The agent nodded and called to another of his men. "You're not intending to leave San Francisco for the next few days, are you? We may need to talk to you a bit more."
"I'm staying at the Diamond Grand."
He smiled. "Yes, I know. We did a thorough check on you when Mr. Harris requested your help."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time a supposed psychic has worked a kidnapping scam."
"Do you really think anyone human could have done what was done to those first two women?"
He studied her for a moment, gaze calculating. "And how do you know what was done to them?"
"The same way I knew where to find Anne and Dale. It's not a very pleasant gift to have, you know. I'd much rather do without knowing the gruesome details." She hesitated. "I have something else for you, too. The name of a possible suspect."
"Who?" He grabbed a notebook and pen out of his pocket.
"Billie Farmer. Apparently he was taunted in high school by a gang of twelve women."
He raised his eyebrows. "And I suppose the four victims so far were a part of that gang?"
"You catch on rather fast."
"That's what they pay me for. We'll check it out. In the meantime, don't leave the city. We may need to talk to you again."
"I have no intention of going anywhere." Not until this fiend was caught. Killed.
He nodded. A second agent made an appearance and motioned her to follow him.
I dare not risk the sun again, Michael said as they began the walk back to the sewer entrance. I'll have to meet you back at the hotel.
And perhaps do a little exploring along the way?
He hesitated. Yes. But don't ask to come with me. Not when Farmer is aware of your every movement.
Don't worry. I have no intention of invading your work space right now.
Nikki—
She flung up a hand. Yeah, I know. It's for my own safety. Which was a load of crap. She was probably safer with him than being alone at the hotel. Especially when Farmer and his gang had no apparent trouble getting into that building.
Which is why I don't want you to go immediately back to the hotel. Walk around and do some sightseeing. I'll contact you when I'm heading back myself.
Like hell she'd be doing the touristy thing while there was a madman running around underground. I have to call Jake and let him know what's going on.
Then do so. Just don't go back to our room until it's safe.
Fine. I'll play it your way. For now.
Warmth flowed through the link, a tender caress that made her toes tingle. Keep safe. I'll see you soon.
She blew him a mental kiss, and the heat of his presence disappeared. The cop stopped and motioned her up the rusting ladder. She climbed, blinking as she reentered the bright sunshine. Two cops helped her out, another helping her escort a second later.
"You want a ride back to the hotel, Miss James?" he said.
She shook her head. "It's a nice day. I think I'll walk."
They let her go. She dragged her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Jake's number.
"About time," he grumbled. "What's happening?"
She gave him an update, and he swore softly. "We need to catch this bastard fast."
"The problem being we have no idea where he is, while he has every idea where I am." And until Seline came through with this charm Michael was talking about, there wasn't much they could do to alter that situation.
"Wish there was some way we could make that work for us," Jake muttered.
She bit her lip for a moment, mind racing. "Maybe there is," she said slowly.
"What?"
"How's Dale?" she said, by way of answer.
"Not good. She's still in intensive care, and the doctors are not saying much."
"Is she conscious?"
"Apparently not. Why?"
"Do you think you could convince Mark to get us in there?"
"I'm not sure we'd be allowed. He could try I suppose. Why?"
"Because going to the hospital is not likely to raise any major alarms in Farmer's mind. And if we can get in to see Dale, I might be able to touch her mind and see if she's retained any memories of how she was snatched, and how she arrived at her cell."
Jake was silent for a minute. "I don't think Michael will be too pleased about you trying something like that."
Annoyance surged through her, and she struggled to keep her voice even as she said, "Right now, I don't really care what Michael would or wouldn't be pleased with. And since when did it matter to you if it means solving the case?"
"He said it's dangerous, Nikki."
"So you'd rather sit on your hands doing nothing while this madman runs loose?"
He sighed. "No. But I don't want anything to happen to you, either."
"I'll be fine. Really." She forced her voice to be positive, even though she was far from certain. "I'm walking up Hyde Street now. You want to talk to Mark, then zoom by and pick me up?" She hesitated and glanced at the street sign. "I'll wait near the corner of Ellis."
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
She hung up, then sat down on the nearest fence to wait.
The scent of evil was distant but powerful. Michael ran swiftly through the darkness, keeping the shadows locked around him. It wasn't Farmer he was following, but rather his fledglings. The scent wasn't evil enough or strong enough to belong to a master vampire.
Though why he thought of Farmer as a master when the vampire was obviously a lot younger than he himself, Michael wasn't entirely sure. But only masters could control the minds of other vampires—or a very strong telepath.
Farmer certainly wasn't what he'd term strong when it came to psychic gifts—at least not when compared to Nikki or himself.
So how could one so young become a master?
He wasn't sure. Even he, despite his years and experience, could barely be classed as one. Elizabeth had been a master, though. She'd been comfortable with what she was, comfortably aware of her strengths and weaknesses. Had he wished, he could have taken that knowledge, that skill, from her mind when he'd killed her. It was his right as victor.
And perhaps that was his answer. Perhaps Farmer had killed the vampire who'd turned him and sucked all the knowledge from his mind. But he was still too young in vampire years to process all that information and use it to full advantage.
For which they could be extremely grateful.
He slowed as the scent of evil grew stronger. Night stirred ahead, and the languorous beat of half a dozen hearts filled his ears. He'd found a nest that contained yet another loop. Farmer himself was nowhere near—which wasn't unusual. Fledglings could never be entirely trusted, even those mostly over the initial blood frenzy. It usually took ten to twenty years before true sanity returned—if the turning hadn't made them completely crazy.
He slowed and switched to the infrared of his vampire vision. The vampires were blurs of red heat in the small chamber just ahead. They were all asleep—the sun was high, and vampires this young had no choice but to slumber during the day.
If he killed them, Farmer would know. But if he didn't, these six would kill again and again and again.
Their evil stained the very air. There was no goodness left in them—if there had been any in life. He had no choice but to destroy them.
He moved into the chamber and began his bloody task. It didn't take long. Once he'd finished, he carried their bodies to the nearest sewer cover, piling them underneath it. Then he kinetically lifted the cover, stepping back quickly so no stray rays of sunlight caught him. He'd been burned enough for one day. The fledglings flamed instantly, and the smell of burning flesh stung the dank air.