"We'll be on our way. Sorry to have bothered you."

Ben moved, Tara turned, and Paulette popped up, her hand out to stop them.

"But don't you want to hear the rest?" she asked.

"Don't you want to hear what happened after my mom died?"

Puzzled, Tara looked at Paulette. She had changed. There were fearful memories too. She just hadn't gotten to them yet. Tara sat again. Ben was settled. They'd hit pay dirt.

"I loved my mom. Actually," she said, looking a little embarra.s.sed, "I adored her. I always wanted my life to be like hers but, well, guess I wasn't as good at looking ahead like she was. I liked the boys too much." Paulette colored and it looked lovely on her.

"I had three of my kids by the time I was twenty-one, and I've always been sorry about that. For them mostly. Kids shouldn't have kids.

"Anyway, there I was feeling so down when my mom pa.s.sed, and I guess it didn't strike me as odd that Bill didn't leave when it happened. I could see that he was broken up, too. So, since we were both grieving, it seemed natural for him to hang around where she'd been. I knew it would take a while for him to find a new place and get used to being without her. But then I realized it was six months after my mom died and he was still with me and the kids in the house." She tipped her head and asked Ben, "Don't you think that was weird?"

"I wouldn't say that was terribly normal." Ben punctuated his opinion with an encouraging smile.

Paulette seemed grateful and went on, plucking at some unseen flaw in the sofa upholstery.

"Oh"*she rolled her eyes*"this is so embarra.s.sing.

But it was kind of scary so I might as well tell you. I said a few things to Bill, about him maybe looking for another place to live. But instead of taking the hint, he just settled in more.

In fact, he got real friendly, if you know what I mean." She wiggled her brows. There was no doubt about what she meant but Paulette filled them in anyway.

"He was acting the same way he acted with my mom. It was like he couldn't tell the difference between us."

Paulette rubbed away the goose b.u.mps on her arm.

"Now I can't tell you I wasn't flattered in a way."

She laughed deeply and rolled her eyes as if to say see-how-stupid-I-can-be.

"But it was a really small way. I always thought he was handsome and everything, just there wasn't any chemistry between us. I didn't like him, or want him, or anything. I told him to stop but sometimes I thought it was my imagination that he was coming on to me at all. He started doing these little affectionate things.

Touching my shoulder, giving it a rub. Kissing the top of my head. And when I complained, he just laughed and told me I was dreaming. Well, one day I knew it wasn't my imagination and I told him to stop."

Paulette pulled the dish towel tight in her hands and twisted it to match the expression on her face.

Tara felt along with her. She felt those eyes of his, the small touches, the final, unmistakable come-on.

It made her sick to think of them.

"He can be intimidating," Tara murmured and Paulette looked at her closely. The two women understood something that Ben could not, even if he spent the next ten years locked in a room with Bill Hamilton.

"Yes. That's the word," she agreed quietly.

"You want to go on?" Tara asked. Paulette nodded.

"I had a boyfriend. He's my husband now, but he was my boyfriend then, and Bill knew it all along." She caught herself, hearing the nervous undertones of her protest. Paulette took a deep breath and began again.

"Mom had left him some money and he had plenty to move out on, but every morning I'd wake up and he'd still be there: saying all those things, touching me. He was starting to scare me."

Paulette's voice shook a bit, just a quaver on the deep tones. Tara sat up straighter and noticed Ben was leaning closer. Without thinking, Tara touched Paulette's shoulder for encouragement. Paulette smiled weakly.

"One day, Bill was sitting on the couch, and I was folding clothes at the dining room table. Always a load going with so many kids. Anyway, Joey, my littlest one, was just learning to walk. So he was talking baby talk and toddling by when Bill stuck out his foot and tripped him. This little tiny boy."

Paulette's eyes were wide and disbelieving even now. She had shoved her own foot out as if Ben and Tara needed to see exactly how Bill had done it.

"Joey fell down and hit his head on the coffee table and started to cry. Bill just looked at him.

That was all. I ran and got Joey and held him and patted him. I gave Bill a dirty look, but I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. And I'm ashamed of that. But I was scared right then.

