I planned it in advance, real carefully. I would run from the shadows of the Cotton cabin, up the slight slope to the Hamiltons’ driveway, up the steps to their little deck, across it to the door, bam bam bam. Ted would open the door, because it was night. He would let me in. He might not really want to, because I was such a mess and I was bringing trouble with me, but I thought he would.

I gathered myself. Just as I was about to take the step out of the shadows, a large dark shape passed between me and the cottage. It seemed more bear than human, but after a second I was sure I was seeing Barney Simpson—not the kindly hospital administrator, but the beast that had lived within him. He hardly walked like a man. His shoulders were slumped and his left leg was dragging. I was sorry I hadn’t hurt him enough to stop him. I thought he was more dangerous now that he’d been wounded.

He stood almost directly outside the Hamiltons’ side door, down on the driveway; he didn’t mount the steps to the deck. Their security light shone on the top of his head. Barney’s hair was full of leaves and twigs. His suit was stained with blood and damp and dirt.

He had a big knife in his right hand. It was really more of a machete than a knife. I wondered if he’d gotten it out of his car, and if so, where it had been during our struggle. He’d been too cocky, then, apparently; he hadn’t thought a weapon would be necessary, because he was big and strong.

Okay. I’d just wait until he left.

But Ted Hamilton was on the watch, as always. The door to the cottage opened, and the old man stepped out onto the little deck.

“Is it Mr. Simpson from the hospital?” he called. “Mr. Simpson, is that you?”

“Oh, Mr. Hamilton,” said Barney. “Listen, I’m sorry to disturb you. But that young woman that was here to find the bodies, that Harper Connelly, she’s having a mental episode and she’s somewhere out here running loose.”

“Oh, goodness,” said Mr. Hamilton, and it was impossible to tell from his voice what his reaction was.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?” Barney asked, and I wondered if I was the only one who could hear the strain in his voice. Barney was having a hard time sounding and acting like a human.

“No, I haven’t,” Ted Hamilton said. “What do you plan to do when you find her?”

“Why, take her to the hospital,” Barney said.

“Are you planning to cut off her head first? Because that sure is a big knife you’ve got there.”