"He wanted to kill me," Kim said. "I have a feeling you were a surprise, and enough of one to have saved my life. Thank God you weren't hurt."
Tracy twisted out of Kim's grasp. "I'll call the police," she said on her way to the family room.
Kim caught up to her, and grabbing her arm, he pulled her to a stop. "Don't bother to call the police," he said.
Tracy eyed Kim's hand clasped around her upper arm then looked up into his face. She was incredulous. "What do you mean, don't bother?" she questioned.
"Come on," Kim urged, gently pulling her back toward the stairs. "Let's get my gun. I doubt the guy will be back, but there's no sense in taking any chance of not being prepared."
Tracy held back. "Why don't you want to call the police?" she questioned. "It doesn't make any sense."
"They won't do anything," Kim said. "We'll end up spending a lot of time for nothing. Undoubtedly they'll attribute this episode to a failed burglary, whereas we know what it is about."
"We do?" Tracy asked.
"Of course," Kim said. "I said it was the same guy from Higgins and Hancock. Obviously what I was afraid had happened to Marsha, did happen, and the people responsible, whether they're from Higgins and Hancock or the meat industry in general, are afraid of me."
"That seems like all the more reason to call the police," Tracy said.
"No!" Kim said emphatically. "Not only won't they do anything, they might cause trouble. Above all, I don't want them interfering in my attempt to get evidence for Kelly Anderson. In their eyes, I'm already a felon. They think I'm a nutcase."
"They don't think I'm a nutcase," Tracy said.
"They might," Kim said. "As soon as you tell them you've been spending time with me."
"You think so?" Tracy questioned. That was a point she'd not considered.
"Come on," Kim urged. "Let's get the gun."
Tracy followed Kim out to the foyer. They started up the stairs. She was confused but for the moment allowed Kim's determination to sway her. Yet the attack by the man with the knife terrified her.
"I'm having serious second thoughts about your getting more involved in all this," Tracy said.
"Not me," Kim said. "I feel even more committed. Any residual benefit of doubt I'd felt has flown out the window now that I know what they're willing to do to protect themselves."
They passed the broken door to the bathroom. Tracy could hear the shower still running. She shuddered anew at the image of the killer separated from her by a mere layer of glass.
Tracy followed Kim into the bedroom. He went directly to the bedside table and took out a small Smith amp; Wesson thirty-eight-caliber pistol. He checked the cylinder. It was loaded. He slipped the gun into his jacket pocket and looked over at the open door to the walk-in closet.
"That prick must have been hiding in there," Kim said. He walked over and switched on the light. Most of the drawers had been emptied onto the floor. Kim pulled out the drawer where he kept his minimal jewelry. "That's nice," he added. "He helped himself to my father's Piaget."
"Kim, I think we should forget about this whole thing," Tracy said. "I don't think you should try to get a job in Higgins and Hancock."
"I don't have any choice at this point," Kim said. "I'm not going to give up my father's watch without a fight."
"This is no time for jokes," Tracy said. "I'm being serious. It's too dangerous."
"What would you have us do?" Kim asked. "Move away to some foreign country?"
"That's a thought," Tracy said.
Kim laughed mirthlessly. "Wait a sec," he said, "I was just kidding. Where would you want to move?"
"Someplace in Europe," Tracy said. "I had another conversation with Kathleen after the three of us talked. She told me there were some countries, like Sweden, where the food is not contaminated."
"Seriously?" Kim questioned.
"That's what she said," Tracy offered. "They may pay a little more for the extra scrutiny, but they've decided it's worth it."
"And you'd seriously think of going to live in another country?" Kim asked.
"I hadn't thought about it until you mentioned it," Tracy said. "But yes, I'd consider it. Given what happened to Becky, I'd like to be public about it-use the move to make a statement about the food situation in this country. And it certainly would be a lot less risky."
"I suppose," Kim said. He thought about the idea for a moment, but then shook his head. "I think running away is too much of a cop-out. For Becky's sake, I'm going to see this to the bitter end."
"Are you sure you're not doing this just to avoid coming to grips with Becky's death?" Tracy asked. She took a nervous breath. She knew she was touching a sensitive area. The old Kim would have reacted with rage.
Kim didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice didn't sound angry. "I've admitted as much already, but I think I'm doing this for Becky's memory as well. In that sense, part of her legacy would be preventing other kids from sharing her fate."
Tracy was touched. She went up to Kim and put her arms around him. He truly seemed to be a different man.
"Come on," Kim urged. "Get out of that coat and back into your clothes. We'll get the stuff we bought and get the hell out of here."
"Where will we go?" Tracy asked.
"First to the hospital," Kim said. "I have to get this laceration sutured up, or I'll be looking at it the rest of my life. Once that's done, we can go on to your house if you wouldn't mind. I think we'll feel a lot safer there than we will here."
"Now, who the hell is that?" Bobby Bo Mason asked. He and his wife, along with their two children, were having a small Sunday night dinner of sirloin steaks, double-baked potatoes, peas, and corn muffins. Their chewing concentration had been broken by the front-door chimes.
Bobby Bo lifted the tip of his napkin to blot the corners of his lips. The other end of the napkin was tucked into his shirt just below his sizable Adam's apple. He looked up at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of seven.
"Want me to get it, dear?" Darlene asked. Darlene was Bobby Bo's third wife and mother of his youngest children. He also had two kids at the state agricultural school.
"I'll get it," Bobby Bo grumbled. He pushed back from the table, stuck out his lantern jaw, and headed for the front door. He wondered who had the nerve to ring his bell during dinner, but he guessed it had to be important because whoever it was had gotten through security down at the gate.
Bobby Bo pulled open the door. It was Shanahan O'Brian. The man was literally holding his hat in his hand.
"You don't look happy," Bobby Bo said.
"I'm not," Shanahan admitted. "It's not good news."
Bobby Bo glanced over his shoulder to make sure Darlene hadn't followed him to the door.
"Come on into the library," Bobby Bo said. He stepped aside to let Shanahan enter. Then he preceded his security head into the library. He closed the door after them.
"All right," Bobby Bo said. "What's the scoop?"
"I just had a call from Carlos," Shanahan said. "He didn't get the doctor."
"I thought this guy was supposed to be some kind of ace with a knife," Bobby Bo complained.
"That's what I'd been told," Shanahan said. "Carlos insists this doctor is just lucky. He broke into the doctor's house. He'd been told that the doctor lived alone, but when the doctor came home this time he apparently had a woman with him."
"Big deal," Bobby Bo said. "This Carlos is supposed to be a killer. What difference does it make if a woman was there?"
"She apparently confused him," Shanahan said. "He caught her naked and…"
"Enough," Bobby Bo said, raising his hand. "I don't want to hear any more details. The fact of the matter is this amateur wetback botched it up."