Whisper of Evil Page 9

  “Yes, but there was no one here to suspect, no one to question. All the rest of the family was gone, not on the scene to wonder. He had no close friends. It looked like a heart attack; he was the right age for one and had been warned by his doctor that his habits and temperament put him into the high-risk category. And with no other unexplained deaths before then to put anyone on guard ...”

  “I understand why no one here would have suspected a murder, but how can you be so sure he was killed? Did he think he was going to be, fearing for his life in that scene you envisioned?”

  For the first time, realizing, Nell felt a chill. “No, he had no idea,” she said slowly. “No fear or worry. His mind was entirely focused on the shock he’d had, but he wasn’t in the least afraid or concerned for himself. It was . . . I must have picked up on something else. Sensed something else.”

  “Like maybe the killer?”

  She drew a breath. “Like maybe the killer.”

  Nate McCurry was scared.

  He hadn’t been at first. Hell, he’d barely paid attention when Peter Lynch had died, and as for Luke Ferrier, well, Nate had always expected something bad to happen to him.

  But when Randal Patterson’s death had exposed his S&M leanings, Nate had started to get nervous. Because he had something in common with Randal. And, he was beginning to think, with the others as well.

  Not that Nate had any big secret, not like those other guys. He hadn’t broken the law, and he didn’t have any whips or chains in his basement or skeletons in his closet. But sometimes a man had things he wanted to keep to himself; that was perfectly natural. Perfectly normal.

  Unless there was a madman running around punishing men for their sins, that is.

  He was nervous enough to install a security system in his house, paying double to have it done quickly when, the installation guy had told him, the company was backed up on work because so many orders had come in.

  So he wasn’t the only nervous man in Silence.

  And at least he could claim it was just good business to protect oneself. After all, he sold insurance. And everybody knew insurance companies were very big on reducing risk.

  That’s what Nate was doing, reducing risk.

  But he was still scared.

  It didn’t help that he lived alone. Creepy to be alone when you were scared. He kept the television on for background noise, because every rattle of a tree branch or sudden hoot of an owl out there made him jump. But even with the background noise, he found himself going from window to window and door to door, checking the locks. Making sure.

  Watching the night creep slowly along.

  He didn’t sleep.

  He had stopped sleeping days ago.

  “Nell, are we talking about the same killer? Are you saying your father was his first victim?”

  She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe that was the start of his little execution plan.”

  “And he was here in this house.”

  Again, she hesitated. “There’s no way for me to be sure, Max. But it makes sense. My father was found here in the house, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nobody suspected the body had been moved.”

  “Not that I ever heard. But since it looked like a heart attack, I doubt anyone even considered the idea.”

  That was true enough, and Nell nodded.

  Max watched her broodingly. “Even if he was moved, what you picked up was right here, in this room—so the killer was probably here at some point.”

  Perfectly aware of what was bothering him about that, Nell tried to avoid discussing it. “It would be nice if I could peek back into that scene and try to get a better fix on the killer, but it doesn’t seem to work that way. Or it never has. I never see the same scene twice.”

  “Do you ever see a second scene in the same place?”

  “So far, no. It’s as if, once I’ve tapped into the energy of a place, I’ve drained some of it away, eased the pressure somehow. Like the way you can be shocked by static electricity when you first touch something but not when you touch it a second time.”

  “The same thing can shock you a second time if you go away for a while and then touch it again later,” Max pointed out. “Once the static has a chance to build back up.”

  “Yes, but so far I haven’t figured out the time frame, if there is one, for this kind of energy. Maybe I could go back a week or a month or a year later and see something, but I haven’t been able to yet. Different places may have different time frames depending on the intensity of the energies absorbed. Or this particular type of energy may dissipate completely once someone is able to tap into it. I just don’t know.”

  “Nobody in this unit of yours has figured it out yet?”

  Nell smiled slightly. “Well, aside from a pretty full load of cases to occupy most of our time, between us we also have a very wide range of paranormal abilities to deal with and try to understand. We’re learning, slowly and mostly through bitter experience as we live each day and investigate cases, what our ranges and limits are, but that’s an individual thing.”

  “And no help from science.”

  “No. As far as today’s science goes, psychic abilities can’t be validated in any acceptable sense. Oh, there are still people scattered around trying to do research, but our feeling is that today’s technology and scientific methodology just isn’t capable of effectively measuring or analyzing the paranormal. Not yet.”

  It was Max’s turn to smile, albeit briefly. “That sounds just a bit like the company line.”

  “It is, more or less. One of the reasons I wanted to join the SCU was because I thought Bishop and his people had a very reasonable way of looking at the paranormal. They don’t discount anything just because science can’t explain it yet. And I have never heard any member of the team use the word impossible when referring to any aspect of the paranormal.”

  “Sounds like a pretty good way to live.”

  A little surprised, Nell said, “Coming from a hard-headed rancher, that’s unexpected.”

