Chap­ter 8 begins with Patri­cia ner­vous­ly stand­ing at James Harris’s front door, her apol­o­gy for Miss Mary’s out­burst still on her lips. The key­word, Chap­ter 8, sets the stage for a shift into deep­er entan­gle­ment, where good inten­tions begin to blur into unex­pect­ed con­se­quences. The oppres­sive sun reflects the pres­sure Patri­cia feels as she’s invit­ed inside. Despite her instinct to stay out­doors, con­cern over­rides cau­tion. The house has been reor­ga­nized, emp­tied of clut­ter, and sur­pris­ing­ly clean—yet some­thing feels off. James col­laps­es in front of her, claim­ing a rare med­ical con­di­tion tied to a wolf bite from his youth. As Patri­cia helps him to a chair, she’s phys­i­cal­ly over­whelmed by the weight and cold­ness of his body, yet she ignores the ris­ing ten­sion. Her curios­i­ty out­weighs fear. He shares details of his ill­ness and his dis­or­dered cir­ca­di­an rhythm, and in return, she offers under­stand­ing and help.

As James opens up about his strug­gles, Patri­cia finds her­self drawn into his problems—sorting out bills, mak­ing calls, and dis­cussing errands that require in-per­son vis­its. His sen­si­tiv­i­ty to sun­light pre­vents him from han­dling mat­ters dur­ing the day, and he asks if she can dri­ve him. Patri­cia hes­i­tates, know­ing she’s already too involved, but guilt edges her for­ward. He insists they use his van, cit­ing the dark win­dows. Against bet­ter judg­ment, she agrees. Inside the van, she finds the seats stained, the back win­dows blocked with wood, and the silence uncom­fort­able. Their first stop at the Water­works requires her to cov­er his deposit. He for­gets his wal­let, but reas­sures her he’ll repay her lat­er. When the sec­ond bill at the elec­tric com­pa­ny demands even more mon­ey, she briefly resists but gives in. The need to help, to fix, and per­haps to impress her­self, over­rides finan­cial hes­i­ta­tion.

Back at his home, Patri­cia expects to wait out­side, but James ush­ers her in again. He returns with cash to reim­burse her, but what he reveals next is far more star­tling. From a grimy blue gym bag, he shows her a pile of old bills—money he claims was found in the crawl space. Near­ly eighty-five thou­sand dol­lars in mixed denom­i­na­tions. He believes it was Ann Savage’s hid­den sav­ings, left behind with­out a trace. Patri­cia is stunned. She touch­es the bills, torn between alarm and fas­ci­na­tion. This dis­cov­ery changes every­thing. James asks what he should do, and Patri­cia, now firm­ly in the role of prob­lem-solver, sug­gests open­ing a bank account. He has no ID, but she has a plan. She tells him to change shirts and pre­pares to co-sign on his account—despite know­ing how risky it feels.

They head to First Fed­er­al, where Patricia’s old class­mate, Doug Mack­ey, greets them warm­ly. She explains their “del­i­cate” sit­u­a­tion, and Doug quick­ly sug­gests that Patri­cia can co-sign for James. The respon­si­bil­i­ty would be hers, but it pro­vides a way for­ward. While the plan rais­es red flags, Patri­cia choos­es to ignore them, focus­ing instead on her abil­i­ty to resolve things effi­cient­ly. She’s proud of the progress, momen­tar­i­ly for­get­ting her ear­li­er doubts. Doug doesn’t require much proof, trust­ing her judg­ment. James remains qui­et, his dis­com­fort from the sun increas­ing. When asked for an ini­tial deposit, Patri­cia hands over a check for $2,000, her largest ever. It burns in her purse, both sym­bol­i­cal­ly and lit­er­al­ly. She knows Carter wouldn’t approve, but she can’t stop her­self now. The thrill of con­trol and pur­pose has replaced her ear­li­er anx­i­ety.

From a psy­cho­log­i­cal stand­point, Patricia’s actions reflect a known cog­ni­tive pat­tern called the “foot-in-the-door” effect. By agree­ing to small tasks, she’s more like­ly to com­ply with larg­er, riski­er favors lat­er on. This com­pli­ance isn’t dri­ven by manip­u­la­tion alone—it’s tied to her own need for sig­nif­i­cance and stim­u­la­tion. She feels use­ful, need­ed, even vital. For many sub­ur­ban women with struc­tured but emo­tion­al­ly flat rou­tines, involve­ment in some­thing unusu­al can feel exhil­a­rat­ing. It offers pur­pose in a life that’s oth­er­wise pre­dictable. Patricia’s choice to co-sign a bank account and move thou­sands of dol­lars on behalf of a man she bare­ly knows doesn’t stem from recklessness—it stems from crav­ing rel­e­vance. What she doesn’t real­ize yet is how quick­ly that crav­ing can become a trap.