deck of a ship, a man's arms holding her close. She closed her eyes, her body humming with anticipation, but then opened them as his grip on her waist tightened. Richard grinned down at her.
"You'll always be mine, Ella," he said, holding her fast when she tried to run.
She thrashed beneath the heavy quilt, fighting to escape Richard. The thick collection of satin and velvet had once saved Rosa's life, but it was powerless to protect Cassie from her nightmares.
Finally, she left her dreams behind. As always, she woke alone in a silent house. The same dark gloom that had greeted her this morning shadowed the room even though her bedside clock said four-fifty pm. Cassie lay in bed a few minutes, fantasizing about sunlit beaches and ocean surf.
Her grandparents had taken her to Wildwood every summer when she was a child. A month before he died, her grandfather, Padraic, had won the ceramic ballerina sitting on her dresser there, at a Boardwalk arcade. As the ancient furnace fired up, making the lace curtains ruffle, she tried to pretend the movement came from an ocean breeze.
The February wind rattled the windows, its icy tendrils shattering her fantasy, and she gave up. She gathered enough energy to shower and feed herself while the cat watched, forever hopeful.
Several messages had come in while she slept. The first was from Richard. "I'm sorry about what happened last night." His voice sounded sincere and earnest. "I'll see you tonight. I promise things will be different this time."
Fran's voice came through the machine next, eager with excitement. "I've been playing around with this treatment failure idea and I think there's more going on. The fentephex is just the tip of the iceberg. I'm staying late at work, come talk to me before you start your shift. Bye."
More to the FX thefts? Did Fran mean more than one person involved? Or had other drugs gone missing as well? Cassie tapped the edge of the buffet. Maybe she should call Drake. No, Fran would have already called him. Best just to get over to Three Rivers and see what Fran had found.
Drake would probably already be there, huddled with Fran, both sharing a joke, the mystery solved by the time Cassie arrived.
The roads were slick as she drove from Point Breeze to Three Rivers. Sleet flung itself at her windshield with the ferocity of a kamikaze. Cassie pulled her Impreza into the employee parking lot and raced across the blacktop, dodging raindrops.
Fran would be waiting for her. It would be nice if she had solved the riddle of the FX source. Anything to put a stop to this epidemic of dead and dying children.
Cassie hesitated at the stairwell, wanting to go up to the fourth floor and check on Brian Winston and Jane Doe, but there was no time. As she opened the door leading down to the Annex tunnel, her cell phone trilled. Probably Fran.
"I'm on my way," she said into the receiver.
"You'd better hurry," came a muffled voice.
Cassie frowned, definitely not Fran. "I'm sorry, who is this?"
"How fast can you run?" the voice continued. "Your friend is counting on you. Hurry or it will be too late."
"Who is this? I think you have the wrong number." A clenching in her chest told her the caller had not misdialed.
"Ask your friend."
"Cassie." Fran's voice now, high pitched and strangled with fear. "Please hurry. He says he'll hurt me."
"Fran?" Her voice reverberated from the concrete walls of the stairwell, echoing with the pounding of her heart. "Where are you? Are you all right?"
"Head back to your car, Dr. Hart," the first voice returned. "Run. Run fast."
Clutching the phone so tightly she feared it might slip from her sweaty grasp, she did as she was told and raced back the way she'd come. "Please, don't hurt her."
She rushed past a security guard at the hospital entrance and beckoned for him to accompany her. The guard looked at her as if she was crazy, but heaved
"You'll always be mine, Ella," he said, holding her fast when she tried to run.
She thrashed beneath the heavy quilt, fighting to escape Richard. The thick collection of satin and velvet had once saved Rosa's life, but it was powerless to protect Cassie from her nightmares.
Finally, she left her dreams behind. As always, she woke alone in a silent house. The same dark gloom that had greeted her this morning shadowed the room even though her bedside clock said four-fifty pm. Cassie lay in bed a few minutes, fantasizing about sunlit beaches and ocean surf.
Her grandparents had taken her to Wildwood every summer when she was a child. A month before he died, her grandfather, Padraic, had won the ceramic ballerina sitting on her dresser there, at a Boardwalk arcade. As the ancient furnace fired up, making the lace curtains ruffle, she tried to pretend the movement came from an ocean breeze.
The February wind rattled the windows, its icy tendrils shattering her fantasy, and she gave up. She gathered enough energy to shower and feed herself while the cat watched, forever hopeful.
Several messages had come in while she slept. The first was from Richard. "I'm sorry about what happened last night." His voice sounded sincere and earnest. "I'll see you tonight. I promise things will be different this time."
Fran's voice came through the machine next, eager with excitement. "I've been playing around with this treatment failure idea and I think there's more going on. The fentephex is just the tip of the iceberg. I'm staying late at work, come talk to me before you start your shift. Bye."
More to the FX thefts? Did Fran mean more than one person involved? Or had other drugs gone missing as well? Cassie tapped the edge of the buffet. Maybe she should call Drake. No, Fran would have already called him. Best just to get over to Three Rivers and see what Fran had found.
Drake would probably already be there, huddled with Fran, both sharing a joke, the mystery solved by the time Cassie arrived.
The roads were slick as she drove from Point Breeze to Three Rivers. Sleet flung itself at her windshield with the ferocity of a kamikaze. Cassie pulled her Impreza into the employee parking lot and raced across the blacktop, dodging raindrops.
Fran would be waiting for her. It would be nice if she had solved the riddle of the FX source. Anything to put a stop to this epidemic of dead and dying children.
Cassie hesitated at the stairwell, wanting to go up to the fourth floor and check on Brian Winston and Jane Doe, but there was no time. As she opened the door leading down to the Annex tunnel, her cell phone trilled. Probably Fran.
"I'm on my way," she said into the receiver.
"You'd better hurry," came a muffled voice.
Cassie frowned, definitely not Fran. "I'm sorry, who is this?"
"How fast can you run?" the voice continued. "Your friend is counting on you. Hurry or it will be too late."
"Who is this? I think you have the wrong number." A clenching in her chest told her the caller had not misdialed.
"Ask your friend."
"Cassie." Fran's voice now, high pitched and strangled with fear. "Please hurry. He says he'll hurt me."
"Fran?" Her voice reverberated from the concrete walls of the stairwell, echoing with the pounding of her heart. "Where are you? Are you all right?"
"Head back to your car, Dr. Hart," the first voice returned. "Run. Run fast."
Clutching the phone so tightly she feared it might slip from her sweaty grasp, she did as she was told and raced back the way she'd come. "Please, don't hurt her."
She rushed past a security guard at the hospital entrance and beckoned for him to accompany her. The guard looked at her as if she was crazy, but heaved
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