There was a knock at the front door. It was probably Paula.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

“No, Mom.”

“I won’t be more than—”

The power flickered off, then back on.

“That’s all we need.” Jessica stared at the table lamp as if she could will it to stay on. She held Sophie’s hand. The kid had her in a death grip. Mercifully, the lights stayed on. Thank you, Lord. “Mommy just has to answer the door. It’s Paula.You want to see Paula, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Gonna be okay?”

Sophie nodded, despite the fact that her lips were trembling.

Jessica kissed Sophie on the forehead, handed her Jools, her little brown bear. Sophie shook her head. Jessica then grabbed Molly, the beige one. Nope. It was hard to keep track. Sophie had good bears and bad bears. She finally said yes to Timothy, the panda.

“Be right back.”

“Okay.”

She walked down the stairs as the doorbell rang once, twice, three times. It didn’t sound like Paula.

“All right already,” she said.

She tried to look through the beveled glass in the door’s small window. It was pretty well fogged over. All she saw were the parking lights of the EMS van across the street. It seemed that even typhoons didn’t deter Carmine Arrabiata from having his weekly heart attack.

She opened the door.

It was Patrick.

Her first instinct was to slam the door. She resisted. For the moment. She glanced out at the street, looking for the surveillance car. She didn’t see it. She didn’t open the storm door.

“What are you doing here, Patrick?”

“Jess,” he said. “You’ve got to listen to me.”

The anger began to rise, dueling with her fears. “See, that’s the part you don’t seem to understand,” she said. “I really don’t.”

“Jess. Come on. It’s me.” He stamped from one foot to the other. He was thoroughly soaked.

“Me? Who the hell is me? You treated every one of these girls,” she said. “It didn’t occur to you to come forward with this information?”

“I see a lot of patients,” Patrick said. “You can’t expect me to remember them all.”

The wind was loud. Howling. They were both almost yelling to be heard.

“Bullshit. These were all within the last year.”

Patrick looked at the ground. “Maybe I just didn’t want to...”

“What, get involved? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jess. If you could just—”

“You shouldn’t be here, Patrick,” she said. “This puts me in a really awkward situation. Go home.”

“My God, Jess.You don’t really think I had anything to do with these, these...”

It was a good question, Jessica thought. In fact, it was the question.

Jessica was just about to answer when a crack of thunder boomed, and the power browned out. The lights flickered on, off, on.

“I...I don’t know what to think, Patrick.”

“Give me five minutes, Jess. Five minutes, and I’ll go.”

Jessica saw the world of pain in his eyes.

“Please,” he said. He was soaking wet, pitiful in his pleading.

Crazily, she thought about her weapon. It was in the hall closet upstairs, top shelf, where it always was. She was actually thinking about her weapon, and whether she could get to it in time if needed. Because of Patrick.

None of this seemed real.

“Can I at least come inside?” he asked.

There was no point in arguing. She cracked open the storm door as a sheer column of rain swept through. Jessica opened the door fully. She knew that there was a team on Patrick even if she didn’t see the car. She was armed and she had backup.

Try as she did, she just couldn’t believe Patrick was guilty. This wasn’t some crime of passion they were talking about, some moment of insanity when he lost his temper and went too far. This was the systematic, cold-blooded murder of six people. Maybe more.

Give her a piece of forensic evidence, and then she’d have no choice.

Until then...

The power went out.

Upstairs, Sophie wailed.

“Jesus Christ,” Jessica said. She looked across the street. Some of the houses still seemed to have power. Or was that candlelight?

“Maybe it’s the circuit breaker,” Patrick said, walking inside, walking past her. “Where’s the panel?”

Jessica looked at the floor, hands on hips. This was all too much.

“Bottom of the basement stairs,” she said, resigned. “There’s a flashlight on the dining room table. But don’t think that we—”

“Mommy!” from upstairs.

Patrick took off his raincoat. “I’ll check the panel, then I’m gone. I promise.”

Patrick grabbed the flashlight and headed to the basement.

Jessica shuffled her way to the steps in the sudden darkness. She headed upstairs, entered Sophie’s room.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Jessica said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sophie’s face looked tiny and round and frightened in the gloom. “Do you want to come downstairs with Mommy?”

Sophie shook her head.

“You sure?”

Sophie nodded. “Is Daddy here?”

“No, honey,” Jessica said, her heart sinking. “Mommy’s... Mommy’s going to get some candles, okay? You like candles.”

Sophie nodded again.

Jessica left the bedroom. She opened the linen closet next to the bathroom, felt her way through the box that held the hotel soaps and sample shampoos and conditioners. She remembered when she used to take long, luxurious bubble baths with scented candles scattered around the bathroom, back in the stone age of her marriage. Sometimes Vincent would join her. Somehow it seemed like someone else’s life at the moment. She found a pair of sandalwood candles. She took them out of the box, returned to Sophie’s room.

Of course, there were no matches.