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The legs of his chair scraped against the tile floor. She felt his body heat flow over her a second before he put his hand on her shoulder. “Sit down. I’ll fix it.”
She turned toward him, caught off guard when he didn’t step back. Her gaze settled on the full lower lip that kept his mouth from looking unapproachably stern. His square jaw was dark with a day’s growth of beard. If he bent his head now and touched his cheek to hers, how would it feel?
Her legs shook as if she’d run for miles, and her skin felt itchy and tight. She wished she could blame her shivers on the events of the afternoon, but she knew better.
Unlike Jezebel, she was beginning to find McBride nearly irresistible. Much to her alarm.
His grip on her shoulder loosened, though he didn’t drop his hand away. His thumb brushed across her clavicle, sending tremors pulsing along her nerves. The moment stretched taut, the tension between them exquisite. Her breath caught in her throat, her lips trembling in anticipation of the moment when he’d finally bend his head and end the torture.
McBride’s expression shifted and he stepped back from her, looking away. “Where’s the bread?”
She waved her hand toward the bread box and retreated to the kitchen table. “Has Mr. Walters had a chance to hear the tape?” she asked.
“He didn’t recognize the voice.”
“Why’d the kidnapper call me? I just met Andrew Walters a couple of days ago. Abby isn’t even in my class at school.” She allowed herself a quick peek at McBride.
He put bread out on the counter and quickly started making a sandwich. “Good question. Any ideas?”
The hard tone of his voice made her wince inwardly. “No.”
He set the sandwich on a napkin in front of her and took the chair opposite.
“Not eating?” she asked.
“Not hungry.” He cocked his head, pinning her to her chair with the force of his gaze. She stared back at him, her breath trapped in her chest.
His features were too rough-hewn to be considered handsome. But he had amazing eyes, intense, clear and commanding. Their color shifted with his moods, almost brown when he was lost in thought, nearly green when he was working up a rage.
She wondered what color they turned in the heat of passion.
Trying to shake off the effect he’d begun to have on her, Lily leaned toward him across the table. “You obviously have questions for me. Let’s have ’em.”
“You had another vision?” His voice had a rumbling quality that made the skin on the back of her neck quiver. “Of Abby?”
She struggled to concentrate. “Yes. I think she was in a mobile home. The windows had metal frames and sills. And the room was tiny, with that boxy, prefab look some trailers have.”
His gaze was dark and intense, impossible to read. “Anything that would help us identify it?”
“No. I only saw one room, and it was…ordinary.” Though she tried to drop her gaze, she found herself unable to look away from him. He had a commanding quality about him, an air of strength and capability that elicited a primal response deep inside her.
It had been a long time since a man had made her feel this much like a woman. Why did it have to be McBride?
When he didn’t respond right away, she felt herself begin to squirm, like a suspect under interrogation. She was pretty sure that was the point of his continuing silence.
“There was one thing—” She clamped her mouth shut before she revealed the odd appearance of the second girl. McBride obviously didn’t believe she was having visions of Abby. Lily wasn’t going to make things worse by mentioning a second child.
“One thing?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.
“She talked to me this time.”
He pulled back, his eyebrows twitching upward.
“I know it sounds crazy, but she heard me. She talked back. That’s never happened before.” Maybe because Lily had spent most of her life running from the visions, she’d never really explored the limits of her ability. She still couldn’t think of it as a gift, not like her sisters’.
“You get migraines when you have visions?”
“Except when I don’t fight them.”
He picked up a pencil and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper. He jotted something on the page in his tight, illegible scrawl. “That’s right. You mentioned something like that before you zoned out.”
“Before I had a vision.”
“Uh, yeah.” He twirled the pencil between his fingers. “You said you fight them because they scare you.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“How long have you been having visions?”
“Of Abby?”
He shook his head. “In general.”
“Since I was little.” The visions had been part of her life for as long as she could remember.
“And you’ve always had headaches?”
“Not always.” Before her father died, she’d never had the headaches. But before then, she’d never had to fear her visions, either. “When I was younger, I didn’t have headaches. But I didn’t know to fight the visions.”
For the first time he looked genuinely surprised. “They didn’t scare you then? Why not?”
A flash of blood on jagged steel flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes, pushing it down into the dark place inside her. “I hadn’t seen the bad things yet.”
“Like what?” His voice lowered to a murmur. “Monsters?”
Was he making fun of her? He looked serious, so she answered. “I see people hurt. Killed. People in pain.”
People like her father, bleeding to death on a bed of bloodstained sawdust…
“How do you know you don’t have headaches when you don’t fight the visions?”
“I had one the other day and didn’t fight it. I didn’t have any pain at all.”
He cocked his head. “How can you know that’s why?”
She sighed. “I suppose I can’t. Does it matter? I’m going to keep trying to have them even if they hurt.”
“Why would you put yourself through that?”
“Because Abby’s still alive. I can still help her.”
McBride looked at Lily for a tense moment. “Why are you having visions of Abby Walters? Why you in particular?”
“I don’t know.” The suspicion in his voice made her stomach cramp.
“When did they start?”
“Friday, at the school.” The memory of those first brief glimpses of Abby remained vivid. Frightened blue eyes. Tearstained cheeks. Tangled red hair. A terrified cry.
“Did you have the vision before or after you talked to me?” McBride touched the back of her hand, trailing his fingers over her skin, painting her with fire.
