Hunting Fear (24 page)

“A true glimpse into the future.” She smiled wryly. “It takes less makeup now than it used to, of course.”

“Without the makeup you still look like a teenager.”

“I wasn’t a teenager even when I was one. You know that.”

“I never knew it all, though, did I?”

Samantha wasn’t at all sure she wanted to drift into this territory with Lucas, but the strange and unsettling day seemed to have done something to the guards she normally kept raised solidly between them. Her head throbbed, and she reached up again to briefly rub her temples, hearing herself say, “You didn’t ask. I didn’t think you needed to know.”

He took a step toward her and leaned his hands on the back of the client’s chair. “Would you have told me, if I’d asked?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. We were sort of busy, if you recall. There wasn’t a lot of time to dredge up the past.”

“Maybe that’s what we should have done. Taken the time to do.”

More than a little surprised, she said, “You were obsessed with the investigation, remember?”

“Missing kids do that to me.”

Again, Samantha was surprised, this time by the defensive tone in his voice. “I wasn’t criticizing. Just stating a fact. Your focus was on the investigation, as it should have been. The timing for anything else was, to say the least, lousy.”

“So I’m forgiven?”

“For what happened during the investigation, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m a big girl, I knew what I was doing. For what happened after . . . Well, let’s just say I learned my lesson.”

“Meaning?”

Samantha was saved from replying when a new client appeared hesitantly in the curtained doorway. Lucas was forced to retreat to the area behind Samantha, and he was clearly not pleased by the interruption.

As for Samantha, she had to mentally prepare herself yet again to read, even as she was automatically beginning her spiel for at least the tenth time that evening.

“What may Madam Zarina see for you on this night?”

The teenage girl sat down in the client’s chair, still looking hesitant, and said, “I’m not here for a reading. Well, not really. I mean, I have this”—she placed her ticket on the satin-covered table—“but I didn’t pay for it. He paid for it.”

Everything in Samantha went still, and she was conscious that, behind her, Luke had frozen as well. Relaxing her voice into its normal tones, she asked, “Who paid for it?”

The girl blinked in surprise at the change, but answered readily, “That guy. I don’t know him. Actually, I couldn’t see his face very well, because he was standing in the shadows near the sharpshooting booth.”

Because she couldn’t help it, Samantha said, “You’re a little old to need to be warned not to speak to strangers. Particularly strange men.”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” she confessed. “After. But, anyway, there were people all around, and he didn’t come near me. He just pointed to the edge of the counter there at the booth, and I saw a folded twenty and this ticket. He said the twenty was mine if I’d come tell you that he was sorry he missed his appointment.”

“His appointment.”

“Yeah. He said to tell you he was sorry about that, and he was sure he’d see you later.” She smiled brightly. “He seemed awfully sorry about it.”

“Yes,” Samantha murmured. “I’ll just bet he was.”

Jaylene said, “We’ve checked the phone lines, Caitlin. The phone company says they’re working fine. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Caitlin said, “I’m not surprised. Or very reassured.” She eyed the other woman uncertainly. “Sam told me that if anything happened, I should call you. She said you’d understand.”

Jaylene sat down at one of the chairs at the table and smiled faintly. “I do understand, believe me. And if it helps, what you experienced is fairly common, one of the most common events in the annals of the paranormal.”

“It is? But I’m not psychic.”

“No, but you shared a blood connection with Lindsay; the bond between sisters is usually one of the strongest, no matter how emotionally distant that may seem during adulthood. There are many documented cases of recently deceased persons appearing or speaking to relations. Since you were her sister, it makes sense that if she tried to reach out, you would be the one best able to hear her.”

“Through the goddamned
telephone
?”

Jaylene said, “It does seem weirdly prosaic, doesn’t it? But, again, it isn’t terribly uncommon. Our best guess is that, like so much about psychic ability, it has to do with electromagnetic fields. Spiritual energy appears to be based on that, so it follows that the need to communicate could be directed through the natural conduits of power and phone lines. Energy manipulating energy.”

“So she couldn’t just talk to me, she needed to use . . . a device?”

Jaylene hesitated, then said carefully, “I’ve been told by mediums that there’s a transition time between death and the next phase of existence. During that time, it requires an exceptionally powerful or determined personality to communicate at all to a nonpsychic. It’s fairly difficult for them to communicate even to psychics. The fact that Lindsay was able to reach you is remarkable enough. That she was actually able to speak to you . . .”

“Have you ever talked to the dead?” Caitlin demanded.

“No.”

“Well, it’s creepy, let me tell you.” Caitlin shivered unconsciously, then frowned. “What about what she said? The warning to Samantha?”

“I’ll certainly pass it on. My partner is with her now, so she should be safe enough.” It was Jaylene’s turn to frown. “ ‘He knows.’ Knows about what?”

“Beats me. But it must be important, or Lindsay wouldn’t have worked so hard to get through to me.” She eyed the unplugged TV uneasily. “At least, I think that was her, scanning through the channels. It didn’t hit me at the time, but when we were kids she used to drive me crazy turning the channels constantly. So do you think that was her?”

“Probably. Televisions seem more easily affected by spiritual energy, or so I’m told. Something about the literal transmission of energy through the air around us.”

Caitlin was more interested in results than in methods, at least at the moment. “Do you think . . . she’ll try to get in touch again?”