  Max dropped his gaze to his mostly empty coffee cup and said slowly, “Maybe once you’re touched by the paranormal, it changes your thinking about a lot of things.”

  Nell was very tempted to follow that path and find out where it would lead them but shied away. Not now. Not yet. The slightly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she wasn’t yet ready to face the truth of how badly she had messed up Max’s life. So she reached for professionalism, for the safety net of why she was supposed to be here. She reminded herself that there was a dangerous killer on the loose. Which was more than enough reason to concentrate on her job and push everything else aside.

  At least for now.

  So all she said was, “One thing it doesn’t change, in essence, is how a murder or series of murders is investigated. The next step for me is to try to gain access to the crime scenes. All of them. And I can’t do that by openly waving my badge.”

  Max’s smile twisted faintly, showing his recognition of a path not taken, but he didn’t protest. “I think we’re finally coming to the real reason why you and the mayor took me into your confidence. You need me, don’t you, Nell?”

  The statement sent an odd little shock through her, and Nell had to remind herself that he meant she needed him professionally. Of course he meant that.

  She chose her words carefully. “The information we’ve been able to gather pointed to you as the insider most likely to be helpful to me. You knew all the victims fairly well. The people here are entirely aware of the sheriff’s dislike and distrust of you and so wouldn’t be surprised if you were found to be ... investigating things on your own in order to clear yourself. Owning your own ranch makes it possible for you to arrange flexible working hours without arousing any undue suspicion. And you have the habit of riding around the countryside, beyond the bounds of your ranch, making use of back trails and old dirt roads, so you have a strong familiarity with the area, and th
e sort of mobility I could find useful.”

  “And,” he finished, “nobody would be surprised or suspicious to see us together.”

  “And that.”

  “Was it your idea, Nell?”

  She almost denied it, wanted to, but finally said, “It made ... a certain amount of sense. With everything added together and my certainty that you weren’t the killer—”

  “Was it your idea?”

  She waited a beat, too conscious of things left unsaid and unanswered. This was even harder than she had expected it to be. “It was my suggestion.”

  He drew a breath. “I’m not so sure I like being used.”

  Nell made sure she didn’t sound angry or defensive when she said, “It’s to your advantage to do what you can to help uncover the truth, we both know that. Left to his own devices, the sheriff is more likely to arrest you than clear you. At least by helping me— us—you’re assured of an impartial investigation completely focused on finding the real killer. And we don’t intend to stop working until we do find him.”

  “And you consider it your duty to ... suffer my company for the duration?”

  Again, Nell replied carefully, uneasily aware of the ironic truth that Max was the one person here in Silence capable of seeing through her pretense. And it was liable to be sooner rather than later. “We’re both adults, Max. And twelve years is a long time. The past is done, over. Right now, in this time and place, what we both want is to find the truth of what’s happening here in Silence. That’s all. That’s enough.”

  But even as the careful lies were spoken, she knew that she was doing nothing more than postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later, Max would demand the truth.

  She only hoped she was strong enough to give it to him.

  “Is it enough?” he asked.

  “It’s my job. It’s why I’m here.”

  Max nodded slowly, his dark gaze fixed on her face with an intensity she could feel under her skin. “And it’s the only reason you’re here. That’s what I’m supposed to believe.”

  “I didn’t come back until I had to. You made that point yourself.”

  “You didn’t come back . . . until you had a reason to. A nice ... safe ... professional reason.”

  Sooner indeed.

  “Like I said. It’s my job.” She nearly held her breath, afraid he’d keep pushing. More afraid he wouldn’t.

  Abruptly, Max shoved his chair back and got to his feet. “Okay,” he said, face expressionless. “I’ll think about it.”

  Nell felt that sick sensation in the pit of her stomach again, but this time it was accompanied by a stab of pain. Hiding that, she said, “I’ll be here tomorrow. There’s enough to keep me busy here in the house. But don’t take too long, Max. If you decide to pass, I’ll have to figure out something else, some other way of gaining access to the crime scenes. And time is an issue.”

  She knew she sounded like a pro. Matter-of-fact and disinterested. Professional all the way.

  He nodded, still expressionless. “There’s one thing about your visions you haven’t explained, you know.”

  She knew. “Yes.”

  “You’ve told me that sometimes what you see is something that hasn’t happened yet. The future. But how can that be, if it’s memories you’re tapping into?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Could it be a second, completely different ability? Precognition?”

  “Bishop says not, and the others agree.” She shrugged, conscious of the tension in her shoulders. “The experience is essentially the same, whether I’m seeing past or future. The same sensations, emotions, the same time-out-of-sync awareness. So it’s the same ability. The flip side of it maybe, but the same.”

  “How can a place hold the impression, the memory, of an event that hasn’t yet occurred?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t know. Maybe time is more flexible than we can possibly imagine, not linear at all but a loop, or a series of loops. Maybe different time lines occupy the same physical world but in alternate dimensions, dimensions I’m somehow able to tap into because they contain another kind of energy I’m sensitive to. Or maybe it’s a question of fate, of the physical world holding the energy of future events because those events will happen, are destined to happen—in a sense have already happened.”

