The kitchen swam in her vision as Alice walked and gripped the knife’s wooden handle, pulling it free from its block. She turned to Jake.

There was the loud, echoey bong of the doorbell ringing.

“Just do it,” Jake said. “There’s no time now.”

“Hit me first.”

Jake nodded, and feebly swung the sock with the quarters, glancing them off of Alice’s shoulders.

“It’s got to be harder,” she said.

He swung again, clipping her left ear. It hurt more than she thought it would. She blinked rapidly.

The doorbell rang a second time.

She punched the knife into his chest, where she thought his heart was, but the knife only went about an inch in, and Jake staggered backward a step, dropping the cosh on the floor. She looked into his eyes, trying to remember the man who had once lifted her into his arms and carried her like a bride into this very home. Now all she saw in his eyes was confusion, and a little bit of panic. He lifted a hand up, his fingers spread, and Alice took hold of his wrist, pressed his hand up against the side of her face, bringing him in closer to her. His fingers gripped her neck, his nails ripping at her skin. They were both breathing heavily, Jake’s lips apart but his stained teeth clenched together. He squeezed harder at Alice’s neck, and she felt a trickle of blood run down into her collarbone. She stabbed him again harder, and this time, when she pulled the knife out, blood began to soak his shirt. He dropped to his knees and then to the ground. Jake put his hand on his chest, and the blood pumped out between his fingers, pooling in the folds of his shirt.

The doorbell rang again. Alice watched Jake, just to make sure he’d stopped breathing. She dropped the knife to the floor, where it skittered away, leaving a trail of blood. She touched her fingers to her neck, puffy where the welts were already rising up.

He nearly killed me, she thought. Then: I had to do it. I had to do it, the words running through her head as she moved, trancelike, to the front door.

Chapter 32

Now

Alice’s car was outside in the parking lot, so Harry knew she was in the condo. He pressed the doorbell, telling himself that if no one answered maybe he should just inform the police of what he thought he’d seen. Still, it would be better if he could get one more look at John, just so he could know for sure if he was the one he’d seen in front of the motel. And with Alice here, he had an excuse—he was concerned, looking for his stepmother.