“Yes. Rachael Mack.”

“Right. Do me a favor and get Baldwin. I’ve been trying to reach him without luck. He’s supposed to be heading here, so he may be en route. Find him and let him know what’s happening. Talk to you in a bit.”

“Taylor. Watch yourself.”

“I will.”

Rachael was knocking on the door now. Hard. Taylor slapped the laptop shut. Looked at it critically. It was so thin… She stood and put the computer down the front of her jeans, sending a mental thank-you to Steve Jobs’s design team. The heavy wool sweater she wore covered both the laptop and the gun at the small of her back perfectly.

She went to the door and opened it. Rachael had a huge, winning smile on her face. If she knew something was up, she was one hell of an actress.

“Hiya. Hey there. How you feeling? Trixie said you were up and about. Want to come down and have lunch? You can meet Roland—properly, this time. I’m afraid he was a bit put out that I was so trashed last night. Then we couldn’t get down the drive. The truck kept sliding off to the side of the road. He’d forgotten the chains. So we gave up, hiked back up to the house. We had to stay here last night. He wasn’t all that thrilled, let me tell you. The kids are home with the nanny, and God knows what sort of trouble they’ve managed to get into.”

Taylor forced her voice to stay in a normal range. “That’s quite an adventure. Lunch sounds great. I’m actually starved, and I’d love to meet Roland.”

But I don’t plan to eat a bite with you anywhere around, you psycho bitch.

Dr. Maddee James, née Rachael Mack, didn’t seem to have a clue that Taylor was on to her. Which was helpful. Taylor shut the door to her suite and the two started off down the hall together.

“I was hoping you’d come down for our session this morning. Did you at least do the exercises I gave you?”

Taylor gave her own winning smile. She wasn’t too bad of an actress herself.

“Yeah. We maybe hit it too hard last night. Getting up this morning wasn’t exactly easy. Despite the hangover from hell, I did do the exercises. And I listened to the biofeedback tape. I kind of passed out last night after our party—haven’t done that in a while—woke up in the middle of the night with a horrid headache. I took all my meds, got back in bed and slept through till Trixie woke me. That melatonin is amazing. I need to get some back in the States. I owe you—no doctor has ever been able to cure my insomnia.”

Rachael touched Taylor’s back with the palm of her hand, between her shoulder blades. A reassuring pat. Taylor did her best not to cringe.

“You are so welcome. I’m glad it helped. So you listened to the tape. How did it make you feel?”

“So relaxed. I am feeling so much better. You’re doing wonders for me. I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You just did,” Rachael said. The cold snap in her voice was hard to miss. She didn’t want Taylor getting better. She wanted her dead. The tape proved it.

They were at the door to the second dining room now.

This would be Taylor’s only shot. She patted her front pocket.

“Oh, crap. I forgot my phone. I’m waiting for my fiancé to call. Listen, you go on in and sit down. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Oh, sure. No problem. See you in a minute.” Rachael went into the dining room without a backward glance.

The moment Rachael was inside the door, Taylor reversed course. She ran down the stairs, down the hall, back to the drawing room. All the while, the same three words ran through her head.

Evan’s not dead.

Evan’s not dead.

Evan’s not dead.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The door to the drawing room was closed. She didn’t think about it, just turned the handle and went inside. Crossed the room.

Rachael’s bag was gone.

Shit. She looked around a bit, thinking maybe one of the maids had moved it, but no, it was nowhere to be seen. What were the odds that Rachael hadn’t looked into the bag and noticed her laptop missing? It was a light little thing, it wouldn’t change the weight of the bag if she’d picked it up hastily.

“Looking for this?”

Taylor froze. Son of a bitch.

She turned slowly. Rachael was standing there, dangling her leather bag off two fingers, swinging it lightly back and forth.

“I can explain,” Taylor stammered.

Rachael’s sweet, disarming smile didn’t match her tone.

“Oh, I’m sure you can. May I have my laptop back? I assume you’re finished digging through my private life.”

Think fast, Taylor. Think fast.

“I was borrowing it to send my guy an email. My laptop’s been acting weird. I think it has a virus. I was down here getting some tea, saw it in your bag, and borrowed it. I’m sorry. I should have asked permission first.”

Rachael moved into the room, still swinging the bag in front of her. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“I’ve heard that about you. You like to break the rules, and you only ever apologize if you get caught. That’s not a very noble way to live your life.”

Remember what Baldwin said, Taylor. Don’t listen. She’s planted suggestions in her hypnosis sessions. She’s trying to get you to listen so she can trigger you.

“I said I was sorry. Here, take your laptop. I’m going to lunch.”

Taylor set the laptop on the end table and started edging toward the door.

“I don’t think so. We still have so much work to do.”

Rachael set her briefcase down on the couch. Every move was deliberate. Calculated. She never looked away from Taylor’s eyes.

“I think you need to relax, Taylor. You’ve had a very big week.”

She inched closer.

“Stop now, Rachael.”

Her eyes flew wide in surprise, then she collected herself. “You poor girl. You’re completely deranged. My name is Madeira. Madeira James.”

“Your name is Rachael Mack. I know all about you. I know what you’ve done. It’s over. You need serious help, and I’m sure the American authorities will be more than happy to provide that for you. Skipping out on probation is rather frowned upon. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Now stop moving, and stop talking.”

“Taylor. Think about that warm—”

“No. Stop, right now. You say another word, and I won’t be responsible for my actions. You hypnotized me, remember? All I have to do is show that biofeedback tape to a judge and I’ll be off the hook. You’ve been messing with the wrong woman’s mind this time, Rachael.”

Her face contorted. “I said my name is Maddee!” She started toward Taylor.

That was the last straw. With a lightning-quick draw, Taylor removed the weapon from her waistband and sighted down on Rachael.

“Stop,” she said.

Rachael kept moving, edging sideways.

“I’m not going to warn you again, Rachael. You take one more step and I will shoot you.”

Rachael stopped. Calculated.

“Ah, Taylor. Ever the avenging angel. Doing what you do best. You can’t use your wits to get out of the situation, so you resort to brute force. Murder. You don’t scare me. I’ve seen inside of you. I know how much you enjoy this part. In fact, I’ll let you prolong it for a bit.”

“You are out of your mind, Rachael. I feel sorry for you. Here you served your time, had a chance at a normal life. You have a husband and children of your own. You’ve thrown it all away, and for what? Trying to gain the favors of a man who doesn’t want you? Who will never want you?”

Rachael smiled, an eerily cold grin. She started to move again, edging left, and left, and left again. Taylor kept the gun pointed at center mass, moved in concert. They danced through the drawing room, inch by inch, a centrifuge of anger and wariness.