The car’s hood was almost under my window now, moving smoothly, easily— terribly, as if it moved by its own power. No human being in it, none behind it … I jerked so far out of the window that I had to clutch wildly at the sill to keep from falling. That shook me into some sense. Weights and balances still worked when it came to falling out windows. Someone must have pushed that car. Released its brakes. The nose of the car was under my window now, and it seemed to be accelerating. The lawn sloped. That was how Fred’s motorcycle had been wrecked. I ran. Aakonen heard my frantic plunging down the stairs. “Bill’s car!” I gasped at him. “The lake—” He held out an impeding arm, but I was past him, out the door, across the veranda. The moon was edging behind a cloud; less light, but the dark shadow of the car was there at the end of the porch. Behind me a hoarse shout—Aakonen was at my heels, running in a diagonal to head off the car.
