Would she be able to hear so well if, tomorrow, she could see again? Probably not. But that wasn't what bothered her. She would happily trade the sharper hearing for the return of her sight. But would she, alone of all the victims so far, survive his attack still able to see? And if so-why? If Maggie was right about fate and destiny, there had to be a reason. What had she done to earn that?

Or… what was she supposed to do?

Quietly, she murmured, "Annie? Are you there?"

I'm here.

The voice was faint, hardly louder than a whisper, but at least it was a reply after many hours of silence.

"There's a lot you haven't told me, isn't there?"

Yes.

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

I had to be so careful, especially at first. Other times… other times, those I tried to warn could never accept me. 7… frightened them. I didn't want to frighten you.

"I'm not frightened."

I know. Now.

"Then tell me what I can do to help Maggie. She helped me, more than she knows. She took away so much of the pain and fear. And… she's fighting for all of us. I have to help her. Tell me how, Annie." At first, she didn't think there'd be any sort of answer. But finally even more distantly and fading into silence, the answer came.

Soon. Soon, Hollis…

When John finally reached Maggie on her cell phone, he had to force himself to speak calmly. "Where are you?"

"I'm leaving the hospital after checking on Hollis." She sounded as calm as always, though John fancied he could detect a note of strain. "I just turned the phone back on."

"Then you're on your way back here?"

"I was. But there's one more thing I think I should go ahead and do today."

"What?"

"A walk-through of the building where they found Samantha Mitchell. Maybe I can get something useful. Can you give me the address?"

Immediately, John said, "You don't need to do that alone, Maggie. I'll meet you there."

She barely hesitated. "Okay, fine. What's the address?"

He found the Mitchell file on the cluttered conference table and read off the address to her, finishing with, "If you get there first, wait outside for me. All right?"

"I will. See you there."

John closed his cell phone and said to Quentin, "She shouldn't do it alone."

"Did I say anything?"

"You wanted to."

Quentin smiled slightly, but said very quietly, "She has to do this her way, just like I warned you days ago. But you already knew that, didn't you, John?"

"Let's just say I figured it out. I've gotten to know Maggie, to understand what makes her tick, or at least I think I have. You said all along that her motivation for feeling the pain of all those victims had to be deep, powerful. Maybe even… set in stone. Atonement. Whatever the… judgment… of the universe, in Maggie's mind there's only one way to truly correct the mistake she believes she made. Stop this bastard, here and now. And she means to do everything in her power to make sure that happens, no matter what the cost to herself."

"I'd say so. I'd also say you won't do her any favors by trying to protect her, and you won't stop her from doing what she feels she has to do."

"Are you sure about that? Can you be?"

"Are you asking me if I know what the future will bring?"

Visibly bracing himself, John replied, "I guess that is what I'm asking you. Can I protect her?"

"No."

After a long moment, John drew a breath and said lightly, "You won't mind if I try?"

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

John nodded, then turned without another word and left.

Alone again in the conference room, Quentin murmured into the silence, "Fate doesn't expect anything else of you either, John. I wonder when you'll realize that."

When Andy came into the conference room a few minutes later, he found Quentin slumped in his chair, feet propped on a closed file on the conference table and fingers laced together across his middle. He was frowning.

Andy didn't know the agent well, but he knew preoccupation when he saw it. "Worried about John?"

"Hmm?" He looked at Andy and blinked.

"I asked if you were worried about John. I saw him leave a little while ago, and he looked a bit… upset."

Absently, Quentin said, "Yeah, he isn't hiding his feelings too well right now, is he?"

"He's going after Maggie?"

"Yeah."

Patient, Andy said, "And you're worried?"

Quentin blinked again, then shook his head. "No, not about that. No sense worrying about something set in stone a long time ago."

Andy started to ask what he meant by that, then decided he really didn't want to know. "Then what?"

"Did you ever get the nagging feeling there was something you'd overlooked?"

"Occasionally."

"And?"

"And I usually find I've overlooked something."

"Yeah. Me too." Quentin stared at the cluttered table. "Somewhere among all this stuff is a detail I should have paid closer attention to."

"Can't narrow it down any more than that?"

"No. Dammit." He took his feet off the table and sat up, opening the closed file rather grimly. "But I intend to, because it's bugging the hell out of me."

Andy shrugged philosophically. "Let me know when you find it."

When he reached the abandoned and deserted building where Samantha Mitchell's body had been found, John wasn't surprised to find the entire area all but deserted. It wasn't an especially inviting day-cold, cloudy, and dreary, and misting rain from time to time- and the neighborhood wasn't what anyone would have called appealing. Far from it. What few buildings within view hadn't already been condemned or scheduled for demolition wore the barred-window, iron-grated-door look of desperate fortresses holding danger at bay.

Maggie's car was parked in front of the building where Samantha had been found, and she got out as he parked his car, waiting for him on the sidewalk.

"This is not what I'd call a cheerful place," he noted as he joined her.

"Hardly," Maggie agreed. She was hugging the sketch pad to her breast as she often did, as though it were a shield. The chill breeze made the tip of her nose pink and stirred her long hair so that it seemed to have an independent life all its own. "It's almost as if he chooses the places where he leaves his victims partly for their desolation. As if he wants the women to feel… abandoned. Alone."

"Maybe he does. Maybe it's all part of his twisted game to isolate his victims in every sense of the word."

She shivered visibly. "Yeah."

"Maggie, maybe you should wait to do this."

"We need all the information we can get, you know that."

"Yeah, but it's hardly fair-even of a demanding universe-to expect you to keep putting yourself through this."

"Didn't anybody ever teach you that life isn't especially fair?"

He looked at her for a moment, then said lightly, "I'm learning that all the time."

Suddenly a bit self-conscious, Maggie went to put the sketch pad inside her car. "No reason to take this in with me," she said. "I never can sketch anything while I'm walking through anyway."

When she rejoined him, John touched her arm. "Are you sure you're up to this? After our all-nighter at the station, you can't have gotten much rest."

"I doubt anybody got much rest. Did you?"

"No-but I'm not an empath carrying around the weight of other people's pain."

Maggie smiled suddenly. "Can you imagine yourself even saying that a week ago?"

He had to laugh, however briefly. "No. In fact- hell, no."

"We live and learn." She started up the uneven walkway to the front doorway of the building.

John followed. "And you didn't answer me. Should you be doing this today?"

"We don't have a lot of time left."

He caught her arm just short of the front steps and stopped her. "Something you feel? Or something you know?"