Until eight o’clock in the morning came.

 

When the sound of the approaching car made him go to the window.

 

It was a black SUV. It pulled into the driveway and she got out.

 

Claire Jericho, in the flesh. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit.

 

He gasped and then drew a long breath. He could barely believe she was here,

that he was, after all this time, only a few feet away from the woman who had

destroyed him. He felt his body heat up like someone had lighted a fire under

him. It was all he could do not to jump through the window, grab her, and finish

it.

 

Rogers raced over to Quentin, roused him, untied him, and told him what to do.

Then he ran into the bathroom, got a washcloth, and stuffed it inside Myers’s

mouth so she couldn’t call out.

 

Her panicked eyes looked back at him. “It’ll all be over soon enough,” Rogers

said.

 

He turned and grabbed Quentin by the arm. “You step one inch out of line I will

crush your skull.” Quentin nodded, smoothed out his shirt, ran a hand through

his hair, and headed downstairs, with Rogers right behind him.