So stop feeling sorry for her. He'd try to give her something in return, but there was no doubt he was going to use Kerry Murphy.

There was too much in the balance for him to walk away now.

It was over an hour before Kerry woke and another fifteen minutes before she felt steady enough to leave the shelter of the living room and go to the kitchen to face Silver. If that was his name. How could she be sure anything he told her was true? He'd exploded into her life when she was at her most vulnerable and he was still only a shadow figure to her.

She stopped in the doorway. He was sitting at the kitchen table, talking on the phone, and he didn't look in the least shadowlike. He had dark hair and dark eyes, was somewhere in his mid-thirties, and powerfully built. Yes, power was the key word to describe him. He exuded authority and confidence. The impression was so dominant that it made no difference that he was dressed in faded jeans and sweatshirt and that his features were less than handsome. Particularly now that he was frowning at something that he was hearing on the phone. He glanced up and saw her and said quickly, “I'll call you back, Gillen.” He hung up and rose to his feet. “Sit down. I'll get you a cup of coffee.”

“I'll get it myself.” She moved toward the cabinet. “After all, it is my house.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He sat back down. “Just trying to be accommodating. I promised I'd be nice to you.” He scowled. “It's been damn hard.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I couldn't care less whether you're nice to me or not. I don't know you and I don't want to know you. I lost a good friend today and I just want you to get out of here and leave me alone.”

“Can't do it.” He sipped his coffee. “I need you. Believe me, if I thought I could get the same kind of help somewhere else, I'd be out of here. I've had a hard week and you've made it tougher. Sit down and we'll talk.”

“I don't want to talk.” She poured her coffee and had to steady her hand before she picked up the cup. “I was pretty much out of it, but I believe you were kind to me earlier today. But that doesn't mean you can barge into my life. If you don't get out, I'll have to call the police.”

“You don't want to call in the cops. Any questions they ask me may have awkward consequences for you.” He added, “And you're not going to get rid of me until you sit down and listen.”

She hesitated, staring at him. She was tempted to tell him to go to hell, but there was something she had to know, something that was filling her with fear. She slowly moved across the room and sat down at the table. But she found she couldn't ask that question yet. Instead, she asked, “How did you know I was in that closet?”

“You were sending out a distress call that was nearly blowing my mind.” He studied her expression. “You're afraid of me.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“Not that I'm going to mug you or rape you. You're afraid I'm going to intrude.” He shook his head. “No way. It hurts too damn much.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“The hell you don't.” He shook his head wearily. “I was told you were stubborn and preferred to turn a blind eye. I meant to be patient and kind and all that crap, but you blew me out of the water. You must have really liked this Charlie—”

“Of course I liked him. He was a great guy.”

“But not too perceptive. He liked you, but he never realized how you were using Sam.”

She stiffened. “Sam?”

He sighed. “Okay, let's jump over this hurdle and get things out in the open. Sam's a nice pup, but as an arson dog he's a complete washout. He couldn't sniff out a beefsteak in a butcher shop.”

“You're crazy. Everyone knows he's the best arson dog in the Southeast.”

“Because that's what you wanted everyone to believe. You didn't want anyone to know the truth.” He paused. “You didn't want them to know that the only way you knew where and how the fires were being set was that you saw it being done.”

“You're nuts. Do you think I'm some kind of pyromaniac?”

“No, I think you have a special psychic talent triggered by fire. If you come anywhere near the area a fire was set, you receive vibes; sometimes you actually see it being done. In cases where you have a relationship with the people involved in the fire, you don't have to be close.” He was silent a moment. “Like with your friend Charlie. You connected and couldn't get away.”

Smoke. The door on the third floor. Backdraft.

“Steady,” he said quietly. “It's over now.”

She drew a deep breath. “You seem to think you know a good deal about me. Who are you? Some kind of reporter?”

“No, and I have no desire to let everyone know how you're using Sam. That's your business.”

“That's good.” She tried to smile. “Because it's all ridiculous. No one would ever believe that hocus-pocus.”

“I agree. It's a nitty-gritty world with no room for fantasy. I can understand perfectly why you needed to protect yourself. You wanted to make sure the bad guys got what was coming to them, but you knew you'd be laughed out of your job if you didn't have a way to validate what you were seeing.” He reached down and patted the Lab's head. “Enter super arson dog Sam. But you could have picked one who had a little more credibility.”

“I don't need your understanding. And Sam's just fine.” She moistened her lips and looked down into her coffee. “And if you're through making outrageous guesses, maybe you'd like to tell me why you're here.”

“I have a job for you.”

“What kind of job?”

He studied her for a moment. “You're not ready yet. You'd turn me down.” He stood up, reached in his pocket, and threw down his rental-car keys. “Use my Lexus if you need it. I'll arrange to have your SUV towed from the fire station back here. I'll be in touch.”

She glared at him. “Don't you dare walk out of here. I want answers.”

He smiled faintly. “There's only one answer you really want right now. It's to that question you've been afraid to ask me.” His voice lowered to a murmur. “The lake. It was pretty, wasn't it? I worked very hard to make it beautiful for you. And, no, you aren't going bonkers.” He threw a card on the table and headed for the door. “That's my cell number. Call me if you need me.”

“Wait. Dammit, who sent you?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Michael Travis.” A moment later she heard the door close behind him.

She felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She'd last seen Michael five years ago and she'd sworn she'd never see him again. She'd thought he was out of her life.

Stop panicking. She slammed the door on Michael all those years ago and she could slam it again.

But could she slam it on Brad Silver? She had an idea he was completely different from Michael. Less patient, more ruthless, more direct.

How did she know that about him? she wondered suddenly. He was a stranger.

Oh, God, the lake.

Or it could be just her own judgment of his character. This connection she felt with him didn't have to be anything bizarre.

Yes, it did. He was bizarre. If he'd managed to do what she thought he'd done, then he was even more of a freak than she was.

But she wasn't a freak. She'd learned to deal with her problem. And she could still do it. Nothing was changed. She could send Silver on his way and get her life back in order. But first she had to make sure he stayed away from her, and that meant getting Travis to call him off.

She drew a deep breath, reached for her phone, and quickly punched in the number she'd not dialed for over five years.

“What the hell are you doing, Michael?” she asked when Travis answered the phone.

“Kerry?”

“You know damn well it's me. I told you to stay out of my life, and that included turning loose any of your sycophants to make my life miserable.”