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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

"Rae Harris?" He walked into the store right behind her and closed the door on the freezing wind that swept in from the street. The little chime tinkled a frantic warning as the scent of the sea rushed in with him. "You're Rae Harris."

She turned and faced him. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Slender in a way that made her think he wasn't exactly a body builder. He wasn't thin but she didn't think she'd like to try to tackle him and hold him down. There was bound to be a wiry strength to him that was deceptive. She'd been taught to size up an opponent that way.

"It's cold out there." She didn't answer him as she cleared a space for her groceries behind the front counter. Outside she was calm, even cheerful. Inside, she was on edge. Waiting. There was something about this man that bothered her. A slight tic started in her left cheek. "I'll make some tea."

If she knew him, she would've excused herself and gone upstairs to put away her groceries. He'd browse while she started some tea. If he were a regular customer, he'd agree with her about the unseasonably cold weather. They'd have a conversation about the weather or new books that had been released or a movie they'd seen.

But he wasn't a regular. She couldn't imagine him browsing through the collection of books she'd carefully accumulated. He didn't seem the type to browse. He wanted something. She could feel it emanating from him. The thought made her heart beat faster. Her hands were unsteady. She didn't want to imagine how he knew her.

A can of pineapple rings dropped out of one of her grocery bags. It clattered noisily on the floor. Before she could retrieve it, he scooped it up and held it out to her. "I've been looking for you."

"Thanks." She was careful not to touch him as she took the can from him. He was close enough that his light aftershave teased her senses. She took a step away from him, putting the counter between them. "I think you have the wrong person."

He stood with his back to the door. There wasn't anything particularly threatening about him. But he was starting to make her nervous. She could feel his intent gaze on her as she finished with her groceries. He was trying to decide the truth.

"I don't think so."

She couldn't tell if he was dark or fair. The black hat he wore was pulled down low on his face. It added to his sinister appearance. She had the impression of a strong chin when he was close. The rest was hidden from her. The whole cloak and dagger thing was ridiculous. It irritated her already outraged senses. What was he hiding? "What do you want?"

Bright blue eyes confronted her. There was a faint rasp to his low voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "I came to find you."

The chime sounded again on the front door. "Rae Harris, I'm busting to get that book, girl! You promised me it would be in today. Where is it?" Delia Martin smiled broadly and rubbed her hands together. Her dark eyes watched the stranger walk away from the counter. "Friend of yours from the city?"

Rae got Delia's book from under the counter. "Not exactly." If he wasn't sure who I was before, he knows now.

She watched him walk through the shop. He took his time while Delia rambled on about a movie she'd seen. He picked up books. Smelled samples of herbal soaps and teas. He was still wearing his dark gloves and hat. She knew he was killing time. I came to find you.

By the time Delia left, Mr. Dougherty came in for some fresh parsley. Then it was Mrs. Wentz for her monthly shipment of chamomile. Then it got crowded.

Rae didn't forget about him. He was lurking there in her shop somewhere. Waiting to catch her alone. She debated with herself about calling the police. But what would she say? He seemed suspicious? He was waiting for her at the shop when it opened? None of that sounded that desperate.

Despite her anxiety, she stayed away from the phone. She had her own reasons for not involving anyone else. She could handle the problem, if it turned out to be one.

She wanted to march back to the reading area and tell him to leave. But then whatever he had to say would come out in front of her customers. She was trapped by her own reluctance to let that happen. He knows who you are. He knows you won't make a scene. He's using that knowledge against you.

Who was he? How did he know her? The questions whispered against her senses and infuriated her.

One thing for sure, he wasn't there to sample her fresh order of lemon balm, good as it might be. There was the distinct aura of coffee about him. He likes to eat big steaks and large breakfasts. He refuses to sleep in pajamas. He's used to getting what he wants without much trouble.

