“Calm down,” Vince said quietly, his own heart beating like a trip hammer. “Calm down. You’re all right. It’s all right. Just take a deep breath.”

He felt the tension drain out of Zahn from the top down until he all but went limp.

“You’re all right, Zander. Let’s just have a seat. You’re fine.”

He steered Zahn to the bench and continued holding on to him until he was seated. He looked stunned, like he had just awakened from a nightmare.

“I’m very tired now,” Zahn said in a small, weak voice. “I have to rest now. I’m very tired. I don’t know why. Why am I so tired, Vince?”

“It’s okay, Zander,” Vince said. “You should rest. It’s been a rough time for you.”

“I’m sorry you have to go now, Vince,” he murmured. “I’m very tired.” He looked at his watch. “Rudy will be coming soon.”

Thank God, Vince thought. He didn’t want to leave Zahn alone now. He seemed exhausted and confused almost in the way of someone who had had a violent grand mal seizure.

“I’m just going to sit right outside, Zander, until Rudy gets here.”

“Rudy is bringing my groceries,” Zahn mumbled. “I can’t go shopping. I can’t do that. I find that very upsetting to go shopping. Rudy does that for me.”

“That’s good,” Vince said. “You should lie down now, Zander.”

“Yes, I’ll lie down, thank you. Thank you very much, Vince,” Zahn murmured.

He lay down right there on the bench, curling into a ball and going instantly to sleep.

Vince went out onto the front step and sat down. For the first time in ten years he wished he had a cigarette. Zahn’s meltdown had been much bigger than he ever would have anticipated. It bothered him to think he had pushed too hard. His instincts were usually better than that.

He cursed the bullet in his brain for knocking his timing off. A little frontal lobe damage. He wasn’t as patient as he used to be.

Then again—to cut himself a break—he had never encountered anyone quite like Zander Zahn before. It was difficult to know how far to go with a mind as intricately complex and closed to the understanding of “normal” people as Zahn’s. It was one thing to goad a psychopath into an outburst, and something quite different to do the same thing to a fragile individual like Zander Zahn.

At the same time, seeing Zahn lose it was valuable information. Could Marissa Fordham have done something to trigger that kind of mental break in him? Could she have lost her patience with him, made a remark that cut him in the same way his mother might have done years ago?