Emmett jumped when his phone rang, startled by the sound. Caller ID showed his brother-in-law’s number.

He started to pace as he punched the Talk button. “There you are!”

“What’s up, man?” Terry’s voice was wary.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You need to chill out! I just lost my fucking job, okay?”

Damn. That wasn’t going to go over well with Bridget. “What happened, dude?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I work for a bitch who’s been trying to get rid of me since she started. And now that she has, I’m especially glad we’re about to get paid. Our guy should be there tomorrow or the next day. He’s coming early, so this is almost over.”

Terry was talking fast, in hushed tones, and he sounded stressed—for good reason—but Emmett was stressed, too. “Did you know that we’re working for a serial killer? A psychopath who cuts into the brains of his victims to control them?”

“No, no, no. That Zombie Maker shit is all wrong. He didn’t do any of that.”

This was exactly what Emmett had hoped to hear, but he was far from convinced. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve talked to him about it. And I’ve told you why he wants Dr. Talbot. He needs her to sign something so he can get his retarded sister back. Would a psychopath even care about a sister like that? Who’d want to take on such a burden? That makes him a saint, not a psychopath.”

Emmett rubbed the beard growth on his face with his knuckles as he considered Terry’s response. “How do you know he doesn’t want revenge on Dr. Talbot? From what I’ve read, she fought his release even when everyone else was rushing to apologize and kiss his ass.”

“Maybe she believes he’s a psychopath, but who’s to say she’s right?”

“Her degree says she should know a little something about that!”

“A degree doesn’t always mean anything—just that she spent a hell of a lot of years taking classes that may or may not have taught her a thing or two.”

“Still, you should’ve told me about all this bizarre shit in advance.”

“Look, Emmett. Stop worrying. Bishop’s not out for revenge—he’s already got revenge. He won. He’s a free man.”

Emmett grabbed the remote and shut off the television. The noise was getting on his nerves. “One article I read said he tried to kill Evelyn.”

“That isn’t true,” Terry argued. “That was Jasper Moore, the dude who tried to kill her before. You know her background, right? Bishop was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”

Could that be true? Emmett didn’t generally believe in coincidences. But he had seen the photos of Bishop that went with those articles. The guy didn’t look dangerous. The way he hunched in on himself as if he didn’t want to be seen gave Emmett the impression he was like a dog who’d been kicked too many times and skittered away at the first sign of confrontation.