Programmed for Peril

was, it was only because his devilish powers were so strong. No! What could she do to sway him from his purpose? Her mind whirled like a prayer wheel as she sought something to defuse his determination. Something to make him leave her alone. She thought she found it.
    “Carson!”
    “I am not—”
    “I have something to tell you about Melody. Something I always hid from you. Are you listening?”
    “Yes.”
    “You are not Melody’s father!”
    Silence.
    “Do you understand me? It was another man. A man named Ron Verner—”
    “That isn’t possible. Her hair, her skin—”
    “I had tissue testing done.” She blurted out the name of the laboratory and the date of the testing. “Check it! Check it and you’ll see. I’ll fax them written permission!”
    There was a long silence. The heavy voice spoke again, rustling like a toad on leaves. “So broken lines from the net of the past are joined. Truth outs. I have a truth for you about Ron Verner.”
    “You knew him?”
    “In a way. How the present and past join!” He paused. “Now, again, you must go away with Carson. You and Melody.”
    “I won’t!”
    “Carson thought you might take that... unwise position. He instructed me to tell you that in such a case you were to know that he will force you to join him.”
    “I won’t! Think about who Melody’s father really was. You won’t want her—or me either, now.”
    Delay from the other side of the door. Trish’s news, like an animal swallowed by a snake, was proving difficult to digest. Her heart hammered ribs. Her palms were ice. The voice resumed, gaining vigor and confidence. “Until now no one you know has been badly hurt. Should you remain uncooperative, such things will begin to happen. You mustn’t doubt Carson’s ruthlessness when it comes to the resurrection of Queen of My Heart!”
    So that’s what he thought it was, her resurrection. Damnation was more like it.
    “I brought equipment, some of which I used before.” Trish jumped back. “What kind of equipment? What are you going to do?”
    “Prove to you that you really are at Carson’s mercy. That he can do whatever he wants to you. That you should reconsider at this moment.” Pause. “Will you?”
    “No!”
    “So the past and present themes combine.”
    She heard a metallic rattle, the sound of an object put to the floor. She backed further away from the door. “What do you mean ‘past and present’?”
    “I’m going to gas you,” he said.
    She shrieked. When she quieted he said, “The same gas used on Ron Verner. It entered his car with the help of a timing device right where the high-speed stretch of highway began, before the bridge abutment. It put him to sleep.”
    “You murdered him! You knew about the two of us! You murdered Melody’s father!”
    “Had Carson known—if you’re telling the truth—Verner would have died in a far uglier way.”
    Trish heard the hiss of escaping gas. Though she saw nothing, she spun and hurried to a window. She heaved on the sash. Holding her breath, she grunted aloud with the effort. The window wouldn’t open!
    “Trying the windows?” came the voice from beyond the door. “I sealed them.”
    Trish whirled from the glass and looked for something with which to smash it.
    “This must teach you to feel differently about Carson’s proposal. Don’t be foolish. Go away with him and be his love. This is proof of his determination. Next, blood will flow.”
    “No!”
    “Blood will flow!”
    Trish whimpered and picked up a footstool. She hurried toward the window. A wave of dizziness nearly swept her to her knees. She staggered. She mustn’t breathe! A wisp of gas had somehow reached her lungs. She staggered. Dimly she was aware she had dropped the stool.
    Somehow she was on the floor.
    What would happen to Melody with her dead?
     
    She didn’t die. She awoke with a horrible headache. Her mouth tasted of sourish organic compounds. The bedside clock told her she had been unconscious a little more than a hour. She got to her feet, weathered a spell of dizziness, then opened the door—now unlocked. She thought of calling the police. What good would they do? Mad Carson was long gone. He was too clever to leave clues. Sarkman would insult her further. He would ask intrusive questions that tried to link the gassing with the murder on the highway. Nuts to them! She went down to the kitchen and dug out the dusty bottle of Old Granddad. She wasn’t a drinking woman,