"That better be your mom," the girl said behind him, sullen with jealousy. Martin raised a finger very close to her face to shut her up. She slapped it away.

"I heard." He spoke calmly into the phone, though his heartbeat had quickened at the fear in Sheila's voice.

James Barclay had murdered three pregnant women, each in a different state, each the victim of a rape months prior to their deaths. No evidence had linked Barclay to the rapes, though it had been deemed inconsequential in the jury's eyes since the larger crimes were the murders of mother and child.

The state of New York put Barclay away six years ago. His lawyer had convinced him to plead not guilty by reason of insanity. Based on Sheila's expert testimony, the jury had believed Barclay was insane. Rather than serve out his sentence in prison, he'd been placed in the Central New York Psychiatric Center, instead of the "S" block of the Mid-State Correctional Facility just down the road, where Martin believed he should have been sent, insane or not.

"Do you know how it happened? How he got out?"

"He just never showed up for his meds last night." Her voice was thick with tears. "He just vanished."

"Last night? When did you hear?"

He struggled to keep from sounding shaken. To not accuse her of withholding life-and-death information, particularly since he could be accused of the same.

He'd never forgotten Barclay's promise. And Sheila hadn't forgotten the promise Barclay had made her.

"An hour ago." She let out a big, shuddering sigh. "Two, maybe. I've been drinking—"

"I could tell."

A pause on the other end.

"Do you need me to come back?"

The girl slapped his shoulder hard enough to sting. He threw a fierce glare over his shoulder and she shrank back against the pillows. The ankh rattled between her perky breasts.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Martin," Sheila said some two-hundred miles away. He knew what she meant without her having to say it. She was vulnerable. In such a state, anything could happen between them.

Not that he wanted things to change. The way they'd left things after Witch Hunter was finally released, he couldn't imagine ever falling back into that easy, comfortable and somehow still crazy-hot relationship they had during the trial and the few months afterwards. It was only by the skin of Sheila's teeth they were able to remain friends after the book launch.

Their unique bond, that Barclay wanted them both dead, kept them on speaking terms.

"Finish the tour," she said resolutely.

"I've only got two more shops," he said, meaning he could easily cancel if she needed him. "These shit-pit towns, Sheila. You wouldn't believe the wackos I've met here."

Tish gave him the finger, pressing it right up against his nose to be sure he saw it.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked, using the absolute last of his patience to ignore the finger until she pulled it away out of boredom.