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Summary
The madman’s an early riser, having stolen out of bed before the sun was up and gone downstairs. Alex had gone to the window, assuming he would be leaving, and was pleasantly surprised to observe him instead emerge from the house in his underwear, a towel over his shoulder, and cross the lawn toward the hedged-in pool. Alex waited a few minutes and went after him, two glasses of orange juice in hand and book under his arm. He uttered a quick prayer that such an act might not spook the man or feel too presumptuously domestic. He shakes the thought off as he watches Stephen’s well-muscled arm rise and slice the water like a blade.