Sense of Evil (28 page)

“Yes. I know.”

Then there’s nothing else to think about, is there? Nothing else to worry about.

“I just have to kill them. All six of them. Just like I did before.”

Yes. You just have to kill them.

“I’m not that self-destructive,” Isabel said.

“You’re that scared.”

“And you know that because of your degree in psychology?”

“I know it because I was brutalized too.”

After a long moment, much of the tension drained visibly from Isabel and she said, “Yeah. We belong to a very select club, you and I. Survivors of evil.”

“It doesn’t have to be a lifetime membership, Isabel.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. And if you let it be, then you let him win. You let evil win.”

Isabel managed a faint smile. “If this is what Maggie Barnes did for you, then I wish I’d had her around fourteen years ago.”

“What Maggie did for me,” Hollis said, “was put me in the same place you’re in now. As if years have gone by. The memories are still there, the pain is only an echo—and the scars are fear. I can be more objective than you because I’m not the one falling in love.”

“And if you were?” It was a tacit admission.

“I’d be scared to death.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that.”

It was Hollis’s turn to smile faintly. “Believe me, I’m counting on you to help me through, if it ever happens.”

“The blind leading the blind.”

“You’ll have figured things out by then. You’ll have to. As our esteemed leader says, the universe puts us where we need to be. You obviously need to be here, now. With Rafe.”

“And a killer.”

Hollis nodded. “And a killer. Which is why I think you can’t try to ignore or deny your own feelings. Not now, not this time. You don’t have that luxury, not with a killer in the equation. You need your abilities at full strength,
plus
whatever Rafe brings to the relationship.”

In a slightly suspicious tone, Isabel asked, “Did Bishop tell you anything else about what’s happening here? I mean, aside from having you give Rafe just the information he needed to keep that little confrontation at the dairy farm from having a tragic ending?”

“No, but I’ve been thinking about that.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Oh, it’s nothing definitive. You know how Bishop and Miranda are when it comes to seeing the future. Maybe they did see this and knew that Rafe needed to be part of it; maybe that’s why they made sure he’d survive Helton’s drunken paranoia. But even if they did, they’d hardly tell me anything about it.”

“Probably not,” Isabel agreed wryly. “They feel very responsible for what they see and the actions they take or don’t take, so they don’t say a whole lot about it to the rest of us.”

“One of these days,” Hollis said, “I’d love to talk to them about the whole philosophical question of playing God.”

“Good luck.”

Hollis smiled faintly, but said, “Getting back to the point I wanted to make, I think there’s a very simple reason why you and Rafe reacted to each other so instantly and on a basic chemical and electromagnetic level.”

“I guess you’re going to tell me even if I don’t ask.”

“Yes. It’s that balance thing the universe tries to keep going. In your case, you needed something outside yourself to be whole, balanced. And so does he. I think you two were meant to be a team, Isabel. Just like Bishop and Miranda. The two of you together are potentially . . . greater than the sum of your parts. A perfect balance, something the universe keeps aiming for and so often misses.”

“Hollis—”

“I don’t know why I believe that, but I do. Maybe it’s the sparking thing. Or just the way you talk to each other, as though you’ve been close for years. All I know is that I believe what I believe. And I think the only difference between you two and Bishop and Miranda is that it took them years and a lot of tragedy to figure things out.”

“What makes you think I—Rafe and I—can get there any faster or easier?”

“You do. You charge at things head-on, Isabel. It’s your instinct as sure as Rafe’s instinct is to protect. So stop holding back. Stop being afraid. Trust yourself.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, it is. Like I said, I’m not the one falling in love and trying to cope with all this. But the universe put me here for a reason, too, and maybe it wasn’t to talk to dead victims. Maybe it was to talk to you. Maybe it’s not time for me to learn to control my abilities.”

“That’s a handy excuse,” Isabel said, not unkindly.

“You don’t have to worry that I’ll stop trying.” Hollis grimaced slightly. “Okay, you don’t have to worry that I’ll keep on not trying.”

“I was beginning to wonder.”

