He watched her taillights fade in the night.
Yep. People from New York were definitely nuts.
Or maybe he was the crazy one.
19
The Overlook Inn, 10:50 p.m.
Barton watched from the window as Sarah Newton parked her car, then hurried inside. He stayed in the shadows on the far side of the lobby as she rushed up the stairs. He touched his cheek and fury tightened his lips.
There was no reason for her to stay in Youngstown now.
She should have left today.
But no. She wasn’t finished ruining lives.
He shuffled across the lobby, around the reception desk, and into his office. He closed and locked the door. For a full minute he stood staring at his desk.
What did he do now?
If she wouldn’t leave . . .
With a burdened breath, he ambled behind his desk and dropped into the chair.
What the hell did he do?
His hands shook as he unlocked the desk and reached into the bottom drawer on the left. He withdrew the journal and held it in his hands without opening it.
He didn’t have to open it.
He knew the words by heart.
. . . the first plunge of the knife split the porcelain flesh and blood bloomed forth like a river of crimson ... the heart quivered . . .
Barton shuddered. Squeezed his eyes shut. Tried to stop the words. But they would not go away ... they were permanently etched in his brain.
... the tip met bone and he was forced to grind and slide sideways until the blade sank deep into muscle and tissue ... each plunge of the knife sent blood gushing, spilling onto the cold stones ... yet he did not stop ... not until he was done ...
. . . and they were both dead . . .
Dear God ... what had he done?
20
2313 Beauchamp Road, 11:30 p.m.
Jerald peered through the powerful lens of the telescope, surveying the chapel and the woods that surrounded it like a natural fortress.
Half an hour ago the police officer charged with overseeing a local youth group’s prayer vigil at the chapel had climbed the stone steps and walked the length of the structure several times. Eventually he had sought the warmth of his cruiser. Jerald presumed the officer would remain for a time to ensure none returned with mischief in mind.
Jerald stepped away from the telescope. It was almost midnight and he was tired.
... you can’t watch every minute.
Sarah Newton was right. He couldn’t keep a constant vigil. Jerald sighed. That was someone else’s responsibility now. But he could protect his own.
He moved quietly to the second floor. The door to his daughter’s room was open, the television blaring at its sleeping audience. A smile touched his lips as he neared her bed. He loved her so very much. Until she’d come into his life, he hadn’t known it was possible to feel so thoroughly connected to another human being.
