When she looked—even absently without her full attention—she saw.

He had to make her look. No matter what it cost her.

No matter what it cost him.

The usual crowd populated Venice Beach, but it had been a slow day for Daisy Novak. Plenty of curious looks were directed toward her kiosk, but not many seemed eager to pay twenty bucks to get their fortunes told.

Absently, she polished her crystal ball with her sleeve and watched the people wander past. It was nearly dark, but there were plenty of lights around, and still plenty of people, and Daisy hesitated. She was stiff after sitting here so long. Damned arthritis. But just another twenty bucks or so would mean she probably wouldn’t have to work on Saturday. Another hour, then. But no longer; her cat, Moses, would be waiting for his supper.

She reached under the draped table and flipped the switch that turned on the light under her crystal ball. A nice effect, if she did say so herself. Especially since her kiosk was in one of the dimmer areas of the boardwalk. The light shone upward through the crystal, and she knew it made her face look nicely spooky and unearthly.

And it was effective too. Within minutes, a customer sat down on the other side of the table.

“Twenty dollars for ten minutes?” She pushed a bill across the table.

Daisy smiled and slid the bill into her voluminous blouse. “Yes, indeed. Do you have a preference, Megan? Tarot, palm reading, crystal ball?”

Megan blinked, then smiled. “You’re pretty good.” She was young, in her twenties, and pretty, dressed as casually as everyone around her in shorts and a skimpy top, and she had that I-dare-you expression that Daisy easily recognized. “Let’s try out the ball.”

Automatically, Daisy cupped her hands around the base of the crystal and peered at it intently. Now she regretted turning on the light; the damn thing made her eyes water. “Past, present, or future?” she murmured. “The crystal shows all.”

“Suit yourself,” Megan said.

Daisy glanced at her, noted the challenging expression, and felt irritated enough to reach a bit deeper than usual. So this one was a skeptic, was she? Well, then, Daisy would just give her her money’s worth.

Briskly, Daisy said, “I see buildings, with young people walking all around—ah. You’re a graduate student. Economics.” She sneaked a glance up and saw Megan blink again. Good. A direct hit. “Single, but you have a boyfriend who is…a musician. You spend weekends with him. Hmmm. Doesn’t like the missionary position much, does he? Wants you to do all the work whenever possible. And he just bought a book with more positions illustrated for next weekend—”

“All right, that’s enough about that.” Megan’s face was flushed. But there was an eager light in her eyes now. “My future. What’s my future?”

Daisy peered more intently, but she wasn’t looking into the crystal. She was looking inward. “I see…a man. He’s…he’s in the shadows. He’s giving you something. Money. He’s paying you.” Daisy felt a chill spread through her and was only half-aware that her voice had grown anxious. “Don’t, Megan. Don’t go to him for your money. He’s…there’s something wrong with him. With all of them. Don’t become a part of their plans. He—they—want you to do something bad. Helping them is a bad thing. Don’t do it—”

She reached across the table instinctively to grasp Megan’s hand and only then realized that the girl had fled.

More than a little unnerved herself, Daisy turned off the crystal’s light and packed up to go home. Jeez, what had she seen? A guy in the shadows, a guy she’d felt was somehow not normal. This was California, for Christ’s sake—nobody was normal here. So why had it scared her so much?

Daisy tried to push it out of her mind, but she was still nervous as she walked home, jumping at shadows and noises. She told herself to calm down, reminded herself that this was a safe route home and always had been. But that reading bothered her.

She was half a block from home when a shadow loomed out at her from an alleyway, and she didn’t jump quite fast enough. A hand like iron grabbed her arm and pulled her into the alley.

Daisy should have screamed. But the moment he touched her, coldly terrifying images flooded her mind so vividly that they stole her breath.

“Hello, Daisy,” he said gently.

She looked up at his shadowy face, and in the moment granted to her for understanding, she suddenly knew what he was.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

She never saw the knife.

By noon the next day, Tucker’s laptop was sorting through the most recent download of media information and official reports, which left him and Sarah with nothing to do. They had both awakened early, breakfasted quietly, and said little to each other during the hours since. It had been agreed that they would remain here until early afternoon, leaving this hotel and continuing their journey to the next stop. Syracuse.

That destination was not so arbitrary as it might seem; one of Tucker’s tasks this morning had been to begin putting together a list of psychics living in the northeast, and the first name on that list belonged to a man who lived in Syracuse. Since that city was along their general route northward, they had decided to make that their next stop.

Whether they contacted the psychic would be decided later.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and have lunch in one of the restaurants?” Tucker suggested as his laptop hummed quietly. “You must be more than ready to get out of this room.”

Sarah, who had occupied herself by restlessly watching the news and mostly not watching one old movie on television, was definitely ready. “That sounds good.”

They left the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door to prevent housekeeping from cleaning the room while they were gone; Tucker didn’t want his laptop disturbed.

Sarah found herself looking around warily as they crossed the vast lobby to one of the restaurants, but nothing awoke suspicion. Everybody around them looked and acted normal and unthreatening.

But so did Sergeant Lewis.

“You’re very quiet,” Tucker said, after they’d given their order to the waiter.

“Am I? Sorry.” Her head no longer hurt, but that unsettling pulsing sensation was still present, that heartbeat throb behind her eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for it, Sarah.”

“Okay,” she said absently.

“Is anything bothering you? I mean, anything in particular?”

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled impersonally and allowed her gaze to slide away and roam idly past the low wall defining the restaurant and out into the lobby. “No, not really.”

The restaurant was fairly busy and the lobby more so. She watched people moving about, many of them wearing business suits and name tags as they clustered in the various seating areas and walked briskly toward whatever seminars they were due to attend in the nearby meeting rooms.

“Are you sure? You seem a bit…preoccupied today.”

“Do I?” One man caught her attention, and it didn’t surprise her that he would have. He was extraordinarily handsome, for one thing—and despite what she thought was a scar down his left cheek. Very distinctively, his black hair sported both a widow’s peak and a streak of pure white at the left temple.

He was clearly powerful physically, broad-shouldered and athletic, and more than one passing woman did a double take. He was sitting alone in a seating area designed for two, the second glass on his table mute indication that he was not as alone as he appeared.

He was looking around idly much as Sarah was, and for an instant she caught his gaze. His eyes were very pale in that almost coldly handsome face, and though they flickered very briefly with interest when they rested on her, Sarah’s reaction was more ambivalent.