  Max shook his head. “That’s a little too metaphysical for me.”

  “You asked.” She smiled slightly, wondering if she could have done this, handled this, if she hadn’t been able to lean on duty and professionalism. No. Definitely not. “The simple truth is, I don’t know how it works. I only know that it does.”

  He seemed about to say something else, but finally shook his head again. “Well, I guess I have to accept that. For now, anyway.”

  Nell was tempted to ask if he expected anything to change later but once again shied away from probing too deeply. She rose to her feet and walked with him to the front door.

  “I’ll let you know something tomorrow,” he said.

  “All right.” She looked at him gravely, wondering if he was putting her off for the sake of appearances or for some other reason. He’d danced awfully close to guessing her true motivation in coming here, and from there it was only a step to also guess she was involving him in the investigation for reasons other than the flimsy ones she had stated.

  Did he know? And if he did, would he use the knowledge for a little payback?

  Abruptly, Max said, “That scene you saw out in the woods. A man carrying the body of a woman.”

  “Maybe a body. She might not have been dead.”

  “Either way, it could be something that hasn’t happened yet.”

  Nell made her voice matter-of-fact. “There’s no way to be sure. I’ve checked records of dead or missing women in the county, and nothing seems to fit what I saw. No female murder victims in years, at least none found in the woods. So maybe it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “And if it hasn’t happened yet ... it could be you. It could be a vision of your own future you saw.”

  “I never see my own future.”

  “You mean you never have before.”

  “I can take care of myself, Max.”

  Max’s hands lifted slightly, as if he wanted to grab her and shake her, but in the end they curled into fists at his sides and he said tightly, “You’re here investigating a series of murders, you’re a threat to the killer, and you’ve seen something that could mean a confrontation with him that you’ll lose.”

  There was no way she could reassure him of her safety, since it would have been a lie. So Nell didn’t even make the attempt. “Whatever I saw changes nothing, and if that’s how it ends, then that’s how it ends. I’m here to do a job, Max, and I intend to do it.” She paused, but not long enough to give him the chance to argue with her. “Don’t bother telling me to lock the door behind you. I will.”

  “Have you got a death wish, Nell, is that it?”

  “No. Good night, Max.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, then Max swore beneath his breath and went out the door, closing it with a distinct click behind him.

  Nell threw the dead bolt with the same emphatic sound, then stood there for a moment watching her hands shake. She had thought she was ready for this, but hours spent in Max’s company had proved her wrong. She wasn’t ready for this. She would never be ready for this.

  But there was no going back. Not now.

  Nell sighed, wondering if there had ever been a point when she could have turned back. Probably not. The universe was about balance and about dealing with the past.

  Sooner or later.

  As for Max, all things considered, his display of concern for her safety was definitely unexpected, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Scared mostly, because retribution wasn’t nearly as effective if it wasn’t preceded by an interlude of unsuspecting happiness.

  She looked at her hands again and willed them to stop shaking, not surprised when it only half
worked. She was tired. And worried. And afraid. And for just an instant, she was tempted to open the door and call Max back, because being alone in this house tonight was almost more than she could bear.

  Her hand even reached out for the doorknob, but Nell forced it to fall to her side.

  I can do this. I can take care of myself. I have to.

  She walked across the foyer toward the kitchen, pausing at the side table beside the stairs where the phone and answering machine were. The answering-machine light was blinking. When Nell pushed the button, the message she heard was brief.

  “Nell, it’s Shelby. Listen, when I was taking some pictures today I got something . . . unexpected. I think you should see it. I can bring it to your place tomorrow, first thing, if that’s okay. I may be out late tonight, but you can leave a message on the machine and let me know what time.”

  Nell glanced at her watch, then reached for the phone.

  It was still a bit before midnight when he did his meditation thing and sent his dream self off to visit Nell. It was, he’d decided, the best way to keep an eye on her without being too obvious about it. The connection took him to her even faster than before, and it pleased him to be able to so easily follow the well-worn path.

  Some things seemed unaffected by the passage of time.

  Not surprisingly, she was in bed, asleep, and for a time he hovered near and just looked down at her. Fascinating to be so close to her when she was entirely unaware of it. To be able to stare at her unabashedly.

  She was a beautiful woman, even in the dark. The night stole color, so the hair spread out over her pillow was shimmering darkness and her skin was pale, smooth, her relaxed features the picture of delicate femininity. The covers were drawn up to her shoulders, so all he could see of her sleepwear was that there was nothing frilly or sexy about it, maybe just a T-shirt or something like that, colorless and shapeless.

  While he watched, she stirred restlessly, and a shaft of moonlight streaming in the window fell on her face and allowed him to see a fleeting, uneasy frown.

  It caught him off guard for an instant, even shook him.