{"id":6368,"date":"2026-01-05T23:46:58","date_gmt":"2026-01-05T23:46:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-darkest-evening-of-the-year-koontz-dean\/"},"modified":"2026-01-05T23:46:58","modified_gmt":"2026-01-05T23:46:58","slug":"the-darkest-evening-of-the-year-koontz-dean","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-darkest-evening-of-the-year-koontz-dean\/","title":{"rendered":"The Darkest Evening of the Year – Koontz, Dean"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Chapter<\/em>
1<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

B<\/b><\/span>ehind the wheel of the Ford Expedition, Amy Redwing drove as if she were immortal and therefore safe at any speed.<\/p>\n

In the fitful breeze, a funnel of golden sycamore leaves spun along the post-midnight street. She blasted through them, crisp autumn scratching across the windshield.<\/p>\n

For some, the past is a chain, each day a link, raveling backward to one ringbolt or another, in one dark place or another, and tomorrow is a slave to yesterday.<\/p>\n

Amy Redwing did not know her origins. Abandoned at the age of two, she had no memory of her mother and father.<\/p>\n

She had been left in a church, her name pinned to her shirt. A nun had found her sleeping on a pew.<\/p>\n

Most likely, her surname had been invented to mislead. The police had failed to trace it to anyone.<\/p>\n

Redwing<\/em> suggested a Native American heritage. Raven hair and dark eyes argued Cherokee, but her ancestors might as likely have come from Armenia or Sicily, or Spain.<\/p>\n

Amy\u2019s history remained incomplete, but the lack of roots did not set her free. She was chained to some ringbolt set in the stone of a distant year.<\/p>\n

Although she presented herself as such a blithe spirit that she appeared to be capable of flight, she was in fact as earthbound as anyone.<\/p>\n

Belted to the passenger seat, feet pressed against a phantom brake pedal, Brian McCarthy wanted to urge Amy to slow down. He said nothing, however, because he was afraid that she would look away from the street to reply to his call for caution.<\/p>\n

Besides, when she was launched upon a mission like this, any plea for prudence might perversely incite her to stand harder on the accelerator.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love October,\u201d she said, looking away from the street. \u201cDon\u2019t you love October?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is still September.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can love October in September. September doesn\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch where you\u2019re going.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI love San Francisco, but it\u2019s hundreds of miles away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe way you\u2019re driving, we\u2019ll be there in ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a superb driver. No accidents, no traffic citations.\u201d<\/p>\n

He said, \u201cMy entire life keeps flashing before my eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should make an appointment with an ophthalmologist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAmy, please, don\u2019t keep looking at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look fine, sweetie. Bed hair becomes you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, watch the road<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis guy named Marco\u2014he\u2019s blind but he drives a car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMarco who?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMarco something-something. He\u2019s in the Philippines. I read about him in a magazine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody blind can drive a car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose you don\u2019t believe we actually sent men to the moon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t believe they drove<\/em> there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMarco\u2019s dog sits in the passenger seat. Marco senses from the dog when to turn right or left, when to hit the brakes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Some people thought Amy was a charming airhead. Initially, Brian had thought so, too.<\/p>\n

Then he had realized he was wrong. He would never have fallen in love with an airhead.<\/p>\n

He said, \u201cYou aren\u2019t seriously telling me that Seeing Eye dogs can drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe dog doesn\u2019t drive, silly. He just guides Marco.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat bizarro magazine were you reading?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNational Geographic.<\/em> It was such an uplifting story about the human-dog bond, the empowerment of the disabled.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bet my left foot it wasn\u2019t National Geographic<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m opposed to gambling,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut not to blind men driving.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, they need to be responsible<\/em> blind men.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo place in the world,\u201d he insisted, \u201callows the blind to drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot anymore,\u201d she agreed.<\/p>\n

Brian did not want to ask, could not prevent himself from asking: \u201cMarco isn\u2019t allowed to drive anymore?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe kept banging into things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cImagine that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you can\u2019t blame Antoine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAntoine who?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAntoine the dog. I\u2019m sure he did his best. Dogs always do. Marco just second-guessed him once too often.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch where you\u2019re going. Left curve ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Smiling at him, she said, \u201cYou\u2019re my own Antoine. You\u2019ll never let me bang into things.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the salt-pale moonlight, an older middle-class neighborhood of one-story ranch houses seemed to effloresce out of the darkness.<\/p>\n

