Even to think his name was enough to send waves of fear coursing through her body. Dear God, make him leave me alone, she prayed. Early this morning, with Gigi clinging to her, she had answered the angry pounding on her door to find Detective Shore and another officer who said he was Detective Levy standing in the dingy hallway of her apartment building on East Tenth Street and Avenue B.

“Cally, you putting up your brother again?” Shore’s eyes had searched the room behind her for signs of his presence.

The question was Cally’s first indication that Jimmy had managed to escape from Riker’s Island prison.

“The charge is attempted murder of a prison guard,” the detective told her, bitterness filling his voice. “The guard is in critical condition. Your brother shot him and took his uniform. This time you’ll spend a lot more than fifteen months in prison if you help Jimmy to escape. Accessory after the fact the second time around, when you’re talking attempted murder-or murder-of a law officer. Cally, they’ll throw the book at you.”

“I’ve never forgiven myself for giving Jimmy money last time,” Cally had said quietly.

“Sure. And the keys to your car,” he reminded her. “Cally, I warn you. Don’t help him this time.”

“I won’t. You can be sure of that. And I did not know what he had done before.” She’d watched as their eyes again shifted past her. “Go ahead,” she had cried. “Look around. He isn’t here. And if you want to put a tap on my phone, do that, too. I want you to hear me tell Jimmy to turn himself in. Because that’s all I’d have to say to him.”

But surely Jimmy won’t find me, she prayed as she threaded her way through the crowd of shoppers and sightseers. Not this time. After she had served her prison sentence, she took Gigi from the foster home. The social worker had located the tiny apartment on East Tenth Street and gotten her the job as a nurse’s aide at St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital.