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Beside her, Caroline shuddered and gripped her hand tighter.
"The instant I saw him and the pistol, I screamed. That seemed to rattle him even more. He was shushing me and repeating, 'I don't have a choice. I've got to do it. Don't you see? Don't you understand?' He spoke in a s
ort of chant. He was..."
The four of them looked at her expectantly. As she searched for the word, she looked at each of them in turn, ending on the deputy, whose gray gaze remained unwavering.
"Unhinged," she said with a helpless shrug. "That's the best word to describe him."
"Well, he went there to kill you," the lawyer remarked. "One wouldn't expect him to be rational."
"No."
"Had you ever seen this side of him before?" the sheriff asked.
"Only once, when he became extremely angry at me for rejecting him. But last night he was more upset than even then." She wished for a moment to ponder that, but when Nyland shot another
look toward the door, she plowed on. "Ben must have heard my screams and Oren's raving. He came running from the guest bedroom. When he reached the bathroom door, Oren heard him, spun around, and fired the gun."
She paused, reliving that horrifying moment: the jarring sound, the unbelievable sight of Ben falling backward, the wild expression on Oren's face when he turned back to her. Through it, she'd told herself that this couldn't be happening, that traumatic, violent events like this didn't happen to normal, nice people like her.
But it had happened. She'd lived it. However, now as she tried to describe the scene and her feelings about it, she knew her words would be inadequate to convey what she'd felt at the time.
"All I can say is that it was unreal, and yet it was reality taken to another dimension. Every sensation was overblown. After the gun blast, I remember experiencing a sense of timelessness, of suspended animation. But then Oren suddenly turned and ran. That galvanized me. I climbed out of the tub. I paused only long enough to bend down and tell Ben that I would get help, then I ran from the room to see what Oren was doing, where he'd gone."
"You weren't afraid that he would shoot you also?"
"She explained that to Ski last night."
"Calm down, Harry," the sheriff said, mildly rebuking the attorney. "I only ask because I'm curious."
Harris Carlisle signaled for her to continue.
"Honestly I didn't think about it, or I probably wouldn't have done it," she said. "I acted on instinct. I went after Oren, and by the time I reached the gallery, he was rushing down the stairs. At the landing he lost his footing and fell. He tumbled all the way to the ground floor and landed on his back.
"He saw me watching him from the gallery. He struggled to get up. He pointed the pistol at me, and that's when I thought for certain that I would soon be dead. I threw myself to the floor, trying to take cover behind the railing. He pulled the trigger until the pistol was empty."
Her mother placed her hand over her mouth to contain a small, distressed sound.
"Miraculously, his shots missed," Berry continued. "When he realized he had no more bullets, he struggled to stand up. He was yelling, 'I'll kill you. You must die.' Things like that over and over again. Then he turned and staggered through the front door."
After a short silence, Nyland asked, "He didn't reload?"
"No."
"He just ran away, vowing to kill you."
"That's right."
"Which is consistent with what she told you last night, Ski," the lawyer reminded him.
"Yeah, I know." He held Berry's gaze, and she could see wheels spinning behind the gray eyes. "Lofland was down. You were otherwise alone and defenseless."
"Yes."
"Starks had you in the bathtub, where he could have shot you at point-blank range. Instead, he made out like he was going to flee. Then you went after him, still defenseless, right?"
"Right."
