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tucked his pistol in a holster inside his coat and knelt by Mary's side, checking her head. “ You'll recover, ” he said – perhaps to all of them. “It's over.”
    Yet the words didn't ring true to Angela. Deep down, s he had a feeling of dread. It seemed to speak aloud inside her mind with a cruel voice:
    “ My dear, it's only just begun.”
     
     
    TWO
     
    Angela arrived at the police station the next day close to ten. Lieutenant Nguyen – the plain-clothes cop who had saved her life the previous night – had called her an h our earlier and asked her to come in. The station was in the neighbouring town of Bal t on, a city five times larger than Point and one tenth as b eautiful. As Angela drove into town she noted a cluster of reporters gathered on the front s teps of the station. Two teenagers butchered at a high sc hool party – it was getting national play. Nguyen had warned her to drive round and come in the back way. He had told her that under no circumstances was she to talk to the m edia until she had spoken to him. That suited her fine. She had no desire to think about what had happened, never m ind sell her story to P e op le magazine.
    A uniformed officer let her in the back door, and a minute later she was sitting in Nguyen's office. She had to wait a minute and took that time to study the pictures on his wall. It didn't take her l ong to reali z e Nguyen had been a captain in the South Vietnamese Army. From the pho tos it looked as if he had been decorated a number of ti mes. That made sense. Her contact with him had been brief, but he had struck her as brave. She was standing, studying the pictures more closely, when he came in behind her.
    “My wife made me hang them up,” he said.
    Angela turned. Nguyen was a short, wiry man wi th a head of thick black hair, large, soft brown eyes, an d a distinctive rig ht list to his body. He had dashed into the field the previous night with good speed, but she c ould see now that his right leg had been injured at some time in the past. The leg might even have been shorter than his left. He noted her attention but didn't s ay anything. A ngela blushed and spoke quickly.
    “She must be very proud of you,” she said.
    “ She is a proud lady, ” Nguyen agreed. He stepped further into his office and offered his hand. “I'm happy that you were able to come down, Angela.” The y shook briefly; he ha d warm hands. “Please have a seat.”
    “I’ m happy still to be alive ,” she remarked, settling herself in a chair at the front of his desk. He sat across from her. He appeared relaxed but very much in control. She remembered again how he had shot the pistol out of Mary's hand. He was no lig htweight, this guy. She added, “I have you to thank for it.”
    “ Why did you go afte r them when I told you to wait?” he asked, his question not demanding, just curious.
    “ Mary's my friend. ” She shrugged. “ I didn't know what was goi ng to happen.”
    “ Y ou were afraid she'd be killed?”
    “Yes.”
    Nguyen nodded. “ She almost was .” He thought for a mo ment. “ What y ou did wa s brave. How close are you two?”
    “I only met her in June, when I moved here. But I've seen her several times a week since then . I'd say we're pretty close. How is she? I mean, how's her head and hand?”
    “ She spent the night in the hospital, but she's here now in a cell. The doctors say she has a mild concussion, and they bandaged her hand .” Nguyen paused again and sighed. “ But I know there's something wrong with her. Can you shed any light on why she did this? ”
    “No.”
    “Nothing?”
    Angela gestured helplessly. She had a lump in her throat the size of an orange that wouldn't go away when she swallowed. She hadn't slept well the night before – actually s he doubted she had slept at all. Guns and bl ood and guts – the memories were etched in her soul. She'd be eigh ty years old and still remember them.
    “I don't know what to say,” Angela