The one thing he did know was this: He hadn’t expected her to lead him through the hole in the snow. She dragged him around Delbert, and she walked into the hole. Marshall followed. The first thing that he noticed was that the hole was a Delbert-sized hole, and that the footprints—heading toward his driveway—were Delbert-sized footprints. But they were the only pair of prints. Marshall saw no sign of Julka’s dainty prints, the ones she was now leaving on the way to—what? He couldn’t tell. But he did see some flat deep marks in the snow, marks that looked like they were made by giant skis. He felt a shiver run down his back that had nothing to do with the cold. Was someone playing a prank on him? Was this a trick to get the terrible investment banker out of the neighborhood? And if so, why do it now? Why not wait until Christmas? He was feeling paranoid. Heck, no. He was paranoid. But he had to admit, if only to himself, that this afternoon—ever since he had seen Julka in Burger King (if not before) was extremely strange.
