My phone rang.

I bounced up straight, heart quivering. Only then did I realize it was my regular cell, not the prepaid. I dug it out of my purse and checked the incoming ID.

Private caller.

I stared at it. Should I answer?

The second ring stabbed my nerves. On the third one I hit talk. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Joanne." The unmistakable roughened voice of Hooded Man filled my ear.

My eyes fixated on the windshield, words sticking in my throat.

"I know you're there."

I swallowed. He was calling me now? Why hadn't he called the first time, instead of stopping me on a deluged road?

"Are you doing what I told you?" he pressed.

"Were you at my house last night?"

"Why would I be at your house?"

"Someone slammed the garage back door. Just after the electricity went out."

"Oh. No. I told you he would kill you if he found out."

"But I didn't tell anyone. I hadn't even been home that long."

Air seeped from his throat. "Then he doesn't know, but he wants you dead anyway, after that newspaper article."

Fear gripped my throat. No words would come.

"Don't stay in your house tonight, Joanne."

"Why won't you tell me who you are?" My voice rose. "Why the mask? You're a coward. Why should I listen to you?"

Silence throbbed in my ear. For a moment I thought he'd hung up.

"You're right." His voice hung low, grating. "I am a coward."

My eyes closed. "Please tell me who you are."

"You're clearly in danger. Your only hope is to persuade Melissa to tell what she knows. Are you looking for her?"

"Yes, okay? Yes!" Perry's words flashed in my mind-"Do what you have to do." "Are you the only one who knows about this? Are there others with you?"

"You have to find her now."

"I'm trying!" My fist pounded the steering wheel.

"You can't spend another night in your house until you do."

"What do you expect me to do, go on the run? You're the one who got me into this. I should go to the police."

"You can't." Hooded Man's voice flattened.

"And just why not?"

I could hear him breathing.

"Tell me!"

"Because the chief's in with Baxter."

All air sucked from my lungs. I slumped back against the headrest, refusing to believe, knowing it was true. Chief Eddington had barely looked into Cherisse's death.

But not everyone on the force was "in with Baxter." The two policemen who'd come to my house last night had been helpful.

Or had they? What if they had seen evidence of a break-in and hadn't told me? By the time I returned to the house the next day, footprints would have been long gone, erased by the rain.

"And don't go to your sister's," Hooded Man warned.

"You leave Dineen out of this!"

"No, you leave her out. By not staying at her house."

Did he know I'd stayed there last night?

My fingers curled around the cell phone. This was too much. I wanted to strangle this man. Because of some personal vendetta against Baxter, he'd used me as his perfect p.a.w.n. He'd played my sense of injustice, hung me out on a limb. Now there was no turning back. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Just. Find. Melissa."

The line clicked.

"Wait! Are you there?" I thrust a hand in my scalp. "Don't go!"

No response.

"Please!"

The emptiness echoed. I threw my cell phone on the floor and leaned over the steering wheel. Tears bit my eyes. What was I doing? How had I gotten here? This was crazy.

My cell rang, a different tone.

The prepaid.

My head jerked up. No, no, not now.

I picked up the phone as if it were a ticking bomb. Peered with blurry eyes at the ID.

Melissa Harkoff's phone number filled the screen.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

The prepaid cell phone rang a second time. I clutched it, breathless. For a horrific second I couldn't remember the false name I'd given Melissa.

Rain pummeled my car. The air around me thickened with humid heat.

The phone rang a third time. I punched on the line.

"Janet White, UPS." My heart banged. I fought to keep my voice steady.

"Hi, this is Melissa Harkoff. You called about some package?"

"Uh, yes. Let me just retrieve that paperwork."

"You said it's from Whidbye Realty."

I sat up straighter. Picked up my yellow pad with the addresses I needed written upon it.

"Here it is. Yes, Whidbye Realty, 2415 W. Sharon Street. Addressed to Melissa Harkoff at 820 Willmott. You have an updated address?"

"How'd you get my phone number?" Suspicion nicked her tone.

"We always ask for the addressee's number, just in case something like this happens."

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. It came away wet.

"Oh." Melissa was silent a moment. "What is it?"

"What's in the package? I have no idea. I just work for the delivery service."

"I don't know why they'd be sending me anything."

"Miss Harkoff, do you want the package or not?"

"I don't...What is that noise?"

I threw a look out the windshield and winced. "It's raining hard. This building's roof sounds like tin."

Melissa paused. "I used to work at Whidbye." She spoke the words as if thinking out loud.

"Maybe they're sending you some personal items you left. Who knows? What's your address, please?"

Silence.

"Miss Harkoff, I don't have all day."

"When will I get it?"

"Today, if you'll just tell me where to deliver it."

She breathed a sigh, indecision wafting over the line. I wanted to reach across cybers.p.a.ce and pull the information from her tongue. Come on, Melissa.

"Okay. It's 264 South Anniston. In San Jose."

I grabbed my pen. "Two-sixty-four South Anniston." I jotted it down on the yellow pad. "Will you be home?"

"Why would you ask that?"

Not good. "If you're not home, is there a porch to leave the package on, where it'll be safe from the rain?"

"Oh. Yeah. And I'll be there to get it in a couple hours."

A couple hours. It would be nearing sunset by then.

"Fine. I'll try to get it on the right truck for you today. If I can't, then look for it on Monday."

"Okay. Thanks."

I hung up and closed my eyes. My heart galloped like some runaway colt. For a few minutes all I could do was breathe. The car felt so hot. I cracked the pa.s.senger window open, ignoring the fat splashes that punched onto the seat.

Thank G.o.d. I'd found Melissa.

I felt no elation, only sick relief.

The hardest part lay before me.

No wonder Melissa had kept quiet for six years. If Baxter wanted to silence me just because of that newspaper article, imagine how he'd threatened her. How in the world could I ever convince her to go public now? She'd take one look at me and run.

A couple hours, she'd said.

My insides trembled. No way could I confront Melissa in this weakened state. I needed food. And a lot more than that. I needed a plan that would save my life.

TWENTY-NINE.