It did not take long to go through Theo Willis's limited wardrobe. Ten minutes after she had started work, Orchid closed the closet door and looked at Rafe.
"Nothing," she said.
"Nothing here, either." He started back toward the hall. "There must be something. There's always something."
"You didn't know Theo," she muttered as she followed him back into the living room. "He was a man of limited interests."
Rafe paused half way down the hall when the flashlight played across the wall calendar. "Hang on a second."
"What is it?"
"Morgan Lambert said Willis was seeing a syn-psych shrink."
"So?"
"So he must have had regular appointments. Maybe he noted them on the calendar." Rafe took a closer look at the little squares around each day. "Here we go. Looks like he had several appointments during the last couple of weeks with a Dr. Q.A."
Orchid was intrigued. "How do we find out who Dr. Q.A. is?"
"There are three possible ways to find out the doctor's name. We can go through the phonebook and call every syn-psych shrink with those initials. Or we can look for Willis's bank book to see if he paid for the visits with a check."
"What's the third method?"
"The easy way." Rafe flipped the pages on the calendar. "We go back to the day Willis made the first appointment and hope that he wrote out the doctor's full name the first time he noted it down the way most people do."
Orchid edged closer. She scanned the little boxes as Rafe turned the pages. A thrill of discovery raced through her when she spotted a name. "There. The fifteenth, two months ago. Dr. Quentin Austen. That must be it."
"It would be very interesting to talk to Dr. Austen," Rafe mused.
"Yes. He could tell us something about Theo's state of mind in the days before he died." Orchid's excitement subsided. "But it's not likely Austen will give us much information about a former patient, even if that patient is dead."
"I'm sure we can convince Dr. Austen to help us," Rafe said a little too smoothly.
Orchid opened her mouth to ask him what made him so certain he could get Austen to talk. She closed it again when he suddenly raised a hand to hush her.
She saw him go very still in the shadows, as though he was listening to sounds she could not hear. He turned toward the draped window.
A chill shot through Orchid. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure. Something's not right."
"How do you know?"
"I just know." Rafe's words were no more than a whisper. He clicked off the flashlight, reached for her hand and pulled her toward the back door. "Time to leave."
Orchid did not argue. A million questions seethed in her brain but she decided this was not the time to ask them. She allowed Rafe to haul her down the hall far more quickly than she would have liked. She could scarcely make out the vague shapes around her but Rafe was as sure-footed as a cat-dog.
He led her swiftly to the back door but there he paused once more. Orchid peered through the window at what appeared to be a solid wall of gray mist. The vapor glowed eerily with the reflected light of the street lamp it had recently devoured.
"The fog's gotten worse," she said softly. "A lot worse. It's going to be a miserable drive home."
"We'll be all right"
"I've never seen it quite this bad." Orchid's unease grew stronger. "I can't even see the house next door."
It was true. The fog had swallowed up the house and everything else in the vicinity.
"We can't stay here." Rafe unlatched the door and stepped outside. "Be careful. Remember the step."
She wanted to ask him why they were whispering but she forgot the question the instant the door closed behind her. The strange mist seemed to thicken as they made their way around the side of the small house and started across the unkempt lawn to where the Acer was parked at the curb.
Orchid judged that they were halfway back to the car when Rafe jerked hard on her hand.
"This isn't real fog. Get down."
"What the—?"
Rafe used his foot to trip her. Then he pushed her down, hard. Orchid sprawled ignominiously on the ground. She was wondering if he'd gone crazy when she sensed the rush of booted feet across the lawn.
"Link," Rafe ordered.
The questing probe of his talent roared out of the darkness at full psychic vampire strength. Orchid hastily constructed a prism, manipulating the facets for optimum power. An instant later the first of the attackers plunged out of the mist.
Chapter 8
The very texture of the fog-bound night altered abruptly for Rafe as his psychically sharpened senses steadied with the aid of the focus link. Scent, sound, and that indescribable sensation, awareness, oriented him as easily in the darkness as sunlight did in daylight.
The mist was as thick as it had been a few seconds earlier, but it no longer mattered that he was partially blinded by it. He had other ways of seeing now.
There were two of them. He located them precisely in the fog. They closed in simultaneously from opposite directions. Experienced predators.
The first man swam out of the fog with the lethal intent of a shark-cuda. He wore a black ski mask. Rafe saw the glint of mist-refracted light on the blade of a knife.
The case had taken a serious turn. Next time he would bring along the pistol he sometimes wore in an ankle holster.
He shifted to the side, briefly concealing himself in the fog.
"Bat-snake shit." The knifeman whirled, seeking his prey.
"Where'd he go?" The second man emerged from the mist. He, too, wore a ski mask and gripped a knife. "Cut some of the damn fog, Jink. I can't see a thing."
Rafe went in low. He crashed into the first man. The impact took them both to the ground.
The uncanny, blinding mist vanished in a heartbeat, leaving behind only the natural, wispy tendrils of fog that had cloaked the city all evening. Rafe felt Orchid's startled surprise even through the focus link, but the crystal clear prism she had crafted did not waver.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that she was still on the ground, propped on her elbow. She turned to stare at the violent scene unfolding in front of her.
Rafe ignored the shock on her face. She was holding the focus and at the moment, that was all that mattered.
The man Rafe had brought down was an expert. He heaved himself to the side, managing to partially free himself. The knife in his hand sliced out in a short, vicious trajectory aimed at Rafe's midsection.
Rafe spun away, leaping to his feet in the same motion. He kicked out at the hand that held the knife. There was a dull crunch. The man on the ground yelled in pain. His weapon flew off into the darkness.
"Get him."
The second man threw himself forward, knife arm outstretched. But he had to jump over Orchid's prone form in order to get to his quarry. Rafe saw Orchid's foot lash out in a curiously graceful, well-aimed movement that connected with the man's thigh.
The unexpected blow threw the assailant off balance. His legs snarled. He toppled, staggered, and went down.
Rafe leaped for him.
"Fog." The second man steadied himself, scrambled back to his feet and whirled to face Rafe. "Damn it, Jink, give me some fog. He's coming right at me."
The first man lurched to his feet. The mist thickened abruptly. Rafe ignored it, concentrating with his other senses.
"Shit, it's like he can see right through this stuff," the second man yelled.
"Let's get out of here." The first man pounded off into the darkness.
The second man did not argue. He was already running after his friend.
Power still surged through the prism. Rafe's para-heightened senses strained eagerly. Every instinct urged him to pursue his prey. It would be so easy to bring down at least one of the fleeing men.