An alarm sounded in Stacy's head. She kept her expression impa.s.sive. "No kidding? Where?"

"He saw one of my shows and approached me about a job. I had just realized how badly I needed an a.s.sistant and hired him." She closed the door behind them.

Stacy bent and petted Ranger. "You ran a background check on him, right?"

"Stop it, Stacy."

"What?"

"I'm not going to live my life that way."

"How's that? Being careful?"

"No, being suspicious. Expecting the worst from people instead of the best."

The comment got her back up. "That's fine, Jane. Except I'm not the one who has a wacko slipping nasty

little h.e.l.los through my mail slot."

Red stained her sister's cheeks. "Did you come up here to make me feel better? Or worse?"

"I'm just saying that a bit of caution would serve you well right now."

"I'm scared, all right? Terrified, actually. Happy now?"

"No," Stacy said softly, catching Jane's hand and squeezing her fingers. "I'm worried."

Jane's expression softened. She returned the pressure of Stacy's fingers, then released them. "Guest room

bed's made up. There are plenty of bath linens in the closet."

The loft's guest bedroom was located on the opposite side of the apartment from Jane's, in back. Stacy

wanted to be closer to both her sister and the front door. "If you don't mind, I'd rather sleep on the couch."

Jane didn't and went in search of bedding. She returned moments later. "I brought you a nightshirt. There's a new tooth-brush and other toiletries in the far-right vanity drawer. Help yourself."

"Thanks. Jane?" Her sister met her gaze. "You want to talk?"

"I just want to go to bed."

Stacy nodded. She understood. "Sleep well, then. I'll see you in the morning."

Stacy watched her go, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was it supposed to be so awkward between siblings? she wondered. Was it this way between other sisters?

She removed her shoulder holster and laid it on the coffee table, then made up the couch. That done, she slipped her Glock under the pillow, then headed to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. After changing into the nightshirt, she padded back to the living room. She checked to make certain her weapon was just where she'd left it, then slid under the covers.

Once she was comfortable, Stacy lay still, senses on alert. She took inventory-of the shadows, their depth and darkness, the sounds of the loft, the tick from the antique mantel clock, the faint sounds of traffic, the hum of the heater kicking on.

And then, the sound of Jane crying. The sobs of a woman lost despairing.

Stacy squeezed her eyes shut, hurting for her sister. Longing to comfort her but knowing no one but Ian could.

TWENTY-SIX.

Thursday, October 23, 2003 8:45 a.m.

Stacy was gone when Jane padded out to the kitchen the next morning. She found the bedding her sister had used folded neatly on the couch and a note on the kitchen counter, along with a thermos of freshly brewed coffee. She had walked and fed Ranger, the note informed Jane. She would call later this morning to make certain she was okay. She provided no less than four different numbers where she could be reached in an emergency.

Jane filled a mug and brought it to her mouth. Her hand shook. She wondered vaguely if it was decaf, then decided even if it wasn't, a few sips wouldn't hurt her baby.

Her baby.

I did it to on purpose. To hear your screams.

Jane set the mug on the counter so sharply some of the liquid sloshed over the rim onto the granite countertop. She brought her hands protectively to her abdomen, to the life growing inside her. In that moment, her pregnancy, the baby she was carrying, became real for her. In a way it hadn't been before. No longer simply a state of being, but a piece of her and Ian. One that would someday smile, walk and talk.

One it was her job to protect at all costs.

I did it on purpose. To hear your screams.

She didn't care what Stacy or her partner thought, that message represented a real threat.

He had found her. He had come to finish what he had started sixteen years before.

But this wasn't about only her, not anymore. It was about the child she was carrying. "I won't let him hurt

you," she said softly, fiercely. "I won't, I promise."

She carried the coffee to the sink, dumped its contents and rinsed the mug. She filled the kettle with

water and retrieved the herbal tea. From there, she got an English m.u.f.fin and the cream cheese from the refrigerator, split the m.u.f.fin and popped it into the toaster. Ted had tried to get her to eat something last night; she had refused despite his disapproval. He would be pleased with her now.

She thought of her a.s.sistant. How supportive he had been, how understanding. She was thankful for his

friendship. Thankful that he had been there last night. How would she have reacted if she had been alone?

She recalled Stacy's suspicious question about Ted and her smile faded.

You ran a background check on him, right?

Jane shook her head. Stacy was barking up the wrong tree. She trusted Ted completely; he had never

given her a reason not to. Quite the contrary.

Simultaneously, the kettle whistled and toaster dinged. She set about preparing the tea and the m.u.f.fin, then carried both to the table, still thinking about her a.s.sistant. Ted had believed her-that the clipping

and its scrawled message represented a threat, that the person who sent it could be the maniac who'd run over her sixteen years before.

He'd thought it possible. Not probable.

If not the man from her past, then who? She took a bite of the crunchy m.u.f.fin. A new maniac? How

many was one allowed in their lifetime?

No. She knew, deep in her gut, that the clipping was from him, the one who had almost killed her.

She took another bite. Weirdly, she felt a measure of relief. The clipping with its message had confirmed

what she had known all along: he had done it on purpose. Now she knew why.

She finished her breakfast, acknowledging when she had that she felt a hundred times better for having eaten.

She had to take care of herself. For her baby. To stay strong for Ian. As she wiped the last crumb from the counter, the phone rang. Please let it be Whit. She leaped to answer it. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Jane, it's Dave. I wanted to check on you before I got tied up with patients. Any news yet this morning?" It took her a moment to find her voice. "I haven't heard from Whit yet. I thought you might be him calling."

"Do you need to go?"

"That's okay. I've got call waiting."

"Are you all right? Were you able to sleep at all?"

"Yes, some. Stacy stayed with me. It helped."

"Stacy?"

He sounded shocked. She realized that a lot had happened in the hours that had pa.s.sed since he

dropped her at her door-and that he knew none of it.

She explained about Ted, finding the envelope and the message it contained.

He swore. "That p.i.s.ses me off. The last thing you need right now is some crazy person terrorizing you."

"Not some crazy person, Dave. Him. The one."

"You can't possibly think the guy who sent this is the same one who nearly killed you in 1987?"

"I can and I do."

"Sweetheart, that defies logic."

"My life defies logic right now."

He was silent a moment, as if weighing her words, his reaction to them. "You're feeling this way because

of your nightmare. If you'd take a step back-"

"No. I'm feeling this way because I know it's true. He's back. He wants to finish what he started."

"Don't do this to yourself, Jane."