To the Winston House, I looked out the windows, searching for signs of Thaddeus Bogosian, the elderly man I had met on the plane and the man I thought I had seen on the street in Quincy yesterday.
If he was the same man Jim thought had stepped in front of his car, he had done so knowing that he would cause an accident. Why? Was he testing to see what would happen to me? Was he trying to hurt me? Or was this all just in my paranoid mind now?
That could have been any old man I had seen or imagined, and it could easily have been another gentleman who wasn't watching where he was crossing and then had fled because he had caused an accident and didn't want to be blamed.
If I permitted myself to be frightened away, how could I ever find any haven? Something similar would happen to me no matter how far away I went.
