“Maybe,” she whispered. “I don’t know. I just . . .” What was she doing creeping along the side of Vicki’s house? “I’m not leaving without my documents.” But even as the words fell from her lips, she knew it was a lie. She was operating on sheer intuition because the sense of urgency had built to a roar. Sarah broke into a jog. A litany pulsed in her brain. Hurry . . . hurry . . . hurry . . . Her heart had started pounding crazy loud in her chest. When she rounded the corner of the town house, she suddenly knew why. Everything screeched to a halt. Didn’t even need the flashlight. Could see Vicki’s body sprawled on the flagstone pavers beside the round bistro patio table for two.

“Is she dead . . . ?” Her words dropped almost soundlessly on the night air. Vicki’s nightgown was hiked up. Her neck and back were arched. Only a sliver of her face was visible, but that, along with her exposed abdomen, bare hips and legs, looked an almost unnatural white in the moonlight. One of the delicately wrought chairs was overturned beside her. Was she sitting on it? Did she have a stroke or a heart attack?

Sarah felt Mick disengage his phone from her frozen hand. The movement broke Sarah’s momentary paralysis. By the time she’d reached Vicki’s side, she could hear Mick talking to the 911 operators. “I’d like to report an emergency—”

Sarah shoved the upturned chair out of the way and dropped to her knees. “Vicki, can you hear me?” She shook the woman’s shoulder. There was no response. Vicki’s head was already arched back. Sarah checked that her airway was clear.

“Is she breathing?” Mick asked. Sarah stared at Vicki’s chest.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell in this light.” She tugged the hem of Vicki’s nightgown down enough to cover her privates. “I’ll see if I can find a pulse.” She placed her fingers against the side of Vicki’s neck. Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch.

“Hello? Yes. We’re at Five Fifty Twentieth Street, in the backyard. There’s a female down. We don’t know the cause. Just arrived on the scene. She’s unresponsive.”

Under Sarah’s fingers, she thought she felt a faint flutter. Suddenly, Vicki spasmed violently, her arms and legs rigid. A harsh, ragged gasp for air ripped out of her gaping mouth. The sudden movement, the inhuman noise, triggered Sarah’s highly honed fight-or-flight instincts, but she forced herself back down to her knees. “She’s alive,” Sarah heard Mick bark into the phone. “But something is very wrong.”