The nagging thoughts raced through her mind as she smiled and talked with her customers. She bagged tea and wrapped books but the impressions continued. It was unusual for her to be so in tune with anyone on such close association. She didn't even touch him. Who is he?

Around six, it was dark enough for the twelve, claw-footed lamps to come on at the same time. She bought them last year at a local flea market. They were set on a timer so she wouldn't have to run through the shop turning them on and off. Their light was so much better than fluorescents hanging from the ceiling. The pink glow cast a soothing, romantic aura across the shop.

Rae officially closed her book and herb shop at seven. A few customers straggled in and out until seven-thirty. Finally, she wished Sally Newgate good night and realized that the store was empty. Or is it?

She tried to look through the shelves without craning her neck or walking up and down the aisles. There was a small space set up at the back of the shop where she'd created a cozy spot for reading. Two overstuffed red velvet chairs and a small table away from the street traffic. She never realized that she couldn't see it from the front of the store. Anyone could be back there. He could still be there.

"Hello?"

There was no reply. Maybe he slipped out while she was busy. Maybe he was tired of waiting. Maybe he gave up and went home. She knew it was wishful thinking. She saw the look in his eyes. I came to find you.

Rae switched off the big hot water dispenser she kept in the front of the store for making tea. She closed up the honey and cream. She stored everything away in the little refrigerator behind the cabinet then started to straighten up the shop.

There were always stray books where they didn't belong. Careless hands moved tea bags and teapots and forgot to put them back. There was a gum wrapper in the middle of one aisle.

It was so quiet. She never noticed before. She was alone in the shop plenty of times. Maybe it was because she knew she wasn't alone. Instinct told her he was still there. Waiting.

Rae realized that she was avoiding going to the back of the store. She straightened her curly dark hair back in its clip and tucked in her green sweater. She really couldn't believe he was waiting back there. She consulted her watch. It was three hours. Anyone would be tired of waiting.

She stopped short as she rounded the last aisle. There he was. He was reading an old book, a treasure she found at the auction last year. It was a book of love poems written by an eighteenth century monk to a wealthy matron. The copy was handmade, bound in cloth, and written in the tortured monk's own hand.

Rae's heart was pounding. Whispers of sound buzzed through her head. Snatches of conversation and random thought tugged at her awareness. The scents from her shop mingled with the salty smell of the ocean on the night air. Control. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, fighting for serenity through the whirl of her emotions. She hadn't had a problem with control for so long.

He looked up. "Finished?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Just an answer."

He'd removed the hat, gloves, and coat. His face was arresting. Angular lines, high cheekbones, and a clever chin defined it. It reminded her of a painting she saw of the fairy king. His eyes were bright blue between dark lashes. His mouth had an ironic quirk to it. Either he had a wonderful sense of humor or he thought the world was a pretty strange place.

He watched her as closely as she watched him. Like two jaguars claiming the same prey. Straightening her spine, she pushed back a strand of her hair that always refused to be tamed by her clip. "You've waited a long time. You must be a very patient man."

"Not really. But sometimes, you have to be patient to get what you want."

"And what is it that you want?"

The blue gaze pinned her in place then assessed her slowly. "You."

She laughed nervously. "Me? I'm flattered but--"

"I need your help, Ms. Harris. I have a question to ask you."

"Are you a reporter?"

"No. Is that what you're afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid. But I don't know you."

"I can take care of that. I'm Steve Williams. I own a computer software company."

"Here?"

"Not exactly. I live in Atlanta. Obviously, we sell our software everywhere in the world. There's an office in Charleston."

"Obviously." She matched his tone, watching for any sudden moves. It was silly to think he came all the way from Atlanta to hurt her. He was a stranger. Still there was something more than his dark, suspicious appearance bothering her. Something's wrong. Something terrible happened. "I'm sorry, but I don't own a computer."

He smiled a little. He needed to smile more often. He was happy at one time. She could see the smile lines from his eyes and mouth. But he wasn't happy at that moment. Life had changed. Gone sour. Something he couldn't comprehend and couldn't control.

