She trailed off, staring at Melantha's throat. The dark bruises that had been there the night before were now barely visible. "Someone tried to strangle you," she continued slowly, touching the girl's throat gently with her fingertips.

Melantha twitched away from her touch. "I know," she said.

"Who did it?" Roger asked. "The man with the gun?"

"No," she said firmly. "He was... trying to help."

"Then who?" Roger demanded.

Melantha flinched. "I don't know."

Roger looked at Caroline. Liar, his expression said. "What about your family?" Caroline asked, deciding to try that approach again. "Is there someone we should contact, to tell them you're all right?"

A shiver ran through the girl. "No," she said, biting hungrily into one of the dinner rolls and following it with a mouthful of cheese.

Caroline looked at Roger. He shrugged microscopically; reluctantly, Caroline nodded agreement.

Whatever the girl knew, she wasn't ready to talk about it.

They watched in silence as Melantha finished off the rest of the sliced cheese and two more rolls.

"That was good," she said, draining her glass. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Caroline said. "Do you understand that we want to help you?"

Melantha stared down at her empty plate. "Yes," she said.

"Then tell us what happened," Caroline urged. "You can trust us."

Melantha's eyes were still on the empty plate, but Caroline could see her lips making uncertain little movements. As if she was trying to think, or about to cry. "Melantha?" she prompted.

"Because if you don't," Roger added, "we'll just have to call the police again."

It was probably the worst thing he could have said. Melantha's thin shoulders abruptly tightened, her wavering emotional barriers suddenly slamming up full strength again. "I'm real tired," she said, all the emotion abruptly gone from her voice. The barriers there had gone back up, too. "Is there someplace I could lie down for awhile?"