“We’ve been heading toward Holcomb since we left Richmond,” Tucker said, and shrugged when Brodie frowned at him. “It was always her goal.”
“Have you two checked out the weather? It’s getting very cold out there, and it looks like we may be in for early snow. Heading farther north, even for a little while, is probably not a good idea.”
“It’s important,” Sarah repeated.
That was all Brodie could get out of her, and since Tucker would only shrug and smile, he was no help at all. Finally giving in, Brodie consulted briefly with Murphy and Nick, and the group split into two, with the Jeeps heading in different directions.
Brodie had been right about the weather. It was extremely cold for the second day of October, and they ran into some snow flurries as well as a bit of sleet. But the drive to Holcomb was fairly short, and when Brodie parked the Jeep in a one-hour parking place on Main Street, the worst of the weather was still holding off.
“Now what?” he asked Sarah.
“Do you mind waiting here? This is something Tucker and I have to do.”
Brodie frowned, but even the most suspicious glance around this extremely small and peaceful town could discern no threat whatsoever; it was a postcard-perfect image of small-town America.
“Don’t be long,” he requested.
Sarah led the way, walking beside Tucker along the sidewalk toward the edge of town.
“Where are we going?” he finally asked her. They were walking up a slight hill, and the only thing he could see in this direction was a pretty little church at the top of the hill. “If you mean to make an honest man out of me, I think we need blood tests and a license first.”
“Not much farther.”
“Sarah, why is it that you have to be here?”
She didn’t answer until they stood before the small church. Then she stopped and looked up at him gravely. “We didn’t come here for me, Tucker. We came for you.”
Even then, he didn’t understand. Not until she took his hand and led him around the church and into the neat graveyard behind it.
Then he understood.
He almost turned around and retreated then. But she did know him better than he knew himself, because Sarah never hesitated. She led him through the graveyard to the very back, where a big oak tree stood bare-limbed in the cold October air.
There were two headstones placed where they would be shaded in the summer. Side by side. One was the standard size for a headstone. The other one was…very small.
Sarah had been right. Here was where something had ended.
She left him there by the graves, slipping away silently so he could be alone to say his good-byes to Lydia.
And the son she had named after him.
Sarah stood on the sidewalk in front of the church and looked vaguely down on the small town of Holcomb. It was still early, but the town was awake, people moving along the sidewalks, in and out of stores and the small café and the bank.
She wasn’t really aware of time passing but thought it was probably at least an hour later when Tucker came up behind her. He slipped his arms around her, and she relaxed back against him.
“All right?” she asked.
“Yes. Finally.” His cheek rubbed against her hair. “Thank you.”
She felt his inner sense of peace, the relief of a burden long carried finally lifted from him, so Sarah didn’t have to ask anything more. Instead, looking down on the town, she said, “Look at them. Going about their business as if nothing has changed. As if nothing is different.”
“For them,” Tucker said, “nothing is. Not yet, at least.” He took her hand, and they walked back down the hill together.
EPILOGUE
Miranda Bishop closed the folder and returned it to her husband. “Are you sure this is something we need to monitor?”
“Aren’t you?”
She hesitated, then swore beneath her breath. “None of our people have been touched by this. None of the Haven operatives. Maybe because we’re too visible as and to law enforcement?”
“That’s one of the unanswered questions. I don’t like unanswered questions.”
“Just what you’ve found out so far…there are some damned powerful psychics out there. We don’t have any agents or operatives who can do what Sarah Gallagher can do. If they manage to teach her better control, who knows what she’s truly capable of.”
Bishop nodded. “And we have no way of knowing—yet—how many others are out there with powerful abilities. Within this…network, or on the other side, being somehow used. More unanswered questions.”
Miranda was frowning. “I know you let yourself be seen this time, and I know why, but I think we need to be very careful. A psychic they assumed to be safe turned out to be a target; we can’t make the same assumption about our people. Or about us.”
“Especially,” Bishop agreed, “if they really do have a traitor in their midst. We both know how damaging just the suspicion of a traitor can be when our lives depend on the teammates we expect to be watching our backs. The stakes are just as high for them. Maybe higher.”
“So…we wait and watch. Gather information when we can, as quietly as we can. Keep our own people close. And don’t stick our noses in unless and until we know what’s really going on. Or know we can help the network somehow.”
“It seems the best way to handle this, at least for now, and unless something changes.”
“You trust Murphy.”
Slowly, Bishop said, “I think Murphy has more secrets than her allies know about, her contact with me being one of them. But is she a traitor to their cause? I’d be surprised if she turned out to be that. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she has her own agenda.”
“Another unanswered question?”
“Another piece of the puzzle, at least. We just have to figure out where the pieces go. What the big picture really is.”
“Oh, is that all?” His wife’s tone was dry.
“Another challenge,” Bishop noted with a faint smile. “Whatever the truth is, whatever that big picture turns out to be, we’ll be ready when the time comes.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Miranda responded. “We’ll be ready. I’m just not sure the rest of the world will be.”
“No,” Bishop said. “Neither am I.” He tapped the edge of the folder against his hand and repeated slowly, “Neither am I.”
Another nightmare, in the woods this time.
Diferent: She was running. Trying to escape.
But the same ending. Always the same ending.
Another dead girl…
From New York Times Bestselling Author
KAY HOOPER
HAVEN
A BISHOP/SPECIAL CRIMES UNIT NOVEL
Emma Rayburn was born and raised in Baron Hollow, North Carolina. It was a quiet life, then came the accident…and the nightmares―each flled with unshakable visions of darkness, blind panic, and desperate women chased toward inevitable death. With no reports of local women missing or found dead, Emma has written it of to troubled imaginings―night after dreaded night, until her sister arrives to wrestle her own demons. As the two begin to face the past, a long-dormant secret threatens to emerge…one people would kill to keep.
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