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Weatherby shrugged。 〃You told me you were a psychiatrist。 You specialize in children and teenagers； right？〃
〃So you must know all the answers better than I do。 Why would she want to kill herself？ Could be trouble at home…a father who drinks too much and makes heavy passes at his own little girl； a mother who doesn't want to hear about it。 Or maybe the kid was just jilted by her boyfriend and thinks the world is ing to an end。 Or just discovered she was pregnant and decided she couldn't face her folks with the news。 There must be hundreds of reasons； and I'm sure you've heard most of them in your line of work。〃
What he said was true； but it didn't make Carol feel better。
If only I'd been driving slower； she thought。 If only I'd been quicker to react； maybe that poor girl wouldn't be in the hospital now。
〃She might have been on drugs； too；〃 Weatherby said。 〃Too damned many kids fool around with dope these days。 I swear； some of they'll swallow any pill they're given。 If it isn't something that can be swallowed； they'll sniff it or stick it in a vein。 This kid you hit might have been so high she didn't even know where she was when she stepped in front of your car。
Now； if that's the case； are you going to tell me it's still somehow your fault？〃
Carol leaned back in the seat； closed her eyes； and let her breath out with a shudder。 〃God； I don't know what to tell you。 All I know is。 。 。I feel wrung out。〃
〃That's perfectly natural； after what you've just been through。 But it isn't natural to feel guilty about this。 It wasn't your fault； so don't dwell on it。 Put it behind you and get on with your life。〃
She opened her eyes； looked at him； and smiled。 〃You know； Officer Weatherby； I have a hunch you'd make a pretty good psychotherapist。〃
He grinned。 〃Or a terrific bartender。〃
Carol laughed。
〃Feeling better？〃 he asked。
〃A little bit。〃
〃Promise me you won't lose any sleep over this。〃
〃I'll try not to；〃 she said。 〃But I'm still concerned about the girl。 Do you know which hospital they've taken her to？〃
〃I can find out；〃 he said。
〃Would you do that for me？ I'd like to go talk to the doctor who's handling her case。 If he tells me she's going to be all right； I'll find it a whole lot easier to take your advice about getting on with my life。〃
Weatherby picked up the microphone and asked the police dispatcher to find out where the injured girl had been taken。
The television antenna！
Standing in the attic； staring up at the roof above his head； Paul laughed out loud when he realized what was causing the pounding noise。 The sound wasn't ing out of the empty air in front of his face； which was what he had thought for one unsettling moment。 It was ing from the roof； where the television antenna was anchored。 They had subscribed to cable TV a year ago； but they hadn't removed the old antenna。 It was a large； directional； remote…control model affixed to a heavy brace…plate； the plate was bolted through the shingles and attached directly to a roof beam。 Apparently； a nut or some other fastener
had loosened slightly； and the wind was tugging at the antenna； rocking the brace…plate up and down on one of its bolts； slamming it repeatedly against the roof。 The solution to the big mystery was amusingly mundane。
Or was it？
Thunk。 。 。 thunk。 。 。 thunk。。。
The sound was softer now than ever before； barely
audible above the roar of the rain on the roof； and it was easy to believe that the antenna could be the cause of it。 Gradually； however； as Paul considered this answer to the puzzle； he began to doubt if it was the correct answer。 He thought about how loud and violent the pounding had been a few minutes ago when he had been in the kitchen： the entire house quivering； the oven door falling open； bottles rattling in the spice rack。 Could a loose antenna really generate so much noise and vibration？
Thunk。 。 。 thunk。。。
As he stared up at the ceiling； he tried to make himself believe unequivocally in the antenna theory。 If it was striking a roof beam in precisely the right way； at a very special angle； so that the impact was transmitted through the entire frame of the house； perhaps a loose antenna could cause the pots and pans to clatter against one another in the kitchen and could make it seem as if the ceilings were about to crack。 After all； if you set up exactly the right vibrations in a steel suspension bridge； you could bring it to ruin in less than a minute； regardless of the number of bolts and welds and cables holding it together。 And although Paul didn't believe there was even a remote danger of a loose antenna causing that kind of apocalyptic destruction to a wood…frame house； he knew
that moderate force； applied with calculation and pinpoint accuracy； could have an effect quite out of proportion to the amount of energy expended。 Besides； the TV antenna had to be the root of the disturbance； for it was the only explanation he had left。
The hammering noise became even softer and then faded altogether。 He waited for a minute or two； but the only sound was the rain on the shingles overhead。
The wind must have changed direction。 In time it would change back again； and the antenna would begin to rock on its brace…plate； and the pounding would start once more。
As soon as the storm was over； he would have to get the extension ladder out of the garage； go up onto the roof； and dismantle the antenna。 He should have taken care of that chore shortly after they had subscribed to the cable television service。 Now； because he had delayed； he was going to lose precious writing time…and at one of the most difficult and crucial points in his manuscript。 That prospect frustrated him and made him nervous。
He decided to shave； drive downtown； and pick up the new set of application papers at the adoption agency。 The storm might pass by the time he got home again。 If it did； if he could be on the roof by eleven…thirty； he ought to be able to tear down the antenna； then have a bite of lunch； and work on his book all afternoon； barring further interruptions。 But he suspected there would be further interruptions。 He had already resigned himself to the fact that it was one of those days。
As he left the attic and turned out the lights； the house quivered under another blow。
THUNK'
Just one this time。
Then all was quiet again。
***
The visitors' lounge at the hospital looked like an explosion in a clown's wardrobe。 The walls were canary yellow； the chairs were bright red； the carpet was orange； the magazine racks and end tables were made of heavy purple plastic； and the two large abstract paintings were done primarily in shades of blue and green。
The lounge…obviously the work of a designer who had read too much about the various psychological mood theories of color…was supposed to be positive； life…affirming。 It was supposed to lift the spirits of visitors and take their minds off sick friends and dying relatives。 In Carol； however； the determinedly cheery decor elicited the opposite reaction from that which the designer had intended； It was a frenetic room； it abraded the nerves as effectively as coarse sandpaper would abrade a stick of butter。
Sh