I mean, if he could do that to a little kid and watch him cry, what would he do to me? I just hoped he would get tired of the kids and noise and me not liking him. But that day I knew he wouldn't go just because I was mad at him or because I wanted him to. That man had his own mind about things, and there was no way to plan because he never did anything the normal way."

"Was that it, then?" Ben asked.

"He let the baby cry?"

"Sorry." Paulette had lost her train of thought but she was back on it now.

"Joey was crying and Bill stood up and put his fingers to his head, like this." She put her Fingers on her temples, her eyes closed.

"Then he put his hands down real slowly."

Paulette's eyes came open. She looked at both of them and lowered her voice as if they were around a campfire and she was charged with telling a horrible tale.

"Joey was only whimpering by that time, and Bill took two steps and he was right beside me. I held the baby closer and turned away *cause I thought he might hurt him again. But Bill reached out and gently put his hand right on top of my head. But it wasn't a nice touch. It felt real heavy and he let it lay there for a long, long time while he looked at us. I thought I'd had it then. I was hardly breathing."

Paulette gave three short hard breaths as if she wanted to make sure she could breathe now.

"Do you need a drink of water?" Tara offered, wanting to do something to keep her own skin from crawling, knowing Paulette had to feel twice as bad as she. Tara could feel Bill Hamilton's hand as if it lay on her own head.

"No, thanks." Paulette brightened momentarily.

"Do you want us to come back? Do you want to do this another time?"

Tara asked.

"Oh gosh, no. I don't think I'd ever want to tell this again. I never told my husband *cause he'd kill Bill if he knew." She laughed a little as if pleased that she should inspire such pa.s.sion. She continued, "So, he has his hand on my head.

Then he just walks outside. It was strange because he didn't make any noise and he had that great smile on his face. I bet you've seen it. Handsome as can be." Tara nodded.

"He went outside and disappeared for a minute.

I watched through the door because he left it open, and then I saw him come back. He had a sledgehammer. Well, I'll tell you, my heart just stopped." She put a hand to her ample chest as if to make sure the beat went on.

"He looked at me. Him out in that sunshine, me in the dark of the house. Then he smiled bigger and he picked that hammer up and whacked the dog right in the head.

"Poor thing never knew what hit him. It made this sound, a thump and crack all at the same time. Bill dropped the hammer near the dog, then he came back in and sat down. He left that dog out there rotting in the sun. He was all b.l.o.o.d.y.

Bill, I mean. It was really ugly."

Paulette closed her eyes, seeing it all again in her mind. She shuddered. Tara wanted to do the same. Ben was intent on the story.

"I kept the kids inside the rest of the day so they wouldn't see the dog. By the end of the day I was near crazy myself. My boyfriend was out of town, and I had to do something.

"After I put the kids down for the night, I made coffee and told Bill I was getting married. I told him he'd have to go because it wouldn't do to have two men in the house.

"I must have put twenty measuring spoons of coffee into that machine waiting for him to answer.

I thought if I kept doing something he wouldn't hurt me. And you know what he did?" Paulette's eyes widened as she looked from Tara to Ben and back again. She lowered her voice.

"Nothing. He said good night, went to his room, and the next morning he was gone. That was that. I haven't seen him since. I don't want to see him. But I guess you figured that."

Paulette fell back, the couch pillow puffing out under her weight. She had survived Bill Hamilton and was proud of it. They sat in silence until the troop of kids came rushing back through the door.

Paulette shooed them away but Ben and Tara were done. They thanked her and left.

"Did you hear what she said?" Ben asked when they were halfway to Tara's house.

"Every word."

"I mean the part about what she was doing when she told Bill he had to leave." Tara flipped her hair over the headrest. She was exhausted and Ben was hyped.

"Paulette was making coffee." He tried to lead her train of thought with a little whirly gesture of his hand. Tara looked at him.

"The Circle K clerk was making coffee. Come on, Tara. Remember I said that there was just a pinpoint of time where reality met fantasy, where anger at something in the past triggered fury in the present." Tara sat up straighter, nodding as she realized what Ben was saying. He grinned.

"I think you better call Donna. It's time she started serving tea."

"You don't think he'd do it again? Not to Donna."

