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he'd worn earlier had been removed after the doc had sutured Mark's head. Between the blood and the saline, it had been soaked. Unable to grasp the shirt with his still-numb fingers, it fell to the floor just as the curtain around his cubicle fluttered. A hand appeared from the other side and grabbed the material, yanking it back. The metal balls in the overhead track screeched in protest.
    "I knew I shouldn't have told you anything!" She stood at the foot of the gurney with her hands on her hips and looking much fiercer than her slender frame had a right to appear.
     Her eyes narrowed as she glowered at him.
    "You know what I do, Jess. Don't think just because you're not part of it that I've stopped using the camera." Mark bent to retrieve his shirt, but a wave of dizziness swept through him and he almost fell off the gurney. Embarrassed, he eased back and tried to blink the room into focus again. The doctor advised Mark that he had a concussion, and he should take it easy for a week or so. It had been hard for him not to laugh out loud at that recommendation.
    With a cluck of her tongue, Jessie bent and snatched the shirt, thrusting it at him. "Here."
    "Thanks." Mark fumbled with it, finding it difficult to handle the piece of clothing with his left hand bandaged and numb. Giving up, he clutched it against his belly. "What are you doing here?"
    "I received a phone call from the patrol officer who took your statement. You see, Mark, what you reported is out of the ordinary realm of usual criminal activity. So, being one of the detectives whose job is to investigate cult activity in Chicago, naturally, it was assumed that I would want to be informed of this event." Arms crossed, she glared at him. "Why do you have to keep using that camera?"
    Ignoring the pounding in his head, Mark straightened. "Listen, I'm sorry they called you, but if I hadn't used 'that camera', a girl was going to end up dead. I didn't cause that scenario, Jess. I just did what I had to do."
    Her stare wavered and her eyes flicked down before her gaze darted around the room. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he wouldn't doubt it with the concussion, but he could swear that she was blushing! "Is something wrong?" He glanced down, wondering if perhaps his fly was undone. Nope, all was in order.
    Jessie ignored his question and shot one of her own at him. "Do you realize you could have been a second victim?"
    Mark looked away, remaining silent.
    She sighed, the sound loud in the cubicle. "Fine. I'll just go talk to the girl." Jessie began to exit, but turned back, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Don't leave until I return."
    Mark grunted in response and swung his legs back up onto the cart and lay down. Closing his eyes, he tried to blot out the memory of the scene he had witnessed at the warehouse. Something about it affected him in his very core. It was as if pure evil had enveloped him; swallowed him into its darkness and clung to him like a shroud. He wanted nothing more than to go home and shower. Unfortunately, he'd been instructed to keep his stitches dry.
    He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Jessie stood beside the cart, shaking his shoulder and he awakened with a start. "Huh? What?"
    "Rise and shine, Mark. It's almost time to go. The nurse was here a second ago and said she'd be back in a minute to release you." Her face loomed over him, her expression almost pleasant. "I got your jacket back from the girl. They're going to keep her overnight."
    Mark rubbed his hand down his face. "Thanks. How is she?" He pulled his shirt on, having less difficulty now that the local anesthetic had worn off on his hand. It throbbed in rhythm with his heart and head.
    "She's pretty shaken up, but other than some bruises, she's okay. They're keeping her because she's dehydrated," Jessie said, shaking her head in disgust. "They had her there for a couple of days preparing for their 'ceremony'."
    Mark shuddered, trying to imagine