Several maps of the spa had been tacked onto the back wall, along with a half dozen postmortem photographs of poor Claudia. Loose scraps of paper had been posted scattershot, certain items underlined in red, but Caroline couldn't read the words from where she was standing. Mounds of what looked to be notes and official documents hid the top of the circular black table he was working on. He smiled at her with watery eyes, pointed to an empty chair. But Caroline elected to stand. "You actually revived her," Caroline stated. She was in awe. He had shown himself to be a man of action. Passivity, the mainstay of her personality, was probably not in his vocabulary. Toscana shrugged. Revived her? Not exactly. But he did get the old lady breathing. The psychic was still unconscious. Caroline said, "Do you think she'll make it?" Again, Toscana was less than forthcoming. "I'm not a doctor, so I can't answer that. Is something on your mind, Mrs. Blessing?" Caroline couldn't get the words out. Her eyes were fixed on the grisly photos of Claudia, face caked in mud, a sick parody of a vaudeville minstrel.
