Ever so slowly she moved her legs up, thinking she could turn and spring upward, grab him by the neck, and then slam his head into the steering wheel. But something was holding her. Her skirt was caught. She was afraid to turn her head and look for fear that he would see. The van suddenly came to a jarring stop. She did drop the safety pin then, but she grabbed it from the floor before she heard the door open. Where was he going? What was he going to do? Oh God, he’s coming for me. She had to be ready. When he tried to get her out of the van, she would have to be ready. Frantic, her hands violently shaking now, she hooked the pin around her middle fingers, just above the knuckles. The metal fastener dug into her skin, tearing it as she hooked it there, anchored so that the long needle was sticking straight out. She cupped her left hand around it, trying to hide it. Don’t let

 The place was a pigsty. The dining room table was covered with an old, torn, paint-splattered tarp, and on top were several unopened cans of house paint and a couple of big plastic sacks from the local hardware store with paintbrushes sticking out. A swinging door connected the dining room to the kitchen, exactly like the one in Celeste’s house. Noah pushed the door open and then stepped into the kitchen. The first thing that struck him was the pungent smell. It was strong, acrid . . . familiar. Whatever the stringent combination was, it made his eyes tear and his throat burn. Unlike the other rooms, the kitchen wasn’t cluttered. No, it was immaculate. The counters were bare, spotless, shining . . . like another kitchen he’d been in. Recognition was sudden. He remembered the odor . . . vinegar and ammonia . . . and he remembered exactly where he’d smelled it before. His gaze frantically searched the kitchen. Truth slammed in

 Cameron glanced at Paul and Dallas, who both nodded, and then said, “We know how much you love Catherine.” “Don’t make her a saint, John. She isn’t perfect,” Dallas said. “Jeez, that was cold,” Paul muttered. “It’s okay. I know Catherine isn’t perfect. She has her quirks, just like we do. Who isn’t a little compulsive about something?” he said. “It’s just that she worries about being without, and so she has to have two of everything. She has two television sets, identical ones, sitting side by side on the table by her bed. She has one of them on day and night, but she worries it might break, so she makes sure she has a backup. She does the same thing when she’s ordering something from a store or a catalog. Always buys two, but what’s the harm in that?” he asked. “She isn’t hurting anyone,