HE DJDN'T ApoLoGizE this time. There was no need to. It took her ten

days in bed to recover, and all the while he told her she had brought it

on herself There was a part of her mind that knew he was wrong, knew he

was crazy. But he was persistent, and in an odd way loving, as he

explained, over and over, that he was only acting in her best interest.

She'd only been thinking of herself, hadn't she, when she'd spent all

those weeks preparing for her show? She'd sent her husband to bed

alone, night after night, then had flouted her marriage in public by

flirting with another man.

She'd pushed him to it. She'd deserved it. She'd brought it on herself

Though the phone rang constantly for several days following the showing,

she didn't answer any of her calls. At first her mouth was too swollen

and sore to allow her to speak. Drew brought her ice packs and fed her

soup. He gave her pills that took the edge off the worst of the pain

and helped her sleep through it.

Then he told her that people were only calling her to get to him. They

needed to be alone, to work out their marriage, to make a baby.

She wanted a family, didn't she? She wanted to be happy and be taken

care of ? If she hadn't put so much time and effort into her work, she

would be pregnant by now. Isn't that what she wanted?

And when he asked her, drilling her with the questions one after another

as she lay recovering, she agreed. But agreement was never enough.

She awoke alone to dark and music. A dream, she told herself, gripping

the sheets, fighting to wake. But even when her eyes were

open, she could hear it, those odd words sung by a man who was dead. Her

fingers shook as she groped for the switch on the lamp at the bedside.

She turned and turned and turned it, but the light didn't shine, didn't

fill the room and chase the shadows.

As the music grew louder, she put her hands over her ears. But she

could still hear it, throbbing, pulsing until her screams drowned it

out.

"There, Emma. There now." Drew was beside her, stroking her hair.

"Another nightmare? You should have outgrown them by now, shouldn't

you?"

"The music." She could only gasp and cling. He was her lifeline, the

only solid line that could pull her out of the sea of fear and madness.

"It wasn't a dream, I heard it. The song-I told you-the song that was

playing when Darren was killed."

"There isn't any music." Quietly, he set the remote for the stereo

aside. It was a good lesson, he thought, as she trembled against him. A

good way to keep her dependent and manageable.

"I heard it." She was sobbing now between chattering teeth. "And the

light, the lights won't go on."

"You're too old to be afraid of the dark," he said gently. Reaching

down, he plugged in the lamp and turned the switch. "Better?"

She nodded, her face buried against his shoulder. "Thank you."

Grat.i.tude rushed through and overwhelmed her. With the light she went

limp in his arms. "Don't leave me alone, Drew. Please, don't leave me

alone."

"I told you I'd take care of you." He smiled and continued to stroke her