"Ben didn't have time to introduce us," Matt told her somewhat dryly as her gaze shifted to the dog. "Good thing this mutt already knew him, though. Otherwise neither of us would have been able to get near you."
"Near me? Where was I?" Her voice sounded a bit shaky, she thought, but considering the chills, that was hardly surprising.
He took her bafflement in stride. "Out in the field north of here, about a hundred yards from the house. Lying unconscious in the snow, with the dog standing guard over you and barking his head off."
"Unconscious?" She thought about that, then shook her head. "Where's Ben?"
"In the kitchen. Either hot chocolate or hot soup, whichever he could fix the quickest." Conversationally Matt went on. "When you didn't answer your phone, Ben was convinced something had happened. So we carne out here. Heard the dog as soon as we got out of the car, and spotted you a couple of minutes later. When we got to you and managed to get past the dog, it was obvious you weren't in good shape. You were about two shades paler than the snow, your pulse was faint and about twenty beats a minute, and you were barely breathing. If I hadn't been able to convince Ben you just needed to get warm, you'd be on your way to the hospital right now."
"How did you know that's all I needed?"
Matt frowned slightly. "That's hard to explain. I just looked at you, and I could swear I heard a voice in my head saying the word 'cold' over and over. Your voice."
That didn't surprise Cassie very much. Even though she still didn't remember what had happened, if she had reached out unconsciously for help, it would have been the sheriff, with his unshuttered mind, who would have been able to hear her.
"Thank you, Sheriff," she said.
"Don't mention it. And the name's Matt."
She decided not to question his apparent change of sentiments. Instead, she said to the softly growling dog, "Max, he's a friend. Be a good boy and lie down."
The dog turned his alert attention to her but obediently lay down where he was, his tail thumping the floor.
"Thank you," Matt said. "He was making me nervous."
Before Cassie could respond, Ben came into the room carrying a mug. He wasn't dressed for court; the casual jeans and sweatshirt he wore took years off his age and made him seem unnervingly approachable.
He had obviously heard their voices and wasn't surprised to find her awake, but his face was grim. The gaze he fixed on her was so intense, she had to look away.
He sat down on the sofa alongside her legs and held the mug to her lips. "Drink this, Cassie. It'll help warm you."
It was hot chocolate, and it was either very good or she was very cold and thirsty. She took a couple of swallows, then managed to get her hands out from under the blanket and took the mug from him. It was no accident that she didn't touch him at all in the process.
"Thanks, I can manage."
Ben didn't protest or even comment. He just sat there, one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his knee, and stared at her without speaking. She knew he was staring, because she could feel it.
Matt said, "So far, she doesn't remember what happened out there."
"What do you remember?" Ben asked her.
Cassie frowned at the mug. The hot liquid was warming both her chilled hands and her shivering body, but she knew it would be a long time before she felt warm again. "I remember going out to take Max for his morning run. I remember walking away from the house, looking up at the mountains…"
"Cassie?"
She caught her breath, her eyes closing as sensations and images stepped out of hiding in her mind. "Oh, God. I remember," she whispered.
"Tell us." Ben's voice was quiet.
It took a moment for Cassie to get her voice under control, and when she finally began speaking, she reported her experience without emotion. It wasn't until she reached the end of the story that her voice broke slightly.
"They were corning toward me and… and I couldn't run away. I couldn't even scream. I just kept getting colder and more terrified the closer they got. Then… just before they reached me… everything went black. I don't remember anything else."
She didn't have to look at Matt to know that he was torn between bafflement and disbelief. She sneaked a glance at Ben and found him still watching her, his expression no less grim than it had been, his eyes unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
Matt said, "So these people were ghosts?"
"I guess."
"Yougwess?"
Cassie turned her gaze to the sheriff, finding it easier to meet his incredulous eyes than Ben's unfathomable ones. "Yes, I guess. I don't know for sure, because this has never happened to me before." She drew a breath. "Look, my abilities have never allowed me to – to cross beyond death. I'm not a medium. I pick up thoughts from living beings, images from events that are happening or have recently happened. I don't know anything about ghosts."
"What about what you saw at Ivy's house? You said it was possible you could have been seeing what her – what her spirit saw moments after her death."
She hesitated. "I said it was possible, but I didn't believe it. Even though it felt so strange, I was sure what I saw that day came from the memories of a living person who stood there and looked at the murder scene. But…"
"But?"
"But… some of the things I felt today were similar to what I felt that day, and I don't think they were memories." She shook her head. "I just don't know."
"If what you saw were ghosts," Ben said, "who were they?"
"I didn't recognize any of them. But they'd all been murdered, I think."
Matt swore under his breath. "I thought you said this killer of ours was new at the job. If he's killed a dozen people – "
Cassie hesitated again, then shook her head. "I don't think they were his victims. I mean… when I stood in Mrs. Jameson's kitchen, it was as if I tapped into somebody studying the scene. Almost as if I saw it the way he had, from his perspective. The dripping blood so vividly scarlet, the body with its eyes turned toward me in reproach. It was very dramatic, those images, almost as if the whole thing had been… staged to elicit a strong emotional response.
"I had that same feeling today, or almost. As if I were seeing something conjured out of some black hell of fantasy. Not the ghosts of victims past, but more like… a cast of characters he was imagining."
"The ghosts of victims future?" Ben said.
"Maybe." She didn't look at him. "But it was more like some adolescent psychopath's… wet dream." Even as the words left her lips, Cassie felt a flash of pained humor. Virginal she might be, but innocent she definitely was not. A line from an old movie sprang into her head, something about being an unholy mess of a girl.
That was her.
The silence dragged on for just a moment too long, and it was Cassie who broke it by saying calmly, "Now that I think about it, their coming toward me like that, bleeding and carrying parts of themselves, reminds me of a horror movie I saw years ago, about the dead being reanimated. Our killer might well enjoy dreams like that."
"So now you're in his dreams?" Matt demanded.
"Could be. I was up early, maybe he slept late. And dreamed."
"And you tapped in." Ben's voice was still quiet.
Matt made a little sound that was a combination of amusement and despair. "Cassie, you're making it real hard for me to believe any of this."
"I know. I'm sorry." She turned her head and smiled faintly at him. "Nothing's ever as simple as you want it to be."
"Ain't it the truth. Look – we came out here because I was going to ask you to try to tap into this guy again, but obviously – "
"I can try."
Ben said, "You're still shivering."
Cassie didn't look at him. "I'm fine. A little cold, but not even tired."
Matt glanced from her face to Ben's and hesitated. "We can wait and do it tomorrow. Lying out there in the snow didn't do you any good at all, no matter what caused it."