“This should not be about my relationship with him,” Isabel said in a last-ditch effort. “Four women are dead in Hastings, five if you count Hope Tessneer, and more are missing. It can’t all hinge on my love life, it just can’t.”
“Human relationships are at the heart of everything, you know that. You said yourself they were at the heart of this case. It’s about relationships, you said.”
“Maybe I didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“You knew. You know. Relationships matter, Isabel. History’s been changed by them, armies toppled, societies rebuilt.”
Isabel was silent, frowning toward the bloody ground.
“They have power. Human relationships have power. Family. Friends. Lovers. The closer and more intimate the relationship, the more power it can and does generate. Use that energy. And use it wisely.”
“To break through Rafe’s shield?”
“No. To make it your own.”
“Got it?” Rafe asked, meeting up with Mallory in the bullpen at the station.
“Yeah, not that it’s helpful. The call Emily received was from a pay phone in town. One of the few remaining pay phones in use.”
“Doesn’t miss a trick, our guy.”
“No. I’ve got T.J. checking out the phone, but I’m betting she’ll either find a million prints or none at all.”
“I’ll cover that bet. Come on, let’s get back out to the scene.”
“Isabel and Hollis still out there?”
He nodded, leading the way from the station. “Pablo and Bobby are keeping an eye on them.”
“I’ll bet Isabel loves that.”
“Frankly, I don’t give a shit how she feels about it at this point. She’s a target, and I have a strong hunch she’s next on his hit list.”
Mallory looked at him curiously as they got into his Jeep. “Why?”
“Word’s getting out. I’ve had at least two calls from media and one from the town council today asking if it’s true we’ve got a psychic investigator working the case.”
“Lovely.”
“And the reporter who replaced Cheryl Bayne was one of those calls; he’s looking to make a reputation for himself, and it’s obvious. His predecessor missing and a psychic working the case? Sounds like a dandy story to him.”
“He’s going to broadcast that?”
“On today’s six o’clock news, he says.”
“Shit.”
Rafe shrugged. “At this point, I don’t think he’ll report anything the killer doesn’t already know. That’s what worries me. If I were him, the killer, I’d go after Isabel, and I wouldn’t wait a week to do it. I’m assuming he’s thinking the same way.”
Mallory sighed and said, “Safe assumption, probably. Plus, if Isabel’s right and he really did kill Emily because she knew something rather than because she was one of his blondes, then he could have been-for want of a better word-unsatisfied by the murder.”
Rafe muttered a curse under his breath and increased the Jeep’s speed. He didn’t say anything else until they reached the informal rest area and pulled off the highway. Ignoring the questions called out to him by several members of the media still braving the hot day hoping for a photo or a news bite, he headed toward the clearing, relaxing visibly when he saw Isabel and Hollis.
“The phone call?” Isabel asked as the two cops reached the agents.
“No joy,” Mallory reported. “Pay phone.”
“And there won’t be prints,” Isabel said with a sigh. “He’s using gloves. Not latex, I think, which is odd.”
“What do you mean?” Rafe asked.
“Well, latex gloves leave you with a much more tactile sense of what you’re touching, you know that. And since they’re form-fitting, they don’t get in the way.”
“No, I mean how do you know he isn’t using latex gloves? We haven’t found a sign either way at any of the crime scenes.”
“I touched them,” Isabel said slowly, surprised that she only now remembered that.
“Excuse me?” Mallory’s voice was very polite.
Isabel realized she was being stared at, and shook her head. “Sorry. I forgot none of you had seen it here. Or even knew, I guess. I wonder why I forgot that part?”
“What part?” Rafe asked with visible patience.
“I told you that sometimes, rarely, my abilities manifest themselves physically in a vision. During one of those, I am the victim. I feel what he or she feels, and I usually come out of it covered in blood. Blood that fades away completely after a few minutes.”
“I’d call that creepy,” Mallory said.
“Yeah, it’s not much fun.” Isabel shrugged. “Anyway, what really brought me to Hastings is that I had a vision while Tricia Kane was being killed. I felt what she felt. And when he drove that knife into her chest for the last time before she died, her hands reached up to touch the knife-and touched his hands. He was wearing gloves. Not latex gloves, but thick leather gloves, like working gloves. His hands were big, or at least that was the sense I got.”
“And you’re just now telling us this?”
“I’m just now remembering.” Isabel frowned. “I guess the voices crowded it out. Maybe that’s one in the plus column for your shield.”
Thunder rumbled just then, and they all glanced upward at the threatening sky.
Half under her breath, Hollis muttered, “Oh, God, I hate storms.”
“We’re about to have our crime scene washed away,” Rafe noted. “Weather’s calling for heavy rain today and tonight, with and without thunderstorms.”
Isabel hesitated, looking at him. “I’ve tried,” she said. “I’ve tried all morning to pick up something, and I can’t. I can’t break through the shield.”
“Stop trying to break through it.” He held out a hand to her. “Work with me, not against me.”
“Rafe-”
“We don’t have the luxury of time, not that we ever did. We can’t afford to wait any longer. Like it or not, this is it.”
“Should we leave?” Hollis asked, indicating herself and Mallory.
“No,” Isabel said, then hesitated, recalling what had happened with Paige, and added, “But you might want to step back a little bit.”
Both women did, watching the other two warily.
Slowly, Isabel reached out her own hand and felt the spark, felt his fingers closing around hers.
“I wish we had more time,” Rafe told her. “I wish we had the luxury of dinners and movies, and hours of talking to each other about what matters to us. But the truth is, we don’t have that time. We need every possible tool we can get our hands on-or our minds wrapped around-and we need it now.”
“Yes. I know.”
“You’re next on his list. You know that too.”
Isabel hesitated again, then nodded.
“Paige said we’d have to work together. That it would take both of us to figure out how to use this shield.”
“Yes.” Isabel looked at their hands for a moment, suddenly realizing something. “You’re right-handed; I’m left-handed.” Those were the hands clasping.
“Like closing a circuit,” Rafe said slowly. “Or maybe… opening one. All this started when I held your wrists. Both of them.”
“Alan, why on earth would I trust you?” Dana Earley demanded.
“Because you want a good story, you want to find out what happened to Cheryl Bayne, and you don’t want to be the next blonde on the menu.” He paused. “Probably in that order.”
Dana didn’t bother to be indignant. “So you found out that I have police sources in Alabama you want me to tap, and in exchange you’ll share information you got from your own sources in Florida.”
“Yes. Look, you’re TV and I’m newspaper; if we work this right we can both be heroes.”
“Or one of us could be dead. Like me. Alan, if Cheryl is dead it has to be because she got too close. I’m not so sure I want to get too close to this guy, story or no story.”