reached the front door and opened it and the wind almost tore it out of her hands.
Catherine stepped outside into the night and quickly closed the door behind her. She
was instantly drenched by the cold, driving rain, and for the first time she became aware
that she was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. It did not matter. All that mattered was
that she escape. Through the torrents of rain she could see the lights of the hotel lobby in
the distance. She could go there and ask for help. But would they believe her? She
remembered the doctor’s face when she had told him Larry was trying to kill her. No, they
would think she was hysterical, they would turn her over to Larry. She must get away
from this place. She headed for the steep rocky path that led down to the village.
The torrential storm had turned the path into a muddy, slippery mire that sucked at
her bare feet and slowed her down so that she had the feeling that she was running in a
nightmare, vainly trying to escape in slow motion while her pursuers raced after her. She
kept slipping and falling to the ground and her feet were bleeding from the sharp stones on
the path, but she was not even aware of it. She was in a state of shock, moving like an
automaton, falling when a gust of wind hurled her down and picking herself up and
moving down the path toward the village again, unaware of where she was running. She
was no longer conscious of the rain.
The path suddenly opened out onto a dark, deserted street on the edge of the village.
She kept stumbling ahead like a hunted animal, mindlessly putting one foot in front of the
other, terrified by the awful sounds that rent the night and the flashes of lightning that
turned the sky into an inferno.
She reached the lake and stood there staring at it, the wind whipping the thin
nightgown around her body. The calm water had turned into a seething, churning ocean
driven by demonic winds that built up high waves that brutally smashed against one
another.
Catherine stood there, trying to remember what she was doing here. And suddenly it
came to her. She was on her way to meet Bill Fraser. He was waiting for her at his
beautiful mansion so they could be married. Across the water Catherine caught a glimpse
of a yellow light through the driving rain. Bill was there, waiting. But how was she going
to get to him? She looked down and below her she saw the rowboats tied to their
moorings, spinning around in the turbulent water, straining to break free.
She knew then what she had to do. She scrambled down to a boat and jumped in.
Fighting to keep her balance she untied the rope holding it to the dock. Instantly the boat
leaped away from the dock, soaring in its sudden freedom. Catherine was knocked off her
feet. She pulled herself onto a seat and picked up the oars, trying to remember how Larry
had used them. But there was no Larry. It must have been Bill. Yes, she could remember
Bill rowing with her. They were going to meet his mother and father. Now she tried to use
the oars, but the giant waves kept pitching the boat from side to side and spinning it
around, and the oars were pulled out of her hands and sucked into the water. She sat there
watching them disappear from sight. The boat was hurtling toward the center of the lake.
Catherine’s teeth began to chatter from the cold, and she began to shiver in an
uncontrollable spasm. She felt something lap at her feet and she looked down and saw that