dk.intensity-第39部分

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other　sounds。
　There　was　another　sound；　similar　to　but　different　from　the　rain；　and　after　a　moment　she　recognized　it。　A　shower。
　That　was　why　he　had　set　the　radio　so　loud。　He　was　listening　to　the　music　while　taking　a　shower。
　She　was　in　luck。　As　long　as　the　killer　was　in　the　shower；　she　could　search　for　Ariel　without　the　risk　of　being　discovered。
　Chyna　hurriedly　crossed　the　front　room　to　a　half…open　door；　went　through；　and　found　a　kitchen。　Canary…yellow　ceramic　tile　with　knotty…pine　cabinets。　On　the　floor；　gray　vinyl　tile　speckled　with　yellow　and　green　and　red。　Well　scrubbed。　Everything　in　its　place。
　She　was　soaked；　rain　dripping　off　her　hair　and　still　seeping　from　her　jeans　onto　the　clean　floor。
　Taped　to　the　side　of　the　refrigerator　was　a　calendar　already　turned　forward　to　April；　with　a　color　photograph　that　showed　one　white　and　one　black　kitten…both　with　dazzling　green　eyes…peering　out　from　a　huge　spray　of　lilies。
　The　normality　of　the　house　terrified　her：　the　gleaming　surfaces；　the　tidiness；　the　homey　touches；　the　sense　that　a　person　lived　here　who　might　walk　in　daylight　on　any　street　and　pass　for　human　in　spite　of　the　atrocities　that　he　had　mitted。
　Don't　think　about　it。　Keep　moving。　Safety　in　movement。
　She　went　past　the　rear　door。　Through　the　four　glass　panes　in　the　upper　half；　she　saw　a　back　porch；　a　green　yard；　a　couple　of　big　trees；　and　the　barn。
　Without　any　architectural　division；　the　kitchen　opened　into　the　dining　area；　and　the　bined　space　was　probably　two…thirds　the　width　of　the　house。　The　round　dinette　table　was　dark　pine；　supported　by　a　thick　central　drum　rather　than　legs；　the　four　heavy　pine　captain's　chairs　featured　tie…on　back　and　seat　cushions。
　Upstairs；　the　music　started　again；　but　it　was　softer　in　the　kitchen　than　in　the　front　room。　If　she　had　been　an　aficionado　of　big…band　music；　however；　she　would　have　been　able　to　recognize　the　tune　from　here。
　The　noise　of　the　running　shower　was　more　apparent　in　the　kitchen　than　in　the　living　room；　because　the　pipes　were　channeled　through　the　rear　wall　of　the　old　house。　Water　being　drawn　upward　to　the　bathroom　made　an　urgent；　hollow　rushing　sound　through　copper。　Furthermore；　the　pipe　wasn't　tied　down　and　insulated　as　well　as　it　ought　to　have　been；　and　at　some　point　along　its　course；　it　vibrated　against　a　wall　stud：　rapid　knocking　behind　plasterboard；　tatta…tatta…tatta…tatta…tatta。
　If　that　noise　abruptly　stopped；　she　would　know　that　her　safe　time　in　the　house　was　limited。　In　the　subsequent　silence；　she　could　count　on　no　more　than　a　minute　or　two　of　grace　while　he　toweled　off。　Thereafter　he　might　show　up　anywhere。
　Chyna　looked　around　for　a　telephone　but　saw　only　a　wall　jack　into　which　one　could　be　plugged。　If　there　had　been　a　phone；　she　might　have　paused　to　call　911；　supposing　there　was　911　service　out　here　in　。。。　well；　wherever　the　hell　they　were…these　boondocks。　Knowing　that　help　was　on　the　way　would　have　made　the　remainder　of　the　search　less　nerve…racking。
　At　the　north　end　of　the　dining　area　was　another　door。　Although　the　killer　was　in　the　shower　upstairs；　she　turned　the　knob　as　quietly　as　she　could　and　crossed　the　threshold　with　caution。
　Beyond　lay　a　bination　laundry　and　storage　room。　A　washer。　An　electric　dryer。　Boxes　and　bottles　of　laundry　supplies　were　stored　in　an　orderly　fashion　on　two　open　shelves；　and　the　air　smelled　like　detergent　and　bleach。
　The　rush　of　water　and　the　knocking　pipe　were　even　louder　here　than　they　had　been　in　the　kitchen。
　To　the　left；　past　the　washer　and　dryer；　was　another　door…rough　pine；　painted　lime　green。　She　opened　it　and　saw　stairs　leading　down　to　a　black　cellar；　and　her　heart　began　to　beat　faster。
　〃Ariel〃；　she　said　softly；　but　there　was　no　answer；　because　she　had　spoken　more　to　herself　than　to　the　girl。
　No　windows　at　all　below。　Not　even　a　turbid　leak　of　gray　storm　light　seeping　through　narrow　casements　or　screened　ventilation　cutouts。
　Dungeon　dark。
　But　if　the　bastard　was　keeping　a　girl　down　there；　how　odd　that　he　wouldn't　have　added　a　lock　to　this　upper　door。　It　offered　only　the　spring　latch　that　retracted　with　a　twist　of　the　knob；　not　a　real　lock　of　any　kind。
