"How's that?" Jeffrey asked.

"During the Middle Ages, the drug was sometimes inserted with a vaginal applicator so that the rush would come sooner. There are even some people who think the whole myth of witches flying on broomsticks comes from the image of a woman inserting the drug with a wooden applicator." He smiled. "But then we'd have to get into a protracted discussion on deity worshipping and the rise of Christianity in European cultures."

Mark seemed to sense he had lost his audience. "People in drug communities who know about belladonna tend to stay away from it." He looked at Sara. "If you'll excuse the language, ma'am?"

Sara shrugged. Between the clinic and her father, she had pretty much heard it all.

Mark still blushed when he said, "It's a total mind fuck." He offered Sara a smile in apology. "The number one memory, even among users with amnesia, is flying. They really believe they're flying, and the)' can't understand, even after they come down, that they haven't actually flown."

Jeffrey crossed his arms. "That might explain why she keeps staring out the window."

"Has she said anything yet?" Sara asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing." Then, "We're going to the hospital next if you want to see her."

Sara looked at her watch, pretending to consider this. There was no way in hell she was going to see Julia Matthews again. It was too much to even think about. "I've got patients," she said.

Jeffrey indicated his office. "Sara, mind if I talk to you for a second?"

Sara felt the urge to bolt, but she fought it. "Is this about my car?"

"No." Jeffrey waited until she was in his office, then shut the door. Sara sat on the edge of his desk, trying for a casual pose. "I had to take my boat in to work this morning," Sara said. "Do you know how cold it is on the lake?"

He ignored this, getting straight to the point. "Found your gun."

"Oh," Sara answered, trying to think of what to say. Of all the things she had been expecting him to say, this was the last one. The Ruger had been in her car for so long that she had forgotten about it. "Am I under arrest?"

"Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift."

Jeffrey gave her a hard look. "What, somebody gave you a three-fifty-seven with the serial numbers filed off for your birthday?"

Sara shrugged this off. "I've had it for years, Jeffrey."

"When did you buy that car, Sara? Couple of years ago?"

"I moved it from the old one when I bought it."

He stared at her, not speaking. Sara could tell that he was mad, but she did not know what to say. She tried, "I've never used it."

"That makes me feel good, Sara," he snapped. "You've got a gun in your car capable of literally taking somebody's head off and you don't know how to use it?" He paused, obviously trying to understand. "What're you gonna do if someone comes after you, huh?"

Sara knew the answer to this, but she did not say.

Jeffrey asked, "Why do you have it in the first place?"

Sara studied her ex-husband, trying to figure out the best way to get out of this office without having another fight. She was tired and she was upset. This wasn't the time to go a few rounds with Jeffrey. Sara just did not have the fight in her at the moment.

"I just had it," she answered.

"You don't just have this kind of gun," he said.

"I need to get back to the clinic." She stood, but he was blocking her exit.

"Sara, what the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

His eyes narrowed, but he did not answer. He moved aside, opening the door for her.

Sara thought for a second that it was a trick. "That's it?" she asked.

He stepped aside. "It's not like I can beat it out of you."

She put her hand to his chest, feeling guilty. "Jeffrey."

He looked out into the squad room, "I need to go over to the hospital," he said, obviously dismissing her.

Chapter Sixteen

LENA leaned her head into her hand, trying to close her eyes for just a minute of rest. She had been sitting in a chair outside Julia Matthews's room for over an hour, and the last few days were finally catching up with her. She was tired and about to start her period. Despite this, her pants were loose on her hips from not eating. When she snapped her paddle holster on over her belt this morning, it was loose against her hip. As the day wore on, it started to rub, chafing her side.

Lena knew she needed to eat, needed to get back to living her life instead of just dragging along through every day like she was living on borrowed time. For now, she could not imagine doing that. She didn't want to get up in the morning and go for a run, like she had every morning for the last fifteen years. She did not want to go down to the Krispy Kreme and get coffee with Frank and the other detectives. She did not want to go to pack her lunch or go out to dinner. Every time she looked at food, she felt sick. All she could think was that Sibyl would never eat again. Lena was walking around while Sibyl was dead. Lena was breathing while Sibyl was not. Nothing made sense. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Lena took a deep breath and let it go, looking up and down the hallway. Julia Matthews was the only patient in the hospital today, which made Lena 's job easy. Except for a nurse who had been floated down on loan from Augusta, it was just Lena and Julia on this floor.

She stood, trying to walk some sense into her brain. She was feeling punch-drunk, and Lena could not think of anything to fight this other than to remain in motion. Her body ached from restless sleep, and she was still unable to get the image of Sibyl in the morgue out of her mind. Part of Lena was glad that there was another victim, though. Part of Lena wanted to go into Julia Matthews's room and shake her, to beg her to speak, to tell them who had done this to her, who had killed Sibyl, but Lena knew this would get them nowhere.

The few times Lena had gone into the room to check on the girl, she had been silent, not answering even the most innocuous questions from Lena. Did she want another pillow? Was there anyone she wanted Lena to call for her?

Thirsty, the girl had pointed to the pitcher on the hospital table rather than asked for water. Her eyes still had a haunted look about them, too, caused by the fact that the drug was still in her system. Her pupils were wide open, and she had the look of someone who was blind-blind like Sibyl had been. Only Julia Matthews would recover from this. Julia Matthews would see again. She would get better. She would go back to school and make friends, maybe meet a husband one day and have kids. Memories of what had happened would always be in the back of Julia Matthews's mind, but at least she would have a life. At least she would have a future. Lena knew that part of her resented Matthews for this. Lena knew, too, that she would trade Julia Matthews's life for Sibyl's on a second's notice.

The elevator dinged open, and Lena put her hand to her gun without thinking. Jeffrey and Nick Shelton walked into the hallway, followed by Frank and a skinny-looking kid who looked like he had just come from his high school graduation. She dropped her hand, walking to meet them, thinking she'd be damned if all those men were going to go into the small hospital room containing a woman who had just been raped. Especially Opie.

"How's she doing?" Jeffrey asked.

Lena skipped the question. "You're not all going in there, are you?"

The look on Jeffrey's face said he had planned just this.

"She's still not talking," Lena said, trying to help him save face. "She hasn't said anything."

"Maybe just you and I should go in," he finally decided. "Sorry, Mark."

The young man did not seem to mind. "Hey, I'm just glad this got me out of the office for a day."