“I honestly don’t know, Caitlin. If it’s important enough to her, then maybe. Try, at least. Though it may take a while to refocus her energy.” Jaylene studied her for a moment, adding, “If you’d rather not be alone, then I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“No. No, that’s okay. If Lindsay wants to communicate, I want to hear what she has to say. I didn’t listen enough when she was alive, so I’m damned well going to listen now.”

“She wouldn’t want to scare you, Caitlin.”

“She would if that’s what it took to get my attention. She was very single-minded, my sister.”

“In that case, you may be hearing from her again.”

Dryly, Caitlin said, “Anything you want me to ask her?”

“Well, I would suggest you ask if she knows who killed her, but we’ve tried before and that question never seems to get us anywhere.”

Briefly distracted, Caitlin said, “I wonder why?”

“Our boss says it’s the universe reminding us that nothing is ever as simple as we think it should be. He’s probably right. He usually is.”

“Mmm. Do you think I
will
be able to communicate with her? Or just . . . receive?”

“No idea.”

“Will I mess up anything by trying?”

Jaylene smiled and shrugged. “There aren’t any rules, Caitlin. Or not many, at any rate. Do whatever feels best to you at the time.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Unfortunately, it is.” Jaylene got to her feet, still smiling. “I’ll call Luke and let him and Sam know about the warning. In the meantime, the two deputies will be outside keeping an eye on this place. If you need anything, or you feel too uneasy to be alone, let them know.”

“I will. Thanks, Jaylene.” Caitlin sat there for a long time after the other woman had gone, until it occurred to her that she was waiting—and that this room was going to get very quiet and very boring if she just sat here for hours.

What she needed to do, she decided, was what she would usually do this time of the evening. Call the nearest Chinese take-out place and order her dinner to be delivered and settle in for the night.

Reaching for the phone book in the nightstand drawer, she murmured, “I’m ready when you are, Lindsay.”

And she could have sworn the lamp beside her flickered. Just a bit.

Samantha unlocked her motel-room door and came in, saying, “There are two deputies out there keeping an eye on this place; why do you have to be here too?”

“Because they aren’t watching you, they’re watching Caitlin.”

“And because they wouldn’t get out of their car to help me if I was on fire?” Samantha waved away his response before he could offer it, adding, “Never mind.” She was almost too tired to care. About anything.

“Sam, you heard what that kid told you.”

“I heard a lot of things tonight, most of them inside my own head. I’m tired of listening.”

“Sam—”

“I’m going to take a long, hot shower. Do us both a favor and don’t be here when I get out.”

His jaw firmed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Samantha heard a little laugh escape her. “Fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She got a nightgown from one of the dresser drawers and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. All her toiletries were there, as well as her robe, and she lost no time in stripping off and stepping behind the shower curtain into the tub.

It was after eleven, the usual time she tended to return from the carnival when she was working. And usually, after the hot shower, she ended up lying in bed staring at the TV or reading far into the night. She was a voracious reader, partly due to a stubborn determination to be well-educated despite her lack of formal schooling, and partly out of simple interest.

Letting the hot water stream over her chilled skin, Samantha tried her best to get warm even though she knew the cold came from inside, where no amount of hot water could touch it. It came from that limbo where the visions took her, where even the wispiest bit of precognitive or clairvoyant knowledge came from, a place she had tapped into far too many times today.

She hadn’t been lying to Luke. She had heard too much today, and it had left her feeling raw and, for one of the few times in her life, unsure of herself.

So the kidnapper was watching her.

She had expected that, sooner or later, but still . . .

What was her next move?

She stood under the hot water for a long, long time before finally, reluctantly, getting out and drying off. She towel-dried her hair but didn’t do anything more than finger-comb it, put on her nightgown and wrapped herself in the thick terry robe.

As promised, Luke was there when she came out. He was sitting in the so-called reading chair, his feet propped up on the bed, the television tuned, low, to the news.

His holstered gun was on the table near his hand.

That indication of her own vulnerability made Samantha feel even more raw, and she heard herself say tensely, “Don’t you have someplace else to be? I mean, isn’t there an investigation in full swing right now?”

“It’s been a long day for everyone,” he reminded her, oddly quiet. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

A little voice in her head warned her that it
had
been a long day and that decisions made when she was this tired had always, always backfired on her, but Samantha ignored it. No more voices. Not tonight.

“I hated you for a long time,” she told Lucas.

He got to his feet slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. Hating you was better than hurting. I wasn’t going to let you hurt me, no matter what. That’s why I laughed when you said you hadn’t meant to hurt me. You didn’t. I didn’t let you.”

He took a step toward her. “Sam—”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry again. Don’t you
dare
.”

He took another step toward her, then swore under his breath and yanked her into his arms.

When she could, Samantha murmured, “Took you long enough. Here we are, right back where we left off. In a cheap motel room.”

“It wasn’t cheap,” Lucas said, and pulled her with him down onto the bed.

Samantha had believed she’d forgotten how it felt, his body against hers, his mouth seducing her. That she had forgotten how well they fit together, how his skin burned beneath her touch, how her own body responded to his with a fierce pleasure she had never known before or since.

She had believed she had forgotten.

She hadn’t.

Part of her wanted to hold back, to save something of herself, but she had never been able to do that with Luke. And he was just as unrestrained, his mouth eager on hers, hungry on her body, his hands shaking as they touched her. Even his voice, when he murmured her name, sounded rough, urgent, as potent to her senses as any caress.