In a desperate attempt to save my life, I dove at him, grabbing him around the knees and bringing him down. The gun went off; he’d had his finger on the trigger, oh God oh God. But if I was hit I didn’t know it yet, and when he swung the gun at my head I grabbed his wrist with both hands and clung to it, literally for dear life.

Maybe my intense fear made me stronger than usual, because I was able to keep my hold on him though he hit at me with his other arm and thrashed around to shake me off. He was trying to bring the gun to bear on me, trying to force his arm into a straight line so he could fire at me, and as we rolled around in a snarling heap I saw my chance and sank my teeth into the fleshy heel of his hand and bit down with all my might. He gave a cry of pain—yay!—and let go of the gun. I would like to say that had been my intent, but if it was, I’d made the decision on a level I’d never tapped consciously.

Then the lights came on in the room, blinding me, and a shape I thought was Tolliver leaped forward. All three of us were in the melee on the floor, crashing into tables and sending heavy lamps toppling to the pale carpet.

“Stop!” screamed a new voice. “I’ve got a gun!”

We all froze. I still had my teeth in the man’s hand, and Tolliver had raised a heavy glass ornament shaped like an apple to bash in his head. For the first time, I unclenched my teeth and looked up at the man’s face. Paul Edwards. He was a far cry from the suave lawyer I’d met in the sheriff’s office. He was wearing a flannel shirt and khakis and sneakers, and his hair was completely disheveled. He was panting heavily, and blood was streaming from his hand where I’d bitten him. Most striking of all was the absence of that calm assurance he’d had, the certainly that his little world was his to rule and order. He looked more like a raccoon that had been treed—bared teeth and glinting eyes and hissing noises.

“Oh my God, Paul,” Sybil said, the gun wavering in her hand. Dammit, why does everyone have a gun? Sybil’s was smaller, but looked just as lethal. “Oh, my God.” She was as struck by the transformation as I was, probably more. “How could you do this?”

I hoped she was asking him, not us. At least the light had made the storm retreat in my forest of fears. Tolliver gently set the glass apple on a table by the kitchen doorway.

“Sybil, I couldn’t let them know.” He was trying to sound reasonable, but it just came out weak.