Riley frowned at the empty wrapper that was now a thin, folded strip; she tied it neatly into a knot. "Sometimes. Not the way an empath would, feeling what somebody else feels. It's just knowing somebody is angry or sad-or whatever. Even if it's all locked inside and they aren't showing any of it."

Leah studied the other woman, wondering what that must be like, to have that window into other people. Not that she wanted to know firsthand; she had trouble enough sorting through her own thoughts and emotions without adding in someone else's.

It wasn't something that appeared to disturb Riley. She was a curiously serene woman, Leah thought. Even out in the woods yesterday, in the midst of that horrific scene, her manner had been calm and matter-of-fact. And today the gun on her hip was worn casually with jeans and a light summer top.

She did not look like an FBI agent. Then again, Leah could imagine her in an army uniform only because Gordon had a couple of pictures of them together.

"Don't let those big eyes and that sweet voice fool you," he had warned Leah with a grin. "Riley hasn't got an innocent bone in her body. She's seen battle and she's seen the world, and she can take care of herself on any patch of it fate might see fit to send her to. Hell, I wouldn't want to tangle with her, armed or unarmed."

Something to bear in mind, Leah thought.

"Does being psychic really help?" she asked. "I mean, in an investigation."

Riley tied the plastic wrapper into a second knot, frowned at it as if wondering why she'd done that, and dropped it into an ashtray on the table behind her. "Sometimes." She hesitated, then met the other woman's gaze and said, "But maybe not this time. Just so you know, I'm more than a little off my game right now."

"Ash?" Leah guessed.

Riley was clearly surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"Just relating, I suppose." Leah laughed. "When I was falling for Gordon, I once came to work wearing two different shoes. I thought the guys would never let me live it down."

Riley smiled, but her eyes remained intent, questioning.

Interesting how clearly that came across, Leah thought. That silent question. Without actually intending to, she found herself offering an answer.

"Ash is a very intense guy, everybody knows that. I just figured he was probably even more intense behind closed doors-so to speak."

"He's a little…overwhelming," Riley said rather cautiously.

"I bet. Rumor has it he left the Atlanta DA's office because he couldn't control his temper."

"Really?"

Leah shrugged. "Oh, you know rumors. I've never seen any sign of that sort of thing, personally. But it's hard to miss the guy's…intensity. I keep coming back to that word, but it does seem to fit, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."

Shaking her head, Leah said, "Rotten timing, all this. It looked like things were going really well for you two, that we'd find out all the supposed occult stuff was just nonsense and Gordon was fretting for nothing. Now, with this murder, everybody's tense and jumpy, and none of us can think much about anything else. Occult or not, something's sure as hell going on."

"Yeah."

"It was pretty obvious yesterday that Ash wasn't happy about you working the case. You two get that straightened out?"

"Yes. I told him I'd be working the case."

Leah laughed. "Atta girl. It's probably good for the man to find out you won't be at his beck and call."

"I think he already knew that."

The sheriff came into the room just then, which effectively put an end to any further confidences. At least for the moment.

"Well, we've got paperwork," he said. "And the crime-scene photos are printing out now. Riley, turns out we do have some sort of pattern-recognition software-and a technician who knows how to use it."

"Melissa?" Leah guessed.

"Yeah. Figures, right?" He handed the manila folder he was carrying to Riley, adding, "She's our resident computer geek, and thank God we have her. One of those people with an inborn knack. Anyway, she's going to be concentrating on those blood spatters on the rocks, see if we maybe have something more deliberate there."

"Good enough." Riley opened the folder and began going over the postmortem report.

Jake moved restlessly around the room for a minute or so, then took a seat at the table near Riley. "Still no luck identifying the guy," he offered.

Leah wanted to tell him to give Riley a chance to absorb the report she was reading but kept her mouth shut.

Without looking up, and apparently still reading, Riley said, "With no head, and fingerprints not in the system, I'm not surprised. Still no missing-persons report that matches, I gather?"

"No. No missing-persons reports at all."

"Is that unusual for this area?"

"To have no reports? Nah, it's normal. We don't get too many missing, barring the occasional teenager staying out too late or drunken fishermen falling out of their boats."

Deciding to speak up, Leah pointed out, "If he went missing on Sunday afternoon or early evening, it's less than forty-eight hours. Unless he had somebody waiting for him at home-wherever that was-it's at least even money that nobody's noticed him missing. Especially if he was here on vacation."

Riley nodded. "The needs of vacationers vary; not everybody walks on the beach or visits the restaurants or shops. Some people come with a bag of books or briefcase full of work, park themselves in front of the view, order takeout delivered, and never leave their own little rented piece of sand until it's time for the drive home. If this guy came here alone, his absence may have stirred no more notice than his presence did."

"How are you doing that?" Jake demanded.

She looked at him over the top of the open folder. "Doing what?"

" Reading and talking. Or are you just pretending to read?"

Leah kept her mouth shut again and just listened.

"No," Riley said. "I'm reading. It's a knack I have. Another agent in the unit taught me."

He grunted. "Must come in handy."

"Sometimes."

"That's considered a masculine trait, isn't it? Being able to compartmentalize mentally? Or emotionally."

"I've heard it said."

"You don't agree?"

"Never really thought about it." Riley's voice remained mild, and her slight smile was merely polite, but Leah was certain the other woman was perfectly well aware of what was going on.

Jake was showing off one of his least attractive traits, one Leah had seen often enough to recognize. Quite simply, he was accustomed to women paying attention to him no matter what else happened to be going on. Virtually all women. And that part of him disliked taking second place, to another man or to a murder.

Coming in third where Riley was concerned was obviously bugging the hell out of him.

Leah made a silent bet with herself as to the direction Jake would steer the conversation.

"You're probably good with numbers too," he said.

"I am," Riley confirmed, still mild. "I can also change a tire or the oil, use power tools skillfully, read any sort of map accurately, hit what I'm aiming at on the firing range or in the field, and I play a mean game of pool. Not bragging or anything. Just saying."

"Poker?"

"That too."

"A paragon," Jake said. "Can you cook?"

"Afraid not."

"I guess it's a good thing Ash can then, huh?"

Leah won her bet.

"Guess so." Riley shrugged.

"Doesn't really matter to you?"

"Well, I usually live on takeout, so it's something new. I could get used to it."

Jake was so transparently not pleased by that statement that Leah nearly laughed. But not quite. He was, after all, her boss.

Riley closed the folder and tapped the edge against her free hand. "Getting back to the murder, with no good way to I.D. the body, I say our best bet is to look for a man who isn't where he's supposed to be. Starting from the easier end. Summer visitors."