Kay Hooper - Stealing Shadows

Cassie shook her head suddenly and opened her eyes. "That's all. That's all I get." She slid the coin back into its bag and pushed it across the desk to Matt. "I should try again in a day or two. Right now he's… too distant. Too drained."

Matt glanced down at the notes he'd made on a legal pad. "Part of a collection. Do you think he collects coins?"

"Could be. The ones he had laid out before him are definitely important to him, I know that." She sounded tired.

"Are you all right?" Ben asked her.

"I'll be fine."

"But are you all right now?"

She looked at him, and he felt the difference. The warmth of that direct gaze was less than it had been, as though some furnace of energy inside her had used up too much fuel and now burned dangerously low.

"It's draining. But I'll be fine." To Matt she said, "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help. This time."

Matt looked up from the legal pad, his face grim. "Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Anything at all?"

"Just what I'd already told you and Judge – you and Ben. I don't believe he's killed before, but I think he will again. He has the taste of it now. And he likes it." She paused. "There's something young about his mind, about the way he thinks. Guessing, I'd say he's still in his twenties."

Cassie shrugged. "And then there's what a profiler would probably tell you. White male between twenty-four and thirty-two. Probably single and unlikely to be involved with a woman. Probably came from an abusive background and undoubtedly had at least one domineering parent – probably his mother. Sexual problems – possibly impotence. He's found a way to achieve sexual gratification, and that's important to him. The ritual worked. The way she was posed, the coin in her hand – those are things you'll find at the next scene. His M.O. in that way, is probably established."

"What about the weapon?" Matt asked. "We didn't find the knife. Will he use it again?"

"It's a guess… but I don't think how they die is as important to him as how they're found. He may not use the same means next time." She gestured wearily. "But I'm not sure."

"Come on," Ben said, rising. "I need to get you home." He had to fight the instinct to reach out and offer his hand.

Cassie got up. "I'll wait outside. The sheriff wants to talk to you."

"Stop doing that," Matt said as he also got to his feet.

"I'm sorry – you were thinking loudly again." She offered him a small smile, then left the office, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Well? "Ben said.

Matt shook his head. "I still don't know if I buy any of this."

"She's reading you like a book."

"Yeah, yeah. And a fake fortune teller can read a total stranger pretty well just with body language. It's a skill, Ben. And not a paranormal one."

"Did your body language tell her about Abby Montgomery? It sure as hell never told me. And be careful with that, will you?"

Matt ignored the warning. "I don't know how she knew about me and Abby. But I'm still not convinced. My investigation of this murder is going by the book. Most murder victims know their killers, so family and friends have to be checked out. Coworkers, classmates. The usual drill. We'll look for witnesses who might have seen Becky talking to somebody in the last day or two. We'll check out her background and recent history, look for connections, for motives. What we will not do is start thinking we've got a serial killer on the basis of one crime."

"I can't tell you how to do your job."

Matt grunted. "Why stop now?"

Ben smiled but said, "What have you told Eric?" Eric Stephens published the local daily newspaper.

"Bare facts. That Becky was murdered. With any luck at all, word won't get around about how she was found. Or about the coin. I sure as hell don't expect a copycat killer, not around here, but the less the public knows about the details, the less likely we are to have a panic on our hands."

"Maybe they should panic," Ben said soberly. "Matt, if we do have a serial killer – "

"If we do, I'll slap a curfew on this town and have all the girls escorted by family or traveling by twos at all times. I'm not afraid to scare the hell out of them, Ben. I just won't do it needlessly."

"Let's hope you won't have to," Ben said.

"Hi."

Cassie, who had been leaning back against a decorative lamppost on the sidewalk in front of the Sheriff's Department with her face turned up to the mild February sun, looked around at the greeting and blinked to focus. She found herself being studied by a smiling woman maybe a few years older than herself, a very attractive blue-eyed blonde.

"Hi."

"Excuse me – I didn't mean to bother you, but you remind me of someone. Alexandra Melton. Any relation?"

"She was my aunt. I'm Cassie Neill." Her voice was friendly, but she kept her hands on the post behind her.

"Ah, that explains the resemblance. I'm Jill Kirk-wood. Nice to meet you. I knew your aunt – though not very well, I'm afraid. I own the craft store across the street there, and she came in occasionally."

"She must have liked you," Cassie commented.

"Because she came in the store?"

"No." Cassie smiled. "Because she didn't do crafts."

Jill Kirkwood blinked. "But – she bought things. Supplies. And all kinds of kits."

"I know. I found them in her house. In a trunk in a spare room. As far as I can tell, she never even opened any of the kits."

After a moment Jill laughed. "I'll be damned. I figured she had a house full of the stuff by now, even though she never brought anything in to show me, the way most of my customers do."

"As I said, she must have liked you."

"I know I liked her. She was…"

"Odd?"

"Different." Jill smiled. "She told me once where I could find a ring I'd lost. Said she had a knack for things like that. And she was right. The ring was right where she'd said it would be."

Whatever Cassie might have responded to that was prevented by the arrival of Ben, who joined them on the sidewalk.

"Hi, Jill, "he said.

"Ben. Have you met – "

"Yes, Cassie and I have met. As a matter of fact, I'm giving her a ride back to her house."

"Oh? Well, then, I won't keep you." She smiled at Cassie. "Nice meeting you. Come into the store sometime – if you're more interested in crafts than Miss Melton was."

"It was nice meeting you," Cassie said with a smile, not committing herself any further.

"Bye, Ben."

"Jill."

Cassie walked slightly ahead of him to his Jeep. She didn't say anything until they were inside and heading down Main Street. Then, mildly, she said, "If you'd come out of the Sheriff's Department a few minutes later, I might have had a new friend."

"What?"

"Jill Kirkwood. I liked her."

Ben shot her a glance. "Good. She's a nice lady."

"Um. But she doesn't like me. Not now."

"Why not?"

"Because of you. Some ex-lovers don't want to let go. She doesn't. Other women are a threat – even without reason."

Ben was silent for a moment. "Now I know how Matt felt. It's a little unnerving to be an open book."

"You aren't," Cassie said. "But Jill Kirkwood is. Her emotions were… strong. They were hard to ignore. Impossible to ignore."

Again Ben hesitated before speaking. "Can you readme?"

She shook her head, then looked at him rather curiously. "Not the way I can some, without even trying."

"Could you if you touched me?" Instantly he could feel her tense, almost draw in on herself.

"Probably. Usually. It's a rare person – a very rare nonpsychic – who is able to shield thoughts and emotions, especially well enough to withstand physical contact. For most people there was never a reason to learn, so they didn't."

Ben held a hand out palm up between them. "Care to put it to the test?"