Kay Hooper - Sleeping With Fear

Ash drew a breath and let it out slowly. "I never saw your name either. Just the newspaper reports that he'd been shot and killed by a federal agent. After killing all those men. Men he never would have killed if I'd done my job."

"It wasn't your fault. He was smart. And he was careful."

"And a good prosecutor wouldn't have let him get away." Ash shrugged. "That's knowledge I live with every day."

After a long moment, Riley reached out and twined her fingers with his once again.

Gordon, who had watched and listened without a word, spoke up then to say slowly, "Am I the only one at this table who doesn't really believe in coincidence?"

Riley shook her head.

"Me either," Ash said. "But I don't see the point. I mean, if we're saying this has something to do with Price."

"He's dead," Riley said. "They never recovered the body, but he's dead." But hunting him is one of the strongest memories in my mind. I keep reliving that time, like flashbacks. There must be a reason for that. There must be.

Gordon rubbed his jaw briefly, then said, "You said he got in your head or you got in his. That couldn't still be, right?"

"No. I'd know if that were the case. The unit's had to deal with cases where disembodied energy-a soul, if you like-was able to inhabit and even control another individual."

"Possession?" Ash shook his head. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Stick with me and I'll take you to all the impossible places." Riley sighed. "Possession may be real enough, but I don't see it in this case. Tracking him like I did, whether he was in my head or I was in his, I got to know him very, very well. Price had a soul so black I don't see how it could…hide…inside another person. Not without giving himself away."

"The murders in Charleston?" Gordon wondered.

"A copycat, according to Bishop."

"And he'd know?"

"He'd know."

"Okay. So maybe you and Ash both having a connection to Price doesn't mean a thing."

"Yeah. And you also believe in the Easter bunny."

"Stranger things have happened," Gordon reminded her. "We've both seen 'em. You say Price is dead and isn't walking around wearing somebody else's body, and that's good enough for me."

"I wish," Riley said, "it was good enough for me."

2½ Years Previously

Got you," Riley whispered, her eyes fixed on her quarry as he walked briskly along the buckled sidewalk. To call the area shabby would have been a considerable understatement; these dark streets close to the river had pretty much been abandoned long before, when a spring flood had turned this port into no more than an inlet far from the flow of traffic.

It was nearly dawn, the full moon low and bright in the sky, and Riley had been shadowing Price all night. She had expected him to make a move long before now, but although he had been in and out of several different bars, he had left each one alone. And currently he was headed for what used to be a major dock but was now mostly a rickety wreck with a few small boats tied alongside it.

Riley was conscious of a prickle of unease, but she didn't allow it to cause her to hesitate. She had her weapon in hand and was dressed for tracking tonight in jeans and track shoes, and most importantly, she had John Henry Price in sight.

No way was she backing off just because of some nameless anxiety.

Except…after more than a week of glimpses, why had he been so visible tonight? Hell, why had he let himself be seen at all?

Let himself?

You're falling behind, little girl. Can't keep up?

Riley picked up her pace instinctively, pushing the doubts aside. She was not going to miss this opportunity.

But…why was he moving along the dock now, past the boats, toward the end where there was nothing except murky, slow-moving water?

Because it ends here, little girl.

She hadn't realized they were so close, less than ten yards apart, when he whirled suddenly to face her, his hand lifting, arm extending.

Fast as she was, Riley had barely begun to react when the gun bucked in his hand and she felt the bullet slam into her.

You don't get to win, you bastard. You don't get to win!

I've already won, little girl.

But even as she was falling, Riley was taking aim, driven by a determination stronger than anything she'd ever felt before to stop Price here and now. She shot twice as she was falling and three more times after she was on the ground.

And hit Price square in the chest.

His gun fell from his hand and he staggered back a step or two, teetered for a few eternal seconds at the end of the dock, and then went over backward into the sluggishly moving river.

Vaguely aware of the throbbing agony in her left shoulder, Riley lay on the ground and stared at the end of the dock, where Price had stood. Instinctively, she tried to open her mind, her senses, and even as she heard the distant sirens begin wailing, she could have sworn there was a final whisper in her mind.

Don't celebrate…just yet…little girl.

Present Day

"You didn't tell me the bastard shot you," Ash said.

"I'm telling you now." Riley shrugged. "Left shoulder, and missed anything that really mattered."

"You don't have a scar."

"I don't scar. Otherwise, I'd look like a freakin' road map."

Ash sent her a look. "Gordon wasn't kidding about you being a lightning rod for trouble."

"Not really, no. Consider yourself warned again."

"I consider myself warned." It was nearly four that afternoon when Ash pulled the Hummer into a parking place near the burned remains of the beachfront house apparently torched by an arsonist.

"What do you expect to find?" he asked Riley as they got out of the vehicle.

"I don't know. Probably nothing." She waited until they were ducking under the yellow CAUTION tape encircling what was left of the house to add, "Something's been nagging at me since I came here with Jake. I just can't figure out what it is."

Ash took her hand. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Price. About the truth of why I left Atlanta."

"You didn't know it would matter."

"That isn't the point."

"Okay. So why didn't you tell me?" She kept her gaze on the charred pilings and mounds of debris before them.

"It wasn't my finest hour, Riley."

"Hey, if you want to swap tales of frustration and failure, I've got a few of my own. We all have them, Ash."

"I doubt yours went on to butcher a score of innocent men."

"Don't be so sure. I was in the army, remember? An officer. Some of my choices and decisions were bound to cost lives." She shook her head. "We can only do the best we can do. And some things have to happen just the way they happen."

He looked at her curiously. "You really believe that."

"I really do."

"And you still believe you were lured here, that someone has been pulling strings and influencing events?"

Riley nodded.

"Why? Why would someone go to all that trouble?"

"I don't know. Revenge. Payback. Grandstanding." As soon as she said the last word, she was conscious of its incongruity.

"Grandstanding? As in a competition? A contest of skills?"

She tried to focus on something in her own mind, some wispy fragment of knowledge or information she could…almost…see. There was a question she should have asked someone. A lead she should have followed-

"Riley?"

She blinked and looked up at Ash. "I've missed something. A connection."

"What sort of connection?"

"I'm not sure. Things? Places? People? Damn, why can't I make it come clear in my head?"

He frowned as he studied her. "Are things fuzzy again? Distant, the way they were before?"