Obediently, she picked up her fork. He wanted to talk. Seemed eager to. The best way to escape, she calculated, was to understand. "You told me you grew up in Iowa."

"That's where my mother took me later. My mother was wild." The apology crept back into his voice. "She would never listen to anyone, never obey the rules. So naturally, Uncle

Matthew had to punish her. He was older, you see. He was head of the family. He'd keep her in this room, trying to make her see that there were proper ways to do things, and improper ways." His face changed as he spoke, tightening around the mouth and eyes, growing somehow older, sterner. "But my mother never learned, no matter how hard my uncle tried to teach her. She ran away and got pregnant. When I was six, they took her away. She had a breakdown, and I came to live with Uncle Matthew. There was no one else to take me in, you see. And it was his family duty."

Deanna choked down a bite of pasta. It stuck like paste in her throat, but she was afraid to try the wine. He could have drugged it, she thought, like the bottle of juice. "I'm sorry, Jeff, about your mother."

"It's okay." He shrugged it off like a snake shedding skin. His face smoothed out again like a sheet stroked with careful hands. "She didn't love me. No one's ever loved me but Uncle Matthew. And you. It's just wine, Dee. Your favorite kind." Grinning at the joke, he picked up the glass and sipped to show her. "I didn't put anything in it. I didn't have to, because you're here now. With me."

Drugged or not, she avoided the wine, unsure how it would mix with the drugs in her system. "What happened to your mother?"

"She had dementia. She died. Is your dinner all right? I know pasta's your favorite."

"It's fine." Deanna slipped another bite through her stiff lips. "How old were you when she died?"

"I don't know. Doesn't matter, I was happy here, with my uncle." It made him nervous to talk about his mother, so he didn't. "He was a great man. Strong and good. He hardly ever had to punish me, because I was good, too. I wasn't a trial to him, like my mother was. We took care of each other." He spoke quickly now, fresh excitement blooming. "He was proud of me. I studied hard and I didn't hang out with other kids. I didn't need them. I mean, all they wanted to do was ride in fast cars and listen to loud music and fight with their parents. I had respect. And I never forgot things like cleaning my room or brushing my teeth. Uncle Matthew always told me I didn't need anybody but family. And he was the only family I had. Then, when he died, there was you. So I knew it was right."

"Jeff." Deanna used all her skills to keep the conversation flowing, to steer it in the direction she wanted. "Do you think your uncle would approve of what you're doing now?"

"Oh, absolutely." He beamed, his face sunny and innocent and terrifying. "He talks to me all the time, up here." He tapped his head, winked. "He told me to be patient, to wait until the time was right. You know when I first started sending you letters?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I dreamed about Uncle Matthew for the first time then. Only it wasn't like a dream. It was so real. He told me I had to court you, the way a gentleman would. That I had to be patient. He always said that good things take time. He told me that I would have to wait, and that I had to look out for you. Men are supposed to cherish their women, to protect them. People have forgotten that. No one seems to cherish anyone anymore."

"Is that why you killed Angela, Jeff?

To protect me?"

"I planned that for months." He leaned back again, rested one bent leg across his knee. Conversations with Deanna had always been a high point of his life. And this, he thought, was the very best. "You didn't know that I let her think I was taking Lew's place."

"Lew's? Lew Mcationeil's?"

"After I killed him—"

"Lew." Her fork rattled against the china when it slipped through her fingers. "You killed Lew."

"He betrayed you. I had to punish him. And he used Simon. Until I started to work with you, I never really had friends. Simon's my friend. I was going to kill him, too, but I realized he'd been used. It wasn't really his fault, was it?"

"No." She said it quickly, punctuating the word by laying her hand over Jeff's. "No, Jeff, it wasn't Simon's fault. I care very much about Simon. I wouldn't want you to hurt him."

