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Her eyebrows raised. Really?
Really. My diet does not lead to an excess of gases.
And here I was thinking you were simply being polite these past four months. She rose. I'll call the elevator and wait for you there.
Good.
She and Jake left. Michael waited until he heard the ding of the elevator arriving, then pushed away from the wall. He glanced at each of the police officers, focusing their attention on whatever it was they were working on. Then he ran for the door, the room little more than a blur as he moved through.
"We have a problem we have to deal with before we head over to Harris’ place,” he said, reappearing beside Nikki as the elevator doors closed.
Jake jumped. “I wish you wouldn't do that. Not good for the old heart.” He paused, then added, “What problem?"
He hesitated. “Mary. I'm afraid she could be on the killer's list."
"What?" Nikki stared at him, face suddenly pale. “Why would you think that?"
"Because the kidnapped women all had one thing in common—everyone but Dale were in the same year at Boston High."
Jake punched the button for the sixth floor. “So were a couple of hundred other people.” Though his voice was flat, the acrid smell of his fear hung heavy in the air. He believed, even if he didn't want to.
"True. But there is no other link among these women."
"Who says these attacks aren't random?” Jake said. “This guy obviously isn't sane. He may not have—or need—a motive."
"But he has got a motive—revenge.” Nikki's gaze was thoughtful, distant. “For what they did to him in school. For what they did to him at the prom. Dale was one of those who taunted, even though she wasn't in the same year as the other ladies."
A chill ran through Michael. She was reading the killer's mind—or at least, his memories—as easily as she breathed. He touched her back, and she jumped, her gaze leaping to his.
"It's getting stronger,” she said.
"It is.” Both her clairvoyant abilities, and this odd link between the killer and her. “Seline's making a charm, which she'll courier over by morning. It'll stop him using the connection between you to track us." Her eyes widened as the implications of his words sunk in. “Meaning, when we go down to rescue Harris’ wife, he'll know?"
"And more than likely be waiting. Which is why—"
"No,” she cut in. “Don't say it. Don't even think it."
"What about Mary?” Jake cut in harshly. “What are we going to do with her? We can't protect her twenty-four hours a day—not from this madman, and not if we want to save the other woman."
"No. Which is why I suggest you send her away. She's one of four other women currently living or visiting San Francisco who attended the same year of school as the first four kidnap victims. If Mary disappears, the killer will simply turn his attention to the remaining three.” And if Seline was right—and she usually was—it was all going to end here in San Francisco, anyway. Mary should be safe just about anywhere else in the country.
Jake swore softly. “She's going to assume this is some sort of scheme I've come up with to get her out of San Francisco."
"I'll talk to her,” Michael said.
Nikki's glance was sharp. “Just talk?"
He hesitated again. “No."
"Damn it, you know—"
"And you know,” Michael cut in, anger touching his voice, “That it could be the fastest and easiest way of discovering what is going on."
"Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?” Jake cut in impatiently. “There's a whole level of conversation I'm missing out on here."
"Michael's intending to probe Mary's memories,” Nikki said. Jake's gaze met his. “You can do that? To anyone?"
"Anyone I choose. And most times, they're not even aware of it." Jake's gaze widened a little. “Would Mary be aware?"
