Free Legacy Of Terror by Dean Koontz

childish impulses for escape which had plagued her then.
    And other things held her here, she realized. There was Lee Matherly, whose fortitude throughout this ghastly affair of Celia Tamlin, had been indeed admirable. He was strong and tall, and he had borne the grim circumstances well, even if he had grown more pale and less cheerful through them. He was a father-image, she supposed. He was the stern, able father she had always longed for and never really known. And there was Gordon. She didn't like to think about that, because she was afraid that she was deluding herself. Yet, when they passed in the hallway or met for meals, they exchanged looks that made her certain he felt the affection for her which she, cautiously, was beginning to admit for him.
    She tried to remember that Jacob Matherly had apparently given up the notion that one of the family was the guilty party in Celia Tamlin's case. The old man assured her that he no longer held to the notion that the madness which had infected Amelia Honneker-Matherly had also infected some other with her blood. He was subscribing, now, wholeheartedly to Captain Rand's theory about the hitchhiker. That should make her feel more at ease.
    It did not.
    She admitted to herself that she did not believe the old man's newfound optimism. He was too eager to accept Rand's proposal. He was too vocal in his support of the possibility of a stranger having committed the crime. Behind his expression of relief and his concern that this strange hitchhiker be found and punished, lay the doubts he had evidenced before, in times when he wished to be more honest with himself. Jacob Matherly still believed that either Dennis or Gordon or Paul had been responsible. He was frightened near to death, waiting for something to break.
    And so was she, she realized.
    “Have you been hired as a guard now?” Gordon Matherly asked. He had come up the stairs to the landing before she realized he was there.
    She looked confused for a moment.
    “Given up the nurse's duties for guarding grandfather's door?”
    She smiled. “No. I was going to my room, but I seem to have run out of energy at this point.”
    He said, drawing her away from the door, “How is he?”
    “His angina seems not to be bothering him, despite the continued excitement. I'd say, all in all, he's doing well.”
    “I worry about him,” Gordon said. “I don't want to lose him.”
    She smiled. “He's a wonderful old man.”
    Gordon agreed, enthusiastically, and then said, “I came up to ask if you'd like to come downstairs and play a few games of billiards with me.”
    She giggled, and immediately she was amazed at hearing herself do so. She blushed and said, “I can't play. I never have.”
    “I'll teach you,” Gordon said.
    It was one of the most enjoyable evenings of her life. Bess brought them soda and snacks halfway through the evening, but they were otherwise left alone in the game room. Ordinarily, Elaine would not have been much interested in games, for she thought them a waste of time. But Gordon was careful to explain that pool, unlike many other games, was beneficial, since it tested the players' mathematical judgment and sense of relationships. He proceeded to teach her the game as if it were a puzzle to be solved, explaining bank shots and how to hit a ball to make it go left or right. It was all very fascinating, and his company made it doubly rewarding.
    When she went to bed around 11:30, she felt elated. Despite what had happened to Celia, despite the gloom that hung over the house, despite everything and anything, she felt fine.
    Because of Gordon.
    When she dreamed, it was of Gordon. They were walking together in an endless garden, where all the grass was mown and all the shrubs tended to. Wild fruit grew on many of the trees. Birds sang overhead and followed them, like special servants, wherever they went. The sky was blue, the air warm, and the rest of the world a million-billion years away.
    She woke up to thunder that exploded like