"That's what I thought." He grinned, a child praised by an indulgent adult. "You see, I know you so well, Deanna. I know everything about you. Your family, your friends. Your favorite foods and colors. Where you like to shop. I know everything you're thinking. It's as though I were right inside your head. Or you're inside mine," he added slowly. "Sometimes I'd think you were inside mine. I knew you wanted Angela to go away. And I knew you'd never hurt her yourself. You're too gentle, too kind." He turned his hand over to squeeze hers. "So I did it for you. I arranged to meet her in the parking lot at CBC. She sent her driver away, just like I'd told her to. I let her in, took her down to the studio. I'd told her that I had copied papers from the office. Story ideas, guests, plans for remotes. She was going to buy them from me. Only she didn't tell me you were coming." Incredibly, his bottom lip poked out in a pout. "She lied to me about that."

"You killed her. And you turned the cameras on."

"I was angry with you." His mouth quivered, his eyes lowered. Deanna gripped her fork again with some idea of using it as a weapon. The effects of the drug were wearing off, and she felt stronger. She thought she could thank fear for that. But his eyes lifted to hers and the searing light in them had her fingers going numb.

"I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to hurt you. I nearly wanted to kill you. You were going to marry him, Dee. I could understand your sleeping with him. Weak flesh. Uncle Matthew explained all about how sex can pervert, and how weak people can be. Even you." The hand that covered hers tightened, tightened, until bone rubbed bone. "So I understood, and I was patient, because I always knew you'd come to me. But you couldn't marry him, you couldn't take vows. I knew it was you when you opened the door. I always know when it's you. I hit you. I wanted to hit you again, but I couldn't. So I carried you to the chair, and I put Angela in the other one and turned on the camera. I wanted you to see what I'd done for you. I'd already been upstairs, in your office." He compressed his lips, sighed and gently released her throbbing hand. "It was wrong of me to wreck your office. I shouldn't have gone to Finn's house, either. I'm sorry."

He said it as though he'd neglected to keep a luncheon appointment.

"Jeff, have you ever told anyone about your feelings?"

"Just my uncle, when we talk in my head. He was sure you'd understand soon, and come home with me. And after I heard what that creep did to you in the parking lot, I knew it was nearly time."

"Marshall?"

"He tried to hurt you. Joe told me how he'd acted, so I waited for him. I killed him the same way I'd killed the others. It was symbolic, Deanna. My vision destroyed their vision. It's almost holy, don't you think?"

"It's not holy to kill, Jeff."

"You're too forgiving." His eyes scanned her face, adoringly. "If you forgive people who've hurt you, they'll only hurt you again. You have to protect what's yours."

He remembered the dog that had come into their yard time after time, digging up Uncle Matthew's flowers, spoiling the grass. He'd cried when his uncle had poisoned the dog. Cried until Uncle Matthew had explained to him why it was right and honorable to defend your own against any intruder. With that in mind, he got up and went to the bureau. He opened the top drawer and took out a list.

"I've planned it," he told her. "You and I always make lists and plan things out. We're not the type who run off without thinking, are we?" Beaming again, he offered the list to her.

LEW MCNEIL

ANGELA PERKINS

MARSHALL PIKE

DAN GARDNER

JAMIE THOMAS

FINN RILEY?

"Finn," was all she could say. "He's not for sure. I put him down in case he hurt you. I nearly did it once before. Nearly. But at the last minute I realized I was only going to kill him because I was jealous. It was like Uncle Matthew was there, and he jerked the rifle at the last minute. I was really glad I didn't kill him when I saw how upset you were that he'd been shot."

"In Greektown," Deanna said through trembling lips. "That day in Greektown. You shot him?"

"It was a mistake. I'm really sorry." "Oh God." Horrified, she cringed back. "Oh my God."

"It was a mistake." His voice was sulky, dangerously so. Jeff looked away from her. "I said I was sorry. I won't do anything to him unless he hurts you."

"He hasn't. He won't."

"Then I won't have to do anything about him." Her palm dampened against the paper, and her heart began to beat heavily in her throat. "Promise me you won't, Jeff. It's important to me that Finn's safe. He's been very good to me."

"I'm better for you."

There was a child's petulance on his face now. Deanna exploited the moment. "Promise me, Jeff, or I'll be very unhappy. You don't want that, do you?"

"No." He struggled between her needs and his own. "I guess it doesn't matter now.

Not now that you're here."

"You have to promise." She clamped her teeth together to keep the desperation from her voice. Reason, she told herself. Calm reason. "I know you wouldn't break your word to me."