One Door From Heaven

it.
        Cass leaves the Fleetwood first, keeping her right hand inside the purse that is slung over her shoulder.
        Sister-become follows Cass. Curtis follows the dog, and Polly comes last, right hand firmly on the pistol in her purse, too.
        At only a few minutes past three o'clock on a summer afternoon, the day looks more like a winter twilight, and in spite of the warm air, the gray light imposes a chilly impression on everything that it touches, emphasizing the trace of frosty silver in each evergreen needle, plating the lake with a mirage of ice.
        Outside, Old Yeller assumes the lead, following her previous route to the juggernaut, though with no pee stops this time.
        Few campers are out and about. Having finished battening down for the storm, most are inside.
        The radiant girl hasn't returned to the front of the motor home. Curtis can see nothing more than a dim light farther back in the big vehicle, filtered by the tinted windshield, and reflections of pine branches and sullen clouds on the surface of the glass.
        Cass intends to knock on the door, but Curtis halts her with a softly spoken "No."
        As before, the dog senses not only that a vicious beast of the human variety frequents this motor home, but also that it is, as before, not in residence at this time. Once more, she detects two presences, the first producing both the bitter odor of a soul in despair and the pheromonal stench of a spirit profoundly corrupted. The second is one who, having so long endured fear, is steeped in chronic anxiety, although utterly free of despair.
        Curtis infers that the fear-troubled heart is that of the girl whom earlier he saw through the windshield.
        The corrupted presence is so unappealing that the dog skins her teeth back from her lips, producing an expression as close to one of disgust as the form of her face allows. If sister-become could pucker her muzzle sufficiently to spit, she would do so.
        Curtis can't be certain if the object of this disgust poses a threat. Perhaps it is revealing, however, that this person seems not to be troubled by any of the fear that is a yoke upon the girl.
        While the twins, bracketing him, keep a watch on the surrounding campground, Curtis places both hands on the door of the motor home. On the micro level, where will can prevail over matter, he senses a low-voltage electrical circuit and recognizes that it is similar to the alarm-system circuit on the Fleetwood, which the twins engage each night.
        Every circuit has a switch. The low-voltage flow is energy, but the switch is mechanical and therefore vulnerable to the power of the will. Curtis has a strong will. The alarm is engaged-and then not.
        The door is securely locked. And then unlocked. Quietly, he opens it and peers into the cockpit, which is deserted.
        Two steps up, and in.
        He hears one of the twins hiss in disapproval, but he doesn't turn back.
        A single lamp lights the lounge. One of the sofas has been folded out to form a bed.
        She is sitting on the bed, writing rapidly in a journal. One leg is bent, the other stuck straight out in the grip of a steel brace.
        The radiant girl.
        Intently focused on her composition, she doesn't hear the door open and doesn't at first realize that someone has entered and is standing at the head of the steps.
        Sister-become follows Curtis, pushes halfway between his legs to get a clear look at this steel-braced vision.
        This movement attracts the girl's attention, and she looks up.
        Curtis says, "You shine."

Chapter 66
        
        AFTER REVERSING the Camaro into the cover of the trees, Micky stood for a while, leaning against the car, watching the turnoff to the Teelroy farm from a distance of about seventy yards. Three vehicles passed during the next ten minutes, giving her a chance to determine that from this far away she wouldn't be able to discern if Maddoc had come alone in the Durango, even if she could positively identify the vehicle itself. She moved fifty yards farther west.
        Less than twenty minutes later, positioned behind a tree, she saw the Durango approaching from the direction of Nun's Lake. When the SUV slowed for the right turn into the Teelroy driveway, Micky could see that the driver was alone: Preston Maddoc.
        She hurried east, back the way that she had come, and took up a new