He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so alive, so caught up in a unique and challenging situation.

He also understood for the first time why Quentin had joined the FBI when he had. Not because he considered himself a traditional cop, a notion John had always found unbelievable given his friend’s brash, thoroughly independent, and often reckless nature-to say nothing of his occasionally cockeyed sense of humor. And not because he had a law degree he didn’t quite know what to do with.

No, he had joined because Noah Bishop had been quietly recruiting qualified people with paranormal abilities for a very specialized unit of investigators, and that had appealed both to Quentin’s innate curiosity and sense of justice and his need to make use of a unique talent the rest of the world found incomprehensible-and even frightening. If they believed in it at all.

“Some friend I’ve been,” John muttered beneath his breath.

It said a lot for Quentin’s nature that he had remained a loyal friend, both humorous and unoffended all these years despite John’s patent disbelief. John wasn’t so sure what it said about his own nature. That he was incredibly stubborn, perhaps?

Perhaps.

“John.”

He straightened away from the doorjamb, surprised that he’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t heard Maggie approach. As soon as he saw her face, he took a quick step toward her almost instinctively.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

She tucked her sketch pad under one arm and reached for her phone, her smile a little strained. “Hollis thought she might have remembered something, but it’s nothing we didn’t already know.” The lie came easily to her lips, but she went on immediately just in case John’s acute perception where she was concerned told him more than she wanted him to know. “I’m worried about her, though. She and Ellen Randall are the only surviving victims so far; Ellen’s still blind and no threat to this animal, but Hollis might be able to see again, and I’m afraid that would disturb him enough that he might try to come after her again. Even though the surgeon and the staff here have agreed not to publicize the operation, the news is bound to get out sooner rather than later. I think she should be guarded, just in case he finds out about it.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah. Andy? It’s Maggie. Are you guys making a night of it? I know, I’d just as soon work as try to sleep too. Listen, do you have somebody you can post here at the hospital, outside Hollis’s room? I don’t want to scare her, but I think she should be protected. No, but if this bastard finds out she might be able to see again-yeah, she could be a threat to him. Clear it with the hospital, okay? Thanks.”

She listened for a moment, then closed her eyes briefly, and they were bleak when she opened them again. “I see. So he’s not giving them even a chance to survive now. And not wasting much time between victims. He must have grabbed Tara Jameson within hours of killing Samantha Mitchell. Yeah… a whole new ball game. No, John’s still with me, so we’ll come together. Right.”

She listened a moment longer, then frowned and said, “Is that Luke I hear?” Her face tightened, and she said in a voice John remembered from their first meeting, “Do me a favor, and tell him I’d appreciate it if he hung around until I got there. I want to talk to him. Yeah. Thanks, Andy.”

Watching her drop the phone back into her pocket,

John said, “Do you think Drummond will listen to you?”

It didn’t even occur to Maggie that John hadn’t needed to ask what she had in mind. “I think he’d damned well better. Stubborn is one thing, but this has gone way too far to keep bumping up against Luke’s pride.”

“Even he has to see that much now. I gather they found Samantha Mitchell’s body?”

“Yes. He’d killed her outright.” She drew a breath. “Cut her throat.”

John watched her steadily. “Then I’d say it’s way past time to pool our resources and manpower and work together.”

Maggie nodded. “Definitely. Whether Luke Drummond likes it or not.”

“You’ve got my vote. And I have a hunch Andy is going to agree with you too.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure first, okay it with Andy, and then I’ve got a few home truths for Luke. If I have to, I’ll go to the chief-and I’ll make sure Luke knows it.”

“Blame me for the fact that Quentin and Kendra are already in town,” he told her. “He can bitch at me all he wants without hurting any of the rest of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. And if you need any extra ammo, you might try telling him the governor owes me a favor that I’ve been very hesitant to call in. So far.”

“Is that true?”

“Yeah. I was saving it in case Drummond got nasty and tried to shut me out of the investigation entirely, but we might as well play every card we’ve got.”

Maggie nodded again. “Okay. I’ll use it if I have to.”

John put an arm around her, partly because she looked exhausted and partly because he needed to touch her, and said, “Let’s go.”

Scott came into the conference room and sat down in a chair across from Jennifer. “Beats me what’s going on, but it looks serious. Andy’s in a huddle with John at his desk, and Maggie is in Drummond’s office. The door is closed-but you can still hear Drummond.”

Jennifer grimaced. “If he’s pissed enough to be yelling at Maggie, it must really be serious. He’s more careful with her than he is with any of us.”

“Because the chief is so high on her.”

“Yeah.” Jennifer looked at her watch. “Nearly eleven. Andy said we should put ourselves back on the clock if we’re planning to hang around.”

“Suits me,” Scott said. “All I do at home is stare at the walls trying to figure this thing out.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Any luck finding that transient?”

“Not so far. I called some of the other shelters in the area, but they don’t have anybody matching his description or claiming the name David Robson.”

“You don’t really think this guy saw a ghost, do you, Jenn?”

“I think he might have seen something. At the very least, something that shook him up.”

“Because Terry Lynch says so?”

“He’s a good cop, Scott.”

“Sure he is. I’m just wondering what a drunken transient could possibly have seen to make him believe he’d seen a ghost. Smoke? Light hitting a patch of mist just right? Somebody dressed all in white?”

“All good possibilities,” she admitted. “But maybe he saw something else, Scott. From what little we do know, this bastard may be wearing a mask at least while he’s with the victims-one of those hard plastic masks. I’d think that would look plenty creepy even if you were cold sober.”

“I guess.”

Jennifer sighed. “I know it’s a long shot, but what have we got to lose checking it out?”

Scott sighed as well. “Nothing.”

“Exactly.” Jennifer reached for the phone. “I have a couple more shelters on my list that should be taking calls even this late. Besides-even long shots finish first every once in a while.”

“Not when you bet on them,” Scott replied in a voice of wry experience.

“I don’t like being threatened, Maggie.” Drummond’s voice was level, a distinct change from his roaring of only moments before.

On her feet in front of his desk, she leaned forward and planted her hands squarely on his blotter. “No? Then stop making it necessary, Luke. This thing has gotten way out of hand, and if you were honest with yourself instead of so bullheaded you refuse to see reason, you’d admit it.”

“My people can-”

“Your people are out of their league. They’re damned good cops, every one of them, but they’ve never had to deal with this kind of monster before. Nothing in their training or experience has prepared them for it.”

“If you’d just produce a sketch-”

She straightened and half laughed. “Fine, blame it on me. I don’t give a shit. Say your sketch artist just couldn’t do her job, and that’s why you can’t catch this animal.”