The Mark of the Assassin

halfway--she couldn't bear the thought of being sealed in the
    tiny dark room. Finally, she heard the wail of sirens, far off, carried
    by the wind. She wondered where they were winthrop Road, Manhanset Road
    if they were coming from mid-island. Either way, Elizabeth knew she
    would be dead before they arrived. She backed away from the door.
    Something sharp dug into her shoulder blade--an arrow, sitting on the
    shelf. She groped along the wall; she knew it was here somewhere, the
    bow her father had given her when she turned twelve. It was hanging from
    a hook on the wall, next to an ancient set of golf clubs. The woman
    tried the bedroom door and discovered it was locked. Elizabeth thought,
    Now she knows I'm in here. Panic shot through her. She forced herself to
    breathe.
    Softly, she beat her palms along the wall until she touched something
    cold and hard.
    ELIZABETH TOOK DOWN the bow. It was five and a half feet long, standard
    length. She reached up and grabbed hold of the arrow. The shaft was
    aluminum with feather fletchings. She took the arrow between the first
    two fingers on her right hand and with her thumb felt for the string
    notch behind the fletchings. She had done this countless times, so doing
    it in the dark was not a problem, even with shaking hands. The woman
    kicked the door, but the old hook held. Elizabeth fixed the arrow to the
    string and braced the shaft against the fingers of her left hand, which
    was clutching the bow. She pulled the arrow back halfway, then took a
    deep breath. The bowstring was old and brittle; it might simply snap
    when she pulled it to the tension required to shoot an arrow. Please,
    Elizabeth thought, fingering the string. I need one more shot from you.
    But could she really do this? She had never killed a living thing, never
    dreamed of hunting. Her father wouldn't hear of it, in any case. Once he
    caught one of her boyfriends stalking a deer with her bow and arrow and
    banished him from the house for the rest of the summer. The woman kicked
    the door. The latch broke and the door crashed open. Elizabeth's body
    went rigid. She felt as if she were made of stone. She forced herself to
    breathe slowly. Do it for Michael, she thought. Do it for the children
    inside you. She drew the arrow back hard on the string and pushed open
    the door with her foot. She saw Astrid Vogel, framed against the
    doorway, both hands on her gun, near her face.
    Astrid turned toward the sudden noise and leveled the gun with
    outstretched arms. Elizabeth released the arrow. The arrowhead struck
    Astrid in the base of her throat and drove her back, pinning her to the
    open door. Elizabeth screamed. Astrid's eyes opened wide and her lips
    parted. Somehow, she managed to hold on to the gun. She raised the
    weapon and started firing. The silencer damped the explosions to a dull
    thud. Elizabeth threw herself back into the closet. The shots splintered
    the door, shattered the bedroom window, and tore plaster from the walls.
    She fell to the floor and curled herself into a ball. Then it stopped.
    The room was quiet except for the wind and the clicking of Astrid Vogel
    attempting to fire an empty gun. Elizabeth got to her feet, took down
    another arrow, and stepped out of the closet. Astrid had ejected the
    spent cartridge and was digging in her coat pocket for another clip of
    ammunition. Blood pumped from the wound in her throat. She managed to
    pull the new clip from her pocket. Elizabeth said, "No, please don't.
    Don't make me do it again."
    Astrid looked at her, then at the arrow in her throat. The clip fell
    from her grasp; then the gun tumbled to the floor. She breathed deeply
    twice. Blood gurgled in her throat. Finally, her gaze went blank.
    Elizabeth fell to her knees and was violently sick.
    MICHAEL, BACK DOWNSTAIRS IN THE BASEMENT, could hear October's footsteps
    above him, picking his way through the living room furniture. Michael
    knew October would be methodical and careful. He would search the house,
    room by room, until he found his target. To survive, Michael would have
    to outsmart October once again, the way he did on the footpath in
    Virginia. October was operating in alien territory. Michael could find
    his way through the house with his eyes closed. He would use that to his
    advantage. October had moved from the living room to the kitchen. He
    called out, "I have your wife, Mr. Osbourne. If you come down now,
    unarmed, with your hands in the air, no harm will come to her. If