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up.  He held it down at his side, then stepped over to stand between her legs.  “Then here.”
    Theia awoke screaming.  No, there was no sound coming out.  Was she still in the nightmare?  No, she was in her bedroom.  She never slept in the dark anymore, and in the dim light of the nightlight she could clearly see this was her room.  There was no metal table, no surgical light.
    A sound, a noise in the hallway, was coming down toward her bedroom.  Was Foster in her apartment?  She had to make herself move, no matter how terrified she was.  She moved one toe on the right foot. She wiggled her toe again, then a third time.  Then she moved all the toes on her right side, then her foot, both feet. She had broken free from the grip of her terror.
    Theia slipped out of her bed without making a sound, grabbed her phone, went over to the doorway where she reached over and turned on the room light.  She blinked until her eyes adjusted to the bright light.  There were no sounds in the hallway.  She took a deep breath, let it out, then cautiously looked around the corner and down the hall.  Nothing there. 
    Theia flicked on the hall light, then the spare bedroom light. As she walked down the short hallway she turned on lights in every room, first the kitchen then the bathroom.  These shed enough light that it would be hard for him to be in the front room and not be seen.  The furniture was arranged such that the room could be scanned with a glance.
    Theia turned on the lights in the front room and looked at the coat closet by the front door.  Theia needed to check all the closets in her apartment, and she wanted to have her gun with her when she did so. 
    She swallowed hard and yanked the closet door open.  No one was hiding there.  She felt around on the shelf for her gun.  It was not there.  Had Foster taken her gun?  Was he hiding in one of the closets?  Was she going to have to face him unarmed?
    No, she finally realized.  There was no gun because she had gotten rid of it five years before, when she no longer needed it.  And Foster was not in the closet because he was dead.
    Theia sank to the floor and sat, cross-legged, her body racked with sobs.  Was she losing her mind?  Did she go through and survive so much, only to go crazy five years later?  She had to remember that he was dead and could never hurt her again.  She had a new life in a new town.  She had built her career and was making it on her own.  Rose’s case had triggered fears Theia had assumed were permanently laid to rest.  She would just have to figure out how not to have nightmares when handling these cases.  That was not too much to ask.  All she wanted was to work and come home and not wake up scared half out of her mind.  Was she too damaged from the past to ever have a normal life?  The prospect of spending the rest of her life in this condition weighed her down with gloom.
    After a good cry, Theia got up, grabbed pillows and blankets and sunk onto the sofa. She drank a glass of wine and watched infomercials, the bane of the insomniac. Under the blankets, she drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She was so cold.
    The next morning was a typical clammy, hazy August morning in St. Louis.  The sky felt like a ten-ton humidity monster hovering overhead, just waiting to body slam the town. Such was summer in a city on the Mississippi River.
    Despite the oppressive climate, Theia was determined to be positive and cheerful.  She refused to let her past or Rose’s present situation steal her happiness.  All her hard work and struggles were pointless if she had a miserable life.  Theia fed the cats, had her one daily cup of coffee, and drove her ten year-old Toyota to her office, listening to upbeat music on the way.  She pulled into the parking garage and slipped into the building before her hair and makeup wilted.  Taking the elevator up to her floor, Theia put a determined smile on her face as she greeted