Page 39 of Preying Game

Yes.

Where?

In the formal garden.

She headed to the other side of the house, looking up at the second story. When she spotted a window that was open about a foot, she looked for a way to get up and saw the drain pipe at the corner of the house.

There was no way the old Alice could have climbed it. But Hayward had made her work hard to get in shape. She reached as high as she could, grasped the pipe, and pulled herself up.

The metal held her weight. With the matchbook clamped between her teeth, she started moving upward, pulling with her strong arms and bracing with her feet. The metal dug into her bare soles, but she kept going.

Stopping at the window level, she swung one arm outward, grasped the edge of the open lower sash and pushed.

At first it wouldn’t move. Then she put more force into the upward motion, and the sash opened a few more inches, enough for her to wiggle through.

When she climbed down to the floor, she saw she was in a bedroom. Hayward’s bedroom, she figured, since there were coins and a wallet on the dresser.

She crossed to the closet, threw it open and saw shirts and suits hanging on a rack. Touching the man’s clothes made her feel sick, but she snatched out a blue shirt and put it on, rolling up the sleeves as she turned to the bed.

Throwing back the spread, she took the matchbook from between her teeth, and struck a match. The first one she tried didn’t catch. Tearing off another, she pressed more firmly. It caught, and she held it against the top sheet.

It immediately flared up, giving her a profound sense of satisfaction.

A pile of newspapers was on the bedside table, and she crumpled up several sheets, holding them in the flames until they caught, then tossed them around, one onto the rug and one onto the drapes.

As the flames leaped up, she exited the room and headed down the hall toward the stairs.

Alice. Her name rang in her head. Alice, he’s coming back. Where are you?

In the house. I got upstairs. I’ve set his bedroom on fire.

Oh Christ. Get out of there.

Which way is he coming?

Toward where you dropped the clothes.

The bedroom behind her was blazing now, with smoke billowing out the door and down the hall, making her cough. She bent over, running down the stairs to a formal entrance which she had never seen before.

Jesus. Jonah’s exclamation rang in her head. He’s seen the fire. He’s running toward the front door Get out of there.

She tried to comply, but smoke was pouring down the stairs now, making her dizzy. She dashed toward the back of the house and found the library where she and Hayward had talked earlier.

Picking up a paperweight from the desk, she smashed it into one of the windowpanes. When the glass broke, she ran to the opening, gulping in the fresh air as she fumbled to unlock the sash.

She had just gotten it up when Hayward came charging into the room, his eyes as blazing as the fire on the upper floor.

“You bitch,” he screamed, raising the rifle.

She snatched a large book from the desk and threw it with all her might, hitting him in the head. He staggered back, but raised the gun again, one eye closed as he tried to focus on her.

Jonah was right behind him. In that instant, as he charged through the door, she saw him go from ghost to a solid figure.

She had no time to marvel at the change. Everything was happening too fast.

Hearing the running feet behind him, Hayward whirled.

“Christ! I see you,” he shouted.

---