Kay Hooper - Sleeping With Fear

"No. Not from her point of view."

"It's a little shaky from mine," Tony admitted. "I love a good coincidence, but if working with you has taught me anything it's that we're usually not that lucky. A connection between two seemingly unrelated things-or people-usually means something nasty. For somebody. And for there to be any connection at all between John Henry Price and Ash Prescott at this stage is more than a little creepy. To say the least."

"Price is dead," Bishop said, and reached out to close the file in front of him.

"Mmmm. Except that, in our business, dead doesn't necessarily mean gone. And it sure as hell doesn't mean harmless. Somebody is, after all, killing those people in Charleston."

Bishop got to his feet. "We aren't in Charleston, we're in Boston. Where people are also being killed."

"You'd think there was something in the water," Tony offered.

"You'd think. I'll be in the interview room, going another round with that so-called witness."

"Pity you haven't been able to read him."

"That won't stop me from trying again."

Tony waited until he reached the door of the conference room before saying, "Boss? You don't like hanging one of us out on our own, do you?"

"Is that what you think I've done to Riley?"

"It's what you think you've done. What you feel you've done."

"Tony," Bishop said, "sometimes working with an empath-"

"-is a real pain in the ass. Yeah, I know. But I'm not really an empath. The emotions have to be pretty strong for me to pick up on them."

"You're not helping."

Tony grinned faintly. "Sure I am. It's my job to point out that Riley's a big girl-so to speak. She can take care of herself. I was there that day in the gym, remember? She took on you and Miranda. At the same time. And damn near beat you both. I'd call that tough enough."

"Physically, no argument."

"But this isn't about physical toughness, is it? It's about knowledge. Whoever put her down with that Taser knew they couldn't do it any other way."

"It's a dangerous enemy who knows you that well."

"An enemy you should keep close?"

Bishop didn't answer.

"You didn't warn her."

"I warned her."

"Not specifically."

"She knows she has an enemy there. Nothing I could say would make her more guarded or wary, just…"

"Paranoid?"

"No. Dangerously uncertain of the one person who can help her survive the next few days."

"Let's hope she figures out who that is," Tony said. "Because he looks suspicious as hell even from where I'm standing, boss. All of them do. Who does she really trust when the crucial moment arrives? A new lover with a bloody connection to the serial killer who almost killed her? An old army buddy who's been less than honest with her? Or the small-town sheriff with his own agenda? Who does she pick to hang her survival on? How does she make that choice?"

"She listens to her instincts."

"And?"

"And pays attention to what they've been telling her all along."

Riley had finished one PowerBar and was eating another when she rejoined Ash on the deck and reclaimed her sun-warmed chair.

"What did Bishop say?" he asked.

Condensing the conversation, Riley replied, "He thinks it's unlikely-but possible-that another psychic is having an effect on me. Far more likely it's the Taser attack. He mentioned a case where a jolt of electricity changed a psychic's abilities. If that is what's happening to me, there's no way to really know what was damaged or changed in my brain until we see the effects of it."

She decided not to go into the possibility that negative energy created by black-satanic rites could also be having an effect on her, though she wasn't quite sure why.

Who am I doubting? Myself? Or Ash?

"It's a miracle it didn't kill you," he said.

Riley began tying the empty PowerBar wrapper into knots. "I'm still trying to figure out how somebody could sneak up and blindside me. That's not supposed to happen, you know, not to us ex-army types with FBI training to boot."

Slowly, Ash said, "Maybe they didn't have to sneak. Maybe whoever it was…"

"Was already with me? Yeah, the thought had occurred."

"Which, I suppose, explains your reluctance to trust anyone."

"Wouldn't you be reluctant?"

"I'm not arguing. Just saying."

She eyed him, hesitated, then said, "You might as well know. I told Gordon about the attack on Sunday and the amnesia. At least, I'm pretty sure I did, unless that's another memory I can't trust."

Ash didn't appear to be upset by that. "You two served together and have known each other for years; it makes sense that you'd trust him before anyone else. Does he know about the blackouts?"

"No, I haven't talked to him since those started. At least…" She frowned. "I don't remember talking to him. Unless I did on Tuesday afternoon during that missing time. After we had lunch, I walked along the beach to the Pearson house and talked to Steve and Jenny-and the next thing I remember, it was yesterday morning."

He was also frowning. "I picked you up around six-thirty Tuesday; we had drinks and dinner, then came back here. You wanted to do some research online, and I had paperwork to deal with."

"Um…is that usual for us? Both working here?"

"I wouldn't call it usual, but we've done so a few times. Here or at my place."

"I've been to your place?"

A little laugh escaped him. "Of course you have, Riley. But we're usually here at night because my condo is on the small side. I'm keeping an eye out for a bigger place, by the way."

She decided to ignore that last comment. "So…between the time I was talking to Steve and Jenny and when you picked me up here, there are three or four hours unaccounted for. I may or may not have been alone. May or may not have gone to talk to Gordon or someone else."

"Easy enough to check with Gordon, at least."

"Yeah, I'll call him." Riley looked at her half-empty coffee cup and tried once again to gather her thoughts; she seemed able to do so for brief periods, but then they scattered again and she could almost literally feel herself beginning to drift, even despite the calories she had consumed since talking to Bishop.

Minutes ago. Just minutes this time.

"Riley?"

"Yesterday," she said finally, struggling to keep her focus. "After that…vision or whatever it was in the clearing. What did we do?"

"Immediately after? Came back here."

"We did? But wasn't Jake planning to talk to the group at the Pearson house?"

"Yeah. But the background checks turned up nothing, which meant he had no cause to question any of them, no legal leg to stand on. When he called anyway and asked if he could pay them a visit, he was politely referred to their lawyer." Ash shrugged. "Not so surprising a reaction, from a group probably accustomed to…nosy cops."

"And they would be."

"I imagine so. Anyway, Jake was frustrated but hamstrung. There was nothing we could do at the station, and you wanted to do more research in some occult database you knew of, so we spent the afternoon and evening here. We went out for a walk just before sunset, and I tried to teach you the finer points of making spaghetti sauce a bit earlier, but other than those breaks, up until nearly midnight I was channel surfing and you were on the Net. You didn't say, but I got the impression you were looking for something specific."

"I guess you don't know whether I found it?"

"You didn't say."

"Sounds like a boring evening for you," Riley said, bothered by that and not entirely sure why.

"It had its compensations."

Riley was tempted to follow the intriguing tangent but forced herself to focus. "There was nothing new in the investigation in all those hours?"

"Riley, we talked about-" Ash shook his head. "You're right, this is a very confusing minefield. Our memories don't match."