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"There. Someone finally agrees with me. Perhaps you should talk to Jake for me."
"Perhaps.” He touched her thoughts, lightly controlling. The spark of awareness left her eyes. “Tell me, did you attend high school in Boston?"
"Yes,” she repeated dutifully.
"Were any of the following women your classmates at that high school?” He reeled off the names of four kidnap victims.
She frowned. “All but Dale Wainwright were in my class."
He wasn't entirely surprised. “Did you know Dale at all during school?"
"We met afterward, when she married Mark. I believe she was three years my junior."
"Did anything unusual happen during your years at high school?"
"No."
"Think back a little more.” He pressed his mind control a little deeper.
"Nothing.” She hesitated. “There was one prom that was somewhat tragic."
"In what way?"
"Two girls got drunk and leapt from the roof of the hall."
"Any idea why?"
"No."
"How did the alcohol get into the hall then?"
"No idea."
This was getting him nowhere fast. If Seline was checking the records, she'd undoubtedly find mention of this incident. He'd talk to her later this morning.
He crossed his arms and stared at the window for a moment. “Did these three girls do anything unusual during the evening?"
"Nothing different from the rest of us."
"And nothing else happened?"
"No."
He released his hold on her mind, and she blinked. “Now, what was I saying?"
"It's not me who needs to talk to Jake,” he said, giving her the prompt. “But you.” And knew the irony of the words even as he said them.
"We have talked. I talk, he talks, and still we get nowhere. I think we've both grown more selfish over the years, and it's me who's cracked first."
"You've spent too long together to simply walk away now." She sighed. “It's the only reason either of us is still here." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. In that instant, he was slammed by the rush of fear running through the link.
Nikki. In trouble. He thrust upwards. “I'll be back in a moment." Mary smiled gently. “Don't worry. I've grown used to men running out on me of late." He hurriedly kissed her cheek, then ran out of the dining room. He didn't wait for the elevator, but blurred his form and raced up the stairs.
A heartbeat later he reached their room and shoved open the door. Nikki spun as he entered, hand raised, energy dancing in sparks across her fingertips. She relaxed the instant she saw him. What's wrong? He quickly looked around the room but could see or feel no immediate threat. We have a visitor.
Who?
She nodded toward the bedroom behind her. He strode to her side, sliding his hand down her arm until his fingers were twined through the warmth of hers. In the center of the bedroom stood a man. He was ordinary looking—short, plumpish, with thinning red hair and pale blue eyes. His face was pockmarked, leftover evidence of the acne he must have suffered as a teenager. He was dressed in black boots, faded jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket.
