He stretched his arm, stared down at his watch, and said, “You may begin.”

A man sitting in front of Regan whispered, “This is going to be fun. I’m going to start with my wife.”

“You mean your ex-wife,” the woman sitting next to him said.

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll put her on my list too.”

Cordie looked appalled. “Can you believe this? Shields has turned the group into ghouls.”

“Hush,” Regan whispered. “We better act like we’re with the program. Start writing.”

“No matter how obscene this exercise is?”

“No matter.”

“Well, then…”

“Well, then what?”

Cordie smiled. “Might as well have a little fun.”

They both pulled out their notepads. Regan wrote across the top of the paper, “Murder List” and underlined the words twice. Underneath she wrote, “People I Want Dead.” Now what? Stalling for time, she tapped her pen against the folder until the man in front of her turned and frowned.

“Do you mind? You’re distracting me.”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

She had a feeling the bodyguard was still watching her. Maybe she was being paranoid. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up, then quickly lowered her head. Nope. Not paranoid. The creep was still staring. What was his problem?

Cordie was sniffling and digging through her purse. Regan handed her a tissue.

“Five more minutes,” Shields called out. “And then I’ll circle the room and I want everyone to hold up their notepads so I can see the number of names.”

Uh-oh. Regan began to write. Shields, bodyguard one, and bodyguard two all made her list. Who else? Ms. Patsy, that rude saleslady from Dickerson’s. Oh, yes, she mustn’t forget that horrible Detective Sweeney. The world would definitely be a better place without him. She was about to add Lieutenant Lewis to her list because he’d been so vicious to that young man, but time was up.

She’d had no idea she was so bloodthirsty. Shields clapped his hands. “Pens down. Everyone hold up your notepad so I can see them. That’s right. Good. Good,” he praised. “Everyone participated. Now here’s what I’d like you to do. One by one come up to the fireplace. Tear the paper out of the notepad and shred it. Then you’ll throw it in the fire and watch the flames devour the names. Shall we begin?”

“Will that get rid of the hurt and the poison?” a woman asked.

“It’s a symbolic gesture,” Shields explained. “Meant to open your mind to all the possibilities.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cordie asked.

“We get to open our minds to the possibility that we could kill all of our enemies,” Regan explained with mock enthusiasm.

“Shall we begin?” Shields called out.

Sophie was the first in line. She was smiling at Shields as she walked past.

“Un-oh, Sophie’s flirting,” Cordie whispered. “And Shields is loving the attention.”

“How can she? He’s so… repulsive.”

“This is b.s. Can you believe he actually charges money for this?”

“Shields said there were five hundred people signed up for this seminar. Multiply that number by the thousand dollars each paid, and…”

“He’s making a bloody fortune.”

“I can’t believe we’ve committed an entire weekend to this.”

“Let’s get in line and then get out of here. I’m starving.”

Regan had just picked up her purse when her cell phone rang. The sound earned her a glare from both bodyguards.

She answered the phone, quickly gathered up her things, and went out into the hallway while Cordie got in line to toss her list in the fire.

Emily Milan was on the line. She was in one of her moods again and didn’t waste words.

“You didn’t give me Aiden’s latest notes,” she snapped. “And as a result, the last meeting was a complete disaster. I’m not going to be able to do my job if you continue to play these childish games, Regan.”

“I’m certain Henry printed out everything that was e-mailed,” she said. “I didn’t erase it, and I’ll be happy to check again when I get back to the hotel, but-”

“I expect those papers on my desk tomorrow.”

“I’m sure everything my brother sent was printed,” she repeated.

“Do I have to talk to Aiden about this?”

Regan counted to five. It didn’t help. “Please do.”

She snapped the phone shut and stood there glaring at it. “Oh, you are so going on my list,” she muttered.

She wished she could have fired Emily right then and there, over the phone. She couldn’t, though. She didn’t have the authority. Thunder rumbled close by, interrupting her mental tirade. She shoved the phone into her purse and went back inside to find Cordie and Sophie so she could get out of there before her mood completely soured. She was pulling the heavy door closed behind her when she noticed one of the bodyguards was down on his knees in front of the hearth turning the gas jets off. She guessed she’d missed the fire cleansing ritual.

She couldn’t find Sophie, but Cordie was where she’d left her, still sitting in the uncomfortable folding chair against the back wall. She sat down beside her and whispered, “Could we leave now?”

“In a minute,” Cordie said. “Shields is telling us what he thinks is a super-inspirational story about one of his students.”

“Students? He teaches a class?”

Cordie shook her head. “He’s calling us his students. All the people who have attended his past seminars are former students. How can anyone with half a brain fall for his act? He’s such a fraud.”

“Look around,” Regan whispered. “The room’s full of unhappy people desperately wanting to change their lives. He’s telling them what they want to hear.”

“He also gives them someone to blame instead of taking responsibility for their own behavior. Sophie was right. He does prey on the vulnerable.”

“I’m going to ask Aiden to fire Emily,” Regan said.

Cordie bolted upright. “Really.” She looked thrilled.

Regan repeated the conversation she’d had with the obnoxious woman. “What would you do?”

“Make Aiden fire her skinny little ass,” she whispered. “You should hire his next assistant. He’s obviously looking for the wrong type.”

“What type is that?”

“Young, beautiful, blond, thin…”

“What do you care what she looks like?”

Cordie shrugged. “I don’t care,” she said quickly. “You’re the one complaining.”

Regan sighed. “I can’t fire her. She doesn’t work for me. Besides, Aiden needs help…”

“So? Get someone else to help him.”

Shields’s volume increased as he finished his story. Applause followed. He waited for the noise to die down, then announced that the spontaneous session was over and to please mingle. Within seconds the psychologist was surrounded by women fighting for his attention.

“Is it raining?” Cordie asked. She lifted a strand of her long hair, sighed, and shoved it back behind her ear. “It’s raining, all right. My hair’s frizzing already.”

“Nonsense,” Regan said. “Your hair doesn’t frizz. It curls.”

Cordie dug through her purse, found a hair clip, and went to work pulling her hair into a twist.

“I’ll go get the car and pull up under the overhang. You find Sophie and drag her outside if you have to,” Regan said.

She gathered up her things, tucked the folder under her arm, and headed out. The mood in the room was still jovial, many of the participants laughing nervously and talking with one another. Such eagerness, such hope, she thought. She was sure she heard Sophie’s distinctive laughter. How in heaven’s name could she stomach being so close to Shields?

Regan seemed to be the only person in a hurry to leave. The lighting on the porch and around the building was abysmal. She could barely see her hand in front of her face.

If she had been a pessimist, she would have thought the rain had been waiting for her, because the second she stepped out from under the overhang, the soft drizzle turned into a downpour.

She sprinted across the parking lot, the rain pelting her face. Since she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, she used the blue folder to try to block the raindrops so she could see where she was going.