And then the agony came, and the terror, and she hardly felt him give her a shove so that she stumbled the last few feet through the alley and toward the light she could see ahead. Light that was dimming with every staggering step she took. Her life flowing redly between her fingers.
It was too soon. She hadn’t done everything she wanted to do. There was nobody here to say good-bye to. She wondered if anybody would mind her leaving. If anybody would mourn. Her parents. Oh, God, her parents . . .
Darkness was closing over her, and she barely felt the cold hardness of the pavement as she fell. In those final seconds, she wasn’t thinking of sins or regrets or even things left unsaid. Except one, because that one thing might bring the little girl home, might bring them all home, and she was the only one . . . the only . . . the . . . only . . . one . . . who . . . knew . . . It was getting so dark. Why was it getting so dark . . .
“No!” Sam knew her voice was shaking, but only because she was shivering so violently. Luke had already put his jacket around her and was holding her back against him, his hands firmly gripping her wrists, and she didn’t have to look at her fingers and palms to know they were marked by frostnip.
Which only happened when she got too close to evil.
Or too close to death.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“I had to pull you out, Sam.” His voice was rough.
She nodded and let herself relax against him. “I know. And it was . . . it was the last seconds anyway. She was almost gone. But . . . dammit. Something had been bugging her. Something she’d seen in the reports, or read in a statement, something someone had said to her. And in the very last seconds of her life, she realized that whatever it was could help bring that little girl and the others home. But she was slipping away even then. If I’d followed—”
“You’d be dead,” Luke said. He pulled her even closer, crossing her arms over her chest while being careful not to further hurt her cold, cold hands.
Samantha didn’t argue.
Catching a glimpse even in the dim light, Robbie said, “Your hands are white where they were touching her. Why?”
Lucas answered. “It’s frostnip. If she goes too deep, that’s one of the things that happens. If she’s holding an object, it marks her with its shape, as if it were colder than you can imagine. The marks can last for months.”
“No nosebleed this time,” Sam offered. “And my head’s just a little sore, not really pounding.”
“Maybe, but you’re frozen clear through and exhausted. I can feel it. Jonah, she’s done for at least ten or twelve hours. I’ve got to get her warm and she has to sleep.”
It was Robbie who said, “You two go get checked into the hotel, then. Take the SUV. Dante and I will help Jonah and his people here, and then we’ll find out what Officer Duncan’s been working on. Maybe we can figure out what was bugging her.”
Lucas got to his feet, bringing Samantha easily with him. “It’ll probably be close to lunchtime tomorrow before we’re back working,” he warned.
“I don’t need that much sleep,” Sam said, ruining the claim with a yawn. “Jesus. Maybe so. Listen, you guys—rope off that alley till daylight, and don’t let anyone go in there, even your crime scene team. One of us needs to check that out. Hell, maybe all of us. I know we didn’t see anything with flashlights, but he was right behind her, and if he didn’t leave footprints in her blood, then he was definitely pressed back against the wall when he was holding her in front of him. I’m not sure what it is, but something about that alley is definitely bugging me.”
After glancing down at the dead woman, Lucas said, “In that case, I’m not letting you out of my sight for the duration.”
“There’s something else,” Sam told them, her voice growing fainter. “The unsub . . . he knew I was in Annie’s head, her memories.”
“How could he know that?” Dante asked.
“Dunno. But he did. Not sure if he knew which of us it was, except I think he’d recognize Robbie. I don’t understand how it could work like that . . . but I felt him become aware of me. Just before he cut Annie’s throat.”
NINE
Either because he didn’t realize the significance of what Sam had told them or merely because he had more pressing issues on his mind, Jonah didn’t question what Samantha had reported. Sounding unutterably weary himself, he said, “I’ll send a couple of uniforms and the CSU. And alert our coroner. He’s a semi-retired surgeon who spent a few years as a medical examiner down in Florida; he knows his stuff.”
“Good,” Lucas said.
“I have to go notify her family. After I tell my people at the station. They’re going to take it hard. Annie was well liked.”
Robbie opened her mouth to offer to come along but then stopped herself when Lucas caught her eye and shook his head slightly.
Lucas said, “Robbie and Dante will stay here and make sure no one disturbs the scene.” He paused, then added, “Along with the usual equipment and supplies, we brought along one of those small, collapsible tents they use over in England to protect—and shield—victims while the medical and other technicians work on them. Respect for the dead as well as preserving as much of the scene as possible and shielding the victim from curious eyes. Probably a good idea to use it here, since this area is so public. So visible. We’ll be drawing a crowd here soon. It could take hours before she’s ready to be moved, maybe not even until daylight or close to it.” He didn’t add that shielding Annie Duncan’s body from anyone other than police might at least lessen the shock of her murder.
Maybe.
“Thanks,” Jonah said, briefly but with real gratitude. He gave a last look toward his fallen officer, then turned and headed back toward the station.
Speaking low to Lucas, Robbie said, “I might have been able to help. I doubt he’s had to make many notifications like this one.”
Sounding very sleepy now, Sam said, “Don’t sell him short. For a small-town police chief he’s gotten himself some big-city experience.” She pronounced those last three words very carefully, adding just as carefully, “Pretty sure he’s done this before. Just . . . not here in his hometown.”
Knowing she was about to go out, Lucas said to the other two, “Help Jonah and his people any way you can without stepping on anybody’s toes. But stay together. And I mean within sight of each other. Especially out here.”
“You know something we don’t?” Dante said.
“Ask Robbie. As soon as I get Sam settled, I’ll check in with you two, but I’ll stay with her. Unless we get a break soon, this could drag on awhile. It’ll be best to split the duty whenever we can, especially since this unsub does his hunting at night. When Sam and I come back, you two can get settled into the hotel and get some rest.”
“Copy that,” Dante said.
“I’ll come by and drop off the tent on our way to the hotel.”
This time, Dante merely nodded, and barely waited until Lucas and Samantha were out of sight before looking at Robbie with lifted brows. “Ask you?”
“You know, I think that telepathic part of how he does what he does is a lot stronger than he’ll admit,” she said.
“Robbie.”
She sighed, glanced down at the murdered cop, then returned her gaze to her partner. “The bastard got into my head, Dante. He didn’t make me do anything—except have to sort my way through a few false memories and then see this poor woman stagger out of that alley and die on the sidewalk.”
Dante waited, frowning.
“With everybody in the room then, I had my shields up—and the window closed. And yet he got in.”
“You’re a strong telepath,” Dante said slowly. “Maybe he homed in on that.”
“Yeah, well, that’s probably what has Luke worried. Has me worried too. Of all of us—at least in theory—I should be most conscious of any attempt to manipulate my mind. The one most likely to sense another presence before that presence can have any effect on me.”