But Carol was already heading to her car. Cory was about to shoot out the door after her, but not before telling Dolly to get a grip, look what she’d done.

Dolly’d screamed, “It’s over! I can’t do this shit any more. I can’t, I can’t! You’re crazy, that’s what you are! You’re a fucking psycho!”

Cory found his hands around her neck. He pushed her up against the wall and squeezed with everything he had. She put up a good fight, he had to give her that. Kicked and flailed about, but he didn’t let go, didn’t stop squeezing. Not until she slid down the wall and crumpled into a heap on the floor.

But that still left Carol Beakman.

He charged out the door. Incredibly, she was still there. In her rush to escape, she’d fumbled with her purse and dropped it next to her car. She was on her knees, scrabbling through the contents that had spilled out, searching frantically for her keys.

Cory kicked her in the head.

That was all it took. Carol’s head bounced up against the fender of the Toyota, and then she slid to the ground. Cory picked her up and carried her into the barn. Secured her to the metal cot where he had performed his artistry on Brian Gaffney.

He had mixed feelings, at first, at discovering she was still alive. But he soon saw the advantages of keeping her that way. He actually thought maybe Dolly had been right, that the police could be getting close, and if that was the case, Carol Beakman might be useful.

Now, sitting in this tiny cabin in Cape Cod, he realized he should have taken more time to think through all the other aspects of his predicament.

His first thought had been to get rid of Dolly, and Carol Beakman’s car. He put Dolly into the trunk of the Toyota, then drove his van to within a mile of the industrial park where he intended to leave the car. After hoofing it back to the nearest bus line to downtown Promise Falls, he got a cab to drop him half a mile from Dolly’s place. More hoofing. Then he drove Carol’s car to the tile place, hours before they opened, and left the vehicle out back by a Dumpster.

He walked back to his own vehicle from there and, after doing some online research to check on the latest Pilford sightings, headed for Kingston.

And from there, the Cape.

But not before loading a thoroughly drugged Carol Beakman into the back of the van.

One did not abandon the mission because of a few setbacks.

So now here he was, in East Sandwich, only a few beach houses away from Jeremy and that bodyguard of his.

It was time to get this done.