"Bullshit. Of course you did. Why else would you be here?"

I could hear the siren now in its winding approach on the road down below. Somebody must have called the cops as well. Mention Bailey's name and you got service real quick. "Look, put the gun down. Honest to God, I saw Shana's keys in the lost-and-found box this afternoon. I figured she must have been here at some point, so I thought I'd check it out."

"Where's the weapon? What'd you do, hit her with a baseball bat?"

"Elva, she's been dead for days. She was probably killed Wednesday night. If I'd just done it, the blood would be bright red and, uh, you know... spurting." I hate it when people can't comprehend the elementary stuff.

Elva's gaze jumped around and she shifted nervously. Dr. Dunne had said she was a paranoid schizophrenic, but what does that mean? I thought all those people were tripping out on Thorazine these days, as placid as rocks. This woman was big, one of those ham-shouldered Nordic types. I already knew she was as weird as they come. If she'd whacked at me with a Wilson, what was she going to do with a gun in her hand? Two deputies, with flashlights, were zigzagging up the path from below. Things were not looking good.

I let my eyes drift toward her pants, and lifted my eyebrows a bit. "Oh wow. I wouldn't worry about it, but there's a spider the size of a meatball crawling down your leg."

She had to look. How could she not?

I kicked upward, my running shoe lifting the gun right out of her hand. I saw the .22 do a high, tumbling somersault and disappear into the dark. I rammed into her, knocking her ass-over-teakettle right after it. She yelped as she tumbled backward, crashing down the hill.

The first of the deputies had apparently reached the midpoint of the hill. I shoved my penlight in my pocket and ran like hell. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I hoped to get there quick. I angled up through the trees, headed for the fire lane, figuring I could run for a while unimpeded. Shana's Plymouth was blocking the overgrown lane, so even if they managed to get a sheriff's car up here, they'd have trouble getting through. I was making too much noise to hear if anyone was behind me, but it seemed smarter to assume the cops were close on my heels. I quickened my pace, sailing over the trunk of a tree in my path.