The telephone rang. In keeping with the vintage feel of the small apartment, it was a hefty black monstrosity attached by a thick wire to the wall. It sat on an antique table that had a small cabinet to hold a telephone book, as if anyone ever used those anymore. At least it was a pushbutton phone. Val swung her legs over the bed and picked up the receiver. It couldn't be Griffen or Gris-gris; both of them knew to call her cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Valerie McCandles?"

The voice was a strong female alto. Valerie made a note of the clipped, forceful diction, as if the owner was used to command but was holding herself back.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Melinda. I believe you have heard it."

Valerie felt a chill hand take hold of her throat and squeeze. Nathaniel and Lizzy's mother. She drew herself up to her height of nearly six feet and held her back rigidly erect. "I have heard of you. May I ask why you're calling?"

"You don't ask what I want. That's interesting." Val stayed silent. "I am calling for two reasons: My daughter was badly injured, and she says that you are responsible."

"She attacked me!" Val blurted out. Mai's almond-shaped eyes went wide. Who is that? she mouthed. Melinda, Val mouthed back. The small Asian woman stood as still as a porcelain statue, her rose-tinted lips pressed together grimly. "She tried to run me over!"

"She admits that, not that she is the most reliable of my children," Melinda said. "I apologize for her behavior. She has . . . impulse-control problems."

"She ought to be locked up!"

"I understand why you might feel that way, but that is not the most important reason I called," Melinda said. "She tells me that you are carrying my grandchild. Is that true?"