It was the way that smile never reached her chilly gray eyes.

This woman hates me.

Riley was mildly surprised but not disturbed; she had too many things on her mind to worry about Ash's former lovers.

Much.

"Jake said I was to give you the key," Colleen said to Ash, handing it over as if it were a precious jewel that needed to be placed reverently into his palm. And caressed for a beat or two.

Riley shifted her stance slightly, just to make the gun she wore on her hip more obvious. "Thanks, Ms. Bradshaw," she said in the indifferently polite tone reserved for bank tellers and waitresses. "We'll see that it gets safely back to your office when we're done here."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you, Agent Crane."

"Likewise. Oh-Ms. Bradshaw? Did you meet Wesley Tate? Speak to him?"

"Sorry, no. Another agent handles this account."

"I see. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Ash, I'm sure we'll be talking."

"See you later, Colleen."

They both watched the tall brunette fold herself-with quite unnecessary ceremony, Riley thought-into her little sports car and drive away, and it wasn't until then that Riley said, "How long did that last? You two?"

Ash didn't seem surprised. "A few months over last winter."

"Obviously she wasn't the one who broke it off."

"No." Ash held up the key she'd given him. "Shall we?"

"Ah. You don't kiss and tell. Good to know."

"There isn't anything to tell." He led the way to the front steps of Wesley Tate's rental. "An attraction, but not a lot in common."

"A spark but no fire."

"Exactly."

"So how come she hates me?"

Ash was smiling faintly. "Does she hate you?"

"Innocent isn't a good face for you, Ash. There's something completely unnatural about it."

"Why would you think she hates you?"

"Let's just say I'm glad I was the one with the gun."

He paused at the top of the steps to look at her, still smiling. "Jealousy. This is a new side of you. I think I like it."

"I am not a jealous person. And I have nothing to be jealous about. Do I?"

"Of course not."

"Well, then." So what if that Amazon is six feet tall and dresses like she should be standing on a street corner somewhere? So what? Why is this bugging me so much?

Why am I even thinking about this?

"Okay, you're not a jealous person." Ash unlocked the door and opened it. "Shall we?"

"I'm really not a jealous person. And, anyway, you're supposed to be helping me stay focused."

"Right. Sorry."

I am a cop, and this is where a murder victim lived the last days of his life. At least-

"How long was Tate here before he was killed?" she asked, putting leggy brunettes out of her mind as they went into the house.

"Not long. He got here on Saturday." Ash was all business now.

"Jesus. Did he even have time to unpack?"

"According to Jake, there's clothing from an overnight bag in the master bedroom and a shaving kit in the master bath. Either he wasn't planning to stay long or expected to buy whatever else he needed."

They walked from the foyer into the great room, a living and dining area that lived up to its name; it was not only a huge, open space but had been decorated with high-end products and furnishings and the very latest thing in amenities, including a large-screen plasma TV and a fireplace.

Momentarily distracted yet again, Riley indicated the fireplace. "Does anybody around here even use those?"

"We have a few chilly nights in winter. Not many, as a rule, but a few. Rentals with fireplaces do better in winter, obviously."

"Oh. Makes sense, I guess." Focus, dammit. Focus. Riley looked around at what was a very large house, clearly designed to hold a dozen or more people. "How many bedrooms?"

"Six. And seven baths. There's a level below this floor and one above."

Frowning, Riley went over to one of two refrigerators and opened it. "Curiouser and curiouser," she said. "It's stocked." She checked the other one. "Both of them are stocked. Bet the pantry is too."

"Yeah, Jake said the local grocery store made a big delivery on Saturday, before Tate arrived. Prearranged. People go online and make out their shopping lists ahead of time; the store delivers as soon as the cleaning crew is out behind the previous tenants. The delivery people put away perishables and leave the rest on the counter for the renter."

"I had no idea you could do that," Riley said, closing the fridge door. "I just stopped on the way in and bought what I needed."

"Frozen pizza and PowerBars mostly. Yeah, I remember."

"If you don't cook, that's what you buy." She frowned again. "Question is, why did Tate have so much food delivered? What's in there would feed a dozen people or more for a couple of weeks."

"I would say he was expecting company. And for more than just a meal or two." Ash studied her. "Are you getting anything clairvoyantly?"

"I haven't tried. Yet." As difficult as it was for her to concentrate, Riley was more than a little bit wary of dropping her guard.

Assuming she still had a guard, which was probably arguable.

"So what's the plan?" Ash was still watching her. "I don't know much about this kind of thing, but I'm guessing the guy didn't leave a lot of his own…energy…here anyway, not considering how little time he spent here. A cleaning crew was here the day he checked in, and Jake's forensics team is neater than most and clean up after themselves, so this place has pretty much been spit-shined."

Riley wondered if he was offering her an out because he was afraid she'd fail-or afraid she'd succeed.

She wasn't sure which one she was afraid of.

"Where's the master?" she asked.

"Usually has some of the best views, so I'm guessing upstairs," Ash replied. He led the way, adding over his shoulder, "It's not that I mean to hover, but I'd rather stick close just in case."

"I appreciate that," Riley said. Because she did.

The master bedroom was spacious for a rental, and boasted both a large adjoining bathroom and a private deck with a-distant-view of the ocean.

Riley ate a PowerBar and prowled the space, looking, touching, cautiously trying to open senses she wasn't sure were doing anything except barely functioning. She was getting nothing. No scents, no sounds, no appreciable texture; even the brightly decorated room looked oddly washed-out to her.

The strange veil was back, a layer of something indefinable separating her from the world. And it was getting thicker.

Riley was cold. So cold. But she tried not to shiver, tried to keep doing her job.

"He was neat," she said, peering into a closet where a suit jacket and two shirts hung evenly spaced.

"He didn't have time to get messy," Ash pointed out.

Riley opened a dresser drawer and pointed to several pairs of socks and Jockeys, folded precisely. "He was neat."

"Okay, he was neat." Ash paused, then said, "You know, if there's a possible connection between Tate and the people in the Pearson house, why not just follow that lead to get information? Why put yourself through this if you don't have to?"

She looked at him, frowning. "Put myself through this. Does it seem to you this is an effort for me?"

Ash returned her stare for a long moment, then came to her and turned her to face the mirror above the dresser.

"Look," he said.

For just an instant, no more than a split second, Riley thought she saw another woman standing there with Ash behind her, a weird sort of double image, the way slight movement shows as a blur in a photograph.

And then it was gone, and Riley saw herself. With Ash standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

At first, she couldn't see whatever it was that caused him concern; the weird veil that had faded colors and muted her other senses lay between her and the mirror, just as it lay between her and the world.