Кей Хупер - Whisper of Evil

But it wasn't all good, as this situation illustrated. Bishop and Miranda had been together long enough by now that they had learned to function extraordinarily well both as a team and when separated by circumstances, but their unusual closeness literally made each in many ways incomplete without the other.

Tony had absolutely no qualms about serving with either one of them alone; even when lacking their vital other half, both Bishop and Miranda were formidable psychics and investigators, skilled and tough cops, and more than a match for most situations in which they found themselves. But he would also be the first to admit that it was far more comfortable to serve with them both, the partnership intact and the two of them functioning smoothly as if with a single mind and heart.

A hell of a lot less tension that way.

With all of that very much in his thoughts, Tony spoke carefully. "We're spread pretty thin right now, with a half-dozen separate major investigations scattered across the country all going on at once. We have to use all our resources and all our aces. Every team in the field has to have a dominant member, that's your rule. A lead investigator with as much experience as possible who's also the most powerful psychic available."

Bishop said, "Something else you don't need to remind me of, Tony."

"All I'm saying is that Miranda being the lead might make all the difference in her case, and you know it. Just like you being the lead here and Quentin being the lead out in California, and Isabel running the show in Boston. Besides, Miranda took care of herself for a good many years before you tracked her down and reappeared in her life."

"I know that."

"She's a black belt and a crack shot, besides being able to read at least two-thirds of the people she encounters. All of which gives her quite an edge in the survival department."

"I know that too."

"I know you know that. All of that. I also know none of it makes a damned bit of difference at the moment because you've spent way too many sleepless nights alone in bed. It's starting to show, boss."

"Look who's talking."

Tony started slightly and felt his face get warm. Damned inconvenient sometimes, he thought, working with a telepath. Especially one as powerful as Bishop. "Never mind me."

Remorselessly, Bishop said, "Nothing like getting the scare of your life to advance a relationship to the next step."

"Shit. How long have you known?"

"About you and Kendra?" Bishop smiled slightly. "Longer than you have, Tony. Long before she was shot."

Tony considered that, then shook his head. "I knew Quentin was on to us but figured that was mostly because he's usually Kendra's partner in the field. And because he so often knows things he shouldn't, damn his eyes."

Mildly curious, Bishop said, "Why even bother trying to keep it quiet?"

"I don't know. Yeah — I do know. You've said yourself there are few secrets in a unit full of psychics; sometimes it's fun to have a secret. Even if you're only fooling yourself that's what it is."

"I get that where you're concerned. It's just the sort of thing you'd like. But Kendra? She's awfully levelheaded to enjoy a secret romance."

Tony grinned. "Are you kidding? It's the levelheaded ones that go off the deep end, believe me."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Do that. I'm not nearly sure enough of her to risk having everybody openly watching us to see what happens next."

"Remember who you're talking to. In this unit, we don't have to openly watch to know what's going on."

"Yeah, but at least that way we won't feel quite so much like bugs under a microscope."

Deadpan, Bishop said, "So we should be subtle while we gleefully observe?"

"I'd appreciate it if you would," Tony responded earnestly.

Bishop lifted a brow at him. "It occurs to me that you're having a shot at that sort of subtlety now. Tony, are you trying to distract me?"

"I was working on it, yeah."

"Why?"

"You know damned well why. The tension in here. That's something you couldn't be subtle about if you tried. And you never try."

With only a mild attempt to defend himself, Bishop said, "I'm always tense during an investigation."

"No, that's a different kind of tension."

"And you'd know."

"Well, yeah."

Bishop grimaced slightly. "Okay, okay. I will do my best to stop worrying about things I can't control. In the meantime, would you care to come away from that window and do something useful? Like work?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Tony responded cheerfully, joining his boss at the conference table. But before he picked up a photograph to study, he added in a musing tone, "Getting back to Silence for just a minute — what do you think about this connection Nell has? Think it'll make things easier for her?"

"No," Bishop replied soberly. "I think it'll make things harder for her. Much harder."

Tony sighed. "And there's nothing we can do to help?"

"Some things have to happen —"

" — just the way they happen," Tony finished. "Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that. And in some cases, boss, it really sucks."

"Tell me about it," Bishop said.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to these… episodes of yours," Max said, releasing her shoulders only because she moved away.

Nell nearly reminded him that he wouldn't have to since she didn't intend to remain in Silence for long, but instead heard herself say, "They're unnerving, 1 know. Especially for someone else. Sorry about that."

He shook his head. "Never mind. Just explain a few things, will you, please? I'm getting really tired of groping through this fog of confusion." Even though the words were flippant, his tone was anything but. "And before I try to figure out what the hell you mean by saying your father was murdered too, can you start with the basics?"

"It's getting late," she hedged, wondering if she was only talking about the lateness of the hour on this particular night or something a lot more important. She had a hunch it was the latter, and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit even to herself.

"I know. But I doubt either one of us is going to be able to sleep anytime soon. I need to understand, Nell. And I think you owe me that much."

She didn't protest, all too aware that she owed him a lot more than that. What was the going price for leaving a man in limbo? High. Maybe too high to pay. She set her coffee cup on the scarred old butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen and sat down in one of the ladder-back chairs. She waited until he sat down across from her, then spoke slowly. "Explain the visions, you mean?"

"Can you explain them?"

Nell shrugged. "I understand them a bit better than I did while I was growing up — even though what I felt instinctively way back then turned out to be pretty accurate."

"For instance?"

"What it is I actually tap into during a vision. A sociologist would say I had just experienced what they call an apparitional event. That I had seen — or at least claimed I had seen — the ghost of my father walk through this room. But that's not what I saw."

"No? What, then?"

"It was… a memory."

"Whose memory?"

She smiled faintly. "In the very broadest sense, it was the memory of the house."

"Are you saying this house is haunted?"

"No. I'm saying the house remembers."

"You said something like that before, years ago," Max noted. "That some places remember. But I don't understand what you mean. How can a house have a memory?"

"Any object — a house, a place — can have a memory.

Life has energy, Max. Life is energy. Broken down into their most basic form, emotions and thoughts are energy: electrical impulses produced by the brain."