No streetlamps brightened the night, but the moon silvered the leaves and the creamy trunks of eucalyptuses. Here and there, stucco walls had a faint ectoplasmic glow, as if this were a ghost town of phantom buildings inhabited by spirits.<\/p>\n

In the second block, lights brightened windows at one house.<\/p>\n

Amy braked to a full stop in the street, and the headlights flared off the reflective numbers on the curbside mailbox.<\/p>\n

She shifted the Expedition into reverse. Backing into the driveway, she said, \u201cIn an iffy situation, you want to be aimed out for the fastest exit.\u201d<\/p>\n

As she killed the headlights and the engine, Brian said, \u201cIffy? Iffy like how?\u201d<\/p>\n

Getting out of the SUV, she said, \u201cWith a crazy drunk guy, you just never know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joining her at the back of the vehicle, where she put up the tailgate, Brian glanced at the house and said, \u201cSo there\u2019s a crazy guy in there, and he\u2019s drunk?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn the phone, this Janet Brockman said her husband, Carl, he\u2019s crazy drunk, which probably means he\u2019s crazy from drinking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amy started toward the house, and Brian gripped her shoulder, halting her. \u201cWhat if he\u2019s crazy when he\u2019s sober, and now it\u2019s worse because he\u2019s drunk?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a psychiatrist, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe this is police business.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPolice don\u2019t have time for crazy drunk guys like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d think crazy drunk guys are right down their alley.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shrugging off his hand, heading toward the house once more, she said, \u201cWe can\u2019t waste time. He\u2019s violent.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian hurried after her. \u201cHe\u2019s crazy, drunk, and violent<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe probably won\u2019t be violent with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Climbing steps to a porch, Brian said, \u201cWhat about me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he\u2019s only violent with their dog. But if this Carl does want to take a whack at me, that\u2019s okay, \u2019cause I have you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe? I\u2019m an architect.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot tonight, sweetie. Tonight, you\u2019re muscle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian had accompanied her on other missions like this, but never previously after midnight to the home of a crazy violent drunk.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if I have a testosterone deficiency?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have a testosterone deficiency?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI cried reading that book last week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat book makes everyone cry. It just proves you\u2019re human.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Amy reached for the bell push, the door opened. A young woman with a bruised mouth and a bleeding lip appeared at the threshold.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Redwing?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must be Janet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I wasn\u2019t. I wish I was you or anybody, somebody.\u201d Stepping back from the door, she invited them inside. \u201cDon\u2019t let Carl cripple her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe won\u2019t,\u201d Amy assured the woman.<\/p>\n

Janet blotted her lips with a bloody cloth. \u201cHe crippled Mazie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mouth plugged with a thumb, a pale girl of about four clung to a twisted fistful of the tail of Janet\u2019s blouse, as if anticipating a sudden cyclone that would try to spin her away from her mother.<\/p>\n

The living room was gray. A blue sofa, blue armchairs, stood on a gold carpet, but a pair of lamps shed light as lusterless as ashes, and the colors were muted as though settled smoke from a long-quenched fire had laid a patina on them.<\/p>\n

If Purgatory had formal parlors for the waiting multitudes, they might be as ordered and cheerless as this room.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrippled Mazie,\u201d Janet repeated. \u201cFour months later, he\u2026\u201d She glanced down at her daughter. \u201cFour months later, Mazie died.\u201d<\/p>\n

Having begun to close the front door, Brian hesitated. He left it half open to the mild September night.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is your dog?\u201d Amy asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the kitchen.\u201d Janet put a hand to her swollen lip and spoke between her fingers. \u201cWith him.\u201d<\/p>\n

The child was too old to be sucking her thumb with such devotion, but this habit of the crib disturbed Brian less than did the character of her stare. A purple shade of blue, her eyes were wide with expectation and appeared to be bruised by experience.<\/p>\n

The air thickened, as it does under thunderheads and a pending deluge.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich way to the kitchen?\u201d Amy asked.<\/p>\n

Janet led them through an archway into a hall flanked by dark rooms like flooded grottoes. Her daughter glided at her side, as firmly attached as a remora to a larger fish.<\/p>\n

