Programmed for Peril

but...
    She mixed three fingers with hot water in a cup. Towering behind the recent terrifying interlude like summer storm clouds was the next unknown step in the pattern of Carson’s excess.
    Come away with me and be my love....
    If she didn’t agree to do so, she had been guaranteed blood.
    Her memory flung her back eight years. Ron Verner’s face floated like a balloon before her, his amiable smile, curly hair, white fingers flying over keyboards... Dead at Carson’s hand! Murdered!
    She sipped the whiskey. Years ago Carson had been a sane, punishing killer. Now he was someone far worse.
    Did he himself know just who?
    She began to cry. Unlike her recent hysterical howlings, this cry was like warm, calming rain. It allowed her to realize she needed help. She hadn’t really found enough of it up to now. As Carson drew closer, his determination looming as irresistibly as the road roller wrecking her Acura, it was time to marshal what forces she had.
    One in particular.
    Tuesday morning she stopped at the bakery. She wasn’t sure just how to begin to raise the subject of her near desperation with Dino. When he emerged with his usual white bag filled with apple tarts for Melody he said, “Hey, Patricia, I gotta meet your bambina. You put me off long enough. Right?”
    “Right!” He had made it easy for her. “Come for dinner tonight.”
    Melody the ham loved an audience. She monopolized the first half hour of Dino’s visit with soprano recorder and Irish whistle. “Listen to this one, Dino!” she cried, rushing from one number to another.
    Nearly eight years old now, she had expanded her memorized tunes to include movie and TV themes. One hearing was enough for her to play them. In cases where their keys weren’t right for her instruments, she transposed them to fit. Trish tried to see her with Dino’s eyes, face showered with summer’s freckles, bright-eyed, pigtailed with Mom’s patient assistance.
    Dino leaned back and beamed. “Whatta kid! Whatta kid!” He chuckled. He looked over at Trish, who was trying not to blush too red with pride. “She take after you, this music?”
    She shook her head. “Her father. The talent—”
    “Must be something of you in her.”
    She shrugged. “Blood is blood. She’s mine.”
    Dino listened on. When Trish tried to tell Melody enough was enough he waved his arm. “Let her play a little bit more.”
    Melody tootled on for another five minutes.
    “Hey, even I know that one!” Dino sprang to attention, saluted. “ Allons, enfants ...” He sang on in French for several bars, his rough voice and the recorder a bizarre duo. “The Marseillaise! One of the great national anthems,” he said.
    “You have a good accent, Dino,” Trish said.
    “Learned the language from my grandma. She was a Canuck.” He patted Melody’s back. “That’s enough, kid. Go have a tart.”
    "After dinner, Melody,” Trish said with a laugh. “Don’t forget who gives the orders here.”
    “You need a man around here,” Dino said. Macho man. “Why? I don’t see any heavy lifting needing to be done.” Dino leered. “Men are good for at least one other thing.”
    “Dinner time!” Trish called.
    During the meal Dino grew gradually less patient with Melody, who was hyped and rambunctious after playing for a new person. “Behave!” he said twice. Trish held her tongue. It was their first evening together. She had hoped they would all get along. When Melody was in her pajamas Trish asked her if she wanted a good-night hug from Dino. She said yes, but Dino only waved. “You’re a good kid, Melody. Get some sack time.”
    Later she sat beside Dino with the coffee on a tray. “She’s a wonderful girl, Dino. I hope she doesn’t seem a trial to you.”
    He shrugged. “Not used to kids.” He met her eyes. “You got something more important on your mind, don’t you?”
    “Am I that transparent?”
    “You been running scared, Trish. You forget how much you’ve told me?”
    “There’s more.” She filled him in completely on what Carson had done to Foster. He cursed softly from time to time. She finished up with yesterday’s threats and her gassing.
    “Right outside your door... and he didn’t come in?” She did her best to explain her theory that Carson’s disintegration had turned him into a different man entirely. She didn’t know what to do next in the face of his fresh threats. She wanted both Dino’s advice and his help.
    He turned his dark eyes to hers.