Then depending on who we meet, we might do something else later. Don’t worry; I won’t keep you out late. I know you have detention in the morning.

COLLETTE
You don’t have to come help me tomorrow.

CHRISTINA
Are you sure? I might complain a lot, but I’ll do it.

COLLETTE
I’m going to blow it off.

CHRISTINA
Mrs. Crumb is going to have a fit if you do that.

COLLETTE
Bill creeped me out last night.

CHRISTINA
He made a pass at you?

COLLETTE
Don’t be disgusting. Bill’s actually a nice guy, and smarter than he lets on. Bill thinks something strange is going on with Mrs. Crumb and that I shouldn’t be here without his supervision.

CHRISTINA
Are you sure about this?

COLLETTE
Absolutely. Besides, what’s the worst Mrs. Crumb can do to me? Kill me?

CHRISTINA
Oh my God! Don’t move, I just saw a spider crawling on your shirt collar.

COLLETTE
Get it off, get it off!

Christina lifts Collette’s hair, revealing a skinny brown spider with spindly legs. She flicks it away with her finger. When it lands on the ground Christina smashes it flat with her shoe.

INT. SCHOOL – DAY

Bill Taylor, the school janitor, prefers being called a custodial manager, but no one ever says that. Mrs. Crumb hired him shortly after he was honorably discharged from the army due to injury. Except for his initial interview, in the twenty years that he has worked at the school, Mrs. Crumb has never summoned him to her office until today.
He knocks on her door. Mrs. Crumb looks up and ushers him in. Beside her desk is a brand new, state-of-the-art, crosscut paper shredder.

MRS. CRUMB
Sit down, Mr. Taylor.

JANITOR
What can I do for you, ma’am?

MRS. CRUMB
I have some bad news for you I’m afraid.

Bill’s stomach sinks. Is he getting fired?

MRS. CRUMB (CONT’D)
I hope you haven’t any plans for this weekend yet. I know I said you could have tomorrow off, but something has come up and I’d like you to come in tomorrow morning.
Good. He wasn’t getting fired.

JANITOR
Well I hadn’t decided yet, I thought I might do some fishing or see a movie.

MRS. CRUMB
You’ll have time for that in the afternoon. I just need you for a half day.

JANITOR
Is anything going on?

MRS. CRUMB
I’m going to be busy, and I won’t be able to supervise Ms. Hammond.

JANITOR
It seems a waste of the taxpayer’s dollar for me to come in just for that.

MRS. CRUMB
I set the terms of her punishment, and my word is final. Of course you’ll receive time and a half tomorrow.

Bill rubs his jaw.

JANITOR
Well it doesn’t seem as though I can refuse.

MRS. CRUMB
No you can’t.

Bill gets up to leave.

MRS. CRUMB (CONT’D)
Oh, one more thing. Come see me an hour before school lets out. I have a package for you to deliver.

JANITOR
I don’t think that’s in my job description.

MRS. CRUMB
Neither is analyzing my trash.

Mrs. Crumb’s feeds a document into the paper shredder. Instantly the metal teeth seizes the document and cuts it into confetti.

INT. SCHOOL – DAY

For the second time today, Bill reports to Mrs. Crumb’s office. She gives him a small, but heavy parcel.

MRS. CRUMB
Take this over to the cemetery, and deliver it to Mr. Fitzgerald,