"Did either of them have kids?"
"No."
"What about the third woman?"
"She has a little boy."
"I hadn't even decided if I wanted kids. Now it's a decision I don't have to worry about anymore."
Maggie didn't offer platitudes. Instead, she asked, "Is that the worst of it for you? That there won't be any children of your own?"
"I don't know." Her lips moved again in that small, brief smile. "I guess it might depend on whether the transplant was a success. The doctor's confident, but… I don't know what you learned in art school, but one of the things they taught us is that the eyes, like the spine, are hardwired into the brain. That's why there hasn't been a successful transplant before now. They can transplant corneas, of course, but not the eyeball-or at least that's conventional medical wisdom. My doctor intends to become a pioneer."
"You'll be one too," Maggie reminded her.
"I'm not so sure I want to be. But I do want to see again, so I signed the papers. Any chance is better than none, right?"
"I'd say so."
"Yeah. But nobody really knows what might happen. My body doesn't seem to be rejecting the eyes, but the odds against them working the way they're supposed to are pretty long. The funny thing is…"
"What?"
She drew a little breath. "They say when you lose a limb, you get phantom sensations-that you still feel the limb attached to you, moving. Hurting."
"I've heard that."
"I asked my doctor if it was the same way with eyes. I don't think he quite got what I meant until I asked him if I should be able to move them. Because that's the kind of sensations I feel, that the eyes are moving under the bandages, behind my eyelids. Like now, when I think about looking toward the door… I can feel them move."
"What did your doctor say?"
"That it was probably phantom sensations, there hadn't been time for the muscles and nerves to heal. That was just after the operation, so I guess he was right. But it still feels the same to me, those sensations."
"When will they take the bandages off?"
"Another week or so. Until then, all I can do is sit here… and wait. I never was very good at waiting."
"Is that why you called us?"
"Maybe. If I could do anything to help them catch that… monster… then I want to do it." She paused and swallowed hard. "At least, that was the plan. Now I'm not so sure I can talk about it yet. I'm sorry, but-"
"Hollis, it's all right. You have to do this in your own time and way. Look, why don't I come back tomorrow, and we'll talk again. We'll talk about anything you want for as long as you want. Until you're ready."
"If you don't mind."
"I don't. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?"
"Thank you, Maggie."
Hollis didn't move after the door closed behind her visitor. She turned her face back toward the window, thinking vaguely that if she'd been back in New England she might have felt the sunlight on her face even in November. But the nurses had told her it was a typical Seattle day, overcast and dreary, with no sunlight to be had. They hadn't understood why she'd wanted to sit by the window anyway.
You should have talked to her, Hollis.
"I did talk to her."
I told you that you could trust her.
She laughed under her breath. "I don't even know if I can trust you."
You know.
"All I know is that I'm creeping out the nursing staff by talking to someone who isn't there."
I'm here. And you know I'm real.
Hollis turned her head so that she faced the chair across from her own. "If I could see, would I see you?"
Perhaps.
"And perhaps not. I think I'll make up my own mind who to trust, if it's all the same to you, figment."
Make up your mind soon, Hollis. We're running out of time.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I couldn't push her," Maggie said. "I can't push her. We just have to wait until she's ready to talk about it."
"And when will that be?" John asked. He sat back to allow the waitress to serve their coffee, wondering if Maggie had suggested this coffee shop across from the hospital because she liked it or because she wanted to spend as little time with him as possible.
"My guess is a few days. She's coping better than I expected, maybe because she has the hope of seeing again. But her emotional condition is still… very fragile."
"Did you ask her how she knew to ask for you by name?"
"No. I didn't want to ask anything that might have been interpreted as… suspicious." "Bad for the rapport?" "That's one way of putting it. If I can't establish a strong bond of trust, then she won't confide in me. Especially as long as she can't see."
John didn't lack imagination, and it was not difficult for him to at least try to understand the terror of being suddenly locked away in darkness, especially as it applied to dealing with others. "No visual clues," he said slowly. "We use our eyes so much when it comes to weighing other people and judging the worth of what they tell us."
A little surprised, Maggie said, "Exactly."
He smiled but didn't comment on her surprise. "So you didn't learn how she knew about you. Anything else? Do you think she saw anything before he blinded her?"
"I don't know. She has something on her mind, but I have no way of knowing what that might be." If she hadn't been gazing directly at his face, she wouldn't have seen his instant of hesitation-and the decision to say what was on his mind.
"So what we need," he said lightly, "is a good psychic."
"Have a few on the payroll, do you?" Her voice was matter-of-fact.
"Not on my payroll, no. At least, not that I know of. But I have a friend who might be willing to help. Assuming he can, of course."
"You doubt his abilities?"
"I," John said deliberately, "doubt the entire concept, if you want the truth. I have a hard time believing in the so-called paranormal. But I've seen Quentin find answers when no one else could, and even if I'm not sure how he does it, at least his way is another option. Especially in a situation where there is so little information and so much need for more."
Maggie sipped her coffee to give herself a moment to think, then said, "I'm pretty sure Luke Drummond would balk at having one more civilian officially involved in the investigation."
"I'm positive he would. Which is why Quentin can only be involved unofficially."
"Which means access to the investigation is going to be a problem. Is that why you're telling me? Do you expect me to get him access to the victims?"
John immediately shook his head. "I wouldn't put you in that position or ask those women to talk to yet another stranger, especially a strange man. No, I'm telling you because from everything Andy's said about you, my hunch is that you're going to be at the center of this investigation for the duration-and I don't mean sitting in an interview room downtown."
"What do you mean?"
"Andy says you've walked the areas where the first three victims were found. True?"
She nodded slowly.
"Why?"
Maggie couldn't think of a simple answer and finally shrugged. "To gather impressions, I suppose. I told you, a lot of what I do is intuition."
"According to Andy, you always immerse yourself in an investigation. You don't just interview victims and witnesses or just study the crime scenes. You read all the reports, talk to the cops, comb through files, even hit the streets following up on your hunches. You talk to family and friends of the victims and construct your own diagrams of crime scenes. Andy swears he believes you have a filing cabinet tucked away somewhere at home with your own personal files of the investigations you've participated in."
Maggie only just stopped herself from flinching. "Andy talks too much."
"Maybe so, but did he lie?"
She laced her fingers together around her cup and stared down at it for a long moment before finally meeting his gaze again. "Okay so I get involved. What does that have to do with you and your friend? I won't share confidential details of the investigation."