repositioned my head. I’d never been very aware of the floor, never paid attention to it. Now the floor seemed fascinating. Solid. Dependable. And very strong. I lay against it, letting it support me, realizing that it was my friend. It would help me. If I pressed one arm against it and rocked the opposite way, I’d be able to push off against it and roll onto my stomach. If I had the strength. I thought of Woods and Molly, closed my eyes, and pushed. Pressing and rocking, I began moving slightly from side to side.

I rocked from side to side until I had momentum. Then I pushed, gasped, gave a wrenching shove, and rolled over onto my stomach. Pain blinded me. Were the lights dimming, or was I passing out? I couldn’t pass out, had to stay awake. Get help. Find Molly. I waited for the pain to ease, heard only my own panting, no footsteps, no screams, no struggles. Grimacing, I bent my knees one at a time, lifted my hips, hoisted myself up with my elbows, and pushed forward, inching my way ahead. Finally the steel door was within a few steps. I pushed myself up, slipped, hit my head. Landed on my face. I lay there, face on cold linoleum, and knew I couldn’t make it. I wouldn’t be able to get help. I’d just about given up, accepting the fact that I would die, when I reached my arm out and touched cool steel. The security door. I’d made it this far, couldn’t stop now. I pushed ahead again, reached out another time—and froze, afraid to look at what my hand had found. I lay there, gathering the strength to raise my head and find out whose arm I’d grabbed. Finally, drawing a breath, I craned my neck.

Evie Kraus was wearing a bright blue sweatsuit. Crouched against the wall, she’d begun to sing, rocking back and forth in rhythm, cradling a bloody knife.

SEVENTY-ONE

I SWALLOWED AIR AND BLINKED, STRUGGLING TO STAY CONscious. Evie huddled silently over her dripping knife. “Somebody’s knockin’.” I heard her clear, strong voice. “Lord, it’s the devil. Will you look at him?”

Where was Molly? Or Woods? I grunted and pushed to get back up onto my elbows and look around, made it only halfway. I tried to say Evie’s name, to ask her to go get help, but couldn’t make a sound. Then I saw a figure in black boots, rumpled skirt, and pink sweater, lying on the floor behind her.

I remember letting my head drop on to Evie’s lap. Her face was calm, almost pretty. “I’ve heard about him, but I never dreamed,” she sang, “he’d have blue eyes and blue jeans . . .”

When I reached for the knife, she surrendered it without resistance. But it was heavy. I couldn’t hold it and heard it clatter to the floor.

“Mommy?”

Molly? Was that Molly? Where? I couldn’t talk, could barely breathe. Evie regarded me indifferently as she continued her song. “He must have tapped my telephone line . . .” I felt myself fading. Falling. Where was Molly? I opened my eyes and saw a small angel beside me, holding my hand. With a final effort, I took the small hand and reached for Evie’s, connecting them, but I couldn’t hold my head up anymore, couldn’t talk. My head banged the floor as I fell back. “He must have known I’m spendin’ my time alone . . . Somebody’s knockin’ . . .”

Dropping, letting go, I couldn’t be certain whether Evie understood, whether she would take Molly and go for help or sit singing until someone wandered by.

SEVENTY-TWO

KEVIN FERGUSON WAS JUST BEGINNING TO COLLECT THE breakfast trays when a goose-bump-raising, ear-splitting, high-pitched howl zoomed past him and down the hall. It seemed to come through the wall, from the plaster.

Kevin saw the security door standing open and stepped warily through it toward the noise. As he rounded the corner, his jaw dropped. The big catatonic one was walking toward him in a bloodstained sweatsuit, carrying a child. A blood-covered child. Kevin called out for a nurse. “Hey—nurse? Anyone? I need help here!” Somehow, the huge psychotic woman had gotten her hands on a kid. And Lord knew what she’d done to her. Kevin’s knees turned soggy; his stomach flipped. The woman approached him, sleeves rolled up, cradling the child in her strong, tattooed arms.

Kevin reached into his pocket to beep for help, but the woman moved suddenly, kicking the beeper out of