The knowledge was both frustrating and terrifying.

“We’re wasting time here. Let’s get going.” Tony held a hand down to Charlie. “Need some help?”

“He’s here,” she said one more time, scanning as much of the crowd as she could see. “Right here with us.”

“Since we don’t know who we’re looking for, the best thing we can do is go back and compare today’s video with video from the dances.” The very reasonableness of Tony’s voice told Charlie that he was feeling the frustration of it, too. “Whoever is in all those places makes our suspect hit parade.”

It made sense, and Charlie knew it. Still, knowing the killer was there and not being able to identify him was a bitter pill that she was finding hard to swallow. Taking Tony’s hand, she let him pull her to her feet, then smiled her thanks at him. All the while, she was supremely conscious of Garland’s narrowed eyes on them. It was obvious he didn’t much like what he was seeing. Charlie was mad at herself because she even noticed.

What do I care what he thinks anyway?

Answer: I don’t. This is not a relationship, and he is not a man. And even if he were a man this wouldn’t be a relationship.

They were moving away toward the parking lot when Charlie glanced around again and saw that the coroner’s assistants were pushing the gurney with Bayley Evans’ body on it toward the van. The procession was almost abreast of them. Nobody had yet covered the girl with a sheet.

Charlie knew this because she looked. It was automatic, instinctive, and a mistake. Her heart lurched. Her chest tightened and her throat ached.

“Jesus,” Garland muttered. Charlie realized that he was beside her and staring at Bayley Evans’ body, too. Serial killers did not have the right to look sickened at another serial killer’s atrocity, she thought with a sudden burst of fury, and shot him a look of loathing.

“What?” He caught her look. It took him only a second to correctly interpret it. His face tightened. “You really think I’d do something like that to a woman?”

Charlie didn’t answer. There were too many people around.

But if she had answered, the only thing she could have said was Yes.

Because there was no way she was foolish enough to let her heart override what she knew.

Sometime before they reached the SUV, she realized that Garland had disappeared.

On the way back to Kill Devil Hills, everybody was out of sorts and snappy, Charlie included. The local FBI called back: two campgrounds and an RV park existed near Jockey’s Ridge, but a search had yielded nothing suspicious. After that, nobody felt like eating; Crane ordered a pizza anyway. While he and Kaminsky went into the house to wait for the delivery person to arrive, Charlie reluctantly told Tony that she needed to go back to the Meads’ for just a minute. It was after ten p.m., they were all exhausted, disheartened, and weighed down with failure and sorrow for Bayley Evans, but there was something she needed to do and she wasn’t about to go out in the dark alone. Tony gave her a long look, but didn’t ask questions, which was one of the things she truly liked about him. Instead, he escorted her over to the Meads’ house.

This time, one of the two cops in the car out front had a key. She’d already told Tony that she needed to go upstairs alone, so he waited in the living room with the officers while she trudged up the stairs.

Now that there was no more need for Julie Mead to cling to earth, Charlie meant to help her go home.

However, when she reached the master bedroom, Julie Mead was not there. Charlie called her, softly, but got no answer. She also didn’t feel the least bit sick to her stomach, which was what finally convinced her that the spirit was truly gone.

A glance in Trevor’s bedroom told her that it was empty, too. What Garland had said he’d seen—Trevor’s father coming for him—apparently was true.

Not that she didn’t trust Garland’s word, but for Trevor’s sake she’d wanted to make sure.

I hope Bayley and her family are all together somewhere.

The deep sadness she felt for them was oppressive. Her heart ached. And the worst part about it was, this dubious gift she had been given hadn’t changed a thing.

“So when were you planning to tell me that you’ve got some psychic ability?” As Tony escorted her back over the boardwalk between the two houses, he asked the question in such a casual tone, it took Charlie a second to process what he was saying.

Then she stopped dead, which meant he had to stop walking, too. He was beside her, and her hand was tucked companionably into his elbow. They were close enough so that when she looked sharply up at him, she should have been able to read his expression. But it was very dark, with the moon and stars almost completely obscured by a bank of heavy black clouds that had blown in over the last hour. The air smelled of rain to come, and the crash of the waves hitting the shore promised a storm.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, because his face was deep in shadow.

But all of a sudden she knew where that question had come from, and she pulled her hand free of his arm.

“You got that from the background check, right?” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it earlier: of course that’s why he’d never really questioned how she knew what she knew.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask me about it before?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me.”

“What, that I see dead people?” Angry, she resumed walking toward the house.

He fell in beside her. “Do you?”

She jerked a look up at him. “Yes. Sometimes. Not that it ever does anybody any good.”

He caught her arm, pulled her to a stop. “It’s not your fault we weren’t able to save Bayley Evans.”

She gave a bitter little laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“No.”

Then, to Charlie’s surprise, he bent his head and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, thorough, plenty of tongue. After the first moment of shock, she slid her hand behind his head and kissed him back. Her body reacted with a tingling warmth that told her there absolutely was promise in there somewhere.

What her body didn’t do was melt or burn. No fireworks went off against her closed lids. Her world did not rock. All her preconceptions about herself and men did not shatter.

But still, it was a very nice kiss.

When he lifted his head, though, Charlie was annoyed to discover she was feeling a tad cranky.

“So what was that about?” she asked, striving to keep the crankiness out of her tone.

She thought he was studying her face, but again, it was too dark to really be sure. “I wanted to get it out of the way.”

Okay, cranky was definitely happening. Nothing she could do. “Oh, goody. I like your motivation. You want to tell me why you wanted to get it out of the way?” She pulled free and started walking again.

He laughed, and caught up. “You came to us on a temporary basis. I want to make it permanent.”

Whatever she had been expecting, that was not it. “What?”

“I’m offering you a job. Come be a permanent part of our team. Between the psychological insights and the psychic stuff, you’re unique. You’ll give us a weapon in this war against the monsters out there that we’ve never had before.”

Charlie frowned at him. “Which means you kissed me because …?”

“I wanted to, and I don’t kiss people I work with. If you accept the job, and I’m hoping you will, our relationship is strictly professional from here on out.”

“That’s certainly an incentive.” She couldn’t quite keep the tartness out of her voice.

He grinned. “Ouch.” Then his tone turned serious. “This is life-and-death work we’re doing, Charlie. You could be a vital part of it.”

They had almost reached the house. Through the gentle veil of the screening on the porch, Charlie could see Kaminsky standing in the lighted doorway holding a pizza box. The red-shirted delivery guy was just leaving. She watched him walk around the side of the house until the RV blocked him from her view.