The hall was shadowy except at the far end, where a thin wedge of light stabbed in from a room beyond.<\/p>\n

The shadows seemed to ebb and flow and ebb again, but this phantom movement was only Brian\u2019s strong pulse, his vision throbbing in time with his laboring heart.<\/p>\n

At the midpoint of the hallway, a boy leaned with his forehead against a wall, his hands fisted at his temples. He was perhaps six years old.<\/p>\n

From him came the thinnest sound of misery, like air escaping, molecule by molecule, from the pinched neck of a balloon.<\/p>\n

Janet said, \u201cIt\u2019ll be okay, Jimmy,\u201d but when she put a hand on the boy\u2019s shoulder, he wrenched away from her.<\/p>\n

Trailed by her daughter, she proceeded to the end of the hall and pushed the door open, and the stiletto of light became a broad-sword.<\/p>\n

Entering the kitchen behind the two women and the girl, Brian could almost have believed that the source of the light was the golden retriever sitting alertly in the corner between the cooktop and the refrigerator. The dog seemed to shine.<\/p>\n

She was neither pure blond nor the coppery hue of some retrievers, but clothed in many shades of gold, and radiant. Her undercoat was thick, her chest deep, her head beautifully formed.<\/p>\n

More compelling than the dog\u2019s appearance were her posture and attitude. She sat erect, head lifted, alertness signified by a slight raising of her pendant ears and by the ceaseless subtle flare-and-quiver of her nostrils.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t turn her head, but she shifted her eyes toward Amy and Brian\u2014and at once refocused on Carl.<\/p>\n

The man of the house was at the moment something less than a man. Or perhaps he was only what any man eventually might become when guided by no hand but his own.<\/p>\n

When sober, he probably had a neighborly face or at least one of those faces that, seen by the thousands in city streets, is a bland mask of benign indifference, with lips compressed and eyes fixed on a distant nothing.<\/p>\n

Now, as he stood beside the kitchen table, his face was full of character, though of the wrong kind. His eyes were watery with drink and blood, and he looked out from under a lowered brow, like a bull that sees on every side the challenge of a red cape. His jaw hung slack. His lips were cracked, perhaps from the chronic dehydration that afflicts an alcoholic.<\/p>\n

Carl Brockman turned his gaze on Brian. In those eyes shone not the mindless aggression of a man made stupid by drink, but instead the malevolent glee of a chained brute who had been liberated by it.<\/p>\n

To his wife, in a voice thick with bitterness, he said, \u201cWhat\u2019ve you done?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing, Carl. I just called them about the dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face was a snarl of knotted threats. \u201cYou must want some.\u201d<\/p>\n

Janet shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must really want some, Jan. You do this, you know it\u2019s gonna get you only one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

As though embarrassed by the evidence of her submissiveness, Janet covered her bleeding mouth with one hand.<\/p>\n

Crouching, Amy called to the dog. \u201cHere, cutie. Come here, girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the table stood a bottle of tequila, a glass, a salt shaker in the shape of a white Scottish terrier, and a plate holding slices of a fresh lime.<\/p>\n

Raising his right hand from his side and high above his head, Carl revealed a tire iron. He gripped it by the pry end.<\/p>\n

When he slammed the tool down hard upon the table, slices of lime leaped from the plate. The bottle of tequila wobbled, and the ice rattled in the glass.<\/p>\n

Janet cringed, the little girl stoppled a cry with her thumb, Brian winced and tensed, but Amy just continued to coax the retriever to come to her. The dog was neither startled nor made fearful by the crash of iron on wood.<\/p>\n

With a backhand swing of the tool, Carl swept everything off the table. At the farther end of the kitchen, tequila splashed, glass shattered, and the ceramic Scottie scattered salt across the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out,\u201d Carl demanded. \u201cGet out of my house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amy said, \u201cThe dog\u2019s a problem. You don\u2019t need a problem dog. We\u2019ll take her off your hands.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho the hell are you, anyway? She\u2019s my dog. She\u2019s not yours. I know how to handle the bitch.\u201d<\/p>\n

The table was not between them and Carl. If he lurched forward and swung the tire iron, they might be able to dodge a blow only if the tequila made him slow and clumsy.<\/p>\n

