dk.intensity-第30部分

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und　most　of　the　vehicle；　with　the　exception　of　blind　spots　toward　the　rear　on　the　port　side　and　at　the　very　back；　and　the　woman　is　not　in　sight。　
　〃Ready　when　you　are；　Miss　Desmond；〃　he　says；　referring　to　the　Gloria　Swanson　character　in　Sunset　Boulevard。
　That　movie　had　had　a　great　effect　on　him　when　he'd　first　seen　it　on　television。　He'd　been　thirteen；　a　year　out　of　counseling　for　the　murder　of　his　grandmother。　On　one　level；　he　had　known　that　Norma　Desmond　was　supposed　to　be　the　tragic　villain　of　the　piece；　that　the　writer　and　director　intended　for　her　to　fulfill　that　role…but　he　had　admired　her；　loved　her。　Her　selfishness　was　thrilling；　her　self…absorption　heroic。　She　was　the　truest　character　he　had　ever　seen　in　a　movie。　This　was　what　people　were　actually　like；　under　the　pretense　and　hypocrisy；　under　all　the　crap　about　love；　passion；　altruism；　they　were　all　like　Norma　Desmond　but　couldn't　admit　it　to　themselves。　Norma　didn't　give　a　shit　about　the　rest　of　the　world；　and　she　bent　everyone　to　her　iron　will　even　when　she　was　no　longer　young　or　beautiful　or　famous；　and　when　she　couldn't　bend　William　Holden's　character　as　far　as　she　wanted；　she　just　boldly　picked　up　a　gun　and　shot　him；　which　was　so　powerful；　so　audacious；　that　young　Edgler　had　been　too　excited　to　sleep　that　night。　He　had　lain　awake　wondering　what　it　would　be　like　to　encounter　a　woman　as　superior　and　genuine　as　Norma　Desmond…and　then　to　break　her；　kill　her；　take　all　the　strength　of　her　selfishness　and　make　it　his　own。
　Maybe　this　mystery　woman　is　a　little　bit　like　Norma　Desmond。　She's　bold；　sure　enough。　He　can't　figure　what　the　hell　she's　doing；　what　she's　after；　and　when　he　understands　her　motivation；　maybe　she　won't　be　anything　like　Norma　Desmond。　But　at　least　she　is　already　something　new　and　interesting　in　his　experience。
　The　rain。　The　wind。　The　motor　home。　〃Take　the　A　Train〃　has　given　way　to　〃String　of　Pearls。〃　Murmuring　softly　against　the　blue　drapes；　Mr。　Vess　says；　〃Ready　when　you　are。〃
　After　the　killer　had　gotten　out　of　the　motor　home　and　slammed　the　door；　Chyna　had　waited　in　the　dark　bedroom　for　a　long　while　in　the　one…note　lullaby　of　rain。
　She　had　told　herself　that　she　was　being　prudent。　Listen。　Wait。　Be　sure。　Absolutely　sure。
　But　then　she'd　been　forced　to　admit　that　she　had　lost　her　nerve。　Although　she　had　mostly　dried　out　during　the　ride　north　from　Hum…boldt　County；　she　was　still　cold；　and　the　source　of　her　chills　was　the　ice　of　doubt　in　her　guts。
　The　eater　of　spiders　was　gone；　and　to　Chyna；　even　remaining　in　blackness　with　two　dead　bodies　was　far　preferable　to　going　outside　where　she　might　encounter　him　again。　She　knew　that　he　would　be　back；　that　this　bedroom　was　not；　in　fact；　a　safe　place；　but　for　a　while；　what　she　knew　was　overruled　by　what　she　felt。
　When　at　last　she　broke　her　paralysis；　she　moved　with　reckless　abandon；　as　though　any　hesitation　would　result　in　another　and　worse　paralysis；　which　she　would　be　unable　to　overe。　She　yanked　open　the　bedroom　door；　plunged　into　the　hall；　with　the　revolver　held　in　front　of　her　because　maybe　the　murderous　bastard　hadn't　gotten　out　after　all；　and　she　went　all　the　way　forward　past　the　bathroom　and　through　the　dining　area　and　into　the　lounge；　where　she　stopped　a　few　feet　back　from　the　driver's　seat。
