The rain smeared the streetlights into hazy streaks of gold and red, and Emily's eyes darted to the rearview mirror. The street behind her was empty, but she felt it-the weight of being watched. It pressed against her chest, squeezed her lungs until every breath burned. She'd felt it for weeks now, that prickling on the back of her neck, the sense that someone was always just out of sight. She'd told herself it was stress, paranoia from too many late nights at the hospital, too many patients blurring into one endless scream for help. But this wasn't paranoia. This was real.