"All right. Then why don't I try again to reach the killer."

It wasn't a question, but Ben felt a strong urge to protest. He didn't like Cassie's remoteness, and he didn't like the fact that too many people in the town suspected that Alexandra Melton's niece was involved in the investigation.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he said.

Cassie gestured for them to sit, taking for herself a chair at right angles to the sofa. "Why not?" she asked mildly.

Ben glanced at Matt, then sat at the end of the sofa nearest Cassie while the sheriff took the other chair. "Because people are beginning to talk, Cassie. And they know your name."

She didn't change expression. "Well, we expected that. All the more reason for me to try again. If he doesn't already know about me, he will soon."

It was Matt who said, "And when he does know about you? Will he be able to – to block you when you try to contact him?"

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. There have been a few in the past who were able to sense it when I tried to touch their minds, and one or two were able to block me at least partially. If he finds out about me, he could try that – although keeping those blocks in place continually will be all but impossible. Sooner or later I'll be able to get in."

"And then?" Ben was gazing at her steadily. "He'll be able to follow the trail back to you, won't he? He'll be able to reach into your mind."

"Maybe. But even if he can do that, he doesn't kill with his mind."

"Are you sure of that?" Ben demanded.

Cassie returned his stare for a moment, then looked at Matt. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but so far you have no evidence pointing to the identity of the killer."

"You're not wrong," Matt said.

"And I assume you're not willing to bet the lives of your fellow citizens on the hope that the killer has decided to abandon this nasty little habit of his?"

"My mama might have raised a stubborn man, but she didn't raise a fool."

"Then I say the risk is an acceptable one."

"Cassie – " Ben started to protest.

"And it's my risk." She looked steadily at him. "In ten years of working with the police, the only killer ever to backtrack and identify me telepathically was the man who killed my mother. He's dead."

"But he came after you."

"Physically. Just as this one might whenever he finds out who I am. That threat exists no matter what I do, especially if people in town are beginning to talk about me. So I'd just as soon try to figure out who he is before he has time to come looking for me."

Put that way, Ben could hardly object. But he was still uneasy, more so with every passing minute.

Taking his silence for assent, Cassie sat back in her chair, getting comfortable. She closed her eyes. "It shouldn't take nearly as long to reach him this time. I know the way now…" Her voice faded on the last words.

Ben allowed several beats of silence to pass, watching that still, pale face. All it took to alert him was a flicker behind her eyelids. "Cassie? Tell me what you see."

A slight frown drew her brows together and her lips parted on an indrawn breath. "He's… walking. There are people all around him."

"Whereishe,Cassie?"

"Stores. A fountain."

"Jesus," Matt said. "The mall."

"Cassie? What is he doing? Is he just shopping, is that why he's there? Or – "

"He has a hand in his pocket. He's… fingering the garrote. He's looking for her."

Matt was about to reach for his walkie-talkie but froze suddenly, his gaze riveted to Cassie's face. "Jesus," he repeated, softly this time.

Her eyes were open. She stared straight ahead, unblinking, blind to everything except the telepathic view from a killer's eyes. And her pupils were dilated, so enormous that only a thin ring of pale gray showed around them, like ice rimming two holes into nothing.

Ben felt a jolt of pure fear. At that moment he believed as he never had before that Cassie was no longer in the room. She was somewhere else, and where she was was dark and cold and crazy.

And only the thinnest and most fragile of ties kept her anchored to the body awaiting her return.

Abby glanced at her watch and, seeing that it was nearly four, quickened her pace. Shopping was taking longer than she had expected. Poor Bryce was waiting in the car, no doubt impatiently, and though the rawhide chew toys she had bought him would atone for temporary abandonment, she didn't want to stay away any longer.

Besides, it would be dark soon, and even with the powerful lights in the parking lot, she did not want to walk out there after darkness fell.

Just one more quick stop, and then she could go…

Max got up from the rug near the fire where he'd quietly lain all this time and came to sit near Cassie's chair. His eyes were fixed on her, and he whined softly. Every inch of his body spoke of tension and worry.

"Cassie?" Ben's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Cassie? Talk to me. Where are you?"

Her head moved very slightly, as if in response to his voice, but she never blinked or showed any expression, and her voice remained flat and totally without emotion. "I'm in him. He's… excited. His heart is pounding. There's so much danger, taking her here. But he likes that. He likes the challenge. The anticipation."

Matt hesitated, one hand on his walkie-talkie. "Ben. I need a description," he said softly. "If I send my people in there in force, we'll cause a panic. He'll be able to disappear in the mess."

Ben nodded. "Cassie? Is he looking toward any of the stores? Is there a reflection?"

Her brows drew together again, but those wide, empty eyes never changed. "Just… glimpses. Distorted. I think he has on… a blue jacket. Like a… team jacket. There's a white letter, I think. Maybe an R."

Ben glanced at Matt, reading the sheriff's dismay even as he felt his own. The largest and oldest of the three county high schools boasted blue team jackets with white lettering, and they were so commonly seen in the area, it was something of a joke. Hundreds of male students, past and present, wore the damned things.

Ben had one himself, packed away in a trunk out at the old house.

"Cassie, can you see anything else? What color is his hair?"

"He's wearing a hat. I think. A… baseball cap."

Yet another common sight in the area. Ben wanted to swear violently but forced himself to stay steady. He didn't like the growing pallor of Cassie's face or her utter stillness, sensing more than seeing that she was losing strength with every minute that passed.

"We need to know what he looks like, Cassie. Can you help us know that?"

She was silent for a moment. "I don't think – He isn't looking at the stores any longer. Just straight ahead, because… Oh. He's getting more excited. It's filling his mind, all his plans for her. He… has a safe place he can take her, so nobody will… will hear her, and it's all ready for them. He wants to make her strip for him first, so he can watch. And then – "

"Cassie. Who is he thinking about? Who is she?"

"The bitch."

"What's her name, Cassie?"

"Bitches don't have names." That assertion was particularly chilling delivered in her soft, toneless voice. But not nearly as chilling as her next words. "Bitches are only good for fucking. And for killing."

"Cassie – "

"Especially for killing. I like to see them bleed."

"It's nearly four," Sue hissed to her best friend. "If you're going to do something, do it now."

"You just hold Larry's attention for a few minutes," Deanna murmured in response, and wandered one row over to gaze at a fine display of modems.

Obedient, Sue carried the computer program she was considering over to where Larry stood near the door. Within five minutes he was returning to the software display with her, shaking his head at her ignorance.