"So you knew?"

"We'd watch," he admitted, looking her dead on.

"You and Ellen," his gaze making her squirm, his voice now back to the wheezing hiss.

"Right, through little holes in the wall. And to give you the full impact of life in the Martin house ... she knew we were there."

Barrett found it hard to breathe.

"It's true," he said. "I can see by your expression you don't believe me. And no, she never waved and said, 'hi kids,' but sometimes she'd look straight at us, at these two little holes in the wall, and she'd smile, like she was putting on a show just for us."

"Would you get aroused?" she asked, finding her bearings, and wondering if this wasn't a clue to what had happened in Nicole Foster's apartment.

"Yes."

"How old would you have been?"

"Young, very young. So young...five or six," he blinked and his voice grew soft and airy, almost childlike.

The cat meowed and his blue eyes peeked out from beneath the couch.

"Can you remember more of your childhood?" she urged, wondering-as she often did-how so much evil could be visited upon a small child.

"It's funny that you ask."

"Why?"

"Well, that's been a lot of what I've been finding in the past few months ... since I left the hospital."

"What's that?"

"There's big chunks of growing up that I can't remember. Like the day father gave me Allegra."

"Allegra?"

"My cello; she has a name. It was only recently that I remembered what happened that night. I remember him giving me the cello, but the rest of that day is a total blank. I know something happened, something bad. And to be honest, there are entire years of my life that are missing. If you ask me what I was doing in fifth and sixth grade, other than playing cello, which I a.s.sume I was doing, I have no clue. In fact, a lot of the time I was at Croton, I had no memory of what Father had done-and it went on for a very long time. It's odd the way your mind plays tricks like that."

"It's not uncommon," Barrett said. "A lot of times we block out traumatic memories; it's a way of defending against them."

"Interesting," he said, his eyes gazed into hers.

They both fell silent as the grandfather clock's chiming mechanism engaged. The hour struck five.

Jimmy blinked three times and looked down at the pictures in his lap. He picked them up and placed them on the table.

"I suppose you'll be checking more bloodwork," he said, his tone accusatory.

"I will," she acknowledged.

"One has to be so careful with medication," he stood. "It's all poison in the wrong amount. Do you take medication? What about your family? Any of them take pills? Here we spent all this time talking about the Martin family and what about yours? Your mommy and your daddy, brothers, sisters ... I bet you have a sister, don't you?" He grinned, caught her eye and winked.

Barrett froze. Her fingers tingled and she noted that the cat had again hidden itself.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask," he looked down and opened the table drawer. A sealed envelope lay inside. A twisted smile played across his dark lips. "But that's right ... we already paid you for this week. I guess this will have to wait. Unless you wanted to take it now? It doesn't matter to me. I certainly wouldn't tell."

"I'm leaving," she said, praying that her limbs would follow her mind's command.

"Of course," he slammed the drawer shut. "Time's up. Although, you shouldn't be too hard on Dr. Kravitz."

Barrett turned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, you shouldn't be too hard on him. Who knew he was such a sick man? I guess it's really true, that you have to live every day as though it might be your very last."

"Why would you think I was hard on him?" she desperately wanted to get out of there, but something in his remark stopped her. She racked her brain. Had she said anything in front of him to disparage Kravitz? How could he know her concerns about Kravitz's shoddy treatment? And what were all these cracks about her family?

"Just a hunch, Dr. Conyors. That sounds so formal. Could I call you Barrett?"

"No," she shot back with more vehemence than she'd intended.

His smile curled into a sneer. "Of course not, what was I thinking? But I'm forgetting my manners," and he bounded past her and flung open the heavy library doors.

Detectives Hobbs and Ca.s.sidy had left the kitchen and were waiting in the foyer.

"Ah yes," Jimmy quipped. "Your dark-suited escorts. I hope you enjoyed the donuts. I understand they're popular with police. You should let me know if you have a favorite." He glared at Hobbs, as he opened the front door to let them out. "You know, Detective Hobbs, there's something familiar about your face ... as though I've seen it before. I'm just trying to remember where."

Halfway out, Hobbs turned and looked back at Jimmy, "What are you getting at?"

"I think what they did to those children is criminal," Jimmy giggled. "Don't you?" The color drained from Hobbs' face.

"I'm sure you've told her all about that?" Jimmy hissed, and then shut the door.

___.

"What was that?" Barrett asked, her pulse racing. She waited for Ed to join her at the bottom of Jimmy's front steps, not wanting him to know how close she was to a full-blown panic attack.

"It's nothing," Hobbs answered. "Let's get out of here."

"You sure?" she persisted, wondering if her voice was even close to normal.

"I should be asking you that. He's playing games," Hobbs said. "Bryan," he called out to his partner. "I'm going to walk the doctor home; I'll see you in the morning."

