“It’s not safe here.”

She blinked uncomprehendingly. “Because of the fire in the barn?”

“The fire in the barn, the fire in the arena, the fire in the flower booth …”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man I’m chasing … the man who burned down the houses in Cooperstown …”

There was flash of lightning and the loudest thunderclap yet. She flinched and raised her voice. “What are you telling me?”

“He’s here. Petros Panikos. Here, tonight, now. I think he may have seeded the whole fairgrounds with explosives.”

Her hair was still blowing in her face, but now she was making no effort to control it. “How do you know he’s here?”

“I followed him here.”

“From where?”

Another lightning flash, another thunderclap.

“Barrow Hill. I chased him here on Kyle’s motorcycle.”

“What happened? Why—”

“He killed Mick Klemper.”

“Madeleine!” Dennis Winkler’s impatient voice reached them from the place where he was standing, waiting, about thirty feet away. “Madeleine! Come on! We need to keep moving along.”

“Klemper? Where?”

“By our house. I don’t have time to explain it. Panikos is here. He’s blowing things up, he’s burning things down, I need you to get the hell out of here.”

“What about the animals?”

“Maddie, for Godsake …”

“They’re terrified of fire.” She glanced back in distress at her oddly thoughtful-looking pair of alpacas.

“Maddie …”

“All right, all right … let me just get these two to a safe place. Then I’ll leave.” She was obviously finding the decision a difficult one. “What about you? What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find him and stop him.”

Outright fear finally filled her eyes, and she started to object, but he cut her off.

“I have to do this! And you have to get the hell out of here—please—now!”

She appeared for a moment immobilized by her own frightening thoughts, then she dropped the halters, stepped toward him, hugged him with something like desperation, turned away without another word, and led her charges along the concourse to where Winkler was waiting for her. They exchanged a few words, then moved on quickly, side by side, through the corridor that had been cleared through the crowd.

Watching them for the few seconds until they were out of sight, Gurney felt the stab of an emotion he couldn’t name. They looked so goddamn domestic, so bloody compatible, like caring parents of little children, hurrying to find shelter from the storm.

He closed his eyes, hoping for a way up and out of the acid pit.

When he opened them a moment later, the strange little face-painted threesome had reappeared, seemingly out of nowhere. They were walking past him in the same direction taken by Madeleine and Winkler. Gurney had the unsettling impression—it could have been his imagination—that one of the painted faces was smiling.