Her voice seemed to fill the room with its rich, sultry timbre. Yet there was an uncanny intonation, almost childlike. “No, Mrs. Blaylock, it won’t,” Tom said. “You’ll find that nothing we do will be in the least uncomfortable. The facility is designed to insure you a good night’s sleep.” Tom cleared his throat, whipped his fingers through his hair. “This system will read and analyze the electrical impulses that your brain makes when you sleep. It’s called Omnex and it’s the most advanced computer system of its kind in the world. As your sleep progresses to deeper and deeper stages, we’ll be watching and we’ll know not only where you stand but how your sleep compares to the various models we’ve developed here at Riverside.”

“He’s telling you it’s very advanced and wonderful,” Sarah said through a smile.

“If the computer analyzes the polysomnogram, what do you two do?”

Quite a well-informed question coming from a patient. Sarah was tempted to answer with the truth—they sat around and drank coffee. “We watch the graphs and try to form an overall picture of your personal sleeping pattern. And of course we watch for signs of your problem.”

“I’m not afraid to refer to it, Doctor Roberts. It’s called night terrors. Will you wake me up when they come?”

There was a plaintive note in her voice now that made Sarah want to comfort her. “I can’t promise you that, but we’ll be here if you do awaken. Let’s go down to the examining room, then you can use the patient’s living room for the evening or go to your cubicle, whichever you prefer.”

A glance inside the examining room told Sarah that it was properly prepared for the job she had to do. “Please take off your blouse Mrs. Blaylock. This will take only a few minutes.” Sarah put on her stethoscope. It was to be a cursory examination, over in a few minutes, intended to uncover only the most gross disease process.

Sarah was astonished to find Mrs. Blaylock naked when she turned around. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. I just wanted you to take off your blouse.”

Miriam Blaylock looked directly into her eyes. The moment was filled with tension. Mrs. Blaylock opened her mouth, seemed about to speak. The room was incredibly claustrophobic.

Before she realized she would do so, Sarah had herself spoken. “What do you want?”

“Want?” Miriam Blaylock parted her lips. “To be cured, Doctor.” There was something mean, almost a sneer, in her tone.

Sarah was embarrassed. “Just sit up on this table.” She gestured toward the examining table. Miriam slipped onto it, leaning back against her hands. Her legs were spread wide. It would have been obscene if the woman hadn’t seemed so utterly oblivious.