The younger man smiled and gave a mock salute.

"He's a good kid," Ed commented, looking at the sidewalk in front of him. "How are you holding up? I can't believe you came today. You shouldn't be here. You need to take some time ..."

"Don't. That's all everyone's saying, but I need to keep moving. So I'm okay, I guess ... Are you going to tell me what happened back there?" she asked, hoping that if she focused on Ed, it would help calm her down.

"Let's get out of here."

Barrett waited for Ed to speak; he didn't. As her anxiety eased, she realized that Ed was struggling with his own demon. They walked west, putting blocks between themselves and the Martin townhouse. "It can't have been that donut crack," she finally said, as they waited for the light to change in front of the Flatiron building.

"He knows stuff," Hobbs said.

"What stuff?"

"This isn't easy, Barrett."

"What?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get b.u.mped down the way I did?"

"No," she admitted. "And I had the impression it wasn't something you wanted to discuss."

"You got that right."

"Did he say something about that?" she asked.

"I think so. So let me just get it out on the table. When I was deputy chief, I found out that one of my detectives was on the take. It was a man I respected and someone who'd helped me get to where I was. In fact, he was the one who first recommended me for the bureau-he wrote my letter. So I had a choice, either report him, or give him the 'if I ever catch you again' speech. I went for the second, because I trusted him. But it goes to show that you never truly know someone."

"What happened?"

"I didn't do my job. Bottom line, I didn't follow up. I a.s.sumed because he was my friend, or I thought he was, that what he'd done couldn't be anything more than turning a blind eye to some backroom prost.i.tution or to guys getting their rocks off in an unlicensed peep show. I was wrong. And when I did find out, and I did report it ... it didn't go well. I'm surprised they even gave me the option to stay. I didn't do my job. It hit the papers and was very ugly."

"I'm so sorry, Ed."

"Not your fault."

"And Jimmy knows."

"He must. And that sob story he gave you about his childhood is just his way of trying to pull you in."

"You don't think it's true."

"It probably is. Freaks like that have to come from somewhere. I just wouldn't take it at face value."

"I don't," she said.

They walked the remaining blocks in an uncomfortable silence. When they got to her building, she turned to look up at the lights in her condo. She imagined her mother inside, manning the phone, baking a sweet potato ca.s.serole, doing the things that needed to be done when ... "I don't want to go up."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. I just wish I didn't feel so frightened. It's like everything is coming undone. I never wanted Ralph dead," she said, voicing a horrible sense of guilt.

"Of course not."

"When I caught him with Carol, I could have killed him, killed them both. Oh, s.h.i.t!"

"What is it?"

"I told you about the hit-and-run ... you know where the bloodwork that Kravitz ordered landed on the street."

"Yes?"

"The phlebotomist was. .h.i.t by a cab ..." she said, wondering if he'd see it, and wondering why she hadn't.

"Jesus!"

"Right. Lots of cabs in New York, how many hit and runs?"

"Barrett ... listen to me. You need to get someone else to take Martin's case. Even better, I'd like to see you get out of town for a couple of weeks until we can figure what's going on."

"I can't," her voice was flat. How easy it would be to follow his advice, but then what? Where would she go? Who'd take care of the bills, and if Jimmy had anything to do with Ralph's death, why would he stop there? Hobbs had said, "He knew stuff." Stuff about her, about her family ... "I can't."

"Why the h.e.l.l not?"

"It's too much like running," she said. "I can't do that."

"He's up to something bad, Barrett. Every bone in my body feels it."

"I know. He's like a cancer that everything he touches just shrivels and dies."

"I couldn't stand to see you get hurt," he said.

"I'll be careful ... and I've got you there to look after me."

"He knows that," Hobbs said. "That's why he's trying to get to me."

"So what's his motive?"

"Jealousy. He wants to clear the playing field. Look what happened with the Foster girl. Something snaps when she tells him she's engaged. A few days later, she and her boyfriend are both dead."

"That was eighteen years ago," she said, but he was right. And for the first time, she got a whiff of what made Jimmy Martin tick. She felt the ground shift and nausea swell. "Why didn't I see this?"

"What?" Hobbs asked.

"He had an erotomanic attachment to Nicole Foster."

"What's that?"

"It's a delusion. A false belief that the person you're attracted to is also in love with you. It's pretty common, especially with stalkers. And because it's a delusion, no amount of reasoning or evidence to the contrary will make you believe anything else."

"So what would have happened when she told him she was engaged? That's pretty compelling evidence that you're not the one."

"I know, and when erotomaniacs turn violent they often go after people around the one they love. Like boyfriends."

Hobbs said nothing, his expression filled with concern.

"Like husbands," Barrett gasped. This was all her fault. "Oh, G.o.d!" she started to dry heave.