“Doctor Cole, that’s unacceptable.”

“I’m a first-year surgical resident, Agent Bolton. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I do, but your life’s in danger.”

She shook her head. “You can protect me. You can watch me. And you can hide my daughter.” She looked at Mae’s bedroom door and tears welled in her eyes. “But I can’t give up my work. Not now. I’ll never get a decent job if I walk away in the middle of a residency.”

“Doctor Cole,” Bolton said, “I can’t allow this.”

She shook her head. “You’ll have to, Agent Bolton. Protect my daughter. I’ll take care of myself.”

“This man we’re dealing with—”

“Is dangerous, I know. You’ve told me. And I’m afraid, Agent Bolton, but I’m not going to give up what I’ve spent my life working toward. Not now. Not for anyone.”

“He’ll get to you,” I said and I could still feel Mae’s arms on my neck.

Everyone in the room looked up at me.

Grace said, “Not if I—”

“Not if you what? I can’t protect you all, Grace.”

“I’m not asking you—”

“He said I had a choice.”

“Who?”

“Hardiman,” I said and I was surprised at how loud my voice was. “I had to choose between people I loved. He meant you and Mae and Phil and Angie. I can’t protect all of you, Grace.”

“Then don’t, Patrick.” Her voice was cold. “Don’t. You brought this to my doorstep. My daughter’s doorstep. Your stupid fucking pursuit of a violent life led this person to me. Your life is my life now and my daughter’s and neither of us asked for it.” She punched her knee with the side of her fist and then looked at the floor, inhaled sharply. “I’ll be fine. Take Mae someplace safe. I’ll call her father now.”

Bolton looked at Devin and Devin shrugged.

“I can’t make you go into protective custody—”

“No,” I said. “No, no, no. Grace, you don’t know this guy. He’ll get to you. He will.”

I crossed the floor until I was standing over her.

“So?” she said.

“So?” I said. “So?”

I was aware that everyone was looking at me. I was aware that I didn’t feel completely like myself. I felt crazed and vindictive. I felt violent and ugly and unhinged.

“So,” Grace said again.

“So he’ll cut your fucking head off,” I said.

“Patrick,” Angie said.

I bent over Grace. “You understand that? He’ll cut your head off. But last. He’ll do that last. First, Grace, he’ll rape you for a while and then he’ll slice off pieces of your body and then he’ll hammer nails through your fucking palms and then—”

“Stop it,” she said quietly.

But I couldn’t. It seemed important that she know this.

“—he’ll disembowel you, Grace. He loves that. Disembowling people so he can see their insides steam. And then maybe he’ll pluck out your eyes while he lets his partner rip into you and—”

The scream came from behind me.

Grace had her hands over her ears by this point, but she pulled them off when she heard the scream.