A chink in his armor, that's all she asked for. A chink she could work on, widen. A vulnerability she could exploit.
"Not at all. At least, not where you're concerned."
"I'm a pawn," she said, regretting it the instant the words were out of her mouth.
"A pawn?" He sounded interested. "A chess game. I wonder who put that image into your head. Lucas?"
Lindsay was silent. She was in a chair now, her wrists still bound and the bag over her head keeping her in darkness. Her captor was somewhere behind her.
"So he's at least figured out it's a game, has he?"
"You know it's only a matter of time before you're caught." She kept her voice steady, concentrated hard to damp down the terror crawling deep inside her, so she could think clearly enough not to give away any knowledge that might help her captor. "Especially now. Kidnappers who stick around too long paint themselves in neon."
"Oh, I imagine I'm safe enough for the time being." His tone became relaxed, almost chatty. "I have no connection to Golden, you see. No connection to any of you."
"So we're just random victims, huh?"
"Definitely not. No, you were chosen with care, all of you. Each of my guests has been an important element of the game."
"I'm sure that was a great comfort to them."
He laughed. Actually laughed in amusement.
And it didn't give Lindsay even a tinge of hope.
"It's good that you have a sense of humor," he told her. "Humor is a great help in getting through life."
"And through death?"
"You'll find out before I will," he said cheerfully.
CHAPTER 5
Santa Fe, New Mexico
A place this beautiful," Special Agent Tony Harte said, "should not have a murderess living here."
"You won't get an argument," Bishop said.
"How sure are we that she is living here?"
"Reasonably. The police chief is getting the warrant now."
"So we'll be closing up shop?"
"If we're right about her. And if there are no problems in arresting her."
"Should I pack?" "Did you even unpack?"
"Some of us aren't as good at living out of a suitcase as you are," Tony pointed out.
"Wait until we get word from the chief." Bishop looked up from his computer with a slight frown. "What?"
"Now, see, that isn't supposed to happen. You're a touch telepath, not an open telepath."
"And your face is an open book, never mind that overly casual tone. What's up?"
Tony straddled a chair and faced Bishop across the makeshift conference table in their hotel room. "Nothing good. I just got a tip from a pal back East. He's a journalist. A friend of his is covering the story in North Carolina."
Bishop didn't have to ask which story. "And?"
"The news of a serial kidnapper is about to break."
"Shit."
"It gets worse, boss."
"What else?"
"Samantha Burke."
After a moment, Bishop leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Luke didn't mention her when he reported in yesterday."
"Probably not so surprising."
"No. Not so much."
"Well, what he should have told you is that it seems the sheriff there got all nasty and suspicious of her, so she voluntarily put herself under house arrest in his jail to prove she wasn't a kidnapper."
"Thus alerting the media to the fact that another kidnapping was expected."
"Yep. And confirming that prediction when Detective Graham was taken earlier today." Tony frowned. "So Samantha knew the guy would hit again, and there in Golden. He's been on the move all these months, and now he's staying put? Why?"
Bishop shook his head, frowning.
Tony eyed him, then said, "My pal says the bit about a carnival psychic and her apparently accurate prediction is too good to pass up. It's only a matter of time before images of Zarina in her turban appear on the six o'clock news."
"Naturally. Aside from being colorful, there's also the tempting evidence that future events can be predicted. A lot of people want to believe that."
"Speaking of which, have Luke and Jay confided in the sheriff?"
Shaking his head again, Bishop replied, "They felt he wouldn't be open to the idea of psychic investigators."
"So what happens if Luke's able to connect to the victim? It's not exactly something that would go unnoticed."
"They'll have to wing it. Tell the sheriff only as much as he seems able to accept. He may be more open to it as time goes on. Samantha's prediction of another kidnapping may have at least set the stage."
"Looking for the positive?"
"What choice do I have?"
A little surprised, Tony said, "I seem to recall that the last time Samantha entered the picture, you were a lot more concerned with the credibility issue."
"She's not connected with the unit," Bishop pointed out.
"She wasn't then. Or is there something I don't know about that?"
"There were… possibilities then. That she might join the unit."
"Why didn't she? I mean, it's not as if we have too many seers on the payroll-and if I remember correctly, she's an exceptionally powerful one."
Bishop nodded, but said, "We hadn't built much of a reputation or success record at that point. And we had enemies who would have been quite pleased if the SCU had failed in any sense of the word. The unit was too new then to take the risk of accepting a carnival mystic."
"One mention of a carnival seer on the six o'clock news and we'd be finished?"
"Something like that."
"And now?"
"And now… the situation may have changed, at least as far as the unit's concerned. Maybe we could stand up to that purple turban now. But it may be a moot point where Samantha is concerned."
"Because she's bitter?"
Bishop shrugged. "It could have been better handled."
"What about her and Luke?"
"What about them?"
"Hey, remember who you're talking to, boss? I may not read minds very well, but I'm dandy at picking up emotional vibes- and there were plenty between those two."
"You'd have to ask them about that."
Wryly, Tony said, "The only thing that comforts me about a response like that one is the knowledge that you probably guard my secrets as well as you do everyone else's."
Bishop smiled faintly. "We still have work to do here, Tony."
"So I should shut up and get to it?"
"If you don't mind."
"Not at all," Tony said politely, getting to his feet. Then he paused. "We just wait and see what happens in North Carolina, then?"
"It's Luke's case. He and Jaylene are calling the shots, and neither of them has asked for help."
"Do you expect them to?"
"No. Not unless…"
"Unless?"
"Unless things get a lot worse."
"You have something specific in mind?"
"No."
Tony sighed as he turned away. "You're a lousy liar, boss." But he didn't ask Bishop to explain what he knew or didn't know.
Because it would have been useless, and because Tony wasn't at all sure he wanted to know what the worst might be.
Samantha was aware of being in a vision, as she was always aware, but this one was different. Try as she might, she couldn't turn her head and look around the room in which Lindsay Graham was held captive. It was as though she were a camera fixed on Lindsay's seated, hooded self, on the spotlight illumination that cast everything around the captive woman into deep shadow.
Sam could hear his voice, hear Lindsay's. Hear, somewhere, a faucet dripping. The hum of the fluorescent lights. And she knew what Lindsay was thinking, feeling.
Which was new and more than a little unsettling.
So was the deep cold she felt, a chill so intense it was as if she'd been dropped into a freezer. The sensation was so powerful and her response so visceral that she wondered how Lindsay and her captor couldn't hear her teeth chattering.
"If I'm going to die," Lindsay was saying steadily, "then why not get it over with?"