"Yeah, illegal immigrants."

"Arthur didn't mention it. Why?"

Turning off the water, I left the bathroom and joined Abby. I plopped on the bed, stretched out on my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows. "The other day on the phone, Claire went off on a tear about his policies. In her opinion, he's way too conservative."

Abby gave her head a little shake. "Ahh, that's Claire for you. It's a difficult situation and pa.s.sions run high on both sides."

"What do you think?" I asked, cupping my face with my hand.

"I don't know..." She paused. "These people are escaping deplorable conditions in their own countries with the hope of a better life here." Her eyes traveled to the window and she stared at the lights of the city. "When I was a child, times were hard, but I never went to bed hungry, I never worried about death squads knocking on our door in the middle of the night. We had food and we were safe." She sat back in the chair. "But to answer your question-I think this is a very complicated situation and that there are no easy answers."

Rolling onto my back, I scooted up in the bed and fluffed the pillows behind me. Leaning back, I twisted the hem of my T-shirt. "Abby, about this reincarnation? You really think I might have known Stephen in a past life?"

My mind leapt ahead. What if she says yes, and what if Stephen wound up being the reincarnation of the colonel? What if she says yes, and what if Stephen wound up being the reincarnation of the colonel? In my dreams, the colonel was the only man Madeleine had a connection with so far. There was the missing lover, but he hadn't popped up yet. In my dreams, the colonel was the only man Madeleine had a connection with so far. There was the missing lover, but he hadn't popped up yet. Maybe Madeleine sold out and became Vogel's mistress? Yuck. Maybe Madeleine sold out and became Vogel's mistress? Yuck. The thought gave me the creepy-crawlies. The thought gave me the creepy-crawlies.

"The idea of reincarnation troubles you, doesn't it?" Abby asked, noticing my expression.

"Yeah...it does. It seems to me this lifetime is complicated enough without worrying about what happened in a past life." I released the hem of my shirt.

Abby crossed her legs and leaned forward. "But you see, some of the problems we have now have their roots in our past lives." She sat back and steepled her fingers. "Maybe you and Stephen have some unfinished business that's carried over into this life, and now's the time to resolve it."

"Darci thinks he's my soul mate and that's why I've had the dreams."

"Maybe, or it could be, in the end, he's not good for you and your challenge is to walk away from him in this lifetime. Something you might not have done in your last one."

Ugh, maybe Stephen was Vogel.

I tapped the back of my head against the headboard. "This is frustrating. The dreams aren't exactly forthcoming with a lot of information. How am I going to know what to do? How do I make sure I meet the challenge?"

Abby rose and crossed the small s.p.a.ce between the bed and the chair. Sitting next to me, she took my hand in both of hers. "I'm afraid it's going to require something that's always been hard for you-surrender control and trust that your gift will lead you to your answers." Rubbing my hand, she looked thoughtful. "In the end, child, maybe that's the real lesson."

Stretching, I lifted my arms over my head. I'd slept deeply that night, and for a second I didn't remember where I was.

Oh, yeah-St. Louis-tracking down Karen Burns.

I felt rested-the dreams hadn't troubled me last night. Could talking about them with Abby have ended them? Was it really that simple? That all I needed to do was trust myself and have faith? Wouldn't that be a relief? I could concentrate on learning why Stephen had been shot.

Throwing back the covers, I jumped out of bed. In the bathroom, I quickly showered, dressed, and threw on some makeup. Forty-five minutes later I stood knocking at Abby's door, ready to hunt down Karen.

"Ready?" I asked when Abby opened her door.

She was dressed in tan linen slacks and a light tunic. A floral scarf was held in place around the neckline by one of her favorite brooches. Today, she wore her hair coiled in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She looked cool and elegant.

I glanced down at my red knit top, jeans, and loafers. Next to her, I felt sloppy. Maybe I should pay more attention to Darci? Maybe I should pay more attention to Darci?

"You look nice, dear," Abby said, as if reading my mind. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

I shifted my weight on one foot. "If you don't mind, I'd like to drive to Karen Burns's apartment first. If we arrive early enough, we might catch her."

Digging out her keys, Abby closed the door and linked her arm with mine. "Whatever you want, dear. Let's go."

Once in the car, Abby punched the address I'd given her for Karen's apartment into the GPS, and we were on our way. A short time later we pulled into the parking lot of Karen's apartment building, not far from Laclede's Landing.

The building was obviously old, but had been restored. Birds chirped in the large maple trees shading the entrance, while hydrangea bushes bloomed on each side. The atmosphere was peaceful and quiet this early in the morning.

Abby and I entered the cool foyer, where I found the buzzer to Karen's apartment and pushed it.

No answer.

I pressed the b.u.t.ton again, leaving my finger on it a little longer this time.

Still no answer.

Fisting a hand on my hip, I hit the b.u.t.ton again and again.

Abby finally reached out and touched my wrist. "I don't think she's home."

Great-as Nancy Drew, I was bombing out.

"Now what?" Abby asked as a woman, dressed in a jogging suit, leading a large boxer on a leash, entered the foyer.

"Maybe Karen is working at Stephen's condo?" I said hopefully.

The woman with the boxer paused and glanced at me over her shoulder. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to be eavesdropping, but are you looking for Karen Burns?"

I know my face lit up. "Yes," I replied excitedly. "Do you know her?"

"Yes, I live in the apartment across the hall. Are you a friend of hers?"

Time to tell another lie. "Yes, I'm an old cla.s.smate from out of town-"

Abby gave me a poke in my side.

Ignoring her, I continued. "I've been trying to reach her."

