Wash away the evidence? she asked herself. You think it's that easy to undo what you've done? Don't bet on it, you faithless wife. You're as bad as Zenobia – maybe worse. Zenobia may have fucked a stableboy or two in her time, but has she ever jacked off her own son, as you did this afternoon?

Alice tromped on the accelerator, cutting out into the passing lane and joining all the other freeway maniacs in their mad rush. She was home in what seemed like minutes.

She slipped in the front door as quietly as she could, as if she were going to burglarize her own house. She didn't feel she could face anybody tonight. She just wanted a shower, a hot soak, a nightcap, and a warm bed. Tomorrow she would wake up and it would be new day and she could start fresh.

She removed her shoes in the foyer, listening to Shawn banging on the piano in the music room at the other end of the house. He was playing a fast, fiery piece and she was glad for it. His playing would block out any sounds she made.

She tiptoed down the hall, her bare feet sinking deep into the plush carpet, and she made it onto the basement stairs without meeting either Ricky or Mark. She didn't know where either of them were tonight, and she didn't care – even if they were out running around in the rain. She just didn't want to confront them.

She went through the game room without bothering to turn on the overhead lights. Then she headed down the hall toward the hot-tub room at the far end of it. Immediately upon stepping into the dark hallway, she hesitated.

The door of the hot-tub room was open a few inches and a light was beaming into the hallway. Either somebody had left on the over head lights in the hot-tub room or somebody was in there now.