—IRISH PROVERB “D-Dr. Verrick’s back?” Briddey stammered. “But, Trent—” “He flew back on his Lear jet right after he got off the phone with me.” Of course. She and C.B.—correction, Sky—should have thought of the possibility that he had a private plane. “I told you about him flying back in the mental message I sent you,” Trent said. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear me! I’m hearing you more and more. Are you sure you’re concentrating?” She fastened the bar more firmly across the door of her safe room. “Yes,” she said. “What did you hear?” “Oh, all sorts of things. I heard you say you need me, and ‘I wonder if Trent’s asleep,’ and a bunch of stuff about needing to make a phone call, which you don’t seem to understand we don’t need to do now.” “Is that all you heard?” “No. There were other things, but they didn’t make any sense, something about a dog on the highway and needing change and the sky. What were you thinking about?”
