Mr. Murder

that he could exploit to change her mind. "You think you're an adventure story heroine, don't you?"
        "You got my imagination working."
        "I wish I'd kept my mouth shut." He stared for a long moment at the shadow-blanketed jumble of rocks, then sighed and said, "All right, but I'm the one who'll go out there. You'll stay in here with the girls."
        She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, baby."
        "Don't pull a feminist number on me."
        "I'm not. It's just that… you're the one he's got a psychic bead "He can sense where you are, and depending on how refined that talent is, he might sense you're in the rocks. You have to stay in the cabin so he'll feel you in here, come straight for you-and right past me."
        "Maybe he can sense you too."
        "Evidence so far indicates it's only you."
        He was in an agony of fear for her, his feelings carved in every hollow of his face. "I don't like this."
        "You already said. I'm going out."
        5. 6.
        By the time Oslett and Clocker left the Stillwater house and crossed the street, Spicer was getting behind the wheel of the red surveillance van.
        The wind accelerated. Snow was driven out of the sky at a severe angle and harried along the street.
        Oslett walked to the driver's door of the surveillance van.
        Spicer had his sunglasses on again even though the last hour or so of daylight was upon them. His eyes, yellow or otherwise, were hidden.
        He looked down at Oslett and said, "I'm going to drive this heap away from here, clear across the county line and out of local jurisdiction before I call the home office and get some help with body disposal."
        "What about the delivery man in the florist's van?"
        "Let them haul their own garbage," Spicer said.
        He handed Oslett a standard-size sheet of typing paper on which the computer had printed a map, plotting the point from which Martin Stillwater had telephoned his parents' house. Only a few roads were depicted on it. Oslett tucked it inside his ski jacket before either the wind could snatch it out of his hand or the paper could become damp from the snow.
        "He's only a few miles away," Spicer said. "You take the Explorer."
        He started the engine, pulled the door shut, and drove off into the storm.
        Clocker was already behind the wheel of the Explorer. Clouds of exhaust billowed from its tailpipe.
        Oslett hurried to the passenger side, got in, slammed the door, and fished the computer map out of his jacket. "Let's go. We're running out of time."
        "Only on the human scale," Clocker said. Pulling away from the curb and switching on the wipers to deal with the wind-driven snow, he added,
        "From a cosmic point of view, time may be the one thing of which there's an inexhaustible supply."
        Paige kissed the girls and made them promise to be brave and to do exactly what their father told them to do. Leaving them for the uncertainty of what lay ahead was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Pretending not to be afraid, in order to help them with their own quest for courage, was even harder.
        When Paige stepped out the front door, Marty went with her onto the porch. Blustery wind hissed through the screen walls and rattled the porch door at the head of the steps.
        "There's one other way," he said, leaning close to her to be heard above the storm without shouting. "If it's me that he's drawn to, maybe I should get the hell out of here, on my own, lead him as far away from you as I can."
        "Forget it."
        "But without you and the girls to worry about, maybe I can deal with him."
        "And if he kills you instead?"
        "At least we wouldn't all go down."
        "You think he won't come looking for us again? He wants your life, remember. Your life, your wife, your children."
        "So if he finishes me off and comes after you, you'd still have a chance to blow his brains out."
        "Oh, yeah? And when he shows up, during that little window of opportunity I'll have before he gets close to me, how would I know whether it was him or you?"
        "You wouldn't," he admitted.
        "So we'll play it this way."
        "You're so damned strong," he said.
        He couldn't know that her bowels were like jelly, her heart was knocking violently, and the faint metallic taste of terror filled her dry