"Odd how some of us have few problems and others seem to be ... almost punished ... by psychic abilities," Tony mused.
"Why do you think it was so difficult to pull together an effective team of psychics that it took years to do it?" Bishop said. "Finding genuine psychics wasn't the problem; finding genuine psychics who could handle the work consistently was."
"Urn. Which means we could really use someone like Miranda on the team."
Bishop picked up a sheaf of messages from the table. "She has a term of office as sheriff to finish out."
"And then?"
"We haven't talked about it."
Deciding not to push, Tony said, "Probably best to take things a day at a time for now." He saw Bishop frown down at the messages, and added, "You asked last night that the deputies taking phone calls note down any comments or questions about how we were able to find Steve Penman's body. There weren't many calls last night, but lots this morning."
"Have you looked at these?" Bishop asked.
"No, one of the deputies just brought them in a little while ago. Why?"
Grim, Bishop said, "Because the prevailing theory seems to be that we were able to find Penman's body because Liz Hallowell saw it in the tea leaves."
"Oh," Tony said. And then, slowly, "Oh, shit."
SIXTEEN
"No answer at her house or the store." Miranda cradled the receiver. "She's an early riser, she'd be up by now."
Bishop checked his watch. "Nearly ten. If the weather reports are on target, we'll get the back side of the storm by noon or a little after."
Miranda picked up a clipboard from the conference table and studied it with a frown. "Her house isn't in one of the sections reporting a power outage, but even if it were she'd still have the phone. Damn."
Tony said, "Unless he's stupidly out there now leaving tracks in the snow, or even more stupidly went out in the middle of the storm, he had to have acted fairly early last night, right? Just hours after we found Penman's body. Would he have felt threatened enough to move against her so quickly?"
"Believing it was possible she had a pipeline to his victims?" Bishop barely hesitated. "I'd say yes."
Miranda nodded. "Then we have to go out there, before the storm gets wound up again. Where's Alex?"
"The lounge," Tony answered. "When everything was so quiet a few hours ago, he decided to get a little sleep. Want me to wake him?"
"No. If we're very lucky, there won't be any reason to disturb his sleep now or later." She drew a breath. "In fact, I don't want to tell any of the deputies unless it's necessary. Liz is ... very well liked. We'll keep it just between us, for now. Tony, if something has happened, first impressions could be very useful to us."
"Well, sure, but I'm not especially strong," he reminded her.
She gave Bishop a wry look, and he said, "At the moment, you have both of us beat."
Tony blinked. "Ah. I wondered why the transmitter was so silent that I was reduced to trying to read your stone face."
"Temporarily out of order."
"How temporarily?"
"A few hours, if we're lucky. A few days, if we're not."
"Receivers busted too?"
"Afraid so."
Tony looked from one to the other, having little luck reading two very calm faces. "I see. I don't, actually, but since it's obvious I'm not going to get an explanation, never mind. The timing could be better, guys."
"No kidding." Miranda put down the clipboard. "There's some snow gear in one of the storage lockers. You'll both need boots, at least." She was already wearing hers.
"I'll get them," Tony said.
"Don't say anything to the others," Miranda told him.
"Gotcha."
When they were alone in the conference room, Bishop said, "Assuming we're right about this, none of us could have anticipated that he'd move so fast."
"I know, I know." But she was frowning.
And Bishop didn't like something he saw in her face, a tension or strain that hadn't been there just a few minutes ago. "Miranda, none of this is your fault."
She looked at him steadily. "But Tony's right about our rotten timing. We could hardly have picked a worse moment to have our abilities muted."
"We didn't pick the moment, it picked us." Bishop's voice was deliberate. "And I'm not sorry it did. The rate we were going, we were never going to get there without a nudge."
"It was more of a shove," she said.
It wasn't like her to be flippant at such a moment, and it told Bishop probably more than she would have liked about her state of mind. He crossed the space between them and lifted a hand to touch her face. "Are you all right?"
"There is," she said with a touch of grimness, "such a thing as being known too well."
"What's wrong, Miranda?"
"Me. I'm wrong."
"In what way?"
Miranda drew a breath and let it out slowly. "I thought I could change things. I thought I could . . . exert some kind of control over fate, even if only a little. And I thought I had. But if Liz is dead ... if she died last night before you came to me ... then it's all happening just the way I saw it happen, in spite of what I tried to do to change it. I can't change it. Apparently there's not a goddamned thing I can do to stop any of it."
Bishop felt a little chill that came from instinct rather than knowledge. "What is it? What did you see?"
Whether Miranda would have answered became moot when Tony returned to the conference room with the snow boots. She turned away from Bishop, becoming once again the brisk and efficient sheriff, and the moment for confidences passed.
Miranda made that even more clear when she decided they should take two vehicles — just in case one of them got stuck in the snow. It was a reasonable precaution, but it was also an obvious desire to be alone for a while since she rather pointedly suggested that Bishop and Tony take their rental SUV.
All the way out to Liz Hallowell's house, even as he concentrated on navigating in the deep snow, Bishop was trying to sort through the images crammed in his mind, all the emotions and events of Miranda's life during the past eight years. He felt frustrated, knowing that the answer was within his grasp if he could only identify it. But it was like searching for a single snapshot in a box filled with them when he wasn't sure what the picture was supposed to look like.
"Boss?"
Slowing cautiously to follow Miranda's Jeep around a corner, Bishop said, "Yeah?"
"If Liz Hallowell is dead ., . do we let the killer believe he succeeded in silencing our medium?"
"If it'll protect Bonnie, I say we damned well try. And you'll notice Miranda didn't send any of her deputies to the clinic; doing anything to draw attention to Bonnie before we know for sure what's happened could be a bad mistake."
"So could waiting," Tony offered soberly.
"I know. And so does Miranda."
Tony was silent for half a block; then, as he drew his weapon and checked it absently, he said, "Either the transmitter's beginning to recover, or you're worried as hell, because I can feel it."
Bishop tried experimentally to focus his spider-sense. "No, I'm still pretty much blind at the moment."
"And worried?"
"Let's just say I don't like the way things are shaping up."
"Can't say that I blame you about that."
Nothing more was said, and minutes later they reached Liz Hallowell's house. Bishop parked his vehicle behind Miranda's, and they joined her outside.
She was studying the smooth expanse of pristine snow covering the ground, Liz's parked car, and the small house. "Nobody's gone in or out of the house this way for hours at least," she said.