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"If I have a sick mind, then you are partially responsible for it." She frowned, then wondered why she was even bothering to take anything this man said seriously.
“What do you mean?"
He didn't answer. The beat of her heart seemed to reverberate through the silence, a sound that was oddly, briefly, accompanied by a more metallic-sounding beat and a rushing sigh of wind that stirred her hair and caressed her skin with momentary warmth.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you don't remember me,” he said eventually. “None of the others did. Until later."
She swallowed back the rush of bile. “Given what you did to them, do you really think it was memory?
Or was it just the frantic need to agree with anything you said in the hope you'd stop?" He chuckled again. “You are very clever."
"Not clever enough, obviously. I have no idea why I'm here."
"Revenge. You will suffer, as you made me suffer, all those years ago."
"We've never met."
"Yes, we have. And when you remember, I'll savor the taste of fear in your thoughts." The darkness around her stirred as if restless. The breathing was heavier, almost needy. Her mouth was dry, her throat aching, and her heart drumming a million miles an hour.
"In the meantime,” he continued, “I do believe you are overdressed for what we intend next. Mike, Ray, remedy that please."
Figures merged from the darkness, bloody hands reaching for her. Despite her vow, she screamed...
* * * *
...Nikki scrambled to her feet and ran for the kitchen. For the next few minutes, she leaned over the sink, throwing up the coffee and doughnut she'd eaten in the cab on the way over. Warm hands touched her shoulders, squeezing gently, then Michael leaned past her and turned on the tap. He wet his hands and gently patted moisture across the back of her neck, then her forehead.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded and reached for a cup, filling it with water. She rinsed her mouth, then turned around and rested her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her. I'm glad you kept the full impact of that from me. It would have been bad, otherwise. It may be the way we have to proceed with this gift of yours—at least until you gain some semblance of control over it.
I'm not sure if it's something I'll ever be able to fully control. Those images were coming at me before I'd even touched that necklace. I didn't even have to really reach. Which is a worrying aspect. He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. Our client grows restless. She lifted her cheek from his chest and leaned back against the sink. He'd be more than restless if he knew what was happening to his wife right now.
I know. He smoothed the hair from her eyes, fingers still hot against her skin. The caring in his gaze almost liquefied her insides. If you're not up to talking to them yet, I can sidetrack their thoughts . Annoyance swirled softly, but she ignored it and touched a hand to his cheek. No, I'm fine . Harris came into the kitchen. His hands were thrust into his pockets, and his expression was a mix of anger and hope. “Well, did anything happen?"
She sighed and dropped her hand. “Yes. I found her."
Her words seemed to galvanize everyone in the room.
"What?” one of the blue suits said. “Where?"
She grimaced. “I can't pinpoint it exactly without leading you there. But she's in a tunnel of some sort."
"Lady,” the Fed said dryly, “between the Bart and Muni tunnels, the sewers and storm drains, this city is a labyrinth of tunnels. Care to be a little more specific?" A train ran past. Ten minutes ago. Michael twined his fingers through hers.
"It's near a train tunnel, I think, because one went past when I made contact—about ten minutes ago."
"Well, gee, that narrows the search area."
"And you were searching where, precisely, before now?” she asked. The Fed smiled reluctantly, blue eyes crinkling near the corners. “Okay, so you show us. Boys, make arrangements."
The police began making frantic calls. Harris thrust a hand through his hair. “Was she ... is she....?"
"She's alive, Mr. Harris. She hasn't been hurt yet.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She swallowed heavily and looked away.
Michael squeezed her fingers lightly and turned. “Tell me, Mr. Harris, just how did those men get in here this morning to kidnap your wife?"
Harris shrugged. “I'm not sure. Anne apparently left a window open in the dining room, and the police think they may have climbed through there."