The women's face reflected her alarm. "Oh, dear," she said softly. "You don't know, then?"

I felt my excitement fade, and a sense of dread replaced it. "Know what?"

"Karen was mugged last night. She's in Lasalle Medical Plaza."

Nineteen.

"What do you think?" I asked Abby as we drove to the hospital.

"Muggings happen all the time in the city."

I inhaled sharply. "Her boss is shot less than a week ago, and now she's mugged." Watching Abby smoothly maneuver into the heavy traffic, I pursed my lips before I spoke again. "Too much of a coincidence, if you ask me. Wonder if Bill knows."

"The mugging occurred last night, so he might not have been contacted yet." She honked her horn as a car whipped over in front of her. "And who knows...law enforcement agencies don't always communicate with each other."

"Yeah, but as Ethan said, Bill's a good cop, I bet he contacted the St. Louis police after the shooting. You'd think they'd return the favor."

"It's a big city. Maybe the information concerning the mugging hasn't reached the right ears yet." Abby glanced my way. "You sound as if you want Bill to know."

I picked at the armrest. "I do-if it helps him solve the case-but I'm a little worried he'll come charging down here once he hears about it. And-"

"Find out you're here instead of in Summerset," she said, finishing my sentence for me. "Hmm," she went on, her tone teasing, "I've heard the jail's serving the prisoners meals from one of the restaurants now, so at least you'll eat well."

"Not funny." I shot her a dirty look. "Bill's always threatening to put me in the slammer, and one of these days he's going to carry through with the threat."

She reached out and patted my knee. "Don't worry, dear, I'll post bail."

We left the car in the parking garage and rode the elevator down to the first floor. Praying it wouldn't be a repeat of my experience at the Regional Medical Center, I marched up to the information desk.

"Karen Burns, please."

Without a glance, the receptionist ran her finger down the patient list. "She's in Room 224."

Walking away from the desk, I gave Abby a big smile. "That was easy."

"Don't count your chickens-we haven't talked to Karen Burns yet."

Peeking in the half-open door to Room 224, we saw a dark-haired woman in the bed in a half sitting position, facing the overhead TV. An IV pole with a large bag full of clear liquid sat next to the bed-its tubes running from the bag to her arm.

From where I stood in the doorway, she didn't look that injured. No bandages, no medical equipment other than the IV. To me, she just looked bored. Then her head rolled on the pillow to face me and our eyes met across the small room.

The entire right side of her face was one ma.s.sive bruise. Her right eye was swollen shut and the corner of her mouth appeared to be cut.

Shocked at her injuries, I took one step back, b.u.mping into Abby.

Moving me out of her way, Abby took control, crossing the room to the bed. "h.e.l.lo, Karen. I'm Abigail McDonald, and this," she said with a wave toward me, "is my granddaughter, Ophelia Jensen."

Karen's good eye widened. "You're the one who's been leaving all the messages," she mumbled through puffy lips. "I don't want to talk to you." She turned her head away.

"Karen," I said gently, "do you know about Stephen?"

A tear trickled down her left cheek. "Yes," she whispered.

"The sheriff investigating the shooting thinks I might have been the target," I said, joining Abby. "But I wasn't, was I?"

"Don't know anything," she muttered.

The conversation was getting me nowhere.

"Karen," I said trying again. "Someone tried to kill me Monday night."

With a soft moan, she shifted her head on the pillow and said nothing.

What had Abby said? Drastic times, drastic measures? My eyes flew to Abby's face. She blinked once and gave me a slight nod.

"Karen." I kept my voice mild as I laid my hand on her arm and opened my mind.

Immediately I saw, felt, and heard what she had the night before. The smell of the river; pools of light from the street lamps; the sound of footsteps behind her; the sudden grasp of hands on her shoulders; the feeling of being spun around; a man, his face hidden in the shadows; the fist to her face again and again; the taste of blood sour on her tongue.

But most of all I felt the terror-black, all-consuming terror. I'm going to die I'm going to die, was her last thought before she mercifully lost consciousness.

With sweaty palms, and shaken to my core, I broke the connection.

Disoriented, Karen looked first at Abby, then me. "Who are are you, really?" you, really?"

"I told you, Ophelia Jensen. I'm so sorry that man hurt you," I said with compa.s.sion, "and I want to help you and Stephen."

The uninjured side of her mouth twisted down. "You can't. Stephen always told me if anything ever happened to him, to run. I didn't run fast enough, and next time they'll kill me-" Her voice faltered. "I'm going away where they can't find me."

"If whoever's behind these attacks isn't brought to justice, you'll spend your life looking over your shoulder."

"No, I won't. Once Stephen is out of the hospital, he'll take care of it."

"Stephen's in a coma and can't help anyone," I said brusquely.

Abby gave me a little nudge to the side and stepped closer to the bed. "Here, child, have a sip of water," she said, picking up a gla.s.s near the bed and holding the straw to Karen's lips. "Poor thing." She gently stroked Karen's hair.

Karen seemed to relax under Abby's soothing touch and took a long drink through the straw. "Thanks." Her tongue licked at her bottom lip, and she winced when it touched the cut.

Grabbing the railing on the bed, I gazed at her. "Karen, do you know why someone wanted to hurt you and Stephen?"

With a sigh, she closed her left eye. "The book."

"Which book?"

"The one he's working on now. He came back from the East Coast obsessed with this new project." She opened her eye and watched me. "Said he got the idea while in Boston."

What idea would lead him from Ma.s.sachusetts to Iowa to Texas?

"Why would they attack you last night?" I asked.

"The disks."