“Exactly my point.”

“Yeah, well, even so I was still hoping we couldn’t rule out the anchovy pizza.”

“You are evading again, Rowan.”

“Uh-huh, I know. Can you blame me?”

“No, I do not suppose that I can. However, you also know that with me you cannot get away with it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Good of you to notice,” she replied, a hint of faux-conceit in her voice that was almost instantly replaced by measured seriousness. “Now, tell me…who do you believe the woman in your nightmare to be?”

“Honestly, I think she’s probably the woman who killed Hammond Wentworth and Officer Hobbes.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, not surprised,” she returned with a shake of her head. “Disappointed.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that you are still trying to evade my question.”

“I’m not sure I follow, because I’m fairly certain I just answered it.”

“You gave me an answer, but you did not tell me the truth.”

“Come again?”

“Rowan, be honest. We both know that you did not seek me out to tell me you believe you are having nightmares about an unidentified killer in an ongoing murder investigation. As insane as it may sound to the general populous, for you, that is the norm. No, there is a vastly deeper issue here that you cannot begin to overcome until you admit to it.”

“Okay,” I returned with a shrug. “Since we seem to be on completely different pages here, would you like to share your insight?”

“Borrowing your analogy, we are both on the same page and you know it. You, however, are choosing not to read what is upon it.” Helen shook her head and peered back at me with obvious sadness in her expression. “You know, Rowan, for someone with the depth of intuition you possess, it amazes me how difficult you can elect to be at times, especially when it comes to your own sanity.”