"You may not like my methods."

"I won't like it if she dies or has to be institutionalized either," Joel said. "As long as you don't escalate either of those possibilities, you'll get no argument from me. I've done everything I can."

And Nicholas was supposed to perform the miracle Joel couldn't. Great. He pushed open the door.

Nell's face was still bandaged, and she looked smaller, slighter than when he had last seen her. She stared straight ahead and gave no sign she was aware that he had come into the room.

Purpose.

Oh, yes, he knew all about that subject. He could give her purpose.

Nicholas Tanek.

She had thought he had gone from her life, Nell thought dully. She wanted him gone. He was the one who had told her about Jill....

She tried to block his presence from her mind; she had grown very good at that. No, he was too strong. Her uneasiness increased. She quickly closed her eyes.

"Stop pretending. You're not asleep," he said coldly. "Just gutless."

A ripple of shock went through her.

"Are you enjoying yourself lying there, pitying yourself?"

He didn't understand. She wasn't pitying herself. She just wanted everyone to go away.

"I'm not surprised. You've caved in and run away from everything all your life. You wanted to be an artist and your parents snapped their fingers and you dropped everything and came running. Your husband molded you into what he wanted and you let him do it."

He was talking about Richard. Cruel. Richard was dead. You didn't talk ill of the dead.

"Did anyone tell you how Jill died?"

Her lids flew open. "Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Go away."

"She was stabbed."

The knife. Oh, God, the knife.

"He enjoyed doing it. He always enjoys it."

Yes, he enjoyed it. She remembered the smile behind the mask as he had stabbed at her.

"He's out there, free. He took away her life, all the joy, all the things you planned for her. You let him steal that from her."

"No! I tried to stop him. I drew him out to the balcony and-"

"But she's dead and he's free. He's walking around remembering how he killed her. It's so easy to kill a child."

"Stop it." His words were ripping, tearing at her. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? She had not imagined anyone could be this brutal. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't care if you're suffering or not. She's dead and you're betraying her. You're going to lie down and let this roll over you just as you've done everything else your entire life. She was a nice kid, she deserves better than a mother who won't even rouse herself to wonder if the man who killed her would be punished for it."

"She's dead. Nothing I could do would-"

"Excuses, qualifications. Don't you get sick of backing away from life? No, I guess not." He leaned forward, his gaze boring into hers. "Here's something to remember while you're lying here, thinking about your daughter. She didn't die easily. He never lets them die easily."

She felt something explode inside her. "Damn you."

"But I guess you don't care about that. You'd rather go back to sleep and forget all this unpleasantness." He stood up and moved toward the door. "Well, go ahead. You probably couldn't do anything about it anyway. You've never taken an effective action in your entire life."

Her voice vibrated with intensity. "I hate you."

He looked at her without expression. "Yes, I know."

He left the room.

Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched into fists. She wanted him back so that she could strike at him as he had struck at her. Cruel. She had never known anyone so cruel.

Except the man who had killed Jill. The monster.

He never lets them die easily.

The words stabbed through her with more pain than the knife that had ended Jill's life. She had not allowed herself to think of Jill suffering, Jill dying. She had thought only of the loss, the emptiness of life.

Life would not have been empty for Jill. She was a child who loved every facet of life. She would have run toward it with both arms opened wide.

And she had been cheated of it by a monster who killed helpless children.

The knowledge was twisting, hurting, burning inside her. He was out there, free, while Jill was dead.

"No." She wouldn't have it. She felt as if the thought were searing away the past, the present, the future.

You've never taken an effective action in your entire life.

Lies.

No, truth.

It was so easy to see the truth now that none of it mattered.

Do what I say or I won't love you anymore.

The unspoken threat had always been there. First with her parents, and then Richard, and she had scurried to obey in terror of losing that love.

But now the fear was gone because there was nothing to lose. Everything of importance was already lost.

Except the memory of Jill.

And the man who had killed her.

"Well?" Joel asked as Nicholas walked out of the room.

"I don't know. Have everyone stay away from her for a while and let it simmer."

"Let what simmer?"

"She had an open wound and I cauterized it with a red-hot poker." He added, "And without anesthesia."

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean."

"I wouldn't. You'd disapprove." He moved down the hall toward the elevators. "But I think I can go back to Idaho for a while. There's no question she'll want to see me after this. Call me when you think she's semi-normal again. I need to ask her a few questions."

Nell did not sleep that night. She stared into the darkness while Tanek's words pounded at her.

Jill.

Growing up, going to school, first party, first dates, first child. So many firsts she'd never know.

Robbed. Robbed of life, robbed of all those experiences.

Nell's loss was nothing compared to what the monster had stolen from Jill.

And she was lying here, doing nothing about it.

Rage.

Burning, destroying, clarifying rage.

The crystal vase of tiger lilies the young man was carrying should have looked absurd in his big hands, but somehow it didn't. He was vaguely familiar; he had been there during that period of shadows. She searched for a name. "You're Phil Johnson," Nell said slowly.

He whirled to face her. "Hey, you remember me." He moved eagerly toward the bed. "How you doing? Can I get you anything? How about some orange juice?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Not now." She looked down at her arm. She was surprised it was still in a cast. It seemed a hundred years since she had awakened that first time to find Tanek sitting by her bed. Tanek. She stifled a rush of blinding anger. Tanek didn't matter. She had to be calm and think clearly. "How long have I been here? And where is here?"

"Ten days at Woodsdale."

"Woodsdale?" She dimly remembered Dr. Lieber mentioning moving her to his clinic.

Phil nodded. "Do you remember the operation?"

She reached up and touched her face. Bandages.

"Dr. Lieber wants them on until you're fully healed. There are always bruises with plastic surgery, and he thinks you've had enough shocks to-" He broke off and then said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to talk to you about anything that could upset-" He made a face. "Here I go again. Foot in mouth. Should I go away?"

She shook her head. "I feel very weak. Am I going to be in this bed a long time?"

"You'll have to ask Dr. Lieber. But you'd probably get stronger if you'd eat." He smiled coaxingly. "Those IVs in your arm can't be much fun."

"I'll eat," she said. "I have to speak to Dr. Lieber. Will you ask him to come to see me?"

"Sure. He's at the hospital in the city this morning, but he should be here soon." He nodded at the flowers on the table. "Pretty. Do you want me to check and see who they're from?"

They're pretty, Mama, Jill had said. Prettier than when they were in the garden.

Pain twisted through her, intense, taking her breath. Block it. She couldn't function if she let pain blind her like this.

"You okay?" Phil asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said steadily. "Read the card."

"Just a name. Tania Vlados. A friend?"

She shook her head. "I've never heard of her."

"Well, she must have heard of you." He put the card back. "Nice choice. Different. They look like jungle flowers."

"They're tiger lilies." The strain of behaving normally had been enormous. She wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep. No, she would not allow herself to do it. She had done very well so far. This nice man, Phil Johnson, didn't seem to notice any hollowness in her manner. "I must thank her ... when I find out who she is."

Phil nodded. "You probably have lots of flowers over at St. Joseph's. It takes a little time for them to send stuff over."

He was wrong. Richard could no longer send her flowers and she had no one else. "It doesn't matter." She studied him. "You look very strong. Did you play football?"

"Yep, I was a tight end at Notre Dame."

"Then you know all about exercise."

"Some."

"I hate feeling this weak. Do you suppose you could find me some sort of equipment to help me strengthen and tone while I'm lying here?"

"Maybe later."

She smothered her impatience and said carefully, "I'd really like it now. You can tell me how I should begin. I don't intend to hurt myself by trying to do too much. I'll be very careful."

He nodded understandingly. "I know how you feel. I'd be going nuts if I had to lie there doing nothing. I'll ask Dr. Lieber if it's okay."

"Thank you."

She watched him leave the room. Don't close your eyes. Don't go into the darkness. It's going well. He would try to help her and then she would help herself. It would be easier when she had to rely only on her own resources. She shifted her gaze to the flowers on the nightstand. Tania Vlados. Was she one of the guests at the party that night? She couldn't remember anyone but Elise Gueray. The party. She vaguely remembered Nadine being there after she had fallen. What of Martin and Sally? She supposed she should feel concerned.

No, she shouldn't. She had never liked either one of them, and she was done with pretense.

Richard had been killed at the party. Why couldn't she feel more sadness? He deserved to be mourned. But Jill was dead and there seemed no sorrow left to give to anyone else.

"I hear you're feeling much better," Joel Lieber said as he came into the room. He smiled as he sat down beside her. "It's about time. I've been worried about you."

She believed him. She doubted if Joel Lieber ever said anything he didn't mean. "How sick am I?"

"You're healing nicely. You have a broken arm and clavicle. The other wounds were nasty, but I made sure you wouldn't have any scars. We should be able to take the cast off in another three weeks."