Prodigal Son

seldom that she didn't know how to hold on to one when she needed it.
        Carson said, "What do you wonder?"
        "I told him he had to find his bliss, so I sure hope his bliss didn't turn out to be chopping people to pieces."

CHAPTER 76
        
        THROUGH THE CODED DOOR, out of Mercy, Randal Six finds himself in a six-foot-wide, eight-foot-high corridor with block-and-timber walls and a concrete floor. No rooms open from either side of this passageway.
        Approximately a hundred and forty feet from him waits another door. Happily, there are no choices. He has come too far to retreat. He can only go forward.
        The floor has been poured in three-foot-square blocks. By taking long strides-sometimes bounding- Randal is able to spell himself along these oversize boxes toward the farther end of the corridor.
        At the second door, he finds a locking system identical to the first. He enters the code he used previously, and this barrier opens.
        The corridor is actually a tunnel under the hospital grounds. It connects to the parking garage in the neighboring building.
        Father owns this five-story structure, too, in which he houses the accounting and personnel-management departments of Biovision. He can be seen coming and going from there without raising questions.
        Using the secretly constructed underground passageway between buildings, his visits to the Hands of Mercy, which he owns through a shell company, can be concealed.
        This second door opens into a dark place. Randal finds a light switch and discovers a twelve-foot-square room with concrete walls.
        The floor is concrete, as well, but it is a single pour, with no form lines. In other words, it is one big empty box.
        Directly opposite the doorway at which he stands is another door no doubt opening to the parking garage.
        The problem is that he can't cross twelve feet and reach that door in a single step. To spell himself to that exit, he will have to take several steps within the same empty box.
        Every step is a letter. The rules of crosswords are simple and clear. One letter per box. You can't put multiple letters in one box.
        That way lies chaos.
        Just considering the possibility, Randal Six shudders with fear and disgust.
        One block, one letter. No other method is able to bring order to the world.
        The threshold in front of him shares an h with the chamber that waits before him. Once across the threshold, he must finish spelling the last five letters of the other word a-m-b-e-r.
        He can reach the next door in five steps. That is no problem. But he only has one empty box.
        Randal stands at the threshold of this new room. He stands. He stands at the threshold. He stands, thinks, puzzles, puzzles… He begins to weep with frustration.

CHAPTER 77
        
        WHEN BULLETS WEREN'T FLYING, Carson could take a more thoughtful look at Harker's apartment. Signs of a dysfunctional personality were at once evident.
        Although every piece of furniture was a different style from the others, in clashing colors and uncomplementary patterns, this might mean nothing more than that Harker had no taste.
        Although his living room had considerably more contents than did Allwine's-where there had been nothing but a black-vinyl chair-it was underfurnished to the point of starkness. Minimalism, of course, is a style preferred by many people who are perfectly sane.
        The absence of any artwork whatsoever on the walls, the lack of bibelots and mementoes, the disinterest in beautifying the space in any way reminded her too much of how Allwine had lived.
        At least one inspirational poster or cute cookie jar would have been welcome.
        Instead, here came Dwight Frye out of the kitchen, looking as greasy as ever but, as never before, contrite. "If you're gonna rip me a new one, don't bother. I've already done it."
        Michael said, "That's one of the most moving apologies I've ever heard."
        "I knew him like a brother," Frye said, "but I didn't know him at all."
        Carson said, "He had a passion for modern dance."
        Frye looked baffled, and Michael said approvingly, "Carson, you might get the hang of this yet."
        "For real he went out that kitchen window?" Frye asked.
        "For real," Carson said.
        "But the fall would've killed him."
        "Didn't," Michael