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Done.

Thank you. I will have my phone back in a few minutes. Be careful what you send. I’m leaving Brockville and going to Nashville. I will be in touch.

She deletes the message. Hauls in a deep breath. Opens the bathroom door.

Noah Brockton stands there.

She puts her hand with his phone behind her back, the other on her heart. Forces a smile. Her head throbs with the effort.

“Oh, wow, you startled me.”

“I was about to knock. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Feeling ill.”

She hopes he doesn’t notice there was no water running, the shower is dry, the towels undisturbed.

“I have your bag. Are these the pills?”

“Yes.”

He pushes the tab out of the blister and she accepts it, shoves it in her mouth. “I need more water.”

“Of course.”

He grabs her glass and heads to the kitchen. She follows, stopping to set his phone back on the bedside table. She’s pulled it off.

Her mind is spinning. She can feel the tablet melting, wills herself to hold it together for a few more minutes. The ergotamine works fast.

Cat. Cat and the stranger. Cat pregnant in 2010. Unmistakably Cat.

The little boy she saw. Could that possibly be Cat’s child?

Now you’re reaching,her mind says.That has to be a coincidence. He’s younger than seven, isn’t he?

Noah returns with her glass. “Wow, are you okay? You’re white. Here, lie down.”

She gives in but doesn’t go horizontal. Instead, she sits and puts her head in her hands, praying it doesn’t explode.

“Sorry. Really bad headache.”

“Well, here’s some good news. Eddie was able to fix your Jeep sooner than expected. It will be ready for you in an hour. We can go to Nashville, or back to Marchburg. Whatever you want.”

“We?”

“I told your sheriff I’d keep an eye on you. I intend to honor that promise.”

“Thanks.”

God, is she going to throw up?Work, medicine. Please.

She hears a small ding. Her phone, in the living room. Theo is texting. She needs to get her hands on that phone.

She breathes, in and out, the pain hitting a remarkable, blinding crescendo, then easing just a touch. She recognizes the sensation; she has crested the wave. She doesn’t move. Slowly, so slowly, the pain lessens. She sits up. Still killing her, throbbing, but the medicine is kicking in.

“Is there caffeine?” she manages.

He brings her a Diet Coke. She drinks it and is finally able to open her eyes without the world spinning. Noah is watching her as if she is a bomb that might go off at any second.