The guy didn\u2019t look<\/em> slow and clumsy. He seemed to be a bullet in the barrel, and any wrong move they made or wrong word they spoke might be the firing pin that sent him hurtling toward them.<\/p>\n

Turning his malevolent gaze upon his wife, Carl repeated, \u201cI know how to handle the bitch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll I did,\u201d Janet said meekly, \u201cwas give the poor thing a bath.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe didn\u2019t need<\/em> a bath.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pleading her case but careful not to argue it, Janet said, \u201cCarl, honey, she was filthy, her coat was all matted.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a dog<\/em>, you stupid skank. She belongs in the yard.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. You\u2019re right. You don\u2019t want her in the house. But I was just, I was afraid, you know, afraid she\u2019d get those sores like she did before.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her conciliatory tone inflamed his anger instead of quenching it. \u201cNickie\u2019s my<\/em> dog. I bought<\/em> her. I own<\/em> her. She\u2019s mine<\/em>.\u201d He pointed the tire iron at his wife. \u201cI know what\u2019s mine, and I keep what\u2019s mine. Nobody tells me what to do with anything that\u2019s mine<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the start of Carl\u2019s rant, Amy rose from a crouch and stood staring at him, rigid and still and moon-eyed.<\/p>\n

Brian saw something strange in her face, an expression he could not name. She was transfixed but not by fear.<\/p>\n

Pointing the tire iron at Amy now, instead of at his wife, Carl said, \u201cWhat are you staring at? What\u2019re you even doing here, you dumb bitch? I told you Get out<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian put both hands on a dinette chair. It wasn\u2019t much of a weapon, but with it, he might be able to block the tire iron.<\/p>\n

\u201cSir, I\u2019ll pay you for the dog,\u201d Amy said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou deaf?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll buy her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot for sale.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFifteen hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n

Familiar with Amy\u2019s finances, Brian said, \u201cAmy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Carl transferred the tire iron from his right hand to his left. He flexed his free hand as if he had been gripping the tool with such ferocity that his fingers had cramped.<\/p>\n

To Brian, he said, \u201cWho the hell are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m her architect.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFifteen hundred,\u201d Amy repeated.<\/p>\n

Although the kitchen was not too warm, Carl\u2019s face glistened with a thin film of greasy perspiration. His undershirt was damp. This was a drunkard\u2019s sweat, the body struggling to purge toxins.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need your money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir, I know. But you don\u2019t need the dog, either. She\u2019s not the only dog in the world. Seventeen hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you\u2014crazy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. I am. But it\u2019s a good crazy. Like, I\u2019m not a suicide bomber or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuicide bomber?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have bodies buried in my backyard. Well, only one, but it\u2019s a canary in a shoe box.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomethin\u2019s wrong with you,\u201d Carl said thickly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis name was Leroy. I didn\u2019t want a canary, especially not one named Leroy. A friend died, Leroy had nowhere to go, he had nothing but his shabby little cage, so I took him in, and he lived with me, and then I buried him, though I didn\u2019t bury him until he was dead because, like I said, I\u2019m not that kind of crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Under his brow, Carl\u2019s eyes were deep wells with foul water glistening darkly at the bottom. \u201cDon\u2019t mock me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t, sir. I can\u2019t. I was pretty much raised by nuns. I don\u2019t mock, don\u2019t take God\u2019s name in vain, don\u2019t wear patent-leather shoes with a skirt, and I have such an enlarged guilt gland that it weighs as much as my brain. Eighteen hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Carl transferred the tire iron from his left hand to his right, he turned it end for end, now gripping it by the lug socket. He pointed the pry end, the sharp end, at Amy, but said nothing.<\/p>\n

Brian didn\u2019t know if the wife-beater\u2019s silence was a good sign or a bad one. More than once, he\u2019d seen Amy talk an angry dog out of a snarl, into a belly rub; but he would have bet his last dollar that Carl wasn\u2019t going to lie on his back and put all four in the air.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo thousand,\u201d Amy said. \u201cThat\u2019s as much as I have. I can\u2019t go any higher.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carl took a step toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cBack off,\u201d Brian warned, raising the dinette chair as if he were a lion tamer, although a lion tamer would also have had a whip.<\/p>\n

