He turned on his side and studied the sleeping Davis.

 

What had surprised him, when he finally thought about it, was that he had no

impulse to harm her. But he had to remind himself that he had killed the couple

in the alley only when they tried to kill him. And Donohue the gun dealer would

still be alive if he’d just stayed in his truck eating his Mickey D’s.

 

And I let the boy live.

 

He rubbed his eyes and wondered whether what was apparently happening to him was

a good thing or not. After five minutes he had no conclusive answer.

 

He looked at his watch. It was nearly eight o’clock. The sun was shining

brightly. Davis was still sound asleep next to him.

 

He once more marveled at her beauty. And then he looked down at his hands.

Scars. He lifted his shirt. More scars. He touched the incision on his head. The

biggest scar of all.

 

The analogy was obvious, Rogers thought: Beauty and the Beast.

 

He climbed back into the driver’s seat and looked at himself in the rearview

mirror.