"Who knows?"

Tara planted her chin in her upturned palm and looked out the window.

"I haven't talked to her since I left that day."

"Then leave a message." He hit the steering wheel with his open palm.

"I can't wait to get to those medical records. Actually, I can't wait to meet the real Bill. Tara, I can give you a report that will send Woodrow reeling. We'll have Bill Hamilton committed in no time with what we've learned."

"So you do think he's mentally disturbed."

"From the little I know, there's no doubt."

"Then I should do whatever I can to help him."

"Yes. I think you should."

Tara fell silent. The lights of Albuquerque shone in the distance, a glittering, liquid blur as they sped toward them. Tara lay back on the seat and wished it would be a good long while before she or Ben came face-to-face with Bill Hamilton.

"I think there's wine in the refrigerator. Soft drinks too if you'd rather. You must be beat. I didn't mean to drag you all over creation," Tara called as she went ahead and turned on the lights.

"Don't worry about it. I don't get tired very often." Ben's voice was lost in the hall as Tara headed to her office to make a swift pa.s.s at the answering machine.

She punched the message b.u.t.ton. There were two. Caroline had called with the good news that she'd managed to reschedule the deposition they'd canceled, and Donna had called. Tara smiled, so deeply relieved she thought she might cry. Tara kicked off her shoes and listened. Donna, apologetic, was frenetic in her brightness.

"This is silly, sweetie. I miss you so much. Please, let's make up. My place. Sat.u.r.day night. It's an engagement party. Stop rolling your eyes. Be happy for me. All's well. I'm in New York*I'll be home Sat.u.r.day afternoon. You'll be surprised. Bill's handling all the arrangements. If you're not there, we're coming to get you Sunday. Please, Tara. I need a maid of honor. I'm sorry. I know you are, too."

Kisses were thrown from the East Coast and Tara smiled behind the hand she put to her lips. Donna was fine, safely away from Bill for a while at least.

But best of all. Donna had missed her too. Bill Hamilton would be in the hospital as soon as Ben could help put him there. Life was good and Ben was calling to her now, insisting she enjoy it after a very long day. Tara walked into the kitchen to find Ben grinning ear to ear.

"Who did you get to do this?" he asked.

"What a great surprise. No wonder you didn't want to stop for dinner."

Tara's mouth dropped. Paralyzed by shock, gripped by misgiving, Tara could do nothing more than stare at the butcher block. It was a veritable showcase of dining chic. The candles had been burning for some time and were stunningly misshapen, melted almost to the lips of the silver holders. Between the flickering tapers were two flutes and a bottle of champagne, sweating as it lost its chill.

He had done it.

He was there*or had been there.

Fingers to her lips, Tara moved swiftly into the kitchen, whispering as she did so, "I didn't do this, Ben. I didn't make any arrangements."

Ben tensed, vigilant as she. He scanned the kitchen, slowly doing a three-sixty, looking for anything else out of the ordinary. It was Tara who spotted the wet-edged dinner card propped against the champagne. She read it before handing it to Ben.

"Dinner's in the oven," he said softly as he started forward.

Tara held him back with an open palm. She was the one who put her hand on the oven door, opened it, and took out the cold roasting pan. Mechanically, she turned and held it out to Ben, showing him an enormous hunk of newly butchered b.l.o.o.d.y meat. Tara's eyes were on him. Ben's mouth was open. She was about to speak when suddenly she dropped the pan. It clattered on the ground, the noise horrendous and frightening in the quiet kitchen. The meat spilled out, blood spattering everywhere. They both jumped as it came to rest near the legs of the kitchen table.

Something else fell too, the thing that had spooked Tara. Ben was the first to reach it.

"What on earth is that?" he breathed, leaning over, adjusting his chair to get a better look.

Tara's mouth opened, but nothing happened.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't make a noise.

Her hands trembled as she touched the golden hank of rope that had been wound around the animal flesh. Her mouth worked, her lips moved, she pulled her hand back as if burned.

Ben bent further, touched it, picked it up, then wished he never had. It took a minute, but finally it dawned on him what this thing was in his hand.

Tara's frantic eyes were on his as he held it*a hunk of Shinin's tail.