Of course not. No. Well, except for punching out an old friend. And having rough, passionate, uninhibited sex with one of her husband's doctors, and then slugging him with a beer bottle. And kidnapping her husband from the Neurological Center. Actually, over the last several hours, her actions had been not just crazy but extraordinarily impulsive and violent.

And, suddenly, Harper knew why.

'The birthday cake.' Obviously, Anna had drugged it.

'Nobody seemed to notice it tasting funny.' Anna smiled. 'But it was only right, taking Graham's drugs on Graham's birthday. Celebrating in his honor.'

Harper had a sudden urge to choke the girl; probably the drugs had not yet worn off. 'God, Anna. Somebody could have gotten killed. Do you know what you've done?'

Anna cocked her head, thinking. 'The cake? It was no big deal.'

Havoc reigned. But it was no big deal? 'So you put pills in the batter. Where did you get them?'

'I told you. Graham had them-'

'So Graham stole them?'

'Well, not by himself. But he stashed them for us.'

Us? 'Where are they now?'

'Now?' Anna shrugged. 'I don't know.'

Harper thrust the page with the number in front of Anna's nose. 'What are these numbers, Anna?'

Anna glanced at it, then at Harper. 'Seriously? You don't know?' She smirked as if the answer were obvious. 'That's where Graham kept the drugs. His storage unit number and the combination for his lock.' She reached an arm out. 'So can I have my recipe back now?'

The digits represented the area number, the row, the locker number, and the lock combination of Graham's unit in U Stash It, a storage company located just outside of town on Route 79. While Detective Rivers dispatched a couple of officers to search the locker, Harper and Anna waited with uniformed officers standing over them.

Anna pulled on the straw of her Coke. 'Don't look at me like that, Loot. It's not like I planned to kill anybody. It just . . . happened.' She cocked her head. 'Look, I was the one who thought up the whole thing. I was the one who found out about the drugs. I was the one who figured out how to take them. And after Graham jumped, I was the one who found out that you had Graham's combination numbers. The whole thing was me. But those two a after Graham was dead, all of a sudden they shut me out. Like I wasn't even part of it. Behind my back, they snuck off to your place to look for the locker combination? To get the drugs by themselves? Like I'm nobody? No, that wasn't going to happen, Loot. I wasn't going to be shut out. Not this time.'

Harper stared. The girl talked about the crimes coldly, with nonchalance. Anna didn't look like a drug thief or a murderer. A cat hoarder, maybe. Or someone with a secret, unrequited crush on her English Lit professor. 'We're going to have to tell all of this to Detective Rivers.'

Anna looked down. 'I don't think so, Loot. You already told the cops I knew what the numbers meant. If you say anything else, I'll have to deny it. And with what the detective said about Dr Wyatt and Dr Kendall blaming you for everything, think about how it would look if I admit I heard you and Graham talking about some deal you had, something involving pills.'

Anna was threatening her.

'Think about it, Loot. I'm a weak, sickly girl. Severely narcoleptic. Nobody will believe I had any part in any of this.'

She might be right. People overlooked Anna. Harper pictured her lying unnoticed on a bed in the Sleep Clinic, listening as doctors discussed drug trials. Noticing an opportunity, plotting a crime.

'Why did you do this?'

'Why?' Anna leaned back, gazing into air. 'Hmm. Must be my poor unhappy childhood. Isn't that what hardened criminals say? Poor me. I was never popular. Always falling asleep. Narcoleptic. If the cool kids noticed me at all, it was to make fun of me. For kicks, they tried to make me pass out. Or they'd mimic me, collapsing, rolling their eyes.'

Harper had little sympathy. She'd seen kids' arms and legs blown off. Being teased didn't seem so bad.

'As I got older, it didn't change. Those guys a Larry and Graham? I was invisible to them. I've had three classes with Graham. I sat right across from him in two of them, but you know what? He didn't even recognize me when I tried to talk to him this summer.'

'So you thought stealing drugs would get his attention?'

'I wanted him to notice me.'

'Oh, Anna.' Harper shook her head. 'You stole life-threatening drugs just to get a guy's attention?'

'No one knew they were so bad. We thought they were like steroids or uppers. Something like that.'

Detective Rivers came toward them, cell phone in hand, shoulders sagging. 'So. We sent officers to search Graham's storage unit. I just got the call.' She paused, eyeing them.

Her voice was grim. 'They found an old love seat, a guitar, a spare tire, books and posters. Stuff like that.'

'No pills?'