　The　captive　might　be　sealed　in　a　windowless　room　deep　below；　of　course；　or　even　manacled。　Ariel　might　have　no　hope　of　reaching　these　stairs　and　this　upper　door；　even　if　left　alone　for　days　to　worry　at　her　restraints；　which　would　explain　why　the　killer　was　confident　that　one　more　barrier　to　her　flight　wasn't　necessary　even　when　he　was　away　from　home。
　Nevertheless；　it　seemed　peculiar　that　he　wouldn't　be　concerned　about　a　thief　breaking　into　the　house　when　he　was　gone；　descending　to　the　cellar；　and　inadvertently　discovering　the　imprisoned　girl。　Considering　the　obvious　age　of　the　structure；　its　rusticity；　and　the　lack　of　any　apparent　alarm　keypads；　Chyna　doubted　that　the　house　had　a　security　system。　The　killer；　with　all　his　secrets；　ought　to　have　installed　a　steel　door　to　the　cellar；　with　locks　as　impregnable　as　those　on　a　bank　vault。
　The　lack　of　special　security　might　mean　that　the　girl；　Ariel；　was　not　here。
　Chyna　didn't　want　to　dwell　on　that　possibility。　She　bad　to　find　Ariel。
　Leaning　through　the　doorway；　she　felt　along　the　stairwell　wall　for　the　switch；　and　snapped　it　up。　Lights　came　on　both　at　the　upper　landing　and　in　the　basement。
　The　bare　concrete　steps…a　single　flight…were　steep。　They　appeared　to　be　much　newer　than　the　house　itself；　perhaps　even　a　relatively　recent　addition。
　The　high…velocity　surge　of　water　through　plumbing　and　the　hard　rapping　of　the　loose　pipe　in　the　wall　told　her　that　the　killer　was　still　busy　in　the　bathroom　above；　scrubbing　away　all　traces　of　his　crimes。　Tatta…tatta…tatta　。。。
　Louder　than　before　but　still　in　a　whisper；　she　said：　〃Ariel。〃　Out　of　the　still　air　below；　no　response。　
　Louder。　〃Ariel。〃　Nothing。　Chyna　didn't　want　to　go　down　into　this　windowless　pit；　with　no　way　out　except　the　stairs；　even　with　a　lockless　door　above。　But　she　couldn't　think　of　any　way　to　avoid　the　descent；　not　if　she　was　to　learn　for　sure　whether　Ariel　was　here。
　Tatta…tatta…tatta…tatta…tatta　。。。　It　always　came　to　this；　even　with　childhood　long　past　and　being　grown　up　and　everything　supposedly　in　control；　everything　supposedly　all　right；　even　then　it　still　came　to　this：　alone；　dizzy　with　fear；　alone；　down　into　a　bleak…dark…cramped　place；　no　exits；　sustained　only　by　mad　hope；　with　the　world　indifferent；　no　one　to　wonder　about　her　or　care　where　she　might　have　gone。
　Listening　intently　for　the　slightest　change　in　the　sound　of　the　rushing　water　and　the　vibrating　pipe；　Chyna　went　down　one　step　at　a　time；　her　left　hand　on　the　iron　railing。　The　gun　was　extended　in　her　right　hand；　she　was　clenching　it　so　fiercely　that　her　knuckles　ached。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive；〃　she　said　shakily。　〃Chyna　Shepherd；　untouched　and　alive。〃
　Halfway　down　the　stairs；　she　glanced　back　and　up。　At　the　end　of　a　trail　of　her　wet　shoe　prints；　the　landing　seemed　a　quarter　of　a　mile　above　her；　as　far　away　as　the　top　of　the　knoll　had　seemed　from　the　front　porch　of　the　house。
　Alice　down　the　rabbit　bole　into　a　madness　witbout　tea　parties。
　At　the　open　doorway　between　the　in…kitchen　dining　area　and　the　laundry　room；　Mr。　Edgler　Vess　hears　the　mystery　woman　call　to　Ariel。　She　is　only　a　few　feet　away　from　him；　around　the　er；　past　the　washer　and　the　dryer；　so　there　can　be　no　mistake　about　what　name　she　speaks。
　Ariel。　Stupefied；　he　stands　blinking　and　open…mouthed　in　the　fragrance　of　laundry　detergent　and　in　the　wall…muffled　rattle　of　copper　pipes；　with　her　voice　echoing　in　memory。
　There　is　no　way　for　her　to　know　about　Ariel。　Yet　she　calls　to　the　girl　again；　louder　than　before。　Mr。　Vess　suddenly　feels　terribly　violated；　oppressed；　observed。　He　glances　back　at　the　windows　in　the　dining　area　and　the　kitchen；　expecting　to　discover　the　radiant　faces　of　accusing　strangers　pressed　to　those　panes。　He　sees　only　the　rain　and　the　drowned　gray　light；　but　he　is　still　anguished。
　This　is　not　fan　any　longer。　Not　fim　at　all。
　The　mystery　is　too　deep。　And　alarming。　It　is　as　if　this　woman　didn't　e　to　him　out　of　that　Honda　but　came　through　an　invisible　barrier　between　dimensions；　out　of　some　world　beyond　this　one；　from　which　she　has　been　s