by Kay Hooper
“I had that same feeling today, or almost. As if I were seeing something conjured out of some black hell of fantasy. Not the ghosts of victims past, but more like… a cast of characters he was imagining.”
“The ghosts of victims future?” Ben said.
“Maybe.” She didn’t look at him. “But it was more like some adolescent psychopath’s… wet dream.” Even as the words left her lips, Cassie felt a flash of pained humor. Virginal she might be, but innocent she definitely was not. A line from an old movie sprang into her head, something about being an unholy mess of a girl.
That was her.
The silence dragged on for just a moment too long, and it was Cassie who broke it by saying calmly, “Now that I think about it, their coming toward me like that, bleeding and carrying parts of themselves, reminds me of a horror movie I saw years ago, about the dead being reanimated. Our killer might well enjoy dreams like that.”
“So now you’re in his dreams?” Matt demanded.
“Could be. I was up early, maybe he slept late. And dreamed.”
“And you tapped in.” Ben’s voice was still quiet.
Matt made a little sound that was a combination of amusement and despair. “Cassie, you’re making it real hard for me to believe any of this.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She turned her head and smiled faintly at him. “Nothing’s ever as simple as you want it tobe.”
“Ain’t it the truth. Look—we came out here because I was going to ask you to try to tap into this guy again, but obviously—”
“I can try.”
Ben said, “You’re still shivering.”
Cassie didn’t look at him. “I’m fine. A little cold, but not even tired.”
Matt glanced from her face to Ben’s and hesitated. “We can wait and do it tomorrow. Lying out there in the snow didn’t do you any good at all, no matter what caused it.”
“I’d rather try now.” Cassie kept her voice level. “I need to be in control of this, or at least as much as I can be. I need to be the one instigating the contact.”
Matt waited a moment, but when Ben said nothing, agreed with a nod. “I have one of the coins with me. But…”
“But?”
“Well, Ben said he thought that eventually you’d be able to tap into this guy at will without touching something he touched. I’m just wondering if you can do that now.”
Cassie glanced at Ben, then handed the mug to him, again taking care not to touch him. “Let’s try.”
“Have you ever done it before?” Ben asked, sounding a bit rough around the edges.
“No. Never tried to before. But since his unconscious mind seems to be reaching me all too easily, I’m curious to find out if I can.”
Matt finally left the fireplace, hitching a wing chair closer to the sofa, where he’d have a clear view of Cassie. He pulled out his notebook and a pen with a muttered “Just in case,” and then waited expectantly.
Ben set the mug on the coffee table but didn’t move from his place beside her on the couch.
Cassie put her hands back under the blanket and closed her eyes, trying to relax, to concentrate. It was difficult with Ben so close. He virtually trapped her on the sofa, but years of practice enabled her to push away even that distracting realization.
Imagery had always helped Cassie to focus on what she was trying to do, though holding some object had tended to speed the process so that her images were swiftly replaced by those seen through the eyes of killers.
This time she conjured the image of a path through a peaceful forest and began following it. Nothing yanked at her. No dark voice whispered to her. As she walked, she looked around, interested but at ease. Whenever she came to a path leading in a different direction, she allowed her instincts to decide whether she should take it, sometimes doing so and other times walking past. The cheerful bird sounds began to fade, and the woods grew darker.
“Cassie?” Ben’s voice, curiously distant and hollow in the forest.
“I’m not there yet,” she told him, vaguely aware that he was coming with her on the journey.
“Where are you?”
“Following the path.” She felt herself frown. “It’s an odd path.”
“In what way?”
“Dunno, exactly. Just feels strange.”
“Tell me.”
She sighed a bit impatiently. “The ground is all spongy. And it smells odd, like… like inside a musty closet. And the light seems to be coming from two different directions. I’m casting two shadows. Isn’t that strange?”
“Do you hear anything?”
“I did hear the birds. But now there’s just the music.”
“What music?”
“I think it’s from a music box. I can’t remember the tune though. I should, but I can’t.”
“All right. If you remember, tell me.”
“I will.” She walked on, noting without any sense of uneasiness the way the trees around her began to assume twisted shapes like nothing in nature. “Hmm.”
“Cassie?”
“What?”
“Where are you?”
She was about to report that she was still in the forest, but before she could she came to a distinct fork in the path. Her instincts had nothing to say about the matter, so Cassie flipped a mental coin and picked the right-hand path.
“Cassie, talk to me.”
“The path forked. Two roads diverged in a wood… I went right. It was the less-traveled path.”
“Cassie, I think it’s time to turn around and come back.”
She realized he was worried and tried to make her voice reassuring. “I’m all right. And, besides, I’m nearly there.”
“What do you see?”
“A door.”
“In the middle of the woods?”
Until he asked the question, Cassie hadn’t considered it odd. But now she stared at the very large door that appeared to be made of solid oak. “Hmm. I could go around it, but I think I’m supposed to go through it.”
