Кей Хупер - Whisper of Evil

"Then maybe," Max offered, "he was killed for a different reason. Because he knew something, found out something. Because he was a threat. Maybe the reason why your people haven't found any secrets in his life is because he didn't have any."

"Believe it or not, that had occurred to me," Ethan snapped. "I know my job, Max."

"I never said you didn't."

"Funny, that's what I heard you say."

"You're imagining things."

Nell wasn't so tired that she didn't recognize signs of rising tension between the two men. Max was upset with her because he thought she was refusing to "deal" with discovering the truth about her mother, and Ethan was mad because the FBI had been right here under his nose without his knowledge or consent. Both of them wanted to let off steam.

The way her head was hurting, Neil was afraid that if they did that, she'd shoot both of them.

"The point," she said before an argument could really get started, "is that for three out of four of the murders, we can tie the victims to Hailey. Each of them had a secret sexual relationship with her. And each of them, according to the profile, was killed as punishment for his sins. Was killed because the murderer was unable to get justice for what were in all likelihood personal injuries."

"You're saying Hailey could have killed them because they all hurt her?" Ethan demanded.

"I'm saying it's possible."

"Yeah? Then explain to me why Patterson was killed more than twenty years after he played his sadistic little games with Hailey in his basement. If, that is, you're right about how old she was when it first happened."

"We don't know their relationship ended when Hailey was a child," Nell pointed out.

Ethan wasn't as shaken by that possibility as he might have been the day before. "Okay. But the question stands."

Remembering the morning's vision of Hailey as a child witnessing a brutal marital rape, Nell said, "It was probably a cumulative thing. Not being hurt just once, but again and again. The years passed, the hurts piled up, and finally Hailey couldn't take it anymore."

"She left ," Ethan said. "Maybe she did get fed up, but her response was to leave Silence. What, you think she's been hiding out somewhere nearby for the past eight months, slowly killing off the men who treated her like shit? And nobody's seen her, not even a glimpse of her?"

Without answering his questions, Nell said, "There's one more factor that makes me feel sure Hailey is involved."

"And that is?"

"The first man to die last year was our father."

"Wait a minute. You think Adam was murdered too?"

"Yes. I think —"

Nell.

After a startled instant, Nell reached up to rub her temples soothingly. It was just the headache, that was all. Just this strange, pounding headache. There was nobody whispering in her ear.

Nobody.

"Are you all right?" Max asked.

"I'm fine. Ethan, I know he was supposed to have died of a heart attack, but I think it's at least possible that —"

You're wrong. You're wrong about all of it.

"Nell?"

She stared at Ethan for a moment, then shook her head. "Sony. I'm… sorry. I'm having a little trouble concentrating."

"You need to rest," Max said in a voice that could best be described as determined. "If a blackout is coming —"

"It isn't. At least, I don't think so. I just have a headache, that's all." Nell sighed. "But I think I probably do need to rest. Ethan, I can arrange to have the remains taken to the FBI lab for analysis, if that's okay with you. It'll be quickest, and quietest, so nobody in town has to know until you're ready to tell them."

Ethan swore under his breath, but said, "If Hailey's behind this rather than a cop, keeping quiet won't matter. But just in case your profiler is right, I think it would be best not to have any of my people deal with this."

"Then I'll arrange it."

He nodded. "Far as I know, FBI agents seldom work alone. You have a partner here, don't you?"

Nell didn't hesitate. "As you say, we seldom work alone. But sometimes we do have to work very quietly, behind the scenes. Even undercover."

"And I'm not supposed to ask, I guess."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't." Nell smiled. "Please don't think of us as spies, Ethan. We're doing our jobs, just like you. Trying to do the right thing, just like you. Trying to catch a killer — just like you."

"Okay, point taken." Ethan settled his shoulders with the air of a man accepting, however reluctantly, something he didn't like but really couldn't fight. "Do you still want to see George Caldwell's place today?"

Nell didn't wait for Max to object. "Maybe later this afternoon, if I'm up to it."

"I still want to hear all this about Adam's death," Ethan said. "And sooner rather than later."

"I know."

"But for now, I need to get back to town, and you apparently need to rest." Ethan eyed Max. "I gather you're staying?"

"You gather correctly."

All Nell said was, "We should close the cellar doors just in case some kid wanders past, but there'll be someone here to collect the remains within an hour. With any luck at all, we should have at least preliminary results by sometime tomorrow."

"Fast work," Ethan grunted. He went over to close the cellar doors, then rejoined the other two, and they walked back through the woods to the Gallagher house. Ethan had dropped his deputy off in town before joining Nell and Max here earlier, so his cruiser was waiting for him.

"Let me know later if you feel up to seeing the Caldwell apartment," Ethan told Nell. He added flatly, "And I expect to be kept informed from here on out about the activities and conclusions of the FBI."

"You will be."

Ethan's radio muttered quietly but imperatively, and he reached for it to turn up the volume and respond to the summons. They all heard his dispatcher's urgent announcement.

"Sheriff, we've got another one. Another murder."

"You didn't have to stay," Nell said.

Max debated silently but decided there was no benefit in arguing about it, at least not at the moment. So he ignored the question. "Is your partner taking care of the… remains?"

"More or less. Supervising the removal."

"He can hardly watch you from way out there. Some guardian."

Nell smiled faintly. "He knows you're here." She sipped her coffee, keeping her gaze fixed on the dark fireplace. This living room wasn't her favorite part of the house, particularly since even throwing open the heavy drapes did little to brighten it, but the sofa was comfortable and it was infinitely preferable to resting in bed — which Max would otherwise have insisted on.

"You weren't surprised about this latest murder," he observed.

"No. I was… warned there had probably been an-other one. And for it to be so soon after the last one is a bad sign. A very bad sign. We're running out of time."

From his chair near the fireplace, where he could watch her, Max said, "You can only do what you can do. Nobody expects more of you than that."

"Yeah. I know."

"Headache gone?"

"Well, there's still a faint throb," she admitted. "But it's not nearly so bad as it was. And at least…"

"At least what?"

"At least this one didn't herald a blackout."

Max frowned. "That isn't what you were going to say."

"You read minds now?"

Max leaned forward to set his cup on the coffee table, and said coolly, "Yours sometimes, yeah. But you knew that."

Nell looked at him finally, expressionless.

"You knew it," he said as though she'd argued with him. "Even though you've done everything in your power to shut me out since you came home, you've known all along that you haven't been able to. Not completely."