"That's too bad. But I'm not here to sell you software."

She sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He was being deliberately vague. "Then why are you here, Mr. Williams?"

He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to her. "Is this you?"

Rae was cautious when she took the paper from his outstretched hand. She didn't want that intimate contact with him. Not yet. His fingers were long and shapely. Manicured. He took care of himself. He took care of the people around him.

It was a newspaper clipping. A bad copy of an old newspaper clipping. The woman's face was grainy and younger but it was clearly her face. The headlines under it spelled out the story:

FBI agent attacks man accused of killing girl

"There's more. I found them in the newspaper archives on the Internet. Most of your cases were more successful than this one. You were one of the best, weren't you?"

She handed him back the clipping. She'd read it so many times that she knew it by heart. "What do you want, Mr. Williams? Stop playing games with me."

He put the copy back into his pocket. "If you're going to hide, you should change your name. You weren't that hard to find."

"I think you have me confused with someone else."

His eyes followed the line of her face faithfully. "You're Rae Harris."

"Yes, I am. But I'm not the woman in that clipping. I'm sorry."

"I didn't come here unprepared. I've checked. I know who you are."

Her throat felt tight. "I think you should leave now."

"We can go someplace more public if you'd like." He looked around the closed shop. "I'm not here to harass you. I need your help."

"Then why show me that paper?"

"All I know about you is what I've read. That's all I care about. Nothing else matters. I just need to ask you one question."

"It won't do any good. I'm not who you think I am!"

"Are you as good as they say?"

The words stunned her. Fractured the breath from her lungs. They tortured and tormented her. Are you as good as they say? "Please leave--"

"Sixty cases for the FBI in seven years. All missing children. You found all of them."

She turned on her heel and marched to the front of the store. "Please leave."

"I need your help. You're my last chance. I can make it worth your while." He reached out and took her hand as he followed her.

A hot current leapt between them. Rae saw in his surprised expression that he felt it too. It was like sticking her finger into an electrical outlet. He let go of her before she could demand that he release her. She opened the front door and the chime rang sweetly. "If you don't leave, I'll call the police."

He was standing close to her. His gaze was hard on her face. "I don't believe you. It would mean telling everyone who you really are, wouldn't it? And that's always a disaster for you."

He knew too much about her. She didn't know anything about him beyond what he was willing to tell her. Not enough. Tension flared between them. "Goodbye, Mr. Williams."

"I need your help." His tone changed. Cajoled. He shifted awkwardly in the doorway. "If you found those children, please don't turn me away. You might be the only one who can help her. I'm offering a reward."

For an instant, she softened. Always wanting to help. His fear, his anger pulled at her. Not this time. "Please, don't come back."

"I could ruin you here. If everyone knew--"

Rae didn't blink. "If you believe that I'm the woman who tried to kill the man in that newspaper clipping, I'd advise against it. I might come after you."

"Please--"

She could almost taste the gall in his mouth as he pleaded for her help. He wasn't used to begging. "Goodbye, Mr. Williams."

He didn't look at her again as he walked out the door. She closed it quickly and pulled down the pretty pink blind. She set the deadbolt then leaned back against it, breathing hard. It couldn't be true. She didn't want to believe that it was true. It had been four years. Wasn't that enough time to forget?

Rae looked around the shop she'd put together one item at a time. Teapots from local potters vied with wind chimes and books on every subject. She had a collection of fairies and elves from a local painter. Even the worn wooden floorboards held a special place in her heart. She loved her little shop. It was just starting to make a profit. She didn't want to leave.

But what choice would she have? She couldn't live here if people were going to come looking for her. Her life would be a circus again. She couldn't handle it. His threat meant more to her than he could possibly realize. She calmly ushered him out the door. She wanted to throw herself on the floor and beg him to leave her alone. Hadn't she done enough?

