"Yes, you may," the man's gruff voice was followed by a heavy breath. Then another.

Oh, great. A pervert to brighten her evening. "I believe you have the wrong number." She started to lower the receiver when she heard his voice again.

"I believe you have the wrong name, Shanna."

She gasped. It had to be a mistake. Yeah, and Shanna is such a common name. People were always calling places, asking for Shanna. Who was she kidding? Should she hang up? No, they already knew who she was.

And where she was. Terror jolted through her. Oh my God, they were coming for her.

Calm down! She had to remain calm. "I'm afraid you have the wrong number. This is Dr. Jane Wilson at the SoHo SoBright Dental—"

"Cut the crap! We know where you are, Shanna. It's payback time." Click. The call was over, and the nightmare was back.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no." She dropped the receiver in place and realized she was mumbling louder and louder, working her way up to a full-fledged scream. Get a grip! She mentally slapped herself and punched in the numbers 911.

"This is Dr. Jane Wilson at the SoHo SoBright Dental Clinic. I… we're under attack!" She gave the address, and the dispatcher assured her a squad car was on the way. Right. With an ETA of ten minutes past the time of her murder, no doubt.

With a gasp, she remembered the front door was unlocked. She sprinted to the door and locked it. As she dashed through the clinic to the back door, she grabbed her cell phone from her lab coat pocket and punched the number of her assigned U.S. marshal.

First ring. "Come on, Bob. Pick up." She reached the back door. All the deadbolts were secure. Second ring.

Oh no! What a stupid waste of time. The entire front of the clinic was glass. Locking the door wouldn't keep anyone out. They'd simply shoot through the glass. Then they'd shoot her. She needed to think better than this. She needed to get the hell out of here.