INTENSITY

Windows flanked the front door, and the drapes were drawn behind the nearer of the two.

Music inside.

Swing music.

She stared out at the meadows, along the lane that led from the house to the top of a low hill and thence out of sight. Perhaps, beyond the hill, other houses stood along that unpaved track, where she would find people who could help her.

But who had ever helped her before, all these long years?

She remembered the two brief stops that had awakened her, and she suspected that the motor home had passed through a gate. Nevertheless, even if this was a private driveway, it would lead sooner or later to a public road, where she would find assistance from residents or passing motorists.

The top of the hill was approximately a quarter of a mile from the house. This was a lot of open ground to cover before she would be out of sight. If he saw her, he would probably be able to chase her down before she got away.

And she still didn’t know that this was his house. Even if it was his house, she couldn’t be sure that this was where he kept Ariel. If Chyna brought back the authorities and Ariel wasn’t here, then the killer might never tell them where to find the girl.

She had to be sure that Ariel was in the basement.

But if the girl was here, then when Chyna came back with the cops, the killer might barricade himself in the house. It would take a SWAT team to pry him out of the place—and before they got to him, he might kill Ariel and commit suicide.

In fact, that was almost certainly how it would play out as soon as any cops showed up. He would know that his freedom was at an end, that his games were over, that he would have no more fun, and all he would see available to him was one last, apocalyptic celebration of madness.

Chyna couldn’t bear to lose this imperiled girl so soon after losing Laura, failing Laura. Intolerable. She couldn’t keep failing people as, all her life, others had failed her. Meaning wasn’t to be found in psychology classes and textbooks but in caring, in hard sacrifice, in faith, in action. She didn’t want to take these risks. She wanted to live—but for someone other than herself.

At least now she had a gun.

And the advantage of surprise.

Earlier, at the Templeton house and in the motor home and then at the service station, she’d also had the advantage of surprise, but she hadn’t been in possession of the revolver.

She realized that she was arguing herself into taking the most dangerous course of action open to her, making excuses for going into the house. Going into the house was obviously crazy, Jesus, a totally crazy move, Jesus, but she was striving hard to rationalize it, because she had already made up her mind that this was what she was going to do.

*

Coming out of the motor home, the woman has a gun in her right hand. It looks as if it might be a .38—perhaps a Chief’s Special.

This is a popular weapon with some cops. But this woman doesn’t move like a cop, doesn’t handle the weapon as a cop would—although clearly she is somewhat comfortable with a gun.

No, she’s definitely not an officer of the law. Something else. Something weird.

Mr. Vess has never been so intrigued by anyone as he is by this spunky little lady, this mysterious adventurer. She’s a real treat.

The moment she sprints from the motor home to the house and out of sight, Vess moves from the window on the south wall of his bedroom to the window on the east wall. It is also covered by a blue drape, which he parts.

No sign of her.

He waits, holding his breath, but she doesn’t head east along the lane. After half a minute or so, he knows that she isn’t going to run.

If she had taken off, she would have sorely disappointed him. He doesn’t think of her as a person who would run. She is bold. He wants her to be bold.

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