As they drove on, Adalana noticed a river along the right side of the road and some old one-lane bridges crossing it. She knew Polly Newton was studying her face carefully, probably so she could identify her to the police. Adalana talked, pretending to be Ragen, making up stories. It would confuse Arthur and the others, and cover her trail. No one would know she had been on the spot.

“I killed three people, but I killed a lot more than that during the war. I’m a member of the Weathermen’s terrorist group, and I was dropped off in Columbus last night to complete a mission. I had to make a man disappear who was going to testify in court against the Weathermen. I should tell you I completed my mission.”

Polly Newton listened quietly, nodding.

“I have another identity,” Adalana boasted, “where I dress up, and I’m a businessman, and I drive a Maserati.”

When they came to a deserted country road, Adalana had Polly drive across a deep ditch and through the high weeds of an overgrown field near a small pond. Adalana got out with her, looked at the water and at the surrounding area, came back and sat on the hood of the car. “I want to wait for about twenty minutes before I have you drop me off.”

Polly looked relieved.

Then Adalana added, “And I want to have sex with you.”

Polly began to cry.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not the kind who beats women and throws them around. I don’t even like to hear about that being done to women.”

“Look, you mustn’t scream and kick when you’re being raped, because that makes a rapist freak out and get violent. The best thing to do is lay back, say ‘Go ahead,’ and the rapist won’t hurt you. I have a soft spot for tears,” Adalana said, “but you don’t have a choice. I’m going to do it anyway.”

She took two bath towels that were in the car and laid them on the ground along with her jacket. “Lie down on them, put your hands on the ground, look up at the sky and try to relax.” Polly did as she was told. Then Adalana lay down beside her, unfastened her blouse and her bra, and kissed her. “You don’t have to worry about getting pregnant or anything like that,” she said. “I’ve got Huntingtons chorea and I’ve had a vasectomy. Look.” .

Adalana pulled down her jogging pants to her knees and showed Polly a scar on the lower abdomen, right above the penis. It wasn’t a vasectomy scar at all. It was a diagonal line on the abdomen itself, a hernia scar.

As Adalana lay on top of her, Polly cried, “Please don’t rape me!” The girl’s cry of “rape” struck deep into Adalanas mind. She remembered the things that had happened to David and Danny and Billy. My God, what a horrible thing rape was.

Adalana stopped, rolled off onto her back and looked at the :sky with tears in her eyes. “Bill,” she said aloud, “what’s wrong with you? Get yourself together.: