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"
More
'n
welcome
.
"
He
gave
her
a
good
grin
,
incongruously
full
of
sunshine
at
this
hour
of
the
morning
.
Rachel
smiled
back
and
drove
carefully
across
the
parking
lot
to
the
feeder
road
.
She
glanced
both
ways
for
traffic
and
five
minutes
later
was
back
on
the
turnpike
again
,
headed
north
.
The
coffee
had
helped
more
than
she
would
have
believed
.
She
felt
totally
awake
now
,
not
the
slightest
bit
dozy
,
her
eyes
as
big
as
doorknobs
.
That
feather
of
unease
touched
her
again
,
that
absurd
feeling
that
she
was
being
manipulated
.
The
battery
cable
coming
off
the
terminal
post
like
that
...
So
she
could
be
held
up
just
long
enough
for
...
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She
laughed
nervously
.
Long
enough
for
what
?
For
something
irrevocable
to
happen
.
That
was
stupid
.
Ridiculous
.
But
Rachel
began
to
push
the
little
car
along
faster
nonetheless
.
At
five
o'clock
,
as
Jud
was
trying
to
ward
off
a
scalpel
stolen
from
the
black
bag
of
his
good
friend
Dr.
Louis
Creed
,
and
as
her
daughter
was
awakening
bolt-upright
in
bed
,
screaming
in
the
grip
of
a
nightmare
which
she
could
mercifully
not
remember
,
Rachel
left
the
turnpike
,
drove
the
Hammond
Street
Cutoff
close
to
the
cemetery
where
a
spade
was
now
the
only
thing
buried
in
her
son
's
coffin
,
and
crossed
the
Bangor-Brewer
Bridge
.
By
quarter
past
five
,
she
was
on
Route
15
and
headed
for
Ludlow
.
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She
had
decided
to
go
directly
to
Jud
's
;
she
would
make
good
on
at
least
that
much
of
her
promise
.
The
Civic
was
not
in
their
driveway
,
anyway
,
and
although
she
supposed
it
might
be
in
the
garage
,
their
house
had
a
sleeping
,
unoccupied
look
.
No
intuition
suggested
to
her
that
Louis
might
be
home
.
Rachel
parked
behind
Jud
's
pickup
and
got
out
of
the
Chevette
,
looking
around
carefully
.
The
grass
was
heavy
with
dew
,
sparkling
in
this
clear
,
new
light
.
Somewhere
a
bird
sang
and
then
was
silent
.
On
the
few
occasions
since
her
preteenage
years
when
she
had
been
awake
and
alone
at
dawn
without
some
responsibility
to
fulfill
as
the
reason
,
she
had
a
lonely
but
somehow
uplifted
feeling
--
a
paradoxical
sense
of
newness
and
continuity
.
This
morning
she
felt
nothing
so
clean
and
good
.
There
was
only
a
dragging
sense
of
unease
which
she
could
not
entirely
charge
off
to
the
terrible
twenty-four
hours
just
gone
by
and
her
recent
bereavement
.