'I'm sorry, Tess. I can't express how much I… Your mother was a fine, noble woman. The strength she mustered when she learned that your father had been killed. She was remarkable. And now I can't believe that someone shot her. It's all been so shocking. What's this world coming to? I truly can't imagine. I tossed and turned most of the night. You must be devastated.'

'Yes, Mrs Caudill. I feel so… "Devastated" doesn't begin to describe it. Really, thank you. I appreciate your sympathy.' Tess pawed at her tears, feeling grit on her cheeks. The tears streaked the soot on her hands.

'No need to thank me. In fact, I'm flattered that you thought to come here. Regina 's been away so long. It's been too many years since I've had a chance to mother anybody.'

The sound of footsteps made Tess spin.

With a stiff-backed stride, the butler came up the stairs, hands cradling a plastic container with a red cross on its white lid.

'Good. The first-aid kit. Finally,' Mrs Caudill said. 'Come on, Tess. Your burns need attention. We're wasting time.' The portly woman guided her hurriedly toward a door halfway along the upper hallway. 'You remember that this bathroom belonged to Regina?'

'How could I forget? I used it often enough.'

Mrs Caudill smiled. 'Yes, the old days.' In contrast with her smile, she sounded melancholy. The good days.' She opened the door.

Tess faced a huge, white bathroom with spotless countertops and tiles. The same as she remembered. Reassuringly familiar. In back, a door on the right led to Regina 's bedroom. Also in back, on the left, a steam room stood next to a shower stall.

But what Tess noticed most, anticipating, barely able to restrain her eagerness, was the deep, wide tub.

Mrs Caudill took the first-aid kit from the butler, set it on the marble counter between two sinks, and retreated toward the hallway. 'Soak, Tess.'

'Don't worry, Mrs Caudill. I intend to.'

'And take as long as you want. In the meantime, I'll sort through some clothes that Regina left behind. As I recall, you and she were almost the same size.'

Tess nodded, nostalgic. 'Yes, we used to borrow from each other. But Mrs Caudill, please, nothing fancy. Jeans, if possible. A shirt or a pullover. I'd like to stay casual.'

'Still a tomboy?' Mrs Caudill's eyes twinkled.

'I guess. In a way. Dresses make me uncomfortable.'

'As long as I've known you, they always did. Well, I'll do what I can. Now get in that tub and soak. And while I think of it, I'd better phone the police. They'll want to-'

'No, Mrs Caudill!' Surprised by her outburst, Tess felt as if snakes writhed in her stomach.

'I beg your pardon?' Mrs Caudill's brow furrowed. 'I don't understand. What's the matter? The police must be told. They need to talk with you. You might know something that will help them find the monsters who set fire to your mother's house and killed-'

'No! Not yet!' Tess tried to restrain her panic.

'I still don't understand.' Mrs Caudill deepened the wrinkles on her forehead. 'You're confusing me.'

'I'm not ready. I feel so… If you call the police, they'll hurry to get here. But I don't think I'm strong enough to answer their questions right away. I need to clear my head. I need to… My mother. I doubt I can talk about what happened just yet. I'd probably…' Tears trickled down her cheeks. 'I wouldn't be able to control myself.'

Mrs Caudill debated, allowing her brow to slacken. 'Of course. How foolish of me. I wasn't thinking. You're still in shock. But you realize you'll have to talk to the police eventually. It'll be a strain, but it has to be done.'

'I know, Mrs Caudill. Later, after I get cleaned up and feel rested, I'll call them myself. Soon. I promise.'

'By all means. First thing's first. And the first thing is, get into that tub while I try to find you some clothes.' Despite her reassurance, Mrs Caudill continued to look confused as she backed toward the hallway and shut the bathroom door.

Or maybe her expression was one of pity. Tess couldn't tell as she found herself alone in the bathroom.

Reflexively, she locked the door. Her emotions in a turmoil, she quickly undressed and threw her torn, dirty, smoke-reeking clothes into a corner. Even_her socks and underwear stank of smoke. At once she opened the hot-water faucet on the tub, shut the drain, and poured in fragrant bath salts. As soon as steam began to rise, she adjusted the cold-water faucet, used a finger to judge the temperature of the water, and climbed into its wonderfully soothing warmth.

Briefly the blisters on her arms and hands stung. Then the pain went away, and she settled back, enjoying the heat rising deliciously past her hips, her groin, her stomach, her breasts. Only when the water came close to the overflow drain did she reluctantly grope forward to shut off the taps. Her cramped muscles gradually relaxed.

But she didn't feel contented. As she stared at the soot that clung to the soap bubbles bobbing on the water, she asked herself, frowning, Why was I so insistent? Why didn't I want Mrs Caudill to phone the police?

Dear God, my mother was killed. Two servants were killed, I was almost killed. For sure, whoever set fire to the house won't give up. They'll keep hunting me. Whatever their reason, it's serious enough that they're prepared to go to any lengths to get at me.

Jesus, why!

Is it something to do with the photographs that man tried to steal from me? What did I see in Joseph's apartment that they don't want me to know about and presumably anyone else to know about?

Tess shuddered at the memory of the bas-relief statue on Joseph's bookcase. Grotesque. Repulsive.

What did that statue mean? What kind of sick mind could possibly have designed it? And why was Joseph attracted to it?

What did it say about his mind? Clearly he hadn't been the good-natured, gentle man that he seemed, not if he had a habit of whipping himself until he bled and then going to sleep with that thing brooding down at him from the bookcase. And now, Tess reminded herself, Joseph's apartment had been burned, the sculpture had been stolen, and the only evidence of its existence was the photograph in her bulging purse.

She trembled so forcefully that the soot-filmed bubbles on the water rippled. The first thing I should have done when I got inside this house was call the police. I need help!

So why don't I want Mrs Caudill to phone them?

The answer came with startling urgency. Because I don't want anyone to know where I am. Whoever's hunting me will make the assumption that I'll get in touch with the police.

So they're probably monitoring police communications. If I phone the police, word will get out. The killers will scramble to get here before the police. And this time…

Tess shuddered.

They're so determined I don't think they'd fail. They'd kill all of us.

The butler.

Mrs Caudill.

Me.

Tess imagined Mrs Caudill screaming as blood spurted from bullet holes in her body.

No! I can't have their deaths on my conscience! And I can't depend on the police to protect me! I need time to think! I have to keep hiding! Until I'm absolutely sure I'm safe! Lord, help me! What am I going to do?