Oh God. No. NO—

The basketball court was covered, after all.

Not by metal bars or fence, but a mesh of thin black netting that went from one side to the other. Its shadow in the moonlight lay across Jolie’s cheek like a widow’s veil. She hadn’t been able to see it from down below, the netting being so dark and so fine, but of course it was there, it would have to be there, to keep the would-be suicides from climbing over.

Snow’s hand found her calf and squeezed.

Jolie screamed again, the toes of her work sneakers squeaking off, losing their hold, leaving her dangling momentarily by one hand. Catching her grip, she felt a long ice cube drip of sweat between her shoulder blades as she struggled to pull away.

Then he was on her, pinning her body tight to the fence with his own. She could smell and feel the powerful flow of his breath over her shoulder, flooding her nose with every imaginable odor of decay.

“Please.” Through her fright she hardly heard what he was saying. “God, please…please, you don’t have to do this. Please, let me—”

Through the prism of tears she saw him release his grip on the chain link on the right side of her head, leaning back so the only thing keeping him upright was his left hand.

Oh, thank you.

His free hand went down and drew out the object dangling from a loop on his jumpsuit.

It was some type of sharpened metal rod, the oversized bit of a surgical drill, some orthopedic tool he must have scavenged from the operating room. It looked well over a foot long, an object designed for gouging large holes in cartilage and bone. He’s going to use that on me, her mind gibbered, this can’t be happening, you’re having a nightmare, Jolie, this doesn’t happen to girls from central Pennsylvania, wake up, for the love of God, wake up, WAKE UP—

Her eyes widened. Even screaming, the nightmare was still there.

“Stop! I can help you!”

The drill hung motionless below her, Snow’s face materializing next to it. “Pretty pie,” he said. “Mommy’s little love, Daddy’s little hope, twice as sweet as honey, twice as clean as soap.”

“Please.”

“What makes you think I need your help, pretty pie?”

“You…you made a map.”

“Map?”

“Of the hospital,” Jolie said, “on a Bible page, showing all the exits. So you could find your way out. The cops took it from you. I can help you get out.”

Now he was almost laughing. “What makes you think I want out?”

She stared at him.

“Oh, you can help me, all right, pretty pie.” He raised the drill bit up to her face. “You can put this in your mouth.”

“What?”

“Suck on it. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”

Before she quite knew it, Jolie found herself complying. She opened her mouth to respond and almost instantly felt curved metal press eagerly over her lips, clicking against her teeth, the hooked end of the drill bit grazing her tongue, triggering her gag reflex. She shut her eyes. It didn’t help. Not at all.