Maggie was very still, staring up at him. "There's something else, isn't there? What else?"
He really didn't want to tell her.
"John? What is it?"
"She's pregnant. More than six months."
Hollis remained in her chair by the window, but only because she felt too drained to move. Talking about the attack, telling Maggie all the horrible, painful details, even those she hadn't dared think about, had exhausted her. But not nearly as much as she had expected it to.
And her emotional state was much better than it had any right to be, she knew that. She felt peculiarly calm, almost… at peace.
Because of her.
"Because of Maggie?" By now, it seemed almost normal to discuss things with her figment. Reassuring, even.
Yes.
"Why? Just because she listened? Because she was sympathetic and understanding?"
No. Because she took some of your pain.
Hollis frowned. "What do you mean?"
She took it away. Took it into herself so that you wouldn't hurt so much.
"You don't-surely you don't mean she actually physically absorbed what I was feeling?"
She has a unique gift. It's why I wanted you to talk to her. So you could begin to heal.
"But… she felt it? All the pain?"
Yes.
Hollis was horrified; she wouldn't have wished that on anyone, and for Maggie to have suffered so when she was only trying to help… "Dammit, why didn't you warn me?"
I couldn't warn you. Neither could she. We both knew you'd fight not to inflict such pain on another. We both knew you wouldn't tell her the things she had to know if you had been warned it would hurt her too.
As upset as she was, Hollis had a realization then, one she was surprised hadn't occurred to her before. "You know her, don't you? You know Maggie."
Yes. I know Maggie. I know her very well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The forensics team is going over that house inch by inch, but so far nothing. I've got people canvassing the neighborhood, but on a busy Monday with most at work or at school, the area was all but deserted-today, anyway."
"How long was the husband away?" John asked.
"From last Thursday. He says at a business conference on the East Coast, and I don't expect to find anything different; he arrived at Sea-Tac this morning, sure enough. And I'd bet my pension he's half out of his mind with worry, so I'm not looking at him as a suspect. He says he talked to her late last night when he called from his hotel; records confirm he certainly called the house and there was a lengthy conversation, so we're probably looking at about a twelve-hour window during which she might have disappeared. According to friends and family, she wouldn't have run away…"
Maggie tried to concentrate on what Andy was telling them, but it wasn't easy. The interview with Hollis, productive though it might turn out to be, had drained her; the pain and anguish of the other woman, dragged out into the light of day and sanity for the first time since the attack, had been virtually an open wound. Maggie needed to recover from that. Unfortunately, she hadn't been granted the time or seclusion necessary.
So she was faking it. Or trying to.
"… the husband says you'd never know she's pregnant. One of those women who hardly show at all right up to delivery, apparently."
"He knows," Maggie heard herself say.
Andy frowned across his desk at her. "The rapist? If she isn't showing, how could-"
"He's been watching her. He would have seen her doing things to prepare for a baby."
"Things?" John asked.
Maggie didn't look at him. "Doctor visits, shopping, decorating. It's a first baby. There'd be a lot to do."
Andy said, "But he might not have realized how far along she is."
"Maybe not. I wouldn't bet money on it, though."
Andy grimaced and rubbed the nape of his neck. "No, me either. Is this supposed to be a fun new twist for the bastard? Christ. If it turns out that Samantha Mitchell was taken by the rapist, this city is going to come apart at the seams."
Maggie drew a breath and fought to keep her voice steady. "You realize she's not likely to survive."
"You could have gone all day without saying that."
"It's true and you know it. Hollis says he beat her almost methodically and violently raped her at least three times. She was so damaged internally she'll never be able to have children. Add to that the sheer physical and emotional shock of being blinded, and the odds are that neither a pregnant woman nor her child could survive the attack."
Andy shook his head, his face grim, but said, "Did you get anything helpful from the interview with Hollis?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Details, but not the sort to help the police, at least not yet."
"Such as?'
Maggie drew a breath and let it out slowly, trying not to sound as tired as she felt. "He used spearmint-flavored gum or breath mints. He hummed to himself sometimes, but not a tune Hollis recognized. He was fascinated by the texture of her skin and her scent."
John moved slightly in his chair, and under his breath muttered, "Son of a bitch."
Maggie sent him a quick glance of apology. It had to be hell for him, hearing this sort of thing and knowing that his sister had been held and tortured by the same animal. In situations like this one, an informed imagination could be a lot worse than an ignorant one.
For the first time, Maggie realized that he probably slept no better than she did and that his nightmares undoubtedly grew more vivid with each brutal fact he learned about what his sister had actually gone through.
Andy, more adept than either of them at not letting his emotions sidetrack him, said to Maggie, "Those don't even sound like the sorts of details that might help you. Are they? Are you beginning to see this guy.'
"Every detail helps me see him. Eventually." Every detail, every throb of agony and anguish she had felt right along with Hollis. And Ellen. And Christina.
"Do you have a sketch yet?"
"No. Not yet."
John said, "Andy, I know your boss would hate it, but is there any way we can see the Mitchell house today?"
"We?"
"Maggie and me."
Maggie wanted to protest but bit back the words. She had so far managed to hide from Andy her reaction to actual scenes of violence or suffering and intended to keep it that way if she had any choice. It was difficult enough to do what she did without having to also cope with the increased uneasiness or even fear she knew most of these cops would feel if they saw one of her little… performances.
She had no idea what John thought of what he had witnessed on Saturday, but she didn't doubt he and his friend had discussed her. His supposedly psychic friend.
She felt cold. And worried. Was she moving too fast? Could she afford not to? It was so desperately important that they stop this monster before he destroyed more lives, but what would be the price demanded if she chose the wrong path? And who would have to pay it?
"Maggie, are you up to it?" Andy asked.
She nodded. "I'm fine." A lie, but she thought it was probably a pretty convincing one.
"I know Maggie usually walks the scene eventually," Andy said slowly, "but why you, John?"
Because he wants to watch me. But Maggie didn't say that, of course. She just waited silently.
"I suppose," John said, "because I'm trying to… immerse myself in the investigation. To see everything. And who knows, Andy-I may see something all you cops miss. I may not be trained in police work, but I usually don't miss many of the details when I turn my mind to something."
It was the truth, Maggie thought. But not all of it.
Andy drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment, eyeing John intently, then shrugged. "I'll okay it. I wanted Maggie to walk it anyway, and you might as well go along, although I doubt you'll find anything we missed. The forensics team should be just about finished up by the time you can get to the house, and Mitchell has given us permission to do whatever it takes to find his wife, so I don't imagine he'll object. If he even notices, which is doubtful."