And he laughed.

It was a wet sound, loud, choked, filled with dirt and bile...

...Lucy lay very still now, very peaceful in her car, and no longer heard the screams of her daughter; instead there was a voice, strong and soothing, that made her feel safe, and this voice said to her: Shall there be mercy, then?

And, in peaceful sleep, she answered: Not for the likes of monsters like them, no...

...Under no circumstances?...

...Absolutely not; anyone who would do such a thing doesn’t deserve it...

—So, then…under no circumstances? asked the part of Mr. Hands where Ronnie and his children were settling in, happy at last to be together but wanting to make absolutely sure.

—Goddamn right, under no circumstances, replied Lucy.

—So be it, said Mr. Hands.

...and there was an unbelievably powerful rumbling in the night that many people who lived near the park believed to be merely another strong burst of thunder.

Mr. Hands ran off into the storm and darkness, knocking down a few of the smaller park trees on his way.

Joyous; wrathful.

Enraged; exultant.

The bittersweet taste of human terror on his tongue.

It was time to begin what She had brought him here to do.

* * *

Fourteen-and-a-half miles away, just across the street from St. Francis De Sales Church on Granville Street, in a large but still cramped garage behind the Spencer Halfway House, Timothy Beals, occupying his time by trying to repair an old radio with one of the house supervisors, was beginning the last ninety minutes of his life.

Interlude: The Hangman

1 a.m.

Henry waited in the silence for someone to say something; when no one did, he finished off his coffee, set the cup on the bar, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said, “That’s the part where most of the doctors whip out the prescriptions pads, by the way.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Jackson. “By the way, the fellow you mentioned, Thalidomide Man. We know him.”

Henry’s mouth actually fell open a little. “You’re kidding?”

The Reverend shook his head. “Nope. His name is Linus—not after the Peanuts character, mind you.”

“After the character Humphrey Bogart played in Sabrina, with Audrey Hepburn,” said Grant. “He’ll lecture you for ten minutes if you don’t understand that.”

Henry stared at all of them for several minutes. “How do you know him?”

“He’s a regular at the open shelter,” said the Reverend. “I’ve known him for…oh, I’d say at least ten years.”

“Eight for me,” said Jackson.

Grant nodded. “Same for me.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide. “Is he still alive?”

“I’d say ‘…and kicking’, but that would be in questionable taste,” replied the Reverend.

“Linus’d laugh at it,” said Grant.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “and then make me suffer for it. No thank you.” He turned back toward Henry. “Why the interest in Linus? You actually damn near jumped off your stool when we said this.”

“No…no reason, really. It’d…it’d just be nice to actually meet someone from this story,” said Henry.