Rae took one long, last look around her shop. All twelve lights shut down for the night promptly at eight. She locked up and walked away. It broke her heart to think she might never come back. The irony of her predicament wasn't lost on her. Once, she fought to leave this place...and almost lost herself in the process.

Ten generations, all on her mother's side, lived and died on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina. The island was ripped apart by war and storms but the Harris women held on to their place there. All but the last two were buried on a small hill overlooking the sea where pirate ships once cut through the coastal waters.

Eighteen-year-old Rae wanted more than that. She grew up on the island, raised by her mother and grandmother. It was customary for Harris women to live alone, losing their men in one-way or another. Her father died when she was very young.

This Harris woman dreamed of leaving. It was all she thought about. She watched the sun set on every sunny summer day planning to be different than her ancestors. The island, with its slow pace and friendly faces, was enough for them. It wasn't enough for her.

So, when she graduated from high school, she announced to her mother that she was going away to college. She was going to Washington, DC. Her grades and test scores earned her a scholarship at George Washington University. She was going to be a child psychologist. She wanted to council families in need. She wanted to see the world. She didn't want to be confined to this tiny island with its folklore and superstition. She didn't want to be like her mother or her grandmother.

Her mother looked at her like she suddenly grew two heads. "It'll be hard for you. You'll be alone."

"I know." Rae had all the answers back then. "But I can handle it."

"You don't know," Cerise, her mother, prophesied, "You've been sheltered here, cared for. The world out there will kill you."

"I'm ready for it," Rae assured her. "And nothing you can say is going to change my mind. You don't have to worry. I won't call for help."

Cerise glared at her. "And I won't speak to you again until you've come to your senses."

"It's stupid." Her grandmother, Lessie, didn't spare her feelings. "No Harris woman has ever left this island. Not for a man and not for a career." She spat the word out on the floor like an old watermelon seed. "You don't need a career anyway, lamb! You've got your instincts and the plants. Cerise and I will teach you to heal. You know most of it already."

"I do," Rae agreed. "But I want more."

Her grandmother didn't say anything else. Cautioned by Cerise's baleful glare. The two women were close but Cerise didn't allow her mother to interfere with her raising her daughter. Lessie called her daughter arrogant because she wouldn't take her advice. But Cerise nearly left the island once with her own baby daughter. Lessie was always afraid that she would do it again. She kept her own counsel.

And they let her go. Watched her climb on the bus and leave the island. Cerise broke down at the last and wept. Lessie comforted her. Rae looked out the tiny window and waved to them. She was too caught up in her dreams of a brilliant future to notice their tears.

D.C. was tough for a slip of a girl who'd never been across the big bridge into Charleston. It was cold and impersonal. She found that her scholarship covered her books and tuition, even paid for some food and personal items. But there was never enough money left at the end of the month.

She bought boots and gloves and a warm coat from the Salvation Army. A Congressional aide who liked to look at her breasts finally gave her a job. She fought through her classes and her loneliness in the chaotic city. She was living her dream.

"Rae!" A friendly voice yelled her name, breaking her chain to the past. "How's Lessie?"

"Fine when I left this morning." Her old friend, Jean Davis, joined her. They walked down the street in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Was she in church tonight?"

"No." Jean's attractive dark face was worried. "That's why I was wondering. My mother was asking after her."

"She must be sick if she didn't go to church."

Jean worked at the diner down the street from Rae's shop. She was married for a while and lived in Charleston. She came back to the island with a daughter and a broken heart. "Mama said she saw her earlier today. She said she was in pain."

"That wouldn't surprise me. Lessie would rather tell anyone but me when there's a problem." Rae stopped with her friend at the front porch to her house on Spring Street.

"Want me to come in with you?"

"Maybe you should, Jean, thanks. If she needs help, you can talk to her and I can call the doctor."

"Like she'd see him?"