To Brian, Amy said, \u201cTake it easy, Frank Lloyd Wright. This gentleman and me, we\u2019re building some trust here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carl extended his right arm, resting the tip of the pry bar in the recess between her collarbones, the blade against her throat.<\/p>\n

As though unaware that the point of a deadly weapon was poised to puncture her esophagus, Amy said, \u201cSo\u2014two thousand. You\u2019re a tough negotiator, sir. I won\u2019t be eating filet mignon for a while. That\u2019s okay. I\u2019m more a hamburger kind of girl, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

The wife-beater was a chimera now, only part angry bull, part coiled serpent. His gaze was sharp with sinister calculation, and although his tongue was not forked, it slipped between his lips to test the air.<\/p>\n

Amy said, \u201cI knew this guy, he almost choked to death on a chunk of steak. The Heimlich maneuver wouldn\u2019t dislodge it, so a doctor cut his throat open there in the restaurant, fished the blockage out.\u201d<\/p>\n

As still as stone, the dog remained alert, and Brian wondered if he should take his lead from her. If the bottled violence in Carl was about to be uncorked, surely Nickie would sense it first.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis woman at a nearby table,\u201d Amy continued, \u201cshe was so horrified, she passed out facedown in her lobster bisque. I don\u2019t think you can drown in a bowl of lobster bisque, it might even be good for the complexion, but I lifted her head out of it anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carl licked his cracked lips. \u201cYou must think I\u2019m stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou might be ignorant,\u201d Amy said. \u201cI don\u2019t know you well enough to say. But I\u2019m totally sure you\u2019re not stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian realized he was grinding his teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou give me a check for two thousand,\u201d Carl said, \u201cyou\u2019ll stop payment on it ten minutes after you\u2019re out the door with the dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t intend to give you a check.\u201d From an inside jacket pocket, she withdrew a wad of folded hundred-dollar bills held together by a blue-and-yellow butterfly barrette. \u201cI\u2019ll pay cash.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian was no longer grinding his teeth. His mouth had fallen open.<\/p>\n

Lowering the tire iron to his side, Carl said, \u201cSomething\u2019s for sure wrong with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pocketed the barrette, fanned the hundred-dollar bills, and said, \u201cDeal?\u201d<\/p>\n

He put the weapon on the table, took the money, and counted it with the deliberateness of a man whose memory of math has been bleached pale by tequila.<\/p>\n

Relieved, Brian put down the dinette chair.<\/p>\n

Moving to the dog, Amy fished a red collar and a rolled-up leash from another pocket. She clipped the leash to the collar and put the collar on the dog. \u201cNice doing business with you, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

While Carl was conducting a second count of the two thousand, Amy tugged gently on the leash. The dog rose at once and padded out of the kitchen, at her side.<\/p>\n

With her little girl in tow, Janet followed Amy and Nickie into the hallway, and Brian went after them, glancing back because he half expected Carl to find his rage again and pick up the tire iron.<\/p>\n

Jimmy, the keening boy, was silent now. He had moved from the hallway to the living room, where he stood at a window in the posture of a prisoner at his cell bars.<\/p>\n

Leading the dog, Amy went to the boy. She stooped beside him, spoke to him.<\/p>\n

Brian couldn\u2019t hear what she said.<\/p>\n

The front door was open, as he had left it. With the dog prancing smartly at her side, Amy soon joined him on the porch.<\/p>\n

Standing on the threshold, Janet said, \u201cYou were\u2026amazing. Thank you. I didn\u2019t want the kids to see\u2026see it happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her face was sallow in the yellow light of the porch lamp, and the whites of her eyes had a jaundiced tint. She looked older than her years, and tired.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, he\u2019ll get another dog,\u201d Amy said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe I can prevent that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you really mean what you said when you first answered the door?\u201d<\/p>\n

Janet looked away from Amy to study the threshold at her feet, and shrugged.<\/p>\n

Amy reminded her: \u201cYou wished that you were me. \u2018Or anybody, somebody.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Janet shook her head. Her voice lowered almost to a murmur. \u201cWhat you did in there, the money was the least of it. The way you were with him\u2014I can never do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen do what you can.\u201d She leaned close to Janet and said something that Brian could not hear.<\/p>\n

