Кей Хупер - Out of the Shadows

"You won't lose either of us," Bonnie promised, her voice holding steady.

The knots finally gave way, and Miranda was still protesting as they hurried back to Bishop's sprawled, motionless body.

"You'll have to go too deep, give too much of yourself—"

"You can pull me free before it's too late." Kneeling on one side of Bishop, Bonnie looked across at her with absolute trust. "But not until he's back. Promise me."

"Bonnie—"

"Promise me, Randy. You know what could happen if you pull me free too soon."

Miranda closed her eyes briefly, desperately aware of critical seconds ticking away. "All right. Just do it, Bonnie."

Bonnie leaned forward over Bishop's body and placed both hands over the wound in his chest. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Miranda saw her shudder, saw the color seep from her face as she poured everything, all her strength and will and her vital life force, into the effort to heal a mortal injury.

Miranda put her hand against Bishop's cold cheek and prayed silently to a God she had never believed in.

When Alex and Tony burst into the greenhouse, the brilliant fluorescent light over the onetime work area provided more than enough illumination to see clearly. The body of John MacBride lay sprawled on a mound of rotting mulch, his bloodied shirt and open, staring eyes mute testament to the sudden violence of his death.

A few feet away, Miranda sat with Bonnie's head in her lap, gently stroking her sister's hair with one hand. Behind her, his arms wrapped around her and his scarred cheek pressed to her temple, was Bishop. He was almost rocking her in an oddly intimate, comforting embrace.

Tony felt a bit embarrassed looking at them, which surprised him somewhat. He felt like an intruder.

Miranda looked up at them calmly. "What took you so long?"

"We were miles away." Tony hunkered down to check MacBride's carotid pulse just to make sure. "But that's a hell of a transmitter you've got there, lady. Even at that distance, it jerked me up out of my chair when you called."

"Did I call?" she asked vaguely.

Tony tapped his temple with two fingers as he straightened.

She grimaced. "Sorry. I wasn't even aware of doing it."

"Yeah, that's what makes it remarkable," Tony said dryly.

Alex said, "Hell, even I heard it. Jesus, Randy."

Miranda wondered if she was, even now, broadcasting like a beacon, but didn't worry too much about it. She was so tired she doubted she had enough psychic energy left to disturb anybody, at least for the moment.

"Is she all right?" Tony asked, staring down at Bonnie's relaxed face.

"She will be. But we should get her off the cold ground, I think."

Tony gazed at her steadily. "So it's over?"

"Just about," Miranda said.

Bishop stirred for the first time, easing away from Miranda and climbing to his feet, and it was only then that the two other men saw his bloody shirt.

Tony eyed him for a few seconds, then said, "Cut yourself shaving?"

Alex was open-mouthed with astonishment. "For Christ's sake. Liz got it right. I swear I forgot all about it, but even the white shirt—" He grunted suddenly and looked oddly amused. "It wasn't symbolic at all. It was literal."

Politely, Miranda said, "Alex, are you telling me that you knew this would happen?"

He grimaced. "I'd forgotten all about it, but Liz — had a vision. She said even before he got here that Bishop would give his life for somebody here in Gladstone. Not that he looks all that dead to me."

"Next time," Miranda said to her deputy, "you might want to share information like that."

"I didn't really believe it at first," he said apologetically. "And then, when I did . . . things were happening and I sort of forgot about it." He looked at Bishop again with a slight frown. "That's definitely a bullet hole. And a lot of blood. So, if you'll forgive me for asking — why aren't you dead?"

"Let's just say I had a guardian angel," Bishop replied.

Tony knelt down and studied Bonnie for a moment. He lifted one of her hands, saw the bloodstains, then looked at Miranda intently. "Wow. Her other ability."

"Yes," Miranda said, meeting his gaze just as seriously. "But that stays between us. She hasn't the strength to heal the world, so she just helps some of those who cross her path. Which is as it should be."

After a moment, he nodded. "Definitely as it should be." With surprising strength, he gathered Bonnie in his arms and rose to his feet. "We have a cruiser coming right behind us. I say we leave the deputies to stand guard over this place for the moment while you three have a chance to get cleaned up and maybe rest an hour or so. I'd say you've earned it."

Bishop helped Miranda to her feet. "I don't think you'll get an argument," he said. He didn't let go of Miranda's hand.

A little less than two hours later, with Bonnie still sleeping under the care of Dr. Daniels at his clinic — and a stubborn Seth standing guard over her — all three FBI agents and most of the Cox County Sheriff's Department were in Mayor John MacBride's secluded house.

The place was lit top to bottom. The first quick search had shown them that most of what they were interested in was in the basement. Part of the large room was perfectly ordinary and held the usual clutter of unused and broken furniture, shelves weighted down with old tools and other items that could mostly be classified as junk.

But a padlocked wooden door gave them access to an equally large and far less cluttered space with neat cabinets along one wall, open shelves along the other, two actual cells complete with iron bars, and numerous pieces of gleaming stainless-steel equipment that Sharon Edwards confirmed were usually found in hospitals, morgues, and funeral homes.

"Talk about a lab experiment," Alex muttered.

The scope of the "experiment" became clearer as they studied what was stored on the open shelves. Bottles of chemicals, neatly labeled. Tools and instruments. Supplies. And records.

Nearly twenty years of records.

Miranda pulled one file off the shelf at random and looked inside. The neat handwriting didn't surprise her, given what she knew of John MacBride, but little of what she read made sense to her.

"Sharon, this looks more like your bailiwick than mine."

The doctor looked at the file and frowned. "We'll have to go over all these, of course, but here it looks like he was experimenting with various kinds of preservatives."

"Yeah, he mentioned that."

Alex opened one of the cabinets and took a step back. "Oh, shit. Look what the crazy bastard was preserving."

They all saw clearly, because when the cabinet was opened an interior light came on to reveal what was stored there.

More canning jars. Lots more. Some contained clear and semiclear liquids, others more viscous fluids, but all had grisly contents made up of various human body parts.

Miranda didn't waste much time. Turning to the others, she said, "This is too much for a small-town sheriff's department, and I'm guessing you guys didn't come prepared for anything like it."

"You can say that again," Tony said.

Bishop said, "Calling in Quantico would probably be the best option. They're the only ones well-enough equipped to send a team down here capable of dealing with this."

"That suits me fine," Miranda told him. "I'll have a big enough headache dealing with the town when the news breaks tomorrow. This part of the mess can be somebody else's nightmare."

Bishop nodded. "Then we lock up, post a couple of guards, and clear out. The less we touch, the better."

Nobody argued.

The deputies chosen to stand guard weren't happy about it, but given both the grimness of the chore and the threatening weather, Miranda promised a four-hour duty rotation, and they accepted that.