One Door From Heaven

continued to outweigh the resources he consumed to sustain himself. In the finest spirit of utilitarian ethics, he had put his faults to good use for humanity and had behaved responsibly.
        He reserved his cruelty strictly for those who needed to die anyway, and tormented them only immediately before killing them.
        Otherwise, he quite admirably controlled every impulse to be vicious. He treated all people-those he had not marked for death- with kindness, respect, and generosity.
        In truth, more like him were needed: men-and women!-who acted within a code of ethics to rid an overpopulated world of the takers, of the worthless ones who, if left alive, would drag down not merely civilization with all their endless needs, but nature as well.
        There were so many of the worthless. Legions.
        He wanted to subject the Hand to the exquisite cruelty of seeing her brother's remains, because he was annoyed by her pious certainty that God had made her for a purpose, that her life had meaning she would one day discover.
        Let her look for meaning in the biological sludge and bristling bones of her brother's decomposed body. Let her search hopelessly for any sign of any god in that reeking grave.
        North to Nun's Lake under a darkening sky.
        Soaring mountains, vast forests. Eagles gone to roost.
        Dead girl reading.

Chapter 62
        
        ACCORDING TO the inset chart of estimated driving times on the AAA map, Micky should have required eight hours and ten minutes to travel the 381 miles between Seattle and Nun's Lake. Speed limits and rest stops were factored into this estimate, as were the conditions of the narrower state and county roads that she had to use after she exited Interstate 90 southeast of Coeur d'Alene.
        After leaving Seattle promptly at 5:30 A.M., she reached her destination at 12:20 P.M., one hour and twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Light traffic, a disregard for speed limits, and a lack of interest in rest stops served her well.
        Nun's Lake proved to be true to its name. A large lake lay immediately south of it, and an imposing convent, built of native stone in the 1930s, stood on a high hill to the north. An order of Carmelite nuns occupied the convent, while fish of many denominations meditated in the deeps of the lake, bracketing the community between a monument to the power of the spirit and a flourishing recreational enterprise.
        Evergreen forests embraced the town. Under a threatening sky, great pines sentineled the looming storm, orders upon orders of symbolic sisters in green wimples and guimpes and habits, needled garments so dark in this somber light that at a distance, they looked almost as black as the vestments of the real nuns in the convent.
        Although the town had fewer than two thousand residents in the off season, a steady influx of fishermen, boaters, campers, hikers, and jet-ski enthusiasts doubled the population during the summer.
        At a busy sportsman’s store that sold everything from earthworms by the pint to six-packs of beer, Micky learned that three facilities in the area provided campsites with power-and-water hookups to motor homes and travel trailers. Favoring tenters, the state park dedicated only twenty percent of its sites to campers requiring utilities. Two privately owned RV campgrounds were a better bet for those roughing it in style.
        Within an hour, she visited all three places, inquiring whether the Jordan Banks family had checked in, certain that Maddoc would not be traveling under his real name. They were in residence at none of the campgrounds, nor did they have a reservation at one.
        Because the stagnant economy had crimped some people's vacation plans and because even in better times the area had a surplus of RV campsites, reservations weren't always required, and space was likely to be available at all three facilities when Maddoc pulled into town.
        She asked each of the registration clerks not to mention her inquiry to the Banks family when eventually they showed up. "I'm Jordan's sister. He doesn't know I'm here. I want to surprise him. It's his birthday."
        If Maddoc had false ID supporting his Jordan Banks identity, he probably had identification in other names, as well. He might already be in one of these campgrounds, using a name that she didn't know.
        Leilani had described the motor home as a luxurious converted