dk.intensity-第7节

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　Chyna　had　heard　no　shots。　The　intruder　evidently　had　a　weapon　with　a　sound　suppressor。
　Water　continued　to　cascade　into　the　shower　beyond　the　door。　That　susurrous　splash；　though　soft　and　soothing　under　other　circumstances；　now　abraded　her　nerves　as　effectively　as　the　whine　of　a　dentist's　drill。
　She　was　sure　that　the　intruder　wasn't　in　the　bathroom。　His　work　here　was　done。　He　was　busy　elsewhere　in　the　house。
　Right　this　minute　she　was　not　as　frightened　of　the　man　himself　as　she　was　of　discovering　exactly　what　he　had　done。　But　the　choice　before　her　was　the　essence　of　the　entire　human　agony：　not　knowing　was　ultimately　worse　than　knowing。
　At　last　she　pushed　open　the　door。　Squinting；　she　entered　the　fluorescent　glare。
　The　roomy　bath　featured　yellow　and　white　ceramic　tile。　On　the　walls　at　chair…rail　height　and　around　the　edges　of　the　vanity　and　lavatory　counters　ran　a　decorative　tile　band　of　daffodils　and　green　leaves。　She　had　expected　more　blood。
　Paul　Templeton　was　propped　on　the　toilet　in　his　blue　pajamas。　Lengths　of　wide　strapping　tape　across　his　lap　fixed　him　to　the　bowl。　More　tape　encircled　both　his　chest　and　the　toilet　tank；　holding　him　upright。
　Through　the　semitransparent　bands　of　tape；　three　separate　bullet　wounds　were　visible　in　his　chest。　There　might　have　been　more　than　three。　She　didn't　care　to　look　for　them　and　had　no　need　to　know。　He　appeared　to　have　died　instantly；　most　likely　in　his　sleep；　and　to　have　been　dead　before　he　was　brought　into　the　bathroom。
　Grief　welled　in　her；　black　and　cold。　Survival　meant　repressing　it　at　all　costs；　and　surviving　was　the　thing　that　she　did　best。
　A　collar　of　strapping　tape　around　Paul's　neck　became　a　leash　that　tethered　him　to　a　hand…towel　rack　on　the　wall　behind　the　toilet。　The　purpose　was　to　prevent　his　head　from　falling　forward　onto　his　chestand　to　direct　his　dead　gaze　toward　the　shower。　His　eyelids　were　taped　open；　and　in　his　right　eye　was　a　starburst　hemorrhage。
　Shuddering；　Chyna　looked　away　from　him。　Although　the　intruder　had　needed　to　kill　Paul　in　his　sleep　to　establish　control　of　the　house　quickly；　here　he　had　been　fantasizing　that　the　husband　was　being　forced　to　watch　the　atrocities　mitted　against　the　wife。
　This　was　a　classic　tableau；　a　favorite　of　those　sociopaths　who　took　delight　in　performing　for　their　victims。　They　actually　seemed　to　believe　that　for　a　while　the　recently　dead　could　still　see；　still　hear；　and　were　thus　capable　of　admiring　the　bold　antics　and　posing　of　a　tormentor　who　feared　neither　man　nor　God。　Textbooks　described　the　delusion。　In　one　of　her　aberrant…psychology　classes　at　UCSF；　a　speaker　from　the　FBI's　Behavioral　Science　Section　had　given　them　more　graphic　descriptions　of　such　scenes　than　any　textbooks　could　provide。
　Firsthand；　however；　the　impact　of　this　brutality　was　worse　than　words　could　convey。　Almost　paralyzing。　Chyna's　legs　felt　heavy　and　stiff。　The　tingling　in　her　hands　was　incipient　numbness。
　Sarah　Templeton　was　in　the　stall　shower；　which　was　separate　from　the　tub。　Although　the　glass　door　was　closed…and　frosted…Chyna　was　able　to　see　a　faint；　vaguely　pinkish　shape　huddled　on　the　shower　floor。
　On　the　face　of　the　soffit　above　the　glass　door；　the　killer　had　printed　two　words。　The　black　letters　appeared　to　have　been　made　with　multiple　strokes　of　an　eyebrow　pencil：　DIRTY　BITCH。
　Chyna　had　never　wanted　anything　as　much　as　she　wanted　to　be　free　of　the　obligation　to　look　into　this　shower　stall。　Surely　Sarah　could　not　be　alive。
　Yet　if　she　turned　away　without　being　certain　that　the　woman　was　beyond　all　help；　ineradicable　guilt　would　ensure　that　her　own　survival　would　bee　a　kind　of　walking　death。
　Besides；　she　had　mitted　her　life　to　trying　to　understand　this　very　aspect　of　human　cruelty；　and　no　published　case　study　would　ever　bring　her　closer　to　prehension　than　might　the　things　that　she　saw　here。　In　this　house；　on　this　night；　the　bleak　landscape　of　the　sociopathic　mind　had　been　externalized。
　Echoing　off　the　tile　walls；　the　sizzle…splash　of　the　falling　water　sounded　like　the　hissing　of　serpents　and　the　brittle　laughter　of　strange　children。
　The　water　must　be　cold。　Otherwise；　steam　would；have　been　seething　over　the　top　of　the　shower　enclosure。
　Chyna　held　her　breath；　gripped　the　anodized　aluminum　handle；　and　opened　the　stall　door。
　Sarah　Templeton　had　been　wearing　a　pale…green　teddy　and　matching　panties。　Her　garments　were　in　a　sodden　ball　in　one　corner　of　the　shower。
