and stepped back; my reaction was to step forward, staring incredulously.
Gazing back at us, face frozen in an expression of terror, was Karl Weimar.



56
I poked at the thing several times. It was stone, all right, solid stone of a generally grayish cast—in the current light I couldn't do much to identify it. But the detail I could see was amazing. I glanced at Syl.
"It's not a statue," she said, confirming my gut intuition.
"Right," I said. Realizing I hadn't brought my cell phone with me, I headed up the alley to the nearest open store, which happened to be Marie's, the jewelry store we'd visited . . . was it only about a day ago?
"Hi," I said, walking towards the proprietor, "I was wondering if you . . ."
I'm not sure how I controlled voice or expression in the next few moments; perhaps a part of me already knew and was prepared. Because as I neared Marie, her image began to shimmer, glittering with a network of lines and sparks . . .
Without more than a slight pause I heard myself say " . . . would show us that lovely necklace in the third cabinet again?"
Marie smiled and headed for the cabinet in question. Syl stared at me for a split second, obviously wondering what the hell had gotten into me, but she knew I must have a reason, and followed Marie over. As she reached the third cabinet, Marie entered the effective range of the CryWolf camera over the door, and I turned