“Be careful.”
It took some time to find the knob, especially since it wasn’t a knob at all but a lever hidden cunningly in the wood. She pressed it with a sense of triumph and then pushed open the door.
The forest was gone. Ahead of her stretched a bare hallway with doors opening off to the left and right. It smelled even more like the inside of a long-forgotten closet. With a sigh she started walking.
“Cassie?”
“There’s a hallway with lots of doors. I’m walking straight down the hall. Damn. This is much faster when I have a guide.”
“A guide?”
“Something of his. Never mind. I’ve gone this far, and—” She had opened the door at the end of the long hallway, and the instant she did, the journey was complete. “Oh.”
“Cassie? What is it?”
No hallway. No woods. No comforting images. Just the oppressive weight of him around her, the unnerving awareness of another consciousness surrounding her own, and seeing what he saw because she had no other choice.
“It’s him.” All traces of reassurance and lightness were stripped from her.
“Where is he?”
“A room. Just a room. Drawn curtains. Lamps. There’s a bed. He’s sitting on the bed.”
“What’s he doing, Cassie?”
She had come upon him so suddenly that she was wary of giving away her presence, and so tried to keep very still and quiet. “He’s… making something.”
“What is he making?”
She was silent for a few beats, and then her breath caught in her throat. “It’s a piece of wire with a wooden handle on each end. He’s making a garrote.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. I’ve… seen one before.”
“All right. Can you look around, Cassie? Can you tell us more?”
“I can only see what he sees, and he’s looking at his hands, watching them… caress the weapon. He likes it.”
“Look at
his hands. Study them. What can you tell us about them?”
“Young. Strong. No scars except… the inside of each wrist. He bites his nails, but they’re clean. Nothing else.”
“Do you know what he’s thinking?”
“I’m afraid to listen.”
“You have to,” a new voice ordered.
“Matt, stay out of this! Cassie, don’t listen to him unless you’re sure you can do it safely.”
“I think I can hide from him. But…”
“But what?”
She felt forlorn. “Nothing. I’ll listen.”
“Be careful.”
Cassie made herself very small and very still, and cautiously listened. At first the racket of his thoughts was like static on a radio, crackling painfully in her mind, but slowly the snapping and popping faded as she was able to sift through all the background noise.
“He’s… thinking about what he’s going to do… to her.”
“To who? Who is he thinking about, Cassie?”
“He’s—There’s no identity. Just her. That’s the way he thinks of her. She is going to be sorry. She is going to be so surprised. She… is going to die for a long time.”
“Shit.”
“Matt. Cassie, is he thinking anything else that might help us? About a place or a particular day?”
“Just… soon. He’s eager to… to do it. And this time he wants his hands on her when she dies. That’s why the garrote. He wants to feel her… Oh, Christ—”
Cassie crept from his mind as fast as she dared, and once she was out, the hallway and the forest path sped by in a blur. And then she was back inside herself. Her body felt cold and queasy and much more tired than it had before, but at least she was back.
“Cassie?”
She opened her eyes slowly and looked at Ben. He was unusually pale, she realized. Had her horror sounded as overwhelming as it had felt?
“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded damnably weak, but there was nothing she could do about it. “I had to… I couldn’t stay there.”
It was Matt who asked, “What was he thinking? What was it you couldn’t bear to hear?”
She drew a breath and tried to hold her voice steady. “This one he means to… to rape. He wants to be inside her when she dies.”
Ben made a rough sound, but Cassie kept her gaze on the sheriff.
Matt’s face was grim. “But you have no idea who it is he’ll go after?”
“No. I think he’s already picked her though. The sense of anticipation was strong. It was like the feeling I got the first time, when he was watching Becky. I’m sorry, Matt. Maybe if I’d been able to stay with him, he would have thought about what she looked like, or where she was when he watched her. I could try again—”
“No.” Ben’s voice was level. “Not now. You might not have been tired before, but you’re exhausted now. And you’re still shivering.”
Cassie still refused to look at him. “I didn’t give you anything helpful. I have to try again, and soon, or else he’ll kill that poor girl—and God knows how many others.”
“Killing yourself won’t help us.”
“I know my own limits. And I’m stronger than I look.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff’s gaze had been shifting from one to the other as they spoke, but when Ben didn’t respond to her last flat statement, Matt said, “If we’re lucky, a few hours won’t make a difference. Why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll try again later this afternoon? The stronger you are, the better our chances of learning something useful. Right?”
Cassie wasn’t an idiot. “Yes. All right.”
Ben said, “Promise you won’t try on your own. Without a lifeline.”
Cassie wanted to point out that most of her contact with the killer had taken place without benefit of a lifeline, but something in Ben’s voice warned her he wouldn’t be happy with that reminder. “All right.”
“Promise.”
“I just did.”
Ben drew an audible breath, then said, “Matt, would you give us a minute, please?”
“Sure. I’ll wait in the car.”
