Kay Hooper - Stealing Shadows

"I've told you. She was trapped inside the mind of a maniac when he died. She wasn't strong enough to pull herself completely free of that psychic backwash of energy."

"Completely free? Where is she?" "Somewhere between."

A laugh escaped Ben, and it held no humor whatsoever. "Christ. That's helpful." "You asked."

"Look, if you're going to stand there spouting bits of information like Yoda, at least tell me something I can use to get her back."

"All right. If you want her back, go after her." "How? I'm not psychic."

Bishop moved away from the window and toward the door with a shrug. "Then she's gone. Have a memorial service for her and get on with your life." "Bastard."

At the door the agent turned and gave Ben one last, steady look. "You're the only one she's allowed to get close to her in more than ten years. The only one with a connection to her that is literally of the flesh. And you're the only one who can bring her back." He walked out the door.

Ben stared after him for a moment, then returned his gaze to Cassie's still, pale face. He was finally getting used to the stark white streak in the black hair above her left temple, but her utter stillness was killing him.

He had tried talking to her. Pleading with her. He had watched Rhodes and the staff try various loud and seemingly painful methods to wake her, all without success. Her heart beat. She breathed. And there was activity in her brain.

But she was not here.

"… a connection to her that is literally of the flesh."

What was that supposed to mean? That because they were lovers they shared a bond? Ben wanted to think so. But during the endless week past, when he had sat there staring at her, talking to her, trying to reach her, there had been no response at all.

The white streak had made him think of her aunt, and so in desperation he had combed through Alexandra Melton's journals, searching for something he could do to help Cassie. He had found unexpected and astonishing information, including the fact that Alexandra had left a warning for her niece to stay away from him or be destroyed.

A warning Cassie had clearly ignored.

He discovered that her mother and aunt had quarreled over how to raise her, the mother insisting her child be imbued with a strong sense of responsibility to use her talents to help others while the aunt warned of a dangerous gift that could too easily destroy – as her own psychic ability had very nearly destroyed her.

Ben thought he might have found an answer there, thought Alexandra's survival after some kind of psychic shock must bode well for Cassie. But what he discovered was that Alexandra had survived simply because her shock had not been as extreme as Cassie's; she had been pulled from an insane mind, but not a dying one.

Her journals offered Ben no help. And precious little hope.

"Ben?"

He turned his head to see Matt standing in the doorway. "No change," he reported quietly.

Matt still felt guilty at the unwitting part he had played in what had happened to Cassie, and it showed. "Abby wants to come see her. I said tomorrow would probably be better."

"Yeah."

"She said to tell you not to worry about Max, he's doing fine with us."

Ben nodded. "Thanks."

"I told Mary I'd drive her home today, but Rhodes volunteered to do that."

Despite everything, Ben felt a rueful amusement. "Is it my imagination, or did those two take one look at each other and tumble?"

"Not your imagination." Matt smiled. "Rhodes seems to be completely smitten, and Mary's been telling everybody that Alexandra Melton told her a long time ago that because of her son she'd fall in love with a tall, dark man and marry him."

"Because of me. Well, I did fly him in from Raleigh." Ben looked back at Cassie. "I'm glad that worked out for somebody."

"She'll be all right, Ben."

"I know. I know she will." He had to keep saying it. Had to keep believing it.

Matt began to turn away, then hesitated. "I know you probably don't give a damn right now, but Shaw's finally talking. And we finally know why the coins." "Why?" Ben asked, not giving a damn. "Vasek. Part of his sadistic fantasy was the need to leave a token of his affection with a victim. He knew his usual paper roses would give him away to Cassie, so he came up with the coins. They actually came from his own father's collection, locked in a bank vault for twenty years. Traceable. It's the first tangible connection between Shaw and Vasek," "Good," Ben said.

"And we found out something else. About those kittens Cassie saw in Lucy Shaw's mind. It seems she had a cat she adored, and she was thrilled when it had kittens.

She came home from the store one day to find Mike sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Cutting the kittens into pieces with his Boy Scout knife. He was eight years old."

"Jesus Christ," Ben said.

"Yeah. Russell came home to find Lucy trying to… pick up all the pieces. And she's been trying ever since."

Ben gazed at Cassie's face and ached inside. Monsters. Dear God, how many stories just as horrible as that one were stored in her mind? And how incredible was it that she had still been able to walk into his office and volunteer her help in trying to stop yet another monster from terrorizing his town?

"Ben? Can I get you anything?"

"No. No, thanks, Matt."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Ben sat there for several minutes in the silence of the room, then got up and went to close the door. He returned to Cassie's bedside and his chair.

For a long time he thought about monsters invited resolutely into a tired and gentle mind, again and again despite fear. And then he thought about the walls a man built around himself as some kind of protection from a past that had been difficult but without real monsters. Walls that kept out the pain of memories but just as thoroughly kept out the healing spirit of the woman he loved.

Then he took Cassie's cool hand in his, bent his head over it, and began tearing down his walls.

MARCH 12, 1999

"I should have realized," Cassie said, shaking her head. "It was making me uneasy that the killer seemed to be blowing hot and cold, varying his methods and the way he left his victims. I should have remembered that was Vasek'sM.O."

Standing at the foot of her bed, Matt said, "Three thousand miles and months away, how could you? Besides, if he was telling Ben the truth, the bastard made damned sure you wouldn't think it was him."

"In other words," Ben said, "you are not and have never been to blame for Conrad Vasek's crimes." Let it go, he added silently, and when she turned her head to smile at him, he felt the warmth like a physical touch, and the bright shimmer of her amusement in his mind.

Bossy.

Never.

Admit it. You like bossing me around.

I love having you around. Big difference.

Cassie reached out a hand, and his fingers twined with hers. Aware of the sheriff's gaze, Ben didn't kiss her, but he thought about it, and Cassie's smile widened.

Oblivious of the mind-play, Matt said, "With Vasek dead, Mike Shaw has pretty much gone to pieces, and even his hotshot lawyer has admitted the only question is whether he gets the gas chamber or locked in a rubber room for the rest of his life. If my vote counts, I say I'd rather my tax dollars weren't spent on keeping him alive."

"You'll be in the majority," Ben said. "But I'm betting he won't be judged fit to stand trial."

Matt shook his head. "Then we'd better ship his ass someplace far away from Salem County. There's a lot of confusion about Vasek's role in all this, but everybody knows Mike was caught with his hands around Abby's throat." His face darkened with the memory.