She swallowed before she spoke. “Nothing. I’m eating.”

You have been chosen.…

“You’re not funny, Mary. Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Throwing your voice.”

She gave him a droll stare then ate a fry from his plate. “I’m not throwing my voice, but if you don’t stop irritating me, I might be throwing a fry at your head.”

You have been chosen.…

Zeke looked around the small restaurant. All the surrounding tables were empty. The only other customers were seated at a bar, talking to the waitress. “You didn’t hear that?”

Mary scowled at him. “Hear what?”

“You have been chosen.”

She screwed her face up even more. “What are you? On crack?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking it might behoove me to find a dealer … except that they make me take a urine test every other day for work, so no fun there.”

She snorted. “You’re not right, are you? God, I hope that’s not genetic, since Duncan and I are trying to get pregnant.”

“Again with the ick stuff. Stop!”

You have been chosen.…

Zeke growled at the voice. “And that means you, too. Damn. My life is bad enough. The last thing I need is to be schizophrenic.”

“I don’t know. Given your job, schizo could be fun.… No, lady, I didn’t turn you down. That was the voices in my head telling you to shove that claim where the sun don’t shine.”

“I really hate you,” he said with a laugh.

“I know. It’s why you tried to feed me Drano when we were kids.”

He shook his head at the memory. “Yeah, but you’re the one who traded me for a wagon.”

She let out an evil laugh then sipped her Coke. “You do know that when you turned sixteen Mom told me we should have kept the wagon.”

“I’ve no doubt.” It actually explained a lot about his high school years.

You have been chosen.…

Zeke raked his hands through his hair. “Call the shrink. I’ve lost my mind.”

“Sweetie, you lost that a long time ago. Now eat your sandwich. The voices in your head are probably hungry, too.”

Zeke rolled his eyes at his sister’s curt dismissal. He’d just turned back to his sandwich when something that felt like an electric current went down his spine. It truly felt like a razor blade skimming his soul.

And something inside him raised up like the hackles of a dog. He turned toward the door at the same time a well-dressed man entered. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked completely respectable.

Cheats on his taxes and wife. Misappropriated funds from his clients earlier tonight. Beats his kids. Total douche. Will eventually spend ten years in jail for fraud. Damned to hell on his deathbed. Nothing will redeem him. His ego won’t let it.