When Nancy looked up from her notebook, Sally was staring at her, a troubled look in her eyes. “You must think I’m a real creep, huh?” she said.

Nancy wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sure you’re sorry for what you did—” she began, but Sally cut her off.

“Come here,” she said, pulling Nancy back through the living room and into a study. Black-and-white photographs hung on all the study walls. “Dad on the Washburn football team,” Sally said, pointing to one of the pictures. “And here’s Dad graduating from Washburn. Mom graduating from Washburn. Mom and Dad at the Washburn University Senior Formal. Ever since I was little, all I ever heard was, ‘Someday when you go to Washburn . . .’ I just couldn’t let my parents down.” Tears brimmed in Sally’s large eyes.

“Hey,” said Nancy sympathetically. “I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to figure this thing out.”

Quickly Sally brushed away a tear. “I hope you find out who’s doing this. I bet I’m not the only one who’s been approached. If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”

“Well, there is something,” said Nancy. “You mentioned that you can get your E-mail from Brewster on your home computer. Would you show me how it works?”

Sally nodded. “Sure, come on. The computer’s in my room.”

Nancy followed Sally upstairs to her bedroom. A yellow floral spread and matching canopy adorned the bed in the middle of the room. Over by the window was a computer desk with a PC on top of it.

Nancy watched as Sally turned on her computer, plugged the telephone into the modem, dialed the Brewster Academy number, and finally logged onto the school’s system. “There’s another message in my box,” Sally told her, stiffening.

“That’s funny. I checked my E-mail when I left school today and there weren’t any messages. This must have come in after three.”

“See what it says,” Nancy urged her.