The capable, attractive, widowed, filthy-rich head of emergency medicine at a Manhattan hospital battles a serial murderer, a mugger, nocturnal intruders, recurring nightmares, and departmentally threatening budget cuts. And, of course, there are boyfriend problems. Spruill also wrote Painkiller, 1990; Paradox Planet, 1988, etc. Her townhouse is on the right side of the park; her housekeeper is a trusted friend; her daughters are future Nobel laureates; her lover has the cleverest relaxation tricks; and she expects to inherit a fortune—but life is no bed of roses for Amy St. Clair, M.D.. Dr. Clair keeps having the same goofy dream, and while she's having the goofy dream, she's pretty sure somebody's bypassing the burglar alarm and wandering through the house. At work, meanwhile, there's this problem with otherwise healthy, tall, upper-middle-aged, blue-eyed bankers who drop dead in Amy's emergency room—the very same emergency room targeted for elimination by a heartless hospital administration, even though Amy's otherwise healthy, tall, upper-middle-aged, blue-eyed banker father has brought millions and millions of dollars to the institution. And talk about an eerie coincidence: the daughter of one of the rich dead banker victims turns out to have the same creepy nightmares as Amy. Can Amy find help from handsome staff psychologist and paramour Tom Hart, Ph.D? He's done such great things for her brain-injured brother. Or should she turn to new staff surgeon Dr. Otis ``Campy'' Camp? Twenty years ago, ``Campy'' was the love of her life, but then he was swallowed up by Vietnam. He never wrote, but he's still quite handsome. Slick and readable, but despite all the menace, there's not a real chill anywhere. Readers are likely to find themselves counting coincidences when they should have been too scared to notice.