She swallowed with difficulty, resisting the urge to beg him to touch her again. “Before.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “How soon before?”
“Just before, I guess.”
He met her gaze for a long, electric moment, his eyes now a deep forest-green. “What did you see that first time?”
She related the brief snatches of that vision, then told him about later seeing Abby in the car. “I think they were moving her to wherever they are now.”
He tapped his fingers on the table mere inches from her hand. She watched them move, wishing they would touch her again. Her fingers itched to close the distance between them, but she resisted, forcing herself to look up at him, away from that tempting hand. But the smoldering emerald of his eyes did little to cool the heat starting to build inside her.
She licked her lips and tried to focus. “Is it against the rules for you to tell me how Abby’s mother died?”
He didn’t answer.
“I don’t need details, I just…” She sighed, trying to explain the sensations she’d felt when talking to the kidnapper. “The man who called was desperate. I know he made a ransom demand, and maybe that’s what they wanted all along. But I don’t think they originally planned on a ransom call.”
McBride cut his eyes toward her.
“He sounded scared. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Mrs. Walters wasn’t supposed to die.”
He caught her wrist. “Why do you say that?” His voice was tinged with suspicion, his eyes turning mossy brown.
“She fought, right?” Lily couldn’t say how she knew that, but she did. “They didn’t think she’d fight them. Maybe they don’t have children of their own and don’t know what a mother will do when her child’s in danger.”
He let go of her, but the heat of his touch lingered. She rubbed her wrist, trying to wipe away the tingling sensation his grip had imprinted in the tender flesh, as if every nerve ending had suddenly come alive. “That’s how it happened, isn’t it?” she asked.
He leaned toward her across the small table, close enough for her to breathe in his warm, spicy scent. “Why are you really interested in this case?”
She lifted her chin. “I keep seeing that scared little girl in my mind. I have to try to help her.”
“You can’t,” he said bluntly.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because she’s already dead.”
Sharp-edged and stone-cold, his words slammed into Lily like a physical blow. She shook her head. “That’s not true. The kidnappers just called—”
“What makes you think it wasn’t a crank call?”
“I recognized the voice.”
“So you say.”
Lily shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out his words as easily. “I know it was him.”
“I’ve been a cop for sixteen years. I’ve investigated five nonparental child abductions over that time.” Weariness crept into his matter-of-fact tone. “Kidnappers don’t take five days to make a ransom call. They know it gives the cops too much time to get involved.”
Lily opened her eyes but saw nothing but blackness. A soft, pain-wracked voice filled the darkness.
She’s gone!
The darkness dissipated, the familiar decor of her kitchen coming back into focus, the echo of those two heartbroken words fading into the hum of the refrigerator behind her. Lily found McBride staring at her, his forehead creased with a frown.
He rose, his chair scraping against the tile floor. “I’ve put a patrol car outside to keep an eye on this place tonight. Tomorrow, with your permission, we’ll tap your phone in case the man calls again.” He didn’t wait for her answer, making it halfway to the living room by the time Lily got her legs to work.
She followed him to the door, still shaking from the brief vision. Where had that woman’s voice come from, pitched low with misery? Coming as it had in the wake of McBride’s bitter words, was it connected to his own demons?
He had demons, without a doubt. Beneath his stony calm, Lily had sensed a misery so deep, so dark she could hardly bear to look at it.
She grabbed his arm as he opened the front door. “What if I don’t want a tap on my phone?”
“Don’t you want us to find out who’s calling?” He stood close enough for her to see beard stubble shadowing his jaw. She could almost feel it, prickly against her skin, as if he’d rubbed his face against hers. His pupils were black pools rimmed by moss. Pure female response snaked through her belly, settling low and hot at her center.
“I’d also like to tap your cell phone,” he added softly.
Right. Tapping the phone. “It’s not listed anywhere by my cellular company. But you can tap my home phone.”
He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t press the issue. He stepped away from her and onto her front stoop, robbing her of his warmth. Her strength seeped away, leaving her enervated and bone-weary.
He turned back to her, danger glittering in his murky eyes. “You’re playing a reckless game, Ms. Browning. Take care.”
She watched him stride down the walk, his jacket flapping in the cool night breeze, every heavy thud of her heart echoing his solemn warning. The intent of his words may have been different than her own interpretation, but the truth remained: the people who had Abby knew who Lily was and where she lived.
She wasn’t safe in her own home.
CHAPTER SIX
ANDREW WALTERS WAS on his cell phone when Lily arrived at his hotel suite Thursday afternoon for their rescheduled meeting. He took her raincoat and waved her in, slanting her a rueful look as he spoke into the receiver. “We’ll have to blow that one off. The county party chairman will understand.” He gestured at the sofa, moving into one of the rooms off the main living area to complete his call.
Lily bypassed the sofa and walked to the picture window spanning one wall of the living area. During the day, the McMillan Place penthouse suite would boast a panoramic view of the lush woodlands west of town, but rain and falling darkness turned the window into a mirror reflecting Lily’s own bedraggled image back at her. She patted her rain-curled hair and straightened her skirt, wishing she looked more presentable.
It was important that Andrew Walters believe what she had to tell him.
He returned to the room, flashing an apologetic smile. “That was my campaign manager, Joe. We have to figure out how to manage the campaign while all of this is going on.”
