When Elizabeth opened her eyes the room lay in darkness. She yawned and stretched. She had slept a long time. Wonder why her mother hadn’t woken her for dinner? Her stomach growled and reminded her she had skipped lunch.
As she turned over for a look at the clock, a shadow moved from the corner of the room. “Hello, Miss Lane,” a well-remembered, cultured voice said. “How nice it is to see you again.”
Elizabeth sat up in bed, her breath coming in painful gasps that hurt her chest. “You! You can’t be here. You’re dead!”
“I’m not dead.” As Brady moved toward the bed, a flash of light from a passing car glinted off the object he held in his hand: a syringe.
Elizabeth started to scream. Her muscles churned as she tried to run, but she couldn’t move. She could scream, though. In the back of her mind she heard her mother’s voice. “Elizabeth! Wake up! Elizabeth!”
A strange man’s voice, a deep voice, cried, “I’ll call her doctor.”
“Elizabeth! Wake up! Open your eyes!”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew open to a room full of sunshine and bodyguards. A dream. It had only been a dream. She fell into her mother’s arms and started to cry.