　The　only　light　was　a　bleak　gray　haze　that　came　through　the　skylight　in　the　hall　behind　her　and　through　the　windshield　ahead；　but　she　could　see　that　the　killer　wasn't　here。　She　was　alone。
　Outside；　directly　ahead　of　the　motor　home；　lay　a　sodden　yard；　a　few　dripping　trees；　and　a　rough　driveway　leading　to　a　weathered　barn。
　Chyna　moved　to　a　starboard　window；　cautiously　peeled　back　one　er　of　the　greasy　drape；　and　saw　a　log　house　about　twenty　feet　away。　Mottled　with　time　and　many　coats　of　creosote；　streaming　with　rain；　the　walls　glistened　like　dark　snakeskin。
　Although　she　had　no　way　of　being　certain；　she　assumed　that　it　was　the　killer's　house。　He　had　told　the　men　in　the　service　station　that　he　was　going　home　after　his　〃hunting〃　trip；　and　everything　he　had　told　them　had　sounded　to　her　like　the　truth；　including…and　especially　the　taunts　about　young　Ariel。
　The　killer　must　be　inside。　Chyna　went　forward　again　and　leaned　over　the　driver's　seat　to　look　at　the　ignition。　The　keys　weren't　there。　They　weren't　in　the　console　box　either。
　She　slipped　into　the　copilot's　seat；　feeling　frightfully　exposed　in　spite　of　the　blurring　rain　that　washed　down　the　windows。　She　could　find　nothing　in　the　console　box；　in　the　shallow　glove　box；　in　either　door　pouch；　or　under　either　front　seat　that　revealed　the　name　of　the　owner　or　anything　else　about　him。
　rie　woulu　oe　returning　soon。　V　or　some　demented　reason；　he　had　gone　to　a　lot　of　trouble　and　taken　risks　to　bring　the　cadavers；　and　most　likely　he　would　not　leave　them　in　the　motor　home　for　long。
　The　obscuring　rain　made　it　difficult　for　her　to　be　sure；　but　she　thought　that　the　drapes　were　drawn　at　the　first…floor　windows　on　this　side　of　the　house。　Consequently；　the　killer　would　not　casually　glance　out　and　spot　her　when　she　stepped　from　the　motor　home。　She　couldn't　see　the　pair　of　second…floor　windows　half　as　well　as　those　lower　down；　but　they　also　might　be　draped。
　She　cracked　open　the　door；　and　a　cold　knife　of　wind　thrust　at　her　through　the　gap。　She　got　out　and　closed　the　door　behind　her　as　quietly　as　possible。
　The　sky　was　low　and　turbulent。　Forested　hills　rose　rank　after　rank　behind　the　house；　vanishing　into　the　pearly　mist。　Chyna　sensed　mountains　looming　above　the　hills　in　the　overcast；　they　would　still　be　capped　with　snow　this　early　in　th　spring。
　She　hurried　to　the　flagstone　steps　and　went　up　onto　the　porch；　ou　of　the　rain；　but　it　was　ing　down　so　hard　that　already　she　was　soaked　again。　She　stood　with　her　back　to　the　rough　wall。
　Windows　flanked　the　front　door；　and　the　drapes　were　drawn　behind　the　nearer　of　the　two。
　Music　inside。　Swing　music。　She　stared　out　at　the　meadows；　along　the　lane　that　led　from　the　house　to　the　top　of　a　low　hill　and　thence　out　of　sight。　Perhaps；　beyond　the　hill；　other　houses　stood　along　that　unpaved　track；　where　she　would　find　people　who　could　help　her。
　But　who　had　ever　helped　her　before；　all　these　long　years？　She　remembered　the　two　brief　stops　that　had　awakened　her；　and　she　suspected　that　the　motor　home　had　passed　through　a　gate。　Nevertheless；　even　if　this　was　a　private　driveway；　it　would　lead　sooner　or　later　to　a　public　road；　where　she　would　find　assistance　from　residents　or　passing　motorists。
　The　top　of　the　hill　was　approximately　a　quarter　of　a　mile　from　the　house。　This　was　a　lot　of　open　ground　to　cover　before　she　would　be　out　of　sight。　If　he　saw　her；　he　would　probably　be　able　to　chase　her　down　before　she　got　away。