Rae pushed open the squeaky screen door. "Don't remind me."

It was just a few weeks ago that Lessie confessed that she was feeling poorly. She didn't like to bother Rae with it but everything she ate was making her sick. None of her potions or herbs helped.

Rae dragged her reluctant grandmother to the doctor. He was concerned enough to order tests. Lessie was suffering from a tumor the size of a tennis ball that was blocking her intestine. If it continued to grow, she wouldn't be able to eat at all. The doctor advised a surgery consultation. Lessie refused without considering it.

Rae sat beside her grandmother on the bus going home and worried. Even if she could convince her grandmother to have the surgery, how would they afford it? There was no insurance. Her grandmother wasn't eligible for care from the government. She wasn't even sure how they were going to pay for the tests she had done. The doctor admitted that the surgery would be costly and the tumor could be more invasive than he thought. It was even possible that it was malignant.

Rae's shop yielded enough to keep it going. Her grandmother owned the little house and land that had been in her family for ten generations. They got by on very little. There wasn't enough for anything out of the ordinary. Both women knew their position. They didn't talk about it on the short bus ride home. They both hoped that the doctor was wrong.

"Lessie?" Rae called as she opened the screen door and walked into the house. She'd been born there, as had her mother and her grandmother. Three rooms upstairs with a tiny, makeshift bathroom. Four rooms downstairs with a kitchen that took up nearly the whole space.

Rae walked through the kitchen. The dark was rich with the scents of herbs and grasses that she and her grandmother collected from the island. There were no lights on in the rest of the house either. She switched on the light in the kitchen. "Lessie?"

"In here." Her grandmother's faint voice came from the parlor. It was a tiny room with a good chair and a good sofa. Next to the window was a round, gilt-edged table. It had supposedly been handed down from the first Harris woman to live in that house.

Rae switched on the small Victorian fringed lamp she'd put in the room. She dropped to her knees beside her grandmother who was slumped across the sofa. "Lessie?"

"I couldn't make it upstairs, Rae."

"Have you eaten today?"

"No." Lessie bit her lips to keep from groaning in pain. "I couldn't eat. Don't badger me. I'm doing the best I can."

"I'm not going to badger you. When did you eat last?"

"Yesterday, I think."

Rae rested her head on her grandmother's arm for a moment. Was there ever a time Lessie didn't smell of herbs and fresh air? She hated it as a child. The younger Rae washed rigorously with strong soap so that she wouldn't smell like her. Cerise smelled of herbs, too. "Yesterday? Didn't we talk about how important it was to keep track?"

"You're badgering me." Lessie held out her calloused hand to her. "Just let me die."

Rae took her grandmother's hand. Immediately, the intense pain and fear her grandmother felt flooded through her. Oh God! "I'm going to call the doctor. You're not going to die yet."

While Lessie fussed and fumed, Jean held her hand. Rae called Dr. Salter. Within a few minutes, the doctor pulled up in his old red Buick. It always died out as he tried to park it. Rae met him at the door and explained what happened.

He grimaced and pulled off his white straw hat. "This is what I was afraid of. I told you. She needs that surgery."

"The only thing we have is the house. When I talked to the social worker, she said we'd have to sell it for Lessie to qualify for the surgery to be done free."

"Then sell it!"

"She'll die before she sells this house. You know that."

"I guess I know that, honey." He put his hat down on a chair and pulled at his wrinkled white suit. "Let's go see her."

Lessie's condition was critical. She was dehydrated and the mass in her intestine had continued to grow. Dr. Salter made arrangements and found her a bed at the hospital on the island. Rae stayed with her while they put in IV tubes and got the old lady comfortable. The nurses were nice but busy with a 'flu epidemic. The room was sterile and cold.

"I don't want to die here." Lessie waited until they were alone. Her own dark eyes looked back at her from her granddaughter's face. "Promise me, Rae. If the time comes, you'll take me home. No Harris woman has died anywhere else for ten generations."

