She wasn’t trying to be quiet, so it wasn’t surprising that she woke Brodie hurrying past his door; she heard a sleepy curse from inside the room but still didn’t pause, and she was at the bottom of the stairs by the time he reached the top of them.

“What the— Sarah?”

“Something’s wrong,” she flung back over her shoulder, struggling with the front door’s lock.

“Don’t go out there! Goddammit, Sarah—!”

She could have told him that whatever danger there had been was past, but Sarah didn’t waste the effort or the breath. Instead, she got the door unlocked and flung open before he could reach her and rushed out of the house with no clear idea of where she was going.

She tripped over something that lay in the shadows of shrubs near the house and went down hard, bruising her knees. But she barely felt that pain, because her hands were in something warm and sticky, and a wave of terrible revulsion swept over her.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“Sarah?” He was coming through the door toward her.

She wanted to warn him, to say something, but the only sound Sarah heard escape her throat was a kind of moan.

Then the flashlight in Brodie’s hand came on, spearing stark white light through the darkness. The light fell on her shaking hands, held out in front of her, and she stared numbly at the blood dripping.

She heard a sound come from Brodie, saw the light jerk away from her hands…and fall on Cait’s white face and staring eyes.

And the gaping wound that opened her throat almost to her spine.

The sun was well up when Brodie came into the kitchen, where Sarah and Leigh sat in silence with coffee cups before them. He poured himself a cup, his hands steady, but his voice was stony when he said, “Nick isn’t here yet.”

“What about Murphy?” Leigh’s voice was calm.

He nodded. “Gathering some supplies. We should be ready to move in another couple of hours.”

Sarah looked at him incredulously. She could still feel Cait’s blood on her hands despite a hot shower and lots of soap, yet this man who had been her partner stood there talking as if nothing had happened. Before she could say anything, however, Leigh spoke gently.

“We’ll grieve later, Sarah. Cait would understand.”

“Would she? I’m not so sure I do. You both act as if nothing happened. What about—what about her body?”

Brodie’s jaw tightened. “We’ve cleaned up the walkway so there’s no visible evidence anything happened. Tim’s taking her back to New York. It’s where she’s from. I’ll talk to her brother after this is finished, though he probably knows already. And…simple enough to arrange to have the body found so it’ll look like one more victim of senseless violence.”

Sarah moved slightly, not realizing how clearly her feelings showed on her face until Brodie spoke again, harshly this time.

“There’s nothing else we can do. We can’t afford to call in the police, Sarah. We don’t have any answers they’d believe, and no time to even try convincing them.”

“But…just to dump her somewhere…How can you?”

He drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Listen to me. We don’t have a choice. Bodies require explanations. Serious explanations to serious people in authority. And people in authority frown on murder. They look for likely suspects—and they don’t believe in ghostly conspiracies involving psychics and shadowy merciless bad guys. So who do you think they’d suspect?”

“Not us,” Sarah objected. “Surely—”

“Of course us. We found one of Leigh’s kitchen knives out there. The murder weapon. With her prints on it—or mine, or yours. Sarah, the other side doesn’t generally leave bodies lying around just to show they can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they always have a reason, a purpose. Cait was meant to be a murder victim, and we were meant to be suspects.”

It was Leigh who said slowly, “But, why? They have a baited trap waiting for Sarah. Why this…diversion?”

“I don’t know why.” Brodie, his face still gray and older than his years, stared at his coffee with a frown. “It’s a stupid, senseless waste of a life. A young life. I never should have taken her on as my partner, never. She was too young, too reckless.”

“Brodie, it isn’t your fault,” Leigh said quietly.

He shot her a look but, instead of arguing, said, “The only thing I can think of is that they’re trying to delay us and figured a murder would do it. If Sarah hadn’t awakened knowing something was wrong, the first person to…see Cait would have been that neighbor of yours across the street, Leigh. The one who goes to work so early. When he came out his front door, he would have seen your front walk clearly. And seen her body.”

“And raised the alarm,” Leigh agreed.

Brodie nodded. “Even at best, we’d have been kept tied up with the cops all day. At worst, one or more of us would have ended up in jail.”

Sarah shook her head a little, trying to make her mind work as logically as these two seemed able to. “I just don’t understand why they would want to delay us.”

“Neither do I,” Brodie said. “Stalling for time. But why?” He looked sharply at Sarah. “What’s going on with Mackenzie?”

By now, Sarah didn’t even have to close her eyes and concentrate. All she had to do was pay attention.

“He’s…” She stared at Brodie. “The drug’s wearing off. He’s beginning to come out of it.”

“Then,” Brodie said grimly, “we’re out of time.”

SIXTEEN

Astrid kept her eyes closed, concentrating intensely, her nimble mind feeling its way. Varden watched her, every bit as intent and glancing more than once at his watch.

“Faster is better,” he said finally, impatient.

She opened her eyes with a sigh and stared at him. “Not in this. Look, do you want me to do this, or not? Because if you do, peace and quiet will help me do it.”

There was little Varden could do but accept that, but he made a mental note to teach this one a lesson or two in obedience in the near future. “All right. Just do it.”

Astrid closed her eyes again, and for a good five minutes there was utter silence. Then she frowned, her head tilting to one side in a considering pose. A moment later she opened her eyes and looked at Varden. “I don’t think you want me to do this. He—”

“Of course I want you to do it. Do you know how to follow orders, Astrid?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then do it. Just do it.”

Astrid opened her mouth for further protest, then closed it. A faint smile curved her mouth, and her eyes glittered briefly. “Okay. You want it, you’ve got it.”

“That’s better,” Varden said, satisfied.

Astrid closed her eyes again.

The drug they used made his head pound. That was Tucker’s first clear realization. His head pounded, and his mouth was dry, and as sensation slowly returned to his body, he ached all over. And he was cold.

As before, it took him several minutes—he thought—to get his eyes to open. And, as before, all he saw was a lot of dark. But I’m not blind. It’s just fucking dark in here.

He was sure of that. He wanted to be sure of that.

But there was one difference between this time and last. He wasn’t absolutely positive, but he thought he was no longer being watched. Those eyes that had followed him into nightmares were gone now. There was no sense of anyone nearby sharing this darkness with him.

Or was that just another thing he wanted to be sure of?

No. No, he was alone here. His jailer had apparently left him alone, for some reason he couldn’t fathom or simply because he’d not been expected to recover from the drug so quickly.

He wanted to try moving and test that theory but forced himself to remain still because he had the dim idea that it had been some involuntary movement last time that had caused his jailer to jab him with a needle and knock him back out for God knows how long.