　And　she　still　didn't　know　that　this　was　his　house。　Even　if　it　was　his　house；　she　couldn't　be　sure　that　this　was　where　he　kept　Ariel。　If　Chyna　brought　back　the　authorities　and　Ariel　wasn't　here；　then　the　killer　might　never　tell　them　where　to　find　the　girl。
　She　had　to　be　sure　that　Ariel　was　in　the　basement。　But　if　the　girl　was　here；　then　when　Chyna　came　back　with　the　cops；　the　killer　might　barricade　himself　in　the　house。　It　would　take　a　SWAT　team　to　pry　him　out　of　the　place…and　before　they　got　to　him；　he　might　kill　Ariel　and　mit　suicide。
　In　fact；　that　was　almost　certainly　how　it　would　play　out　as　soon　as　any　cops　showed　up。　He　would　know　that　his　freedom　was　at　an　end；　that　his　games　were　over；　that　he　would　have　no　more　fin；　and　all　he　would　see　available　to　him　was　one　last；　apocalyptic　celebration　of　madness。
　Chyna　couldn't　bear　to　lose　this　imperiled　girl　so　soon　after　losing　Laura；　failing　Laura。　Intolerable。　She　couldn't　keep　failing　people　as；　all　her　life；　others　had　iailed　her。　Meaning　wasn't　to　be　found　in　psychology　classes　and　textbooks　but　in　caring；　in　hard　sacrifice；　in　faith；　in　action。　She　didn't　want　to　take　these　risks。　She　wanted　to　live…but　for　someone　other　than　herself　At　least　now　she　had　a　gun。　And　the　advantage　of　surprise。　Earlier；　at　the　Templeton　house　and　in　the　motor　home　and　then　at　the　service　station；　she'd　also　had　the　advantage　of　surprise；　but　she　hadn't　been　in　possession　of　the　revolver。
　She　realized　that　she　was　arguing　herself　into　taking　the　most　dangerous　course　of　action　open　to　her；　making　excuses　for　going　into　the　house。　Going　into　the　house　was　obviously　crazy；　Jesus；　a　totally　crazy　move；　Jesus；　but　she　was　striving　hard　to　rationalize　it；　because　she　had　already　made　up　her　mind　that　this　was　what　she　was　going　to　do。
　ing　out　of　the　motor　home；　the　woman　has　a　gun　in　her　right　hand。　It　looks　as　if　it　might　be　a　…　3　8　…　perhaps　a　Chief's　Special。
　This　is　a　popular　weapon　with　some　cops。　But　this　woman　doesn't　move　like　a　cop；　doesn't　handle　the　weapon　as　a　cop　would…although　clearly　she　is　somewhat　fortable　with　a　gun。
　No；　she's　definitely　not　an　officer　of　the　law。　Something　else。　Something　weird。
　Mr。　Vess　has　never　been　so　intrigued　by　anyone　as　he　is　by　this　spunky　little　lady；　this　mysterious　adventurer。　She's　a　real　treat。
　The　moment　she　sprints　from　the　motor　home　to　the　house　and　out　of　sight；　Vess　moves　from　the　window　on　the　south　wall　of　his　bedroom　to　the　window　on　the　east　wall。　It　is　also　covered　by　a　blue　drape；　which　he　parts。
　No　sign　of　her。　He　waits；　holding　his　breath；　but　she　doesn't　head　east　along　the　lane。　After　half　a　minute　or　so；　he　knows　that　she　isn't　going　to　run。
　If　she　had　taken　off；　she　would　have　sorely　disappointed　him。　He　doesn't　think　of　her　as　a　person　who　would　run。　She　is　bold。　He　wants　her　to　be　bold。
　Had　she　run；　he　would　have　sent　the　dogs　after　her；　not　with　instructions　to　kill　but　merely　to　detain。　Then　he　would　have　retrieved　her　to　question　her　at　his　leisure。
　But　sbe　is　ing　to　bim。　For　whatever　unimaginable　reason；　she　will　follow　him　into　the　house。　With　her　revolver。
　He　will　need　to　be　cautious。　But　oh；　what　fun　he　is　having。　Her　gun　only　makes　the　game　more　intense。
　The　front　porch　is　immediately　below　this　window；　but　he　isn't　able　to　see　it　because　of　the　overhanging　roof。　The　mystery　woman　is　somewhere　on　the　porch。　He　canfeel　her　close；　perhaps　directly　under　him。
　He　retrieves　his　pistol　from　the　nightstand　and　glides　quietly　across　the　wall…to…wall　carpet　into　the