“If you were subject to recurrent nightmares like most of us with PTSD, you might become more of a reader. Sleep is definitely not our friend.”

Jillian scanned the list of SUD scores taped on the wall beside the bed.

“You have the nightmares often?”

“I never used to before the explosion and Sarah’s death. Since then it’s like the event got branded into my brain. I have variations of the same bad dream almost every night, and so far there’s not been a damn thing I can do to keep them from happening. Last night, you were in there.”

She sat on the bed beside him, her expression playful.

“Me, in a nightmare,” she sighed like a starstruck teen. “Now that’s something a girl doesn’t hear every day. Tell me about it.”

“I don’t think so.”

She caressed his face, and again looked deeply and seriously into his eyes.

“It’s okay to tell me,” she said.

“All right, but it wasn’t pretty. It started off as a dream, a really nice one actually. But then it ended with the same truck that killed Sarah hitting you instead, cutting you in two. I’m not always the driver, but last night I was.”

If the mention of Sarah’s name or the horrific outcome of the nightmare upset Jillian, it did not register in her expression.

“Tell me about the nice part of the dream,” she said.

She leaned her body against his. He tingled at the feel of her skin pressed against his own.

“We were kissing,” he said.

“Like this?”

She held his face in both her hands. First their lips met, then parted. Their tongues explored with increasing urgency. The feel of her hands caressing the back of his neck and the gentle pull of her fingers through his hair sent shivers through him. Still kissing, she eased him onto his back and nestled in next to him.

“Yes,” Nick breathed into her ear. “We were kissing just like that.”

NICK HAD dozed off, perhaps only for a few minutes, when his cell phone startled him awake. Images of their lovemaking refused to leave. He could not believe that it had happened and could not wait for it to happen again. Reaching across Jillian, he answered the phone and set it on speaker.

“Hello, this is Nick Garrity,” he said, having to clear his voice after the first word came out as a croak.

“Three years ago, Umberto Vasquez was transported by ambulance from the Singh Medical Spa and Cosmetic Surgery Center to Shelby Stone Memorial.”

“Go on,” Nick said to Mollender.

“Three years and one month ago to the day, to be exact. Vasquez was brought by a private ambulance, Littleton Ambulance Services, it looks like. I’ve tried Google, Yahoo, and a couple of other places, but I can’t find them, and I’ve never heard of them.”

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Saul.”

“Maybe not. But I will take that gift your friend Ms. Coates was kind enough to make for me-that is if she hasn’t incinerated it.”

Jillian nodded vigorously and gave Nick a thumbs-up.

“Nope, she still has it. She’s an optimist. You’re a good man, Saul Mollender,” Nick said.

“Not really. I’m a bit of a dud. I know that. I did it because I believe Andy would have wanted me to. And I trust you. Not really sure why. I guess when you spend your day reading medical records you forget the humanity that goes into those pages. Perhaps you reminded me of that.”

It was then Nick realized Jillian had started getting dressed.

“Saul, hold on a second.” Pulling the phone up to cover the receiver with his hand, Nick asked, “Where you going?”

“That date. Belle was a nursing student at Shelby Stone on the day Umberto was brought there. I’m going back to the hospital before my shift to see if I can catch up with Nancy Lane at the nursing school. She’s been like a mother to each of her students for over twenty years, and she keeps incredible records. There’s a chance that she’ll be able to figure out where Belle was working that day. I’m certain that’s where her path and Umberto’s crossed and that’s how she knew about Nick Fury.”

“Good idea. Saul, sorry, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, what floor did Umberto go to after he was dropped off at Shelby Stone?”

“Well, that’s where it gets really interesting,” Mollender said.

“How so?”

“There are no other entries in his record.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a word. According to all I’ve been able to find, Umberto Vasquez was delivered at Shelby Stone Memorial at ten o’clock that morning. Then he just disappeared from our records. It’s as if he simply dropped off the face of the earth.”

On the way south, Jillian phoned Nancy Lane, dean of the nursing school at the Shelby Stone Institute of Health Professions. She had seen the woman at Belle’s funeral, and then received several concerned calls from her after that.

During the horrible days following the fire in her condo, when it appeared as though Jillian was destined for an extended stay in a Residence Inn or crashed out in a succession of friends’ guest rooms, Lane had come through for her as she had in so many situations for so many students. One phone call was all it took to secure a room for Jillian indefinitely in Anne Marie Cosco Hall, the nursing school dorm.

Lane was not in her office when Jillian called, but her secretary felt certain she would be back before leaving for the day. In addition to all her help, the dean was one of the few who did not discount that Belle had been murdered. Hopefully, knowing that Jillian’s request to meet pertained to her sister would be enough to keep Lane in her office.

With time to think during the sluggish drive to D.C., Jillian’s mind wandered to the beautiful and entirely unexpected afternoon spent in Nick’s arms. Her desire to take their relationship to the next level had, she acknowledged, been there almost from the start. He was a beautiful, deeply caring man, with demons that were keeping him somewhat at bay. But she felt ready and anxious to help him drive them from his life. All the two of them needed now was time.

Belle had once likened Jillian’s dating life to the Oregon Trail, joking that it had begun along the smooth tracks of the hopes and desires of her admirers, only to become littered along the way with pieces of their broken hearts. If only her sister could be here to meet Nick. Jillian’s feelings for him were unlike any she had ever experienced before, and after they had made love, her mind flashed like neon with a giddy, but also panicky thought-this was it. Nick Garrity was the one.

Logjammed by the heavy afternoon traffic, Jillian grew increasingly anxious about her chances of catching the dean in. By the time she had parked and trekked from the garage to the office, she had all but given up. She had also given up intellectualizing her feelings for Nick, and was ready to let emotion guide her.

Lane’s office door was closed and there was no light spilling out from underneath it. Jillian cursed softly. Thanks to Saul Mollender, they had taken a huge step forward in connecting Belle to Umberto Vasquez, and possibly learning more about why she had been killed. Armed with the bewildering information that Umberto’s medical record had him going by ambulance from the Singh Center to Shelby Stone, where his arrival was never documented, Jillian wanted to move as quickly as possible. Something was very wrong with Singh’s clinic, and now it seemed quite possible that something was rotten at Shelby Stone as well.

She made a tentative knock, then sighed with relief when she heard movement from within. Nancy Lane, in a charcoal business suit, embraced her warmly. In her early sixties, the dean had grayed over the years, and with her granny glasses and jovial laugh, reminded some of Santa’s wife. But she was a force. She had almost single-handedly built the nursing school into one of the top in the country, and was showing no signs of slowing.