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ke another try for her。 She heard it snarling； spitting。 She knew she would never reach the distant house before the thing dragged her down again； so she scrambled toward the nearby stable； to one of the empty stalls。 As she went； she heard herself chanting； 〃Jesus； oh Jesus； Jesus； Jesus； Jesus 。 。
The two halves of the Dutch…style stall door were bolted firmly together。 Another bolt fastened the entire door to the frame。 She unlatched that second bolt； pulled open the door； rushed into the straw…scented darkness； shut the door behind her； and held it with all the strength she possessed； for it could not be latched from inside。
An instant later； her assailant slammed into the other side of the door； trying to knock it open； but the frame prevented that。 The door would only move outward； and Tracy hoped the amber…eyed creature was not smart enough to figure out how the door worked。
But it was smart enough… （Dear Lord in Heaven； why wasn't it as dumb as it was ugly！）
…and after hitting the barrier only twice； it began to pull instead of push。 The door was almost yanked out of Tracy's grasp。
She wanted to scream for help； but she needed every ounce of energy to dig in her heels and hold the stall door shut。 It rattled and thumped against the frame as her demonic assailant wrestled with it。 Fortunately； Goodheart was still letting loose shrill squeals and whinnies of terror； and the assailant was also shrieking…a sound that was strangely animal and human at the same time…so her father could have no doubt where the trouble was。
The door jerked open a few inches。
She yelped and pulled it shut。
Instantly the attacker yanked it partway open again and held it ajar； striving to pull the door wider even as she struggled to reclose it。 She was losing。 The door inched open。 She saw the shadowy outline of the malformed face。 The sharply pointed teeth gleamed dully。 The amber eyes were faint now； barely visible。 It hissed and snarled at her； and its pungent breath was stronger than the scent of straw。
Whimpering in terror and frustration； Tracy drew back on the door with all of her strength。
But it opened another inch。
And another。
Her heart was hammering loud enough to muffle the first shotgun blast。 She didn't know what she'd heard until a second shot boomed through the night； and then she knew her father had grabbed his 12…gauge on the way out of the house。
The stall door slammed shut in front of her as the attacker； frightened by the gunfire； let go of it。 Tracy held fast。
Then she thought that maybe； in all the confusion； Daddy might believe that Goodheart was to blame； that the poor horse had gone loco or something。 From within the stall she cried out； 〃Don't shoot Goodheart！ Don't shoot the horse！〃
No more shots rang out； and Tracy immediately felt stupid for thinking her father would blow away Goodheart。 Daddy was a cautious man； especially with loaded guns； and unless he knew exactly what was happening； he wouldn't fire anything but warning shots。 More likely than not； he'd just blasted some shrubbery to bits。
Goodheart was probably all right； and the amber…eyed assailant was surely hightailing it for the foothills or the canyons or back to wherever it had e from… （What was that crazy damn thing？）
…and the ordeal was over； thank God。
She heard running footsteps； and her father called her name。
She pushed open the stall door and saw Daddy rushing toward her in a pair of blue pajama bottoms； barefoot； with the shotgun cradled in his arm。 Mom was there too； in a short yellow nightie； hurrying behind Daddy with a flashlight。
Up near the top of the sloped yard stood Goodheart； the sire of future champions； his panic gone； unhurt。
Tears of relief sprang from Tracy at the sight of the unharmed stallion； and she stumbled out of the stall； wanting to go have a closer look at him。 With her second or third step； a fiercely hot pain flamed along her entire right side； and she was suddenly dizzy。 She staggered； fell； put one hand to her side； felt something wet； and realized that she was bleeding。 She remembered the claws sinking into her just before Goodheart had burst from his stall； frightening off the assailant； and as if from a great distance she heard herself saying； 〃Good horse 。 。 。 what a good horse 。 。
Daddy dropped to his knees beside her。 〃Baby； what the hell happened； what's wrong？〃
Her mother arrived； too。
Daddy saw the blood。 〃Call an ambulance！〃
Her mother； not given to hesitation or hysterics in time of trouble； turned immediately and ran back toward the house。
Tracy was getting dizzier。 Creeping in at the edges of her vision was a darkness that was not part of the night。 She wasn't afraid of it。 It seemed like a weling； healing darkness。
〃Baby；〃 her father said； putting a hand on her wounds。
Weakly； realizing she was slightly delirious and wondering what she was going to say； she said； 〃Remember when I was very little 。 。 。 just a little girl 。 。 。 and I thought some horrible thing。 。 。 lived in my closet。 。 。 at night？〃
He frowned worriedly。 〃Honey； maybe you'd better be still； be quiet and still。〃
As she lost consciousness； Tracy heard herself say； with a seriousness that both amused and frightened her； 〃Well 。 。 。 I think maybe it was the boogeyman who used to live in the closet at the other house。 I think maybe 。 。 。 he was real 。 。 。 and he's e back。〃
9
At four…twenty Wednesday morning； only hours after the attack at the Keeshan house； Lemuel Johnson reached Tracy Keeshan's hospital room at St。 Joseph's in Santa Ana。 Quick as he was； however； Lem found Sheriff Walt Gaines had arrived ahead of him。 Walt stood in the corridor； towering over a young doctor in surgical greens and a white lab coat； they seemed to be arguing quietly。
The NSA's Banodyne crisis team was monitoring all police agencies in the county； including the police department in the city of Orange； in whose jurisdiction the Keeshan house fell。 The team's night…shift leader had called Lem at home with news of this case； which fit the profile of expected Banodyne…related incidents。
〃You relinquished jurisdiction；〃 Lem pointedly reminded Walt when he joined the sheriff and doctor at the girl's closed door。
〃Maybe this isn't part of the same case。〃 〃You know it is。〃
〃Well； that determination hasn't been made。〃
〃It was made…back at the Keeshan's house when I talked with your men。〃 〃Okay； so let's say I'm just here as an observer。〃
〃My ass；〃 Lem said。
〃What about your ass？〃 Walt asked； smiling。
〃It's got a pain in it； and the name of the pain is Walter。〃
〃How interesting；〃 Walt said。 〃You name your pains。 Do you give names to toothaches and headaches as well？〃
〃I've got a headache right now； and its name is Walter； too。〃
〃That's too confusing； my friend。 Better call the headache Bert or Harry or something。〃
Lem almost laughed…he loved this guy…but he knew that； in spite of their friendship； Walt would use the laughter as a lever to pry himself back into the case。 So Lem remained stone…faced； though Walt obviously knew that Lem wanted to laugh。 The game was ridiculous； but it had to be played。
The doctor； Roger Selbok； resembled a y