"Okay, that sounds really creepy," Dani told her.
"However it sounds, it has had its uses, especially since we signed on with Haven."
"Barely. Twice I've managed to take you into a relevant vision dream. Twice. In more than a year."
"And it was useful both times. I remembered a few details you couldn't, and those details proved helpful to the investigations."
"Didn't change what I saw. It never changes what I see, the outcome."
"How do you know?"
Dani stared at her sister.
"Seriously, how do you know? Dani, maybe what you see is… the lesser of two evils. It's like what Miranda told us. Premonitions are tricky beasts: Do you see what happens if you don't intervene, or what happens if you do?"
"That's a hell of a possibility. I mean, that things could be worse than what I see. And you're about as subtle as neon."
Paris sighed. "Just trying to provide a little perspective, that's all. You've gotta get over this idea that you're a prophet-or prophetess-of doom, that your ability is entirely negative. It's been dragging at you since we were kids."
"I just… For once, I'd like to foresee something positive."
"Maybe the universe doesn't need help with positive. Isn't there some kind of entropy theory about how the natural state of things is disintegration?"
Dani stared at her.
"Hey, I consider ideas too. Sometimes. Anyway, maybe what the universe needs help with is keeping everything from falling totally apart. Why show you the happily-ever-afters if what's really needed is help getting there through all the dark stuff along the way?"
"Way to cheer me up, sis."
"You're not getting it." Paris wore an unusually intent expression, and her hazel eyes had darkened almost to brown. "Look, at any given time I might pick up a few facts or bits of information, like the way I did with that bracelet-for all the good it did us. Anyway, those glimmers might or might not help me with an investigation or a problem or, hell, just help me get through the day. But people like you and Miranda and this Quentin we've heard so much about, the universe shows you guys signposts. Not hidden in the scenery the way they are for the rest of us, but lit up and glowing so you can't miss them. And whether those signposts are things to avoid or paths to take, it still gives you a leg up on everybody else.
"Dani, we're all wandering in the dark, and you guys have the lamps." The distant look in her eyes vanished abruptly, and Paris chuckled. "My metaphor wandered too, didn't it?"
"Just a little bit." Still, Dani felt better about an ability she had for so many years viewed as usually ugly and depressing. But then she shook her head and added, "Didn't Miranda also say there's a difference between a premonition and a prophecy? That a premonition is something you can influence, affect, and a prophecy is… written in stone? Inevitable no matter what you do to try and change it?"
"Pretty much."
"So how do I know what it is I'm really seeing? A version of the future I help shape or one I can't avoid?"
"I guess you can never really know. Unless you learn how to be a lot more plugged in to the universe than either one of us is so far." Paris eyed her twin, then said, "And we share that neon subtlety. Quit stalling and finish your coffee so we can get to the station."
"I wasn't-"
"Yeah, yeah. If you and Marc don't get things between you sorted out soon, somebody's going to have to knock your heads together. Bad timing or not, we need the two of you functional if we're going to find and stop this killer."
It was a blunt reminder but a welcome one; Dani had discovered since signing on with Haven that being able to use her abilities in positive ways had been slowly changing how she felt about those abilities, and she wanted that to continue.
Needed it to continue.
Especially now.
So she finished her coffee and prepared to return to the sheriff's department with Paris. And it wasn't until they were almost there that she wondered suddenly why Paris had not once, in all this time, asked the question she should have asked about Dani's vision dream.
She had not asked where she was.
Because she didn't want to know the answer?
Or because, like Dani, she was afraid she already did?
Chapter Sixteen
HOLLIS HADN'T EXPECTED to sleep well on Friday night, because the day had been too long and the previous night unusually active, if only on a subconscious level.
There was something amusing in that, she decided. That what had quite probably been a brief dream experience-because they mostly were brief, even if some felt interminable while they were actually happening-could take so much out of one physically.
But dragging her exhausted self around all day Friday had certainly proven the truth of that. It had also convinced Hollis to report in to Bishop before she got ready for bed. And, more important, to hold nothing back.
"You heard the voice too?" Bishop asked.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in her motel room, using the phone on the nightstand because her cell was charging, Hollis frowned at the ice bucket on the dresser. "Yeah, sort of. It was almost more a feeling than a sound."
"What kind of feeling?"
"Pressure," she replied, after thinking about it. "Like something pushing at me. At us. Probably mostly at Dani, since she's the one who woke up with a nosebleed. Or was that from the effort to take Paris and me in?"
"It's difficult for me to even guess," he said slowly. "Her abilities have always been somewhat erratic, I gather, but Miranda felt she was considerably stronger than she seemed, even more than a year ago. I don't recall a nosebleed being reported by her previously."
"Not according to Paris. I have to say, though, that I'm a lot more worried about that voice. Dani seems certain it's the voice-or thoughts, or energy, whatever-of our killer. And even if she hasn't said a whole lot about it, or showed much of what she's feeling, I think she's scared."
"Feeling threatened?"
"Yeah, probably. He told her she couldn't run or hide and that nobody could protect her from him. And he told her from inside her head. And not just in her dreams, but when she was awake. Feeling threatened? She ought to be freakin' terrified. I'm not so sure I wouldn't be in bed with the covers pulled over my head if I were in her place."
After a moment Bishop asked, "How are you doing?"
Hollis wanted to give him a flip answer, but she had learned the uselessness of that where Bishop was concerned.
Just because she wasn't a telepath didn't mean he couldn't read her, even across whatever distance lay between them. So she answered honestly.
"I'm tired and worried. And even though I suppose I should be happy about it, I'm also unnerved that the dead seem to be reaching me a lot easier than they did in the beginning."
"It is a good thing," he reminded her.
"It's a scary thing. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it, just so you know." She changed the subject abruptly. "Listen, is there any progress in revising that profile? Because we could sure as hell use it."
"You've given me new information," Bishop pointed out. "Wednesday's crime scene, plus the open stalking of Marie Goode, if we assume that's him-"
Hollis interrupted to say, "Trust me, this is hardly the sort of town to have more than one weirdo sneaking around taking pictures of women. That would be stretching coincidence to the snapping point."
"You're assuming the killer takes photos of the murders," Bishop pointed out calmly.
She nodded, half consciously. "Because of the one crime scene we have. Struck me the first time I saw those overhead shots Marc's forensics team got. It was carefully chosen, and not just because it was isolated. The area made a perfect composition for his… art. He left us a picture and took one himself, I'd bet on it."
"Then I'd call it more than an assumption," Bishop said.