It was such a painful notion that for a moment I could do nothing but blink away the drops of sweat rolling down my forehead. It was unfair, totally unjustified; of course, I was a monster —but not that kind. I was neat, focused, polite, and very careful not to cause the tourists any inconvenience with random body parts scattered about.

How could she fail to see that? How could I make her see the well ordered beauty of the way Harry had set me up?

The first answer was, I could not —not if Weiss stayed alive and at liberty Because once my face was on the news, my life was over and Deborah would have no more choice than I would; no more choice than I had right now. Sunlight or not, I had to do this, and I had to do it quickly and well.

I took a deep breath and moved up the street to the house next to Wimble's, looking intently at the trees along the drive and scribbling on the clipboard. I moved slowly up the driveway. No one leapt out at me with a machete in their teeth, so I walked back down the driveway, paused in front of the house, and then went on to Wimble's.

There were suspicious trees to examine there, too, and I looked up at them, made notes, and moved a bit further up the driveway.

There was no sight nor sound of life from the house. Even though I did not know what I hoped to see, I moved closer, looking for it, and not just in the trees. I looked carefully at the house, noting that all the windows seemed to have shades drawn down. Nothing could see in or out. I got far enough up the driveway to notice that there was a back door, located at the top of two concrete steps. I moved toward it very casually, listening for any small rustling or whispering or shouts of, “Look out! He's here!” Still nothing. I pretended to notice a tree in the backyard, close to a propane tank and only about twenty feet from the door, and I went over to it.