"And I'm supposed to go and sit in his trailer and wait and see what happens?"

"That's right."

"If he died in Rome, how do you know that the trailer is still with the circus?"

"It's owned by them. They only rent the trailers to the performers."

"Was Edmund Gillem a performer?"

Yes.

Her lips twisted. "A fortune teller?"

"No, he wouldn't take the chance of being that obvious. He was a horse trainer. He had a powerful empathy with animals and had six beautiful horses that did some pretty neat tricks. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would get him a contract in Las Vegas. But that's the way he liked it. He didn't want to attract too much attention and the job allowed him to constantly travel around the continent."

"He sounds like a gypsy."

"He enjoyed the vagabond factor but he regarded the travel as part of his job."

"Was he married?"

"Not at the time of his death. He was married several years ago to a German shopkeeper, but they were divorced after five years."

"You know a good deal about Gillem."

"I researched him extensively before I decided he was the man I was looking for and zeroed in on him. He was a good man. I think I would have liked him."

"He must have been unstable if he committed suicide."

"Maybe."

"You said that the voices were only centered and heard in places that had known extreme high stress or tragedy."

"As far as we know."

"Then you think that trailer was the site of one of those factors. Suicide is certainly a tragedy, but it doesn't have to always be high stress. Sometimes it's only sad and resigned."

"I don't believe Gillem's death was either quiet or resigned. He died violently. He cut his throat with a jagged piece of mirror."

Horror sleeted through her. "Why?"

"He left no note. You'll have to tell me."

"If I can." She shook her head. "I don't know anything about this. I don't know if I'm even capable of hearing anything but a meaningless jumble."

"You were able to distinguish conversation in that cave."

"But can I do it again?" And did she want to do it again? Of course, she didn't. She was already dreading going to that trailer. "You said yourself you didn't know what to expect from a Listener. And I have to be the most inexperienced Listener on the face of the planet."

"Are you backing out?"

Yes.

"No." She wouldn't run away at this first challenge. It wasn't only her deal with Grady, but the fact that if she didn't face the voices again, she would fear them all her life. "I won't back out." She looked out the window of the car. "But I want your promise."

"That I'll help you?"

"No, that you'll stay out of it. I want to be alone in that trailer. I don't know if you're able to make things easy for me. You said you weren't able to do it that night at the cave. If you can, I don't want that to happen."

"I couldn't do much unless you let me. You're too strong now." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Let me, Megan. Don't close me out again."

"I don't want you. I have to handle this by myself. I won't be a cripple. Promise me."

He was silent before he reluctantly nodded his head. "Okay, you have my word." He added bitterly, "Happy now?"

"No." She tried to steady her voice. "I'm scared. But it doesn't make any difference. It's the way it has to be."

"You mean it's the way you want it."

It wasn't the way she wanted it. She wanted to lean on his strength. She wanted to be cocooned and protected against sharp winds and the voices that never stopped. She repeated, "It's the way it has to be." She changed the subject. "Are we almost at the inn?"

"A few miles ahead. I booked a cottage with adjoining rooms. I want to keep an eye on you."

"Good idea. I've no objection to being kept safe. I have enough on my plate. As far as I'm concerned, that's your job."

"And I'll do it. I wish you'd—" His cell phone rang and he glanced at the ID. "Harley." He picked up the call. "What's the word?" He listened for a moment and then looked at Megan. "He's scouted out the circus and he sees no sign of Molino or his men. We can't be absolutely sure and he's still checking. He can arrange for you to have the trailer either tomorrow night—" He paused. "Or tonight. Your choice."

She tensed. She hadn't expected to have to make that decision. She had thought she'd have time to mentally prepare herself.

"No pressure," Grady said quietly. "Tomorrow night is fine."

But that would mean she would have all those hours to dread and imagine what waited for her in that trailer. And how could she mentally prepare herself anyway? She didn't have any idea what was going to happen. "Tonight."

He hesitated and she thought he was going to argue with her. Then he said curtly into the phone, "Tonight." He hung up the phone. "It's only nine now. We'll have to wait until about three A.M. before we move. We'll go on to the inn and get settled."

"Fine." Don't shake. Don't let him see how frightened she was. "I'll take a shower and try to call Dr. Gardner and introduce myself and ask about Phillip. Then I'll e-mail my friend Scott and his wife, Jana, and tell them I'm fine and not to worry. I didn't get a chance before I left Atlanta. I'm going to ask Scott to keep tabs on three of my patients. I can trust him to make sure they'll be okay."

"And that's all you'll tell them."

"Of course, that's all. They wouldn't understand any of this. It would worry them. Hell, I don't understand."

But what she did understand was that in only a few hours she was going to be on her way to Carmegue's Circus and that the fear was growing by the moment.

MEGAN FOUND DR. JASON GARDNER as warm and direct as Grady had said.

"I've read your uncle's report and I can't promise you anything but that I'll do my best to bring him back," he said gently. "I'll never lie to you, Dr. Blair. You've been told how serious his condition is and many people have a tendency to regard coma patients with very little hope."

"Of course, they do. Most patients remain in a deep coma no more than four weeks. After that they either die or they go into a vegetative state. Now what can we do to keep both those results at bay?"

"I believe your Mr. Grady has told you the procedures I use to treat my patients."

"Do they work?"

"Not as often as I'd like. I wish I could bring them all back," he said wearily. "It's a constant fight to keep the nursing home from shutting my annex down because the results don't warrant the cash outlay. I can't make them see that saving just one human being is worth all their fund-raisers. But I always have hope. And I work my butt off trying everything I can to bring them back. You can be sure that Phillip Blair will be given every chance, every effort by me and my staff."

"How can I help? Should I be there?"

"Not until the coma shows some sign of lessening." He paused. "Some of the patients respond. Some don't. And in the end, I don't know if my successes are due to what I'm doing or what God decides to do. How is that for a scientific approach?"

"It's an honest approach. May I call you tomorrow?"