an end. It'

who murdered me. I watch her walk calmly back to the

ipping a martini. She' s on the phone with he

n old man named Arthur who has bee

she says, not a trace of concern in her

rs. Dav

s the heavy bolt. He opens the door and peer

s on th

pieces of my shirt are scattered everywhere. The two pit bull

le and retches

se. "Mrs. Davenport! He

nnoyed. "He's what,

There's on

k. She doesn't believe him. She can't. To

her voice sharp. "It's a trick.

s to the window, looki

and slip out. He's hiding somewhere on the grounds

o Arthur, her ey

atment. That's what this is ab

lent witness to her madness. She truly believes it.

to call the police, but to c

run off. And get this mess in the cel

laptop, confirming the details for the multi-mill

th, is an inconvenienc

is small, broken body. I remember getting him as a foal, a reminder

n." One time, I found her in the stable late at n

ould be to hurt something so small

. A cruel thought, noth

d from his "seizure," joins Tori in th

e says, his voice weak.

lling him close. "It's L

pauses, a sick, sly look in his eyes. "You know, in some cultures, th

range curiosity dawns on her face. The idea take

only