“How did it happen?” Shaye asked, hoping the prompt would push Emma past the mental block she’d constructed to protect herself.

Emma stared at the wall behind Shaye. “I was cooking. It was my day off and it was sunny with a cool breeze. The kitchen window was open and I remember a lawn mower running somewhere nearby. I didn’t hear David come in, but I’ll never forget that moment when I knew he was there. I had just finished washing a cucumber in the sink and was about to slice it when the whistling started.”

“Whistling?”

Emma swallowed hard and nodded. “‘Three Blind Mice.’ When he came back from Iraq, he’d whistle it every time…every time he changed into the monster.”

Shaye frowned as she made a note. Professionalism required her to be objective and focused on the facts, but she couldn’t deny that was creepy as hell. “I can’t imagine…” She started her reply but stopped when she realized she was being disingenuous. Shaye might not be able to imagine exactly how Emma felt, but she had a damned good idea.

“It was the most terrifying moment of my life,” Emma said. “Even more horrifying than when I killed him.” She looked directly at Shaye. “When I have nightmares, I don’t see his death. I only see that sink, the water still running, the knife in the bottom—stainless steel gleaming against white porcelain. I feel my pulse racing, the blood draining from my face, my hands shaking, my heart pounding in my chest that’s constricted so tight I can’t take in even the smallest of breath. And then I hear the whistling. I wake up screaming, soaked with sweat, sometimes violently ill.”

Shaye felt her back tighten and her pulse tick up a notch as Emma talked. She knew all about those kind of dreams—the kind where you lived everything as if it were happening over and over again. The kind that made you wish, in the darkest moments, that you’d just drift on to the never-ending dreamless kind of sleep.

Emma shifted on the couch and shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s not the kind of information you need.”

“I’m here to listen to anything you want to tell me,” Shaye said.

Emma shot her a grateful look. “I couldn’t move. Not at first, but then he grabbed my shoulder. His fingers dug into my skin and I’m sure it hurt, but I don’t remember anything except the rage that coursed through me. Anger and fear and a million other emotions that all arrived at the same conclusion—he was there to kill me.”

Shaye nodded, no doubt in her mind that Emma was right.

“I felt the cold, hard butt of the pistol as he pressed it to my temple,” she said. “I actually saw it, just like everyone says, my life flashing before me. I always thought it was a cliché, but it was real, my dad teaching me how to ride a bicycle, the mermaid cake my mom made for my fifth birthday. It was all there, for one suspended second, and then it was gone.”

She leaned forward on the couch and looked Shaye directly in the eyes. “I was going to die.”

“So you had nothing to lose.”

Emma nodded. “David was an expert martial artist. While he was away, I started studying kung fu. I never told him because I wanted it to be a surprise. With only six months of lessons, I’m not very good…”

“But you caught him by surprise.” Shaye’s respect for Emma ticked up another notch. Most people would have frozen, died right there in front of the sink, too frightened to even raise a hand.

“I lifted the knife from the sink, praying as my fingers curled around the handle. As soon as I had it in my grip, I ducked and whirled around, knocking the pistol out of his hand with my arm, and sliced his throat with the knife.”

Emma’s voice broke on the last words and she sniffed. “I knew what I was doing…with the knife.”

“Because you’re a nurse.”

“Yes. I severed the carotid on the right side of his neck. His eyes were so big, his entire expression one of disbelief. He flung his hands over his throat. The blood squirted out from between his fingers. I…I knew it would be a lot. I’ve seen that artery nicked and it was bad, but I didn’t expect…”

“No amount of education could prepare you for something like that.”

“But I’m a nurse. I know…”

“You know what the body is supposed to do, but you couldn’t know how you would react if you were the one who caused it. Your training is to treat injuries, not cause them.”

Emma’s eyes widened and Shaye silently cursed. “I’m sorry,” Shaye said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. You didn’t upset me. Quite the contrary. I’ve been struggling to understand my reaction, my emotions, and I never thought about it that way. Thank you.” She shook her head. “It didn’t take long for him to lose consciousness. Probably only two or three minutes, but it seemed like forever. I was afraid to move, even for the phone, but when he finally passed out, I grabbed my cell phone and called 911.”

“How did the police handle it?”

“David was dead when they arrived. The clean cut coupled with the heightened emotional state maximized blood loss. The policemen who responded were thorough. One of them had taken my statement when I’d filed on David for the abuse. He was so kind. The other was less so—older and rather abrupt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted it all over.”

“Was there an investigation?”

“Yes, but it was short. Given the evidence, the prosecutor declined to press charges and I was free to get on with my life. As well as one can after, you know.”

“Give it time,” Shaye said, slightly aggravated at herself for repeating her psychiatrist’s words again. It was even more irritating when the woman was right.

“I know. I kept telling myself that, and for a couple of days, things started to ease a bit, enough to get a glimpse of normal. But then…”

“Tell me about the stalking.”

“At first, I didn’t think anything of it—an item out of place in my house, a noise outside in the middle of the night, a door open that I thought I’d closed. Noises happen, and given my mental state, it was completely reasonable to assume I’d moved or opened something and forgotten. But then I started feeling like I was being watched. I never saw anyone, but I could feel someone out there, hiding in the shadows.”

“What about your friends? Did they notice anything odd?”

“I don’t really have any close friends. I met David right after returning to New Orleans, and we spent all our available time together before he left for Iraq. My high school friends had all married and moved away. I went to the movies a couple of times with coworkers, but then my aunt died and all my free time was wrapped up in going through the house and getting it ready for David to come home.”

“Did you make a police report?”

“And tell them what? That I could feel someone watching me? I had no proof, and the only person who wanted to harm me was dead. They wouldn’t have taken me seriously. Hell, I wasn’t completely convinced myself. Not until two nights ago.”

“What happened?”

Emma told Shaye about the break-in. About hiding in the secret room behind the closet. About the whistling and seeing her husband in the glimmer of moonlight.

Shaye didn’t take a single note while Emma spoke. She didn’t even try. Every inch of her was right there with Emma in that secret room, peering through that tiny hole…seeing an impossible nightmare right there in front of her. When she finally finished, Emma collapsed in tears. Shaye jumped up and grabbed a paper towel from the roll on the counter and handed it to her.

Emma wiped her eyes and nose and sniffed for a minute more. Shaye sat back on the end table, feeling helpless and completely out of her element. She’d spent the past three years working for a local agency, earning her hours to get her license, but she’d never worked on anything with an emotional component, and certainly not a deadly one.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said once she regained a semblance of control. “I thought I could handle repeating it.”