Some shrinks helped, some didn’t. But the most important factor—time—worked its patient magic and Theresa became someone other than the Sleeping Doll, survivor of a childhood tragedy. She was a student, friend, occasional girlfriend, veterinary assistant, not bad sprinter in the fifty-and the hundred-yard dash, guitarist who could play Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” and do the diminished chord run up the neck without a single squeak on the strings.

Now, though, a setback. The killer was out of jail, true. But that wasn’t the real problem. No, it was the way her aunt was handling everything. It was like reversing the clock, sending her back in time, six, seven, oh, God, eight years. Theresa felt as if she were the Sleeping Doll once again, all the gains erased.

Honey, honey, wake up, don’t be afraid. I’m a policewoman. See this badge? Why don’t you get your clothes and go into your bathroom and get changed.

Her aunt was now panicked, edgy, paranoid. It was like in that HBO series she’d watched when she was over at Bradley’s last year. About a prison. If something bad happened, the guards would lock down the place.

Theresa, the Sleeping Doll, was in lockdown. Stuck here in Hogwarts, in Middle Earth…in Oz…

The green prison.

Hey, that’s sweet, she thought bitterly: Daniel Pell is out of prison and I’m stuck inside one.

Theresa picked up the poetry book again, thinking of her English test. She read two more lines.

Borrrring.

Theresa then noticed, through the chain-link fence at the end of the property, a car ease past, braking quickly, it seemed, as the driver looked through the bushes her way. A moment’s hesitation and then the car continued on.

Theresa planted her feet and the swinging stopped.

The car could belong to anyone. Neighbors, one of the kids on break from school…. She wasn’t worried—not too much. Of course, with her aunt’s media blackout, she had no idea if Daniel Pell had been rearrested or was last seen heading for Napa. But that was crazy. Thanks to her aunt she was practically in the witness protection program. How could he possibly find her?

Still, she’d go sneak a look at the computer, see what was going on.

A faint twist in her stomach.

Theresa stood and headed for the house.

Okay, we’re bugging a little now.

She looked behind her, back at the gap through the bushes at the far end of their property. No car. Nothing.

And turning back to the house, Theresa stopped fast.

The man had scaled the tall fence twenty feet away, between her and the house. He looked up, breathing hard from the effort, from where he landed on his knees beside two thick azaleas. His hand was bleeding, cut on the jagged top of the six-foot chain link.

It was him. It was Daniel Pell!

She gasped.