Listening intently, Janet covered her split and swollen lip with her right hand.<\/p>\n

When Amy finished, she stepped back, and Janet met her eyes once more. They stared at each other, and although Janet didn\u2019t say a word or even so much as nod, Amy said, \u201cGood. All right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Janet retreated into the house with her daughter.<\/p>\n

Nickie seemed to know where she was going, and moved forward on her leash, leading them off the porch, to the Expedition.<\/p>\n

Brian said, \u201cYou always carry two thousand bucks?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEver since, three years ago, I wouldn\u2019t have been able to save a dog if I hadn\u2019t had the money on me to buy it. That first one cost me three hundred twenty-two bucks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo sometimes to rescue a dog, you have to buy it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot often, thank God.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without command or encouragement, Nickie sprang into the cargo space of the SUV.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood girl,\u201d Amy said, and the dog\u2019s plumed tail swished.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was crazy, what you did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean letting him put the pry bar to your throat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t have used it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can you be sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know his type. He\u2019s basically a pussy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think he\u2019s a pussy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe beats up women and dogs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot his type. Believe me, sweetie, in a pinch, you\u2019d have whupped his ass in a New York minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHard to whup a guy\u2019s ass after he embeds a tire iron in your skull.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slamming shut the tailgate, she said, \u201cYour skull would be fine. It\u2019s the tire iron that would\u2019ve been bent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get out of here before he decides he should have held out for three<\/em> thousand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flipping open her cell phone, she said, \u201cWe\u2019re not leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

Keying in three numbers, she said, \u201cThe fun\u2019s just getting started.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like that look on your face.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat look is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReckless abandon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReckless is a cute look for me. Don\u2019t I look cute?\u201d The 911 operator answered, and Amy said, \u201cI\u2019m on a cell phone. A man here is beating his wife and little boy. He\u2019s drunk.\u201d She gave the address.<\/p>\n

Nose to the glass, peering from the dark cargo hold of the SUV, the golden retriever had the blinkless curiosity of a resident of an aquarium bumping against the walls of its world.<\/p>\n

Amy gave her name to the operator. \u201cHe\u2019s beaten them before. I\u2019m afraid this time he\u2019s going to cripple or kill them.\u201d<\/p>\n

The breeze stirred faster, and the eucalyptus trees tossed their tresses as if winged swarms spiraled through them.<\/p>\n

Staring at the house, Brian felt chaos coming. He had much hard experience of chaos. He had been born in a tornado.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a family friend,\u201d Amy lied in answer to the 911 operator\u2019s question. \u201cHurry.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Amy terminated the call, Brian said, \u201cI thought you took the steam out of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. By now he\u2019s decided that he sold his honor with the dog. He\u2019ll blame Janet for that. Come on.\u201d<\/p>\n

She started toward the house, and Brian hurried at her side. \u201cShouldn\u2019t we leave it to the police?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey might not get here in time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Vague leaf shadows shuddered on the moon-silvered sidewalk, as if they were a thousand beetles quivering toward sheltering crevices.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut a situation like this,\u201d he said, \u201cwe don\u2019t know what we\u2019re doing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat we\u2019re doing is the right thing. You didn\u2019t see the boy\u2019s face. His left eye is swollen. His father gave him a bloody nose.\u201d<\/p>\n

An old anger rose in Brian. \u201cWhat do you want to do to the sonofabitch?\u201d<\/p>\n

Climbing the porch steps, she said, \u201cThat\u2019s up to him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Janet had left the front door ajar. From the back of the house rose Carl\u2019s angry voice and hammering and crystalline shatters of sound and the sweet desperate singing of a child.<\/p>\n

At the core of every ordered system, whether a family or a factory, is chaos. But in the whirl of every chaos lies a strange order, waiting to be found.<\/p>\n

Amy pushed open the door. They went inside.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

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Book Preview Chapter1 Behind the wheel of the Ford Expedition, Amy Redwing drove as if she were immortal and therefore safe at any speed. In the fitful breeze, a funnel of golden sycamore leaves spun along the post-midnight street. She blasted through them, crisp autumn scratching across the windshield. For some, the past is a … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6367,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[421],"class_list":["post-6368","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-dean-koontz"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6368","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6368"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6368\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6367"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6368"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6368"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6368"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}