Кей Хупер - Out of the Shadows

"How many do you know?" Bishop challenged.

"None, to be honest. It's always struck me as gruesome work."

"And tracking down serial murderers and rapists isn't?"

"Well, I seldom have to touch them," Tony answered.

Bishop smiled, but said, "I'm not all that anxious to touch this one, but we definitely have to find him. And since we don't know what kinds of delays the weather might cause, I say we work while we can. Are you game?"

"Always," Tony said..

"So, can you read me?" Alex asked.

Miranda shook her head. "No. I can read less than half the people I meet, generally speaking. Think of it like radio waves from the brain, information transmitted by electromagnetic energy. I have a receiver, but I can only pick up the AM stations, not the FM."

"No way to switch, huh?"

"If there is, I haven't found it." Miranda shrugged. "For me, it's a normal thing, Alex. One theory is that people with psychic abilities are throwbacks to a more primitive age when the senses needed to be extremely sharp for survival."

"Liz said something like that."

"And it may be true. On the other hand, there's also a theory that humans are evolving toward psychic ability, and that those of us who already have it are just. . . anticipating the rest of you. There are lots of theories. A normally dormant gene activated for some reason. An accident or illness in childhood that causes the electromagnetic field of the brain to be altered in some way. I've even heard it said that if we were all tested genetically, we'd find we share a common ancestor. Who really knows?"

"And who cares?"

"Well, I don't, to be honest. I was never interested in verifying it scientifically. I mean, what's the point? Present science knows pathetically little about the brain even when it functions according to accepted norms. Step outside those norms, and scientific understanding begins to break down in a hurry."

Alex looked at her curiously. "I gather growing up psychic wasn't much fun."

"Not much, no." Miranda resisted an urge to rub her temples. Confession might be good for the soul, but it hadn't helped her aching head. "Think about it. By the time you're seven years old, you've pretty much figured out that grownups get really nervous when you tell them about the pictures in your head. Especially when you've told them about something that hasn't happened yet — but does happen. So you stop telling them. Most of them anyway. My parents were understanding, otherwise it would have been unbearable."

"Your parents weren't..."

"Psychic? No, but both were highly intuitive, and both came from families filled with tales of paranormal things. They didn't automatically believe something wasn't real just because they didn't understand how it worked."

Alex had a sudden realization. "Bonnie — and that Ouija board. Jesus, you mean she really did get the information from a spirit?"

"When Bonnie was four," Miranda said, "she had an imaginary friend — or so we thought. A little girl named Sarah. She used to tell us all about Sarah, entertain us at the dinner table with stories about Sarah and her parents and her older brother and her dog. Then one day Bonnie casually told us that Sarah had been killed when her house fell on her. We were all startled, and Dad was curious. So he did a bit of research."

"And found Sarah?"

"Turns out our house had been built on a site where a previous house had been destroyed by an earthquake. And in that house lived a couple with a son — and a daughter named Sarah. She was the only one in the house to die in that quake."

"So how long did she hang around?"

"Bonnie never mentioned her again. Knowing what I know now about sudden deaths, I believe little Sarah just wanted to come to terms with what had happened to her. And Bonnie was the only one listening. Once the story was told, Sarah could pass on to wherever she was meant to go."

Alex shied away from questioning her on that last point, but did say, "What do you know about sudden deaths?"

"Most people who die suddenly aren't prepared to leave — especially if the death was violent. Some of them are mad as hell to find their lives cut short, and all of them want more time. Somehow, they're often able to get more time, at least in a sense."

"By haunting the living?"

"Only those who know how to look and listen."

"People like Bonnie."

Miranda nodded.

Alex thought about that. "Were there other ghosts?"

"Oh, sure, for several years. Then Kara and I were able to teach her how to shield her mind a bit, so that she only saw them when she was looking for them."

"And that was better?" Alex asked wryly.

"It's always better to be in control of this if you can. Especially for Bonnie and others like her. Like I said, Alex — people who die suddenly can be angry. And negative emotions can be very destructive."

Hardly believing he was saying it, Alex said, "I guess that's why we won't be asking Bonnie to try and contact any of these dead teenagers."

Matter-of-fact, Miranda said, "With teenage victims of violent death, you not only get the anger of a life cut short but the caldron of emotions we all have at that age. When Bonnie's older, she may be able to handle it, but right now, with her own emotions so chaotic and her empathy so strong, she'd be in very real danger."

"What kind of danger? A ghost can't hurt you. Can it?"

Miranda hesitated, unsure how much he could accept. "They want to live , Alex. They want the life they were cheated out of. So if they see an open door ... or an open mind .. . some of them come in never intending to leave."

Tony was pinning Steve Penman's autopsy photographs to the bulletin board, half-listening as Bishop talked on his cell phone to the agent leading a second team from the special unit, a team currently working on an investigation in Texas.

"You know you can't hypnotize her, Quentin," Bishop was saying. "You'll have to get at her memories another way. There's a form of conscious regression you can try, if you can find someone qualified to do it. It isn't always successful, but it might work in this case. Have Kendra check the data files. Yeah. No, we're not close to a resolution here as far as I can see." He frowned slightly. "Yes, the local authorities are being cooperative. Why?"

Tony glanced back over his shoulder, met Bishop's gaze, and was afraid he looked guilty.

Still speaking into the cell phone, Bishop said, "I'd appreciate it if you kept me advised on your progress, Quentin. Right. We'll be here. Talk to you in a day or two." He ended the connection and absently returned the phone to the pocket of his jacket. "Tony?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Not really, no." Tony let the silence lengthen, then glanced over his shoulder again to find Bishop waiting with a patience he recognized only too well. "It's like you said, boss. Sometimes it's the pits working with people who can read your mind. Everybody was in the office when the request came in from Miranda."

"I wasn't even sure it was her," Bishop objected.

"Oh yes you were. I don't know how, since she'd changed her name, but you knew. How did you know, by the way?"

"I was . . . warned a couple of months ago. That I'd come back to Tennessee, and — Christ, Tony, everybody knows?"

"Well,'you weren't being real subtle, if you want the truth." Tony went to the conference table and sat down. "I think you even asked how fast they could warm up the jet."

Bishop winced. "I don't remember that."

"I'm not surprised. Anyway, I wasn't sure what was going on since all I was picking up were emotions." He doodled on a legal pad and studiously avoided eye contact with Bishop. "But some of the others apparently got it loud and clear. And it's not like the story is a secret, you know, at least at the Bureau. So it's a sure bet the others are wild with curiosity by now. Wondering how you and Miranda are getting along. I guess Quentin couldn't resist asking — as casually as he could."