Maria had been playing mind games during dinner and over dessert, and she was still at it now. The woman was good. So smooth and slippery. Like a seasoned stage actress, Maria delivered her lines with conviction and authenticity. Rachel had parried every question and attempt at intimacy as best she could, but now her gut told her it was time to go on the offensive.

Time to rattle the detective’s cage for once.

“I’ve always been curious about that night you got shot at our house,” she began, her gaze locked on Maria’s face. “You know, the night the bad guys tried to kidnap Sarah Beth a second time.”

The detective nodded and took a sip of her wine before responding. “Curious about what?”

“I’m curious why you decided to drop by so late and unannounced.”

“We’ve been over this before, I thought.”

“Have we?” Rachel said, cocking her head. “I don’t remember.”

“If you don’t remember, that’s fine,” the detective said and took another sip of wine. “There’s not much to it, really. I’d stayed late at the precinct that night because of everything that happened that day. I certainly didn’t feel like I had closure on the case, what with Trinity’s intervention and all. I was worried . . . so I decided to swing by on my way home.”

“If you were so worried, why didn’t you bring backup?”

“Because I was off the clock. Nothing had been called in. No 911 calls or anything, so why would I have? This was just me being a concerned citizen, who—if we’re being honest—was feeling pretty guilty about her performance on your daughter’s case.” Maria let out a defensive laugh. “I thought I was the detective, but it sure feels like I’m being interrogated.”

Rachel set down her glass and looked at the woman sitting across from her . . . really looked at her. And in that moment, she got the distinct and disturbing feeling that she’d let the proverbial wolf in a sheep’s clothing into her home. No, not into her home, into her life—and into the lives of everyone she cared most deeply about. She was about tell the detective she was tired and ready to call it a night when a strange and disturbing flash of imagery came to her. A dark creature with a hundred demonic faces where there should only be one. It was snarling and chasing Sarah Beth through the halls of St. George’s.

“Rachel, are you okay?” Maria said, leaning in with a concerned look on her face. “You just went pale. Are you going to be sick?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” she stammered, feeling suddenly nauseated.

The image flashed before her mind’s eye again and she felt her daughter’s terror as if it were her own. She tamped down the fear and reached out to Sarah Beth with her mind.