I'm assuming whatever happened didn't happen here on the island. Why am I assuming that?
Because the altar-if that's what it had been used for-was on the mainland. Because a tortured and murdered man's body had been discovered there. And because she found it almost impossible to believe that a second, totally separate violent event had taken place in this small community on the same night.
Rational. Reasonable. Probably right.
Probably.
"Riley?"
Oh, shit. I can't even fake it anymore?
"Hmmm?" she murmured.
"Why are you still awake?" He nuzzled the back of her neck. "I thought you'd go out like a light."
"Just thinking, I guess."
"About what? The murder?"
"Yeah." It wasn't a lie. Exactly. "Occupational hazard."
Without turning her to face him, Ash gathered her into his arms. "Can I talk you into letting it go until tomorrow, or is this something else I should get used to?"
What could she tell him? How much could she tell him?
How far could she trust him?
Riley was conscious of an unfamiliar desperation, and it was a feeling she did not like. Especially when it caused her to blurt, "I'm different. When there's a case."
"So it's not just about using more energy," he said after a moment.
"No. There's that too, but…I pretty much live the job. I get obsessed." She tried to put a shrug into her voice. "My boss says it's part of what makes me a good investigator. Other people have…indicated that I can be distant or difficult to connect with whenever I'm working on a case."
"Forewarned is forearmed?"
"You have a right to know."
His arms tightened around her. "Riley, I understand how our work can drive us. You know how far mine drove me. All the way back to my childhood home, where being the district attorney is barely a full-time job. You can't allow your job to consume you."
She wished she remembered his story, she really did. She had a feeling it was a vitally important piece of this puzzle she was in. But all she could say was, "A man's dead, Ash. Shouldn't I be bothered by that? Shouldn't you?"
"I'm just saying you won't be any good to the investigation or yourself if you don't get some rest."
"You're right, of course."
His arms tightened around her again, and there was something inexpressibly soothing in his voice when he murmured, "Tomorrow is soon enough to begin to obsess. Go to sleep, Riley."
He hadn't answered her questions, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit even to herself. At the same time, her body was relaxing against his, for real this time, and she was growing sleepy once again.
Exhaustion, almost certainly. Catching up with her. But it was more than that, and even as her fragmented thoughts began to settle, a last nagging realization followed her into sleep.
Despite everything, even her own doubts, here in this man's arms she felt…safe.
And for a woman who had learned a long, long time ago that safety was, at best, an illusion, that was terrifying.
In an unusually grim tone, Gordon said, "Yeah, I'd say this was from a Taser. And a juiced-up one, at that."
Riley smoothed her short hair over the burns and turned to face him. "I was pretty sure. Just wanted a second opinion."
"Have you reported this to Bishop?"
"Not yet."
"Jesus Christ on a crutch, Riley."
"I know, I know. But I also know what Bishop will say, and I don't want to be recalled. I can't just cut and run, Gordon. Not yet. Look, if whoever attacked me had wanted to kill me, I'd be dead."
"You don't know that. It's more likely he left you for dead and that crazy, messed-up brain of yours kept you alive against the odds."
It was a good point, and more than possible. Like all the psychics on the team, her brain had a higher-than-normal amount of electrical activity going on at any given time, so it very well might not have responded as the attacker had expected to an added jolt.
"Maybe." She hesitated, then confessed, "I had a nightmarish scenario running last night where the guy stunned me and then brought me home and put me to bed thinking I'd wake up and not know anything had happened."
"You mean when you woke up covered with blood you wouldn't think anything had happened?"
"I didn't think about that part until this morning." After about three cups of coffee and a wonderful breakfast courtesy of Ash.
Gordon eyed her consideringly. "You really aren't firing on all cylinders, babe, 'case you didn't know that."
"Why do you men always use car metaphors?" she demanded, even though she'd used the very same one herself in describing her condition to Bishop.
"Don't change the subject."
Riley sighed. "I'll tell Bishop everything when I report in this afternoon. I can't justify keeping any of it to myself, not with a man dead. I'll just have to hope I can convince him to leave me here. But, in the meantime, I'm headed out to the sheriff's department, where I hope there will be statements, photos, and a postmortem report I can take a look at."
"What do you expect to see?"
"I don't know. Probably nothing I couldn't figure out from the crime scene. But maybe I missed something."
Gordon was frowning. "I gather the spooky senses are still AWOL?"
She nodded. "Which makes more sense today than it did yesterday. Now that I at least know what happened to me. Even so, I have a pretty good hunch that Bishop will tell me nobody else on the team has experienced a jolt of electricity straight into the base of the brain. I don't recall reading that in any of the unit's case histories, and I think it would have been there. Highlighted. Underlined. With an asterisk."
"Yeah, I get it. Which means-"
"Which means I'm in unexplored territory here and pretty much on my own. God knows what was scrambled or short-circuited inside my head. And what the aftereffects might be."
"Want to tell me again why you aren't going to see a doctor?"
"Because there's nothing a doctor would do except probably run tests. Because I'm functional. I don't even have a headache today, or at least not much of one. Whatever that jolt did to my brain…well, let's just say I doubt they have a magic little pill to fix me."
"It could be permanent? The memory loss and the damage to your senses?"
"Could be." Riley drew a deep breath and released it slowly.
"Hell, that may be more likely than not. If an electrical jolt can trigger latent psychic abilities-and we know it can-then it's reasonable to suppose one could just as easily short-circuit or even destroy them."
"How you feel about that?"
"All my life, I've counted on those extra senses to give me an edge when I needed it. When somebody else was bigger or stronger or smarter or faster-or just meaner. Without them, I don't know if I'm good enough to do my job."
Chapter 8
I don't think you have to worry about that," Gordon said. "I've seen you accomplish plenty without the spooky senses."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Wish it helped the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach."
Maybe changing the subject, Gordon asked, "How'd the date go last night?"
She knew he wasn't asking for details, and wouldn't; he just wanted to know if her evening with Ash had changed anything.
It was an answer she didn't have.
"It went…it was fine." Riley hesitated, then said, "Tell me I can trust him, Gordon. Promise me I can trust him."
"Wish I could, babe, but I don't know the man well enough to promise anything. All I know's what I hear, the little bit I've seen for myself, and for what it's worth that's mostly good. I'd want him on my side in a fight. My gut says I could depend on him to watch my back. But we both know that don't mean he couldn't be a bastard to the woman sharing his bed."