Detective Rivers scowled and folded her arms. 'Not even an aspirin.'

'You call a lawyer yet? We're ready for your statement.' Rivers' phone rang again, and she turned away to take the call.

'So where are the pills, Anna?'

Anna's eyes didn't waiver. 'No one will believe you if you accuse me, Loot. I'll deny having any part in this, and I'm the only one left. The others are all dead, so they can't say anything.' Anna's whisper was gentle, matter of fact.

'Tell me where they are. Look, Anna. This isn't over. If more people take them, more might die.'

'I know. It's terrible.' She sighed.

'So where are they?'

'I told you. I don't know. I kept some for myself, used some in the cake, and I delivered the others. Larry made a connection. A guy from New York. That's why we freaked so bad a Graham died before giving us the numbers, and we had to deliver.'

'Who's the guy?'

'Who knows? I did what Larry said and left them in a pile of duffel bags on the quad. By Andrew Dixon White's statue. Guy picked them up, I guess. I have no idea who he is. He knew us, but I never saw him, never heard his name.'

'So you just gave them away to a stranger?'

'Of course not.' Anna bristled. 'We're not stupid. The guy paid in advance. Six hundred thirty-five dollars. Apiece.'

The money in Graham's book bag. His share of the payment. Harper closed her eyes, doing the math. Six hundred thirty-five dollars times four kids. About twenty-five hundred dollars for thousands of potentially lethal pills.

Harper studied Anna, saw no signs of malice or concern, no indication of sorrow. She seemed truthful. In fact, she seemed to be the same ivory-skinned, lonely, shy, vulnerable girl that Harper had imagined her to be. Except that she had no conscience whatsoever.

'Stupid Graham.' Anna wiped an eye.

Was Anna crying? Maybe she wasn't as emotionless as she seemed; at least she had feelings for Graham.

'It was the drugs, Anna. Like you said, he never would have jumped otherwise.'

Anna smiled sadly. She watched a police officer, making sure he was out of hearing range. 'But if he was going to jump, couldn't he have given us the numbers first? No, he was too fucking stupid.'

Harper was speechless.

'The asshole couldn't think ahead, so he just left them on his desk where you found them. Which is why everything got so fucked up. Larry asked you politely, but you wouldn't give him Graham's stuff, so Monique had to go chase you down and grab it-'

'Monique?' Anna had to be mistaken.

'She borrowed a bike and took after you to get Graham's book bag.'

Monique? Not Wyatt? Monique had been tall, athletic. Strong like her assailant. Might have liked peppermints. Harper remembered gouging the skin off the mugger's arm with her nails. And the bandage on Monique's arm the next day.

'And,' Anna went on, 'if we'd had the numbers, Larry and Monique wouldn't have gone behind my back to your house, and I wouldn't have caught them there. And I wouldn't be sitting here waiting for the police to give me the third degree. Well, hell with that. I'm not getting in trouble because of a moron like Graham. Frickin' freak. All his damned poetry and music, but he couldn't even follow a simple plan.'

Anna sat back, taking a long drink of Cherry Coke.

Detective Rivers was frowning. Before Harper could say anything, Anna swooned, leaning against her.

'Anna-' The detective knelt, catching Anna, not letting her fall.

Anna swayed and rolled her eyes, faking. Harper moved away and watched, thinking about what to say in her statement to the police.

'Sorry. I feel so weak,' Anna breathed. 'Maybe it's because I haven't eaten all day. They just left me tied to the bed.'

In seconds, a policeman was dispatched to get Anna some food. Meantime, someone went to the vending machine for another Cherry Coke. When she thought no one was looking, Anna took a couple of pills from her pocket, popped them into her mouth.

Harper saw. She moved closer. 'What did you just take?'

Anna swallowed. 'Narcolepsy meds.' She smiled. 'What did you think? I was taking Graham's pills?'

Yes. That was precisely what Harper thought.

'We're ready, Mrs Jennings. You're sure you don't want a lawyer?' Detective Rivers waited.

Harper stood. 'I don't need one.' At least not yet.

As they walked away, Anna called, 'Hey, Loot, good luck. I'll be thinking about you.'

Threatening her.

Detective Rivers led Harper to an office where a bald detective named Stenson recorded her statements. With the door closed, the room was small and windowless, suffocating. Harper spoke quickly, refusing an attorney, volunteering information, and, with the exception of her intimacy with Ron, telling everything she knew, starting with Graham's suicide and ending with this evening in the lobby with Anna. She raced through information, talking until her mouth was dry, desperate to get the process over with so that she could get out of the airless, fluorescent-lit room. Hank would wake up soon, and, if they'd let her, she'd take him away from the Center and its experimental procedures, drug trials and subterfuge. Home.

