“You aren’t losing your mind. But you can’t be human right now. If you think of them, of their suffering, you’ll lose your edge and you’ll be no good to any of them.”

“How do you do that? Stop thinking of them?”

Leo’s chuckle was void of humor. “I have no idea. That’s what they used to tell us before we went door to door, but I never learned how to.”

Luke thought of his brother in full battle gear, searching out insurgents in Baghdad. It had been a very tense time for his family. Their mama. Every day they’d waited for word that Leo had been one of the lucky ones, that he’d survived another day. The day he came home, they’d rejoiced. But one had only to look at Leo’s eyes to know he had not been one of the lucky ones. A piece of his brother had died over there, but it was not something Leo ever discussed, even with me. “So you got out?”

Leo’s eyes shuttered. “You thinkin’ of getting out of the GBI?”

“Every goddamn day. But I don’t.”

Leo tapped his steering wheel lightly. “And that’s what makes you a better man.”

“Leo.”

But Leo shook his head. “Don’t. Not today. You don’t need my shit piled on top of yours.” He settled in his seat and Luke knew that topic was closed. “So how is she?”

“Who?”

“Susannah Vartanian.” Leo shot him a look. “Come on, it’s me you’re talking to here. I saw how you looked at her at her parents’ funeral. You didn’t think you were hiding anything, did you?”

Not from Leo’s eagle eye. “I guess not. She’s…” Fine. Of course on a physical level that was true. Susannah Vartanian was very fine. Too fine. Too tempting. On an emotional level it couldn’t be more false. “She’s holding on.”

“Why did she come back today?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Leo’s expression turned contemplative, then he shook his head hard. “No. No way.”

Luke sighed. “What?”

“In that press conference, your boss said that you’d broken the case of those thirteen-year-old rapes today, that they’d happened in Dutton. She was one of them.”

“I can’t tell you.” But in not denying it, he’d confirmed it and they both knew it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay?”

Luke blinked. “Me?”

“You’re interested in a woman who comes with heavy baggage. Can you deal?”

“Before or after I do what I want to do to the one sonofabitch that’s still standing?”

“I’ll open up the range day or night if you need to take out a paper man or two.”

“I appreciate it.” Luke had taken out many a paper target at Leo’s shooting range. Many days it was all that enabled him to keep a lid on his temper. “But not right now. I’ve got too many things I should have already done.” First of which would be a visit to the hospital where Ryan Beardsley was, thankfully, in stable condition. He also needed to get to the morgue to check autopsy results before the eight-o’clock meeting.

“You’ve got a couple things going for you,” Leo said when Luke got out of the car.

Luke grabbed his gym bag full of clean clothes from Leo’s backseat. “Like what?”

Leo grinned. “Mama likes her. And she’s Catholic. Everything else is just details.”

Luke threw the bag in the trunk of his own car, chuckling. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 4:40 a.m.

Monica woke up. It was dark. And quiet. And she couldn’t move. I can’t move. Oh, God. She tried to open her eyes and… couldn’t. Help! Help! What’s happening to me?

I’m dead. Oh, God, I’m dead. Mom. Susannah.

“Doctor.” It was a woman’s voice, urgently calling.

She wanted to drag in a breath, but couldn’t. The tube was still in her throat. No, no I’m not dead. I’m in the hospital. That’s a nurse. She’ll help. She’ll help.

“What’s going on?” A deeper voice. A doctor. A doctor.

Stop. He’s a real doctor. He won’t hurt you. Still her heart raced like a wild horse.

“Her BP’s up. So is her pulse.”

“Let’s get her comfortable. Call me if her pressure doesn’t go down.”

I can’t move. I can’t see. Help me. She heard the rattle of instruments, felt the quick prick of a needle. Listen to me. But the scream wouldn’t come, echoing only in her mind. Susannah, where are you?

She started to drift, to calm. And then she heard a voice, low and gruff, and right next to her ear. Male? Female? She couldn’t tell.

“You’re not dying. You’ve been given a drug to make you paralyzed.”

Paralyzed. Oh my God. She fought to open her eyes, to see who spoke. But she could do nothing. Say nothing. Oh God.

“Sshh,” the voice said. “Don’t fight it. They’ll just give you more sedative. Now you listen to me. In a few hours, this is going to wear off. When it does you’ll be able to move, to see again. When the cops come back, you will tell them you remember nothing, not even your name. You will say nothing of your time in the bunker. They have your sister and they will do to her what they did to you if you say anything.”

She could feel warm breath against her ear. “Say nothing and your sister will be free. Say one word and she’ll be their whore, just like you were. It’s up to you now.”

The heat disappeared and Monica heard the shuffle of shoes as the person walked away. Then she felt the wetness on her temples as tears leaked from her eyes.

Genie. They had Genie. She’s only fourteen. Oh, God, what do I do?

Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 4:50 a.m.

Pete Haywood was waiting in the hospital lobby when Luke came in.

“Status?” Luke asked.

“Beardsley’s awake and lucid, asking for ‘Papa.’ We thought he wanted his father, but then I realized he was asking for you. He wouldn’t talk to me.”

“What about the IV bag?”

“Sent it to the crime lab a couple hours ago. Haven’t heard anything yet. The doctors did a CT scan and a tox screen. The scan was negative, but the tox screen hasn’t come back yet. I interviewed the nurse who changed the IV bag. She’s ripped up. Every doctor and nurse on the floor has vouched for her, but I’ve got Leigh pulling her financials, just in case. I don’t think she did it. The nurses stage their IV bags up to two hours ahead of time, so anybody who went into that room could have had access.”

“Wonderful.”

“Not so bad, actually. The hospital has a tracking system. See those blue antennae?” Pete pointed to what looked like two blue stalactites hanging from the ceiling outside the gift shop. “They’re everywhere. Employees wear a badge that tracks their location 24/7.”

“Holy Big Brother, Batman,” Luke murmured, and Pete chuckled.

“Hospital security was running a list of everyone in the area. They should be finished any minute. I think the doctor who responded to Beardsley’s attack suspected foul play, too, and that he took Beardsley up to ICU because he knew there was a guard up there. But nobody’s confirming that. I think the hospital admin is being careful about liability.”

“We’ll know more when that bag is analyzed. Where are you going?”

“I just got a call from the fire investigator at Granville’s house. He’s found the bomb’s trigger. Now that you’re here, I’ll head to Dutton. I’ll be back by the eight-o’clock meeting.”

Pete headed out and Luke headed up, stepping out of the elevator to find a new state trooper standing guard. “I’m Papadopoulos,” Luke said, flashing his badge.

“Marlow. I just put a call in to Haywood. He said you were on your way up.”

“What’s happened?”

“Your Jane Doe had some kind of seizure or something. Her BP spiked and they sedated her. The doctor said it was nothing unusual, that this kind of thing happens after surgery, but given Beardsley’s condition, I thought you all should know.”

“Thanks, man.”