“I know I need to learn to control this. And I know I won’t be able to if I don’t start trying. So I will. You have my word on that. My abilities might be the only edge we’ve got in this. Especially if it’s going to take time for you and Rafe to get this shield thing figured out.”

“The thought had occurred.”

“So we both have a lot of work to do. And Rafe’ll have to get a crash course in being psychic.”

Isabel sighed. “Well, after my last little discussion with him, Rafe may not be all that willing, no matter what he said. I don’t need any extra senses to know he was not happy with me.”

“If I have to say it again, I will. Subtle is not your strong suit, pal.”

“It comes of being a platinum blonde almost six feet tall,” Isabel said wryly. “Like being a neon sign in human terms, at least according to what the therapists say.”

“Since you’ve never been able to melt into the background physically . . .”

“Exactly. Another reason I—to use your phrase—charge at things head-on. Usually. Everybody tends to be watching me, might as well give them something to see. Never really got much of a chance to practice subtle.”

“It shows.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“Mmm. In any case, I’ve got a strong hunch that Rafe will meet you halfway even if he is pissed at the moment. But only halfway. You’re the profiler, so consider this: what is it you have that Rafe needs to balance himself—and vice versa? And I’m not talking about the shield thing. Emotionally. Psychologically.”

“You obviously think you know the answer.”

“Yeah, I think I do. I also think it’s something both of you will have to figure out for yourselves.”

“Jesus. You really are beginning to sound like Bishop.”

Hollis considered a moment, then said, “Thank you.”

Shaking her head, Isabel checked her watch, then got herself off the conference table. “I’m taking Rafe for his . . . psychic litmus test.”

“Say hello for me.”

“I will. In the meantime, the focus of the investigation needs to be on locating that box of photographs and the missing women,
and
trying to figure this bastard out before he kills another one. In other words, same old, same old.”

Hollis nodded, then said, “This morning, you asked Ginny McBrayer if she was feeling okay.”

“Yeah.”

“You saw the shiner, didn’t you? It got more obvious as the day wore on, despite her attempts to cover it up.”

Isabel sighed. “She did a good job with the makeup, which makes me think it’s not the first black eye she’s had to hide. What do you know about her home life?”

“I asked Mallory, casually. Ginny still lives at home, with her parents. She’s trying to pay off college loans and save for a place of her own.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Mallory didn’t know. But I can ask Ginny outright. I’m not especially shy.”

“I noticed that.” Isabel thought about it, then nodded. “If you get the chance, do. She may think we’re butting in to something that’s none of our business, but there’s a lot of tension in this town, and borderline situations can get pushed over the edge really fast.”

“An abusive boyfriend or parent could get worse.”

“Much worse. Besides, she’s got a lot on her plate as a young officer, especially right now, and stress can cause different reactions in people. Like the rest of us, she takes her gun home with her.”

“Oh, hell. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Let’s hope she hasn’t either.”

“So, are you still mad at me?” Isabel asked Rafe as they got into her and Hollis’s rental car.

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“No? Then I guess an arctic cold front swept through the conference room despite all those walls. I nearly got frostbite. Amazing.”

“You know,” he said as she started the engine, “you don’t talk like any other person I’ve ever met.”

“One of a kind, accept no substitutes.”

He looked at her, one brow rising. “Where are we going?”

“West. That little motel on the edge of town.”

“Great. The only motel in Hastings that charges hourly rates.”

“Oh, I doubt anybody will pay attention to us going in, if that’s what you’re worried about. I took Stealthy 101 at the Bureau.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched. “You don’t play fair either.”

“Well, at least we both have our little tricks. You can kiss me until my knees get dizzy, and I can make you laugh even when you’re pissed.”

He laughed, but said, “I was not pissed. Just . . . annoyed. You are a very difficult woman, in case no one has ever told you that.”

“I have been told, as a matter of fact. It doesn’t seem to help, knowing about it. Sorry.”

He turned slightly in his seat to watch her as she drove, but let a few minutes pass before saying, “Dizzy knees, huh?”

“Oh, don’t say you didn’t know.”