Cassie watched the sheriff leave the room. She listened to the front door close quietly behind him. And when the silence had dragged on too long, she finally looked at Ben.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded evasive even to her.
Ben frowned. “You want a list? All right. Last night you were perfectly comfortable with me, today you are obviously not. You don’t want to meet my eyes. You don’t want to touch me. You’re a million miles away. Cassie, I don’t have to be psychic to know something’s changed. What is it?”
For just an instant Cassie was tempted to tell him the truth. I was mooning over you like a silly schoolgirl and now I’ve stopped, that’s all. But even though it was her nature to be honest, she found herself unable to tell him that.
Instead, she heard herself say coolly, “Nothing’s changed, Ben.”
“And last night?”
She wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking but answered anyway. “I think they call that the quiet before the storm.” She shrugged, conscious once again that she was wrapped in a blanket, virtually immobile. And he was too close. It made her feel restless. And it made her talk too much. “For a little while, I… forgot about that madman out there. I forgot about responsibilities and keeping my guard up and—and the necessity of being alone.”
“Who says being alone is a necessity?”
“It is. For me it is. Always has been.” She wanted to keep it light, make it casual, but knew she sounded just plain miserable when she added, “Oh, just go away, Ben. Please.”
He leaned toward her suddenly, one hand lifting to touch her face. “Don’t ask me to do that, Cassie.”
She went utterly still, staring up at him. His face was somehow different, as though some part of him she’d never seen lay exposed on the surface. She didn’t know what it was she saw, but it stirred something in her that had never been awakened before.
“What is it about you?” he murmured, obviously more to himself than to her. “So guarded and wary, so aloof and afraid to be touched. Yet I can’t help wanting to touch you. Needing to. Maybe you can’t read my mind, but I can’t get you out of it, Cassie.”
His fingers traced the line of her brow and jaw, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone, and when her body shivered in reaction, Cassie understood that one of them was playing with fire.
“You… really should go,” she managed to say unsteadily.
“I know.” Ben’s hand now cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing slowly back and forth across her lips and his eyes intently following the movements. “Believe me, I know. I know the timing’s lousy, that it’ll take all your emotional energy to do what we’re asking you to do. I know you’re tired right now. I even know I’ll probably make you a lousy lover, given my track record. I know all the logical, practical reasons I should go away and leave you alone.”
“But?” She was surprised the word emerged coherently. His husky voice was as much a caress as the touch of his fingers and her body, which had felt so cold only moments before, now seemed feverish.
“But I’m having a hard time convincing myself to be sensible about it.” His mouth brushed hers very lightly and then retreated. “I want you, Cassie. I didn’t plan on this, and God knows how it’ll end, but I want you. And… I have this feeling that if I let go of you now, I’ll lose you for good.”
“I’m… not going anywhere.”
“You’ve been trying to hold me off, shut me out. Do you think I can’t feel it?”
Cassie resisted the urge to press her face against his caressing hand. “For your sake as much as mine. Trust me, Ben, I’m the one who’d make a lousy lover. I wouldn’t be good for you. I wouldn’t be good for any man.”
“Maybe I’m willing to risk it.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
<
br /> His eyes were heavy-lidded and darkened, and so intense they seemed to pull at her. “Somehow, I don’t think either of us has a choice.”
There was something almost reluctant in his voice, and it made her say, “You don’t know me.”
“I know all I need to know.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t know, Ben. I have too much baggage. Too many monsters dragging at my heels.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t—”
His mouth covered hers, warm and hard and so unexpectedly familiar that she was helpless to prevent her own instant response.
Hardly aware of moving, Cassie got her arms out from under the blanket and reached up to him. One of her hands pressed against his chest as though holding him off, but the other slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. Her touch was tentative but not shy, and when he lifted his head she made a sound of disappointment.
“Can’t you?” he murmured.
“You aren’t playing fair,” she told him, bemused by the husky sound of her own voice.
“I’m not playing. Cassie, listen to me. For just a minute, forget about the rotten timing. Forget about that maniac out there. Forget about everything except the two people in this room.”
That was not very hard to do, she thought. In fact, it was frighteningly easy. “All right.”
“Tell me you don’t want me.”
She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “You know damned well I can’t do that.”
He smiled. “Good. Then we go on from there.”
Go on where? But she didn’t ask what she suspected was an unanswerable question. Instead, she said, “Do you have any idea how crazy this is?”
“You’d be surprised.” He kissed her, briefly but not lightly, then eased away from her. “I’d better go and let you get some rest, especially if Matt and I are coming back in a few hours.”
She’d forgotten about that. She’d also forgotten that the sheriff waited outside, presumably in his cruiser with the engine running. Remembering made her protest die in her throat. “Right. Right.”
Ben seemed a little amused, but his eyes were still darkened and his face still bore that oddly naked look she couldn’t quite define. “I’ll call before we come out here, but I’m guessing it’ll be around four or five.”