Or no, not home. The place was still a mess from the ransacking. And, worse: the bed sheets were still rumpled from her romp with Ron. Ron? Oh God. Had she really had sex with him? Bashed his head with a beer bottle? Been consumed by overpowering rage? Even in combat, she'd never felt fury that intense.

But, then, she'd never taken those drugs before. And she'd eaten not just one but several slices of Anna's cake, must have taken quite a dose. But she was lucky; it could have been worse. At least she hadn't jumped out the window like Graham. Or stripped at a bar. Ron would recover; the harm she'd done would reverse itself. She hoped.

No use thinking about it. She needed to tell the police about Anna and get back to Hank. Take him somewhere safe a somewhere besides home.

'OK. That'll do it for now.' Detective Rivers folded her hands on the desk.

'I can go?'

The detectives watched her, not nodding, not shaking their heads. The entire time she'd talked, they'd shown no indications of belief or doubt, hadn't let on what they thought even as she told them about Anna.

Harper stood.

'Mrs Jennings, one more thing.'

'Are you sure?' Detective Stenson frowned. 'We should wait-'

'It won't matter. Either way, she'll find out.'

'Find out what?' Harper sank back on to the cushioned office chair. Her eyes moved back and forth from one detective to the other, reminding her of REM therapy, of flashbacks, of Marvin and the burning dust of Iraq. She blinked, biting her lip, causing pain.

Detective Rivers' hands remained clasped. Harper noticed, for the first time, that she wore a simple gold wedding band. 'Remember the waitress? Chelsea? She had your grade book with her when she was killed?'

Of course Harper remembered.

'The phone call I just took? Seems Chelsea knew Larry. The young man found on your porch.'

So? 'I don't understand.'

'Chelsea's purse and some of her jewelry were in the back of Larry's car. As was a plastic sheet covered with her blood.'

Harper swallowed. Larry had killed Chelsea?

He'd taken the drugs. Instead of getting pierced like Terence or dancing naked like Gwen, Larry's impulsive acts had been raping and murdering someone. Damn.

Detective Rivers unfolded her hands, standing, walking Harper out of the room. 'According to your statement, the stolen drugs are being peddled now in New York. Think about it. Before this is over, how many more Chelseas do you think there will be?'

She opened the door, letting Harper wander into the hall. 'You can go, but don't go far. I'll be in touch.'

Darker and darker. Harper knew exactly what had driven Larry to kill Chelsea. She had felt the darkness swell, feeding urges until they erupted, snuffing out all else. She'd felt rage boiling inside her as she'd lunged at Vicki, clawed at Ron's flesh in bed, then tried to crush his skull with unrestricted force.

Oh, yes. Harper knew how the pills could take over a person's judgment and will. And, suddenly, she knew something else, too: the pills Anna had taken earlier hadn't been for narcolepsy.

Harper headed for the lobby where Anna sat quietly near the elevators, chewing a turkey sub, perfectly calm. An officer sat beside her, holding a coffee cup. Harper caught her breath, relieved, and looked around for Hank. Vaguely, she noticed Detective Rivers entering the lobby, approaching Anna.

But where was Hank? She headed into a hallway; someone had pushed his gurney into a quiet corner. Ahead, in the shadows, she saw it, but the gurney was empty. No Hank? Maybe this was a different gurney. Or maybe he'd awakened and wandered somewhere.

'Hank?' she called, but instead of an answer, she heard a scuffle behind her. Furniture scraped; people yelled. Harper spun around. The air filled with dust and smoke; gunfire erupted in the distance.

'Believe me.' It was a woman's voice. 'You don't want to do this.'

Harper squinted through the haze. A police officer was down, on the ground. And Sameh was standing on a chair, holding a gun to a young man's head.

But, of course, it wasn't a couldn't be a Sameh.

Harper had no lemon, no flashback-fighting tools. She smelled smoke, heard flies buzzing even as she told herself that neither was there. Stop it, she commanded; focus on the present. Count something. Quickly, she counted the people in the lobby who were holding guns. Two uniformed officers. Two detectives. Plus the woman who wasn't Sameh. That made five people with weapons, all raised and ready to fire.

'Nobody move. I swear I'll kill him,' Sameh shouted. No, not Sameh. Anna. The voice belonged to Anna. And Anna sounded confident, in control.