“I knew there was some effect. That was the only reason I didn’t get pissed in the conference room when you were so busy backpedaling.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me backpedaling. Hollis says I don’t do subtle real well.”

“You don’t do subtle at all.”

“Then I’ll stop trying, shall I?”

He grinned. “So you do have a few buttons.”

Isabel got hold of herself. Or tried to. “Apparently. Look, it’s not all that much fun to keep hearing how blatant you are. I’m an almost-six-foot blonde, which makes me real visible; I’m a clairvoyant without a shield—usually—which makes me a high-wattage receiver for an amazing range of trivia that tends to come at me like painful bullets, and now I find out I might as well be wearing my heart on my sleeve. Just look for my picture beside the word
obvious
in the dictionary.”

“You do defensive very well.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Rafe chuckled. “You’ll feel much better when you just admit it, you know you will.”

“I don’t know how I’ll feel. And neither do you.”

“You’re wasting a lot of energy, I know that. Want to talk about our primitive instincts? You’re a fighter, Isabel; backing away from this isn’t doing anything except keeping you rattled and off balance.”

“All of a sudden everybody has a degree in psychology,” she muttered.

“Just tell me this much. Is it going to make a difference, finding out whether I’m psychic?”

Isabel knew that was a serious question and answered it seriously. “You mean will I love you more if you can provide a shield for me? No. Being shielded for nearly twenty-four hours has taught me I’d rather be without one. I mean, nice place to visit now and then, but I really do feel like I’ve suddenly gone deaf, and I don’t like it.”

“So if I am psychic and have somehow put a shield around your abilities, you’re going to run to the ends of the earth to escape it?”

“I didn’t say that. And no. We’ll just figure out a way for one or both of us to control the damned thing, that’s all. Having psychic abilities never makes life easier, but the whole point is learning to live with them.”

“So you’ll love me either way?”

Isabel opened her mouth, then closed it. She allowed the silence to lengthen for a moment before saying, “You’re very tricky.”

“Not tricky enough. Apparently.”

“Here’s the place.”

Rafe smiled slightly but didn’t say anything else as she pulled the car into the motel’s secondary drive and around to the back of the building.

It was a somewhat seedy motel, an L-shaped single floor, and the neon
VACANCY
sign was flickering on the point of going dark. Only two cars were parked at the front; around the back there were half a dozen more scattered vehicles.

Isabel parked the unobtrusive rental beside a small Ford with a dented rear bumper, and they both got out. She went immediately to the room in front of the Ford and knocked quietly.

The door opened. “What, no pizza?”

“I forgot,” Isabel said apologetically, stepping into the room.

“You owe me one. Hey, Chief,” Paige Gilbert said. “Come on in.”

“We’re just concerned,” Hollis told Ginny quietly.

The younger woman shifted a bit in her chair at the conference table, then said, “I appreciate that. I really do. But I’m fine. In a few more months, I’ll have enough saved to move out on my own.”

“And until then?”

“Until then I’ll just stay out of his way.”

“Like you did last night?” Hollis shook her head. “You’ve had enough training to know better, Ginny. He’s mad at the world and you’re his punching bag. He won’t stop until somebody makes him.”

“When I move out—”

“He’ll go back to beating your mother.”

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Ginny slumped in her chair. “No. It’s textbook, isn’t it? He’s a bully who beat her up until I got old enough to intervene, and now he hits me. When I’m not fast enough to stay out of his reach, that is. Usually, he’s so drunk he passes out or knocks himself out trashing the house, at least now that he’s older.”

“Your mother?”

“I haven’t been able to talk her into leaving him. But once I’m out, I think she’ll go live with her sister in Columbia.”

“And what will he do?”

“Go down the drain, probably. He hasn’t had a regular job in years because of his temper. He’s stupid and sullen and—like you said—mad at the world. Because, of course, it’s not his fault that his life sucks. It’s never his fault.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Hollis said. “But when he goes too far and assaults someone else, or drives drunk and causes an accident, or does something else stupid and destructive, you’ll blame yourself. Won’t you?”