Ugly red blotches worked their way across Mitchell’s face. “Fuck you, you fucking prick. You weren’t any fucking help last time. You let him get me. This is your fault, all your fucking fault, and if I want to be hysterical, I’m going to be out-of-this-fucking-world hysterical.”

Hazard stayed where he was a moment longer; then he stood, moved back around the desk, and dropped into his chair. He worried the drawers that Mitchell had opened back into place, and then he lined up the laptop, running his finger across the trackpad in an invisible doodle. Mitchell cried for a while, but he wore himself out faster this time.

“I’m sorry,” Mitchell said.

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“I know it’s not your fault.”

Hazard nodded; his finger slid to a stop.

“It’s just,” Mitchell said, “I get so angry sometimes. And I’m angry because it’s easier to be angry than to be scared.”

Hazard nodded again.

“Emery, I didn’t mean it.”

Hazard cleared his throat and said, “Here’s what I don’t understand: this psychopath is methodical. He plans. When he abducted you, Phil, and Rory, it was flawless, and then he managed to erase every trace of himself from the sub-basement at the college where he held you. Everything he’s done, it’s been engineered with incredible attention to detail. So why would he show up at your door last night, bumble around, wake you up with a shoddy lockpick job, and then run away when you shouted at him?”

Mitchell shook his head. “He’s human. He makes mistakes.”

“But this? This isn’t a mistake, Mitchell. This is sloppy. It’s . . . it’s amateur. If he wanted to get you, he’d have the whole thing mapped out. Hell, he’s waited this long; why choose last night to try to break into your place without any apparent planning?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, but I know it was him. I know it. He’s back, and he’s going to get me, and he’s . . . he’s going to do it, I know he is.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“Who am I kidding?” Mitchell flicked the wadded tissues across the desk. “Of course he will. Because he just has to wait. I can’t pay you to guard me forever. And I can’t . . . I can’t live inside a bunker. I mean, I have to go to work, I have to go to the grocery store. And one day he’s going to be there, and you’ll be living your own life, and he’ll get me.” Mitchell rested his face in his hands for a moment. Then he stood. “Christ, what am I doing?”

“Let’s go take a look at your apartment.”

“No, this is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid; we can do a lot to make this asshole’s life difficult, Mitchell. We’re going to make sure you’re safe at home, and I’m going to be with you whenever you’re out of the house. And I’m going to find this psycho. And that’s going to be the end of it.”