　After　her　husband　had　been　shot；　the　woman　had　evidently　been　hammered　unconscious；　perhaps　with　the　butt　of　the　gun。　Then　she　had　been　gagged；　her　cheeks　bulged　with　whatever　rag　had　been　forced　into　her　mouth。　Strips　of　strapping　tape　had　sealed　her　lips；　but　in　the　relentless　icy　spray；　the　edges　of　the　tape　had　begun　to　peel　away　from　her　skin。
　With　Sarah；　the　killer　had　used　a　knife。　She　was　not　alive。　Chyna　quietly　closed　the　stall　door。　If　there　was　such　a　thing　as　mercy；　then　Sarah　Templeton　had　never　regained　any　awareness　after　being　knocked　unconscious。
　She　remembered　the　hug　that　Sarah　had　given　her　on　the　front　walk　when　she　had　first　arrived　with　Laura。　Repressing　tears；　she　wished　that　she　herself　were　dead　instead　of　the　precious　woman　in　the　shower　stall。　Indeed；　she　was　half　dead　and　less　alive　by　the　minute；　because　a　piece　of　her　heart　died　with　each　of　these　people。
　Chyna　returned　to　the　bedroom。　She　moved　away　from　the　bed　but　didn't　go　immediately　toward　the　hall　door。　Instead；　she　stood　in　the　darkest　corner；　shaking　uncontrollably。
　Her　stomach　rolled。　An　acidic　burning　rose　in　her　chest；　and　a　bitter　taste　filled　the　back　of　her　mouth。　She　suppressed　an　urge　to　vomit。　The　killer　might　hear　her　retching；　and　then　he　would　e　to　get　her。
　Although　she'd　met　Laura's　parents　only　the　previous　afternoon；　Chyna　had　known　them　also　from　her　friend's　numerous　anecdotes　and　colorful　stories　of　family　adventures。　She　should　have　felt　even　more　grief　than　she　did；　but　she　had　only　a　limited　capacity　for　it　right　now。　Later　it　would　hit　her　harder。　Grief　thrived　in　a　quiet　heart；　and　right　now　hers　thundered　with　terror　and　revulsion。
　She　was　shocked　that　the　killer　had　done　so　much　damage　while　she　had　sat；　unknowing；　at　the　guest…room　window；　brooding　on　the　stars　and　thinking　of　other　nights　when　she　had　gazed　at　them　from　rooftops；　backyard　trees；　and　beaches。　From　what　she'd　seen；　he　had　taken　at　least　ten　or　fifteen　minutes　with　Paul　and　Sarah　before　searching　the　rest　of　the　large　house　to　locate　and　overpower　the　remaining　occupants。
　Sometimes　a　man　like　this　got　a　special　thrill　from　risking　interruption；　even　apprehension。　Perhaps　a　half…asleep；　bewildered　child　would　be　drawn　into　the　parents'room　by　some　motion　and　then　would　have　to　be　pursued　and　dragged　down　before　escaping　the　house。　Such　possibilities　heightened　the　pleasure　that　the　creep　took　from　his　activities　in　the　bedroom　and　the　bath。
　This　was　a　pleasure　to　him。　A　pulsion；　but　not　one　over　which　he　despaired。　Fun。　His　recreation。　No　guilt…therefore；　no　anguish。　Savagery　gladdened　him。
　Somewhere　in　the　house；　he　was　either　at　play　or　resting　until　he　was　ready　to　begin　the　game　again。
　As　her　shakes　subsided　to　shivers；　Chyna　grew　increasingly　afraid　for　Laura。　Those　two　muffled　cries；　minutes　ago；　had　surely　e　after　Sarah　was　already　dead；　so　Laura　must　have　been　surprised　in　her　sleep　by　a　man　smelling　of　her　mother's　blood。　As　soon　as　he　had　overpowered　and　secured　her；　he　had　hurried　to　search　the　rest　of　the　second　floor；　concerned　that　another　member　of　the　family　might　have　been　alerted　by　her　stifled　screams。
　He　might　not　have　returned　immediately　to　Laura。　Having　found　no　one　in　any　of　the　other　rooms；　confident　that　the　house　was　firmly　under　his　reign；　he　most　likely　had　gone　exploring。　If　the　textbooks　were　correct；　he　would　probably　wish　to　violate　every　private　space。
　Pore　through　the　contents　of　his　host's　and　hostess's　closets　and　desk　drawers。　Eat　food　from　their　refrigerator。　Read　their　mail。　Perhaps　finger　and　smell　the　soiled　clothing　in　the　laundry…room　hamper。　If　he　could　locate　collections　'of　family　photographs；　he　might　even　sit　in　the　den　for　an　hour　or　longer；　amusing　himself　with　those　albums。
　Sooner　or　later；　however；　he　would　return　to　Laura。　Sarah　Templeton　had　been　an　extremely　attractive　woman；　but　night　visitors　like　this　man　were　drawn　toward　youth；　they　fed　on　innocence。　Laura　was　his　meat　of　choice；　as　irresistible　as　birds'　eggs　to　certain　tree…climbing　serpents。
　When　at　last　Chyna　overcame　her　racking　nausea　and　was　certain　that　she　wouldn't　betray　herself　by　being　suddenly　and　violently　sick；　she　crept　out　of　the　corner　and　silently　crossed　the　room。
　She　wouldn't　have　been　safe　in　the　master　suite　anyway。　Before　the　visitor　left；　he　was　likely　to　return　here　for　one　last　look　at　poor　Sarah　in　the　shower　with　her　slender　arms　crossed　in　a　pathetic　and　ineffective　posture　of　defense。
　At　the　half…open　door；　Chyna　paused　to　listen。　Directly　across　the　hall；　the　faded　roses　on　the　wallpaper　seemed　more　mysterious　than　ever。　The　pattern　had　such　enigmatic　depth　that　she　was　almost　convinced　she　might　be　able　to　part　the　thorny　vines　and　step　out　of　that　paper　arbor　into　a　sunny　realm　where；