CHAPTER 17Felice’s dead face still moved horribly in front of me, caught in the slow weaving fingers of the moss dripping eerily through the sharp white plane of my headlights. Actually in front of me, beyond the on-moving nimbus of light, past the dark mystically alive tunnel of ancient oaks, I could see the bright white pillars of Darien. In the mirror over the windshield I could see the tail light of the car back there in the road, a lone red star of death, receding into nothing. I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator. The car leaped forward, frightened and alive, through the dark winding line of trees.
I’d forgotten Miss Caroline; I’d forgotten the girl sitting beside the great four poster, the empty rooms echoing a hollow litany of despair. All I could think of was Felice’s awfu
