think of some weird dogspider balancing on four thin and febrile legs. Jessie took a deep, shuddery breath and tried to re-establish control over her skittish mind. Her throat was hot and dry, her nose uncomfortably wet and plugged with tears.
What now?
She didn't know. Disappointment throbbed in her head, temporarily too large to allow anything like constructive thought. The only thing of which she was completely sure was that the dog meant nothing; it was only going to stand out there on the back porch for awhile and then go away when it realized that what had drawn it was out of reach. Jessie made a low, unhappy cry and closed her eyes. Tears oozed out from beneath her lashes and spilled slowly down her cheeks. In the late-afternoon sun, they looked like drops of gold.
What now? she asked again. The wind gusted outside, making the pines whisper and the loose door bang. What now, Goodwife? What now, Ruth? What now, all you assorted UFOs and hangers-on? Any of you-any of as-got any ideas? I'm thirsty, I need to pee, myhusband is dead, and my only company is a woods-dog whose idea ofheaven is the leftovers of a Three-Cheese Genoa Salami sub from Amato'sin Gorham. Pretty soon it's going to decide that the smell is as closeto heaven as it's going to get, and then it will bug out. So...whatnow?
No answers. All the interior voices had fallen silent. That was bad-they were company, at least-but the panic had also gone, leaving only its heavy-metal aftertaste, and that was good.
I'll sleep for awhile, she thought, amazed to find she could actually do just that if she wanted to. I'll sleep for awhile, and when Iwake up, maybe I'll have an idea. At the very least, I can get away fromthe fear for awhile.
The tiny strain-lines at the corners of her closed eyes and the two more noticeable ones between her brows began to smooth out. She could feel herself beginning to drift. She let herself go toward that refuge from self-regard with feelings of relief and gratitude. When the wind gusted this time, it seemed distant, and the restless sound of the door was even farther away: bang-bang,bang-bang, bang.
Her breathing, which had been deepening and slowing as she slipped into a doze, suddenly stopped. Her eyes sprang open. The only emotion she was aware of in that first moment of sleepsnatched-away disorientation was a kind of puzzled pique: she had almost made it, damn it all, and then that damned door-
What about that damned door? Just what about it?
The damned door hadn't finished its usual double bang, that was what about it. As if this thought-had brought them into being, Jessie now heard the distinctive click of a dog's toenails on the floor of the entryway. The stray had come in through the unlatched door. It was in the house.
Her reaction was instant and unequivocal. "You get out!" she screamed at it, unaware that her overstrained voice had taken on a hoarse foghorn quality. "Get out, motherfucker! Do youhear me? YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
She stopped, breathing fast, eyes wide. Her skin seemed woven through with copper wires carrying a low electrical charge; the top two or three layers buzzed and crawled. She was distantly aware that the hairs on the nape of her neck were standing as erect as porcupine quills. The idea of sleep had disappeared right off the map.
She heard the initial startled scrabble of the dog's nails on the entry floor... then nothing. I must have scared it away. It probablyscatted right out the door again. I mean, it's got to be afraid of peopleand houses, a stray like that.
I dunno, toots, Ruth's voice said. It sounded uncharacteristically doubtful. I don't see its shadow in the driveway.
Of course you don't. It probably went right around the other side of thehouse and back into the woods. Or down by the lake. Scared to death andrunning like hell. Doesn't that make sense?
Ruth's voice didn't answer. Neither did Goody's, although at this point Jessie would have welcomed either one of them.
"I did scare it away," she said. "I'm sure I did."
But still she lay there, listening as hard as she could, hearing nothing but the hush-thump of blood in her ears. At least, not yet.
CHAPTER SIX
She hadn't scared it away.
It was afraid of people and houses, Jessie had been right about that, but she had underestimated its desperate condition. Its former name-Prince-was hideously ironic now. It had