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He hesitated. “Maybe two months ago?”
“Have the rangers asked if they could search the room?”
“Yes, but I doubt they’ll find anything. She really didn’t keep anything personal there—just some clothes and books.”
Which meant it was probably pointless me going there. It also meant this whole conversation was pointless. Unless….
I leaned forward. “Mr. Banks, would you be willing to try a little experiment?”
His expression became wary. “What sort of experiment?”
“Nothing that’s dangerous or invasive, I assure you.” I gave him my best it’ll-be-all-right smile. It didn’t seem to help. “I’ll simply grip your hand while you think back to your last conversation with Karen. If luck is with us, I might be able to catch something you’ve forgotten.”
“Mind reading? I’m not sure—”
“No, not mind reading,” I cut in, even as I wondered what sort of secrets he was worried about. “It’s more… more like a movie that’s being shown in a cinema. I’m simply standing back watching events as they happen.”
His expression was still dubious. “You can’t see what isn’t there, though.”
“Agreed, but we won’t know for sure unless we try.”
He took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “If you think it might help catch this bastard, then I guess it’s worth a try.”
“Take my hand.”
I reached out. After a moment’s hesitation, he tentatively gripped my fingers.
“It won’t hurt,” I reassured him.
He smiled. “Is my fear that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m guessing this is your first experience with a psychic?”
“I’ve never really believed—” He cut the rest of the sentence and gave me a somewhat rueful look.
“It’s okay,” I said. “There are more charlatans and tricksters out there than those of us who are the real deal.”
He nodded. “What happens next?”
“Just concentrate on what you remember of that night. Think about where you were when she phoned you, and what you were doing while you were talking to her.”
His brows furrowed and his fingers tightened against mine. I tried to ignore the distaste that rose and unleashed my second sight. For several seconds nothing happened, but, as I closed my eyes, images began to flit across the back of my eyelids. There was a room—a living room with leather sofas, an open fireplace, and a vast TV on which football played. Phillip, sitting on one of those sofas, his expression bored as he talked into a phone.
I couldn’t immediately hear what he was saying, but then something shifted and the sound suddenly came on—and so loudly it made me jump.
“I met the most awesome person last night at the club, Dad,” Karen was saying.
“I thought you said your mother had grounded you?” There was amusement ra
ther than censure in Phillip’s tone.
“Oh, she had, but I snuck out.”
“Karen, we spoke about that—”
“It’s not like she cares,” Karen said. “She doesn’t even bother checking on me.”
“Yes, but still—”
