But if you ask me, it’s a waste of time. Norman Bates is no murderer.’ The word emerged, just like any other word, and died away. But its echo lingered. Sam heard it and Lila heard it. It stayed with them as they drove over to the courthouse annex with Sheriff Chambers. It stayed with them after the Sheriff drove away, out to the motel. He’d refused to take either of them along; told them to wait. So they waited in the office, just the two of them. The two of them – and the word.