Rae held her grandmother's hand. She looked so frail and delicate in the green hospital gown. "I promise. But it won't come to that."

"I won't sell the house. That has to be passed down," Lessie defended stoutly.

"I would rather have you." Rae tried not to let her voice quiver. Her grandmother was all she had left in the world.

Lessie patted her hand. "I know you would, child. But we all die sometime. There's no point in fighting the inevitable. I won't sell the land for that."

Rae smoothed her grandmother's gray curls. "I love you. I won't let you die."

"Sometimes, you don't have any choice. You have to say goodbye and let go. You'll have to do that with me, honey. If not now then some other day."

"Let's see what Dr. Salter has to say." Rae prayed he would be able to find a surgeon who would take on her grandmother's case.

"We'll do that. If anyone can wheedle something from someone, it's gotta be Sam Salter. The man's a born manipulator."

Rae prayed that he was everything her grandmother proclaimed. They needed that and more. She'd already had her business appraised. It wasn't enough to start on the surgery. She couldn't sell the house without her grandmother's cooperation. She wouldn't do it around her, even if she could. Her grandmother would never forgive her. All those generations of Harris women would be breathing down her neck. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her grandmother's hand.

Lessie slept for a while. She woke up in pain. Rae called for the nurse. They gave her grandmother something to ease the pain. Lessie remarked that she could do better with her herbs and then drifted off again. Rae stayed with her and held her hand, sleeping part of the time and praying for a miracle.

Dr. Salter came in a few hours later and shook Rae's shoulder. He gestured for her to come out of the room. Lessie didn't move when she put her hand gently down on the bed. Rae followed him into the hallway and closed the door behind them. She knew from his lined, anxious face that it wasn't good news.

"I couldn't find anyone. It's getting harder to find a surgeon who's willing to work when the patient doesn't have insurance."

"There must be someone. Surely they wouldn't let her die because she doesn't have insurance."

"That's part of the problem. I've shown her chart to a few surgeons who want to wait and see if she really needs the surgery."

Rae sank down on the waiting room sofa and shook her head. "So that's it? We wait to see how close she can come to death without dying?"

He sat down heavily beside her. "I have a call in to a friend of mine in Charleston. He might come through yet. He's always been good at working with charity cases."

It galled Rae to think of her grandmother that way but she knew it was true. She gave up all of her benefits when she quit her job. There was no pension, no insurance. The shop in town had seemed like a good thing to do with the money from her 401k plan. Now, it felt like the height of stupidity.

"All we can do is wait." He gave her a hearty hug. "I'm going to deliver Melanie Taylor's baby. Here's my cell phone number if anything changes."

"Thanks. I know you'll do what you can."

"It would help if Lessie wasn't so stubborn. But then she'd be somebody else, wouldn't she?"

Rae smiled and watched him walk away. The hospital was quiet around her except for the droning of the announcer's voice on the television. She focused in on that. The man from her shop that evening was on the news.

"Software tycoon, Steve Williams, shown here leaving his office in Atlanta, has decided to sell off part of Solutions, the company started by him and his brother ten years ago. The buyer hasn't been named but the partial sale is said to be over two billion dollars. Mr. Williams stressed that jobs will not be affected by the sale."

Chapter Two

Rae picked up the pay phone in the quiet hospital lobby and called the number she found for Solutions software. It was busy every time she tried for the next two hours but she was finally able to leave a message. Frustrated, she rubbed her hands across her bloodshot eyes.

There was no way of knowing if that message would get through to Steve Williams. But she could have her grandmother in surgery the next morning if she could get in touch with him and accept his offer. At that point, she didn't care who he wanted her to find. She was willing to do anything.

There was no change in her grandmother's condition and no call from Dr. Salter. It was five a.m.. She needed some caffeine if she was going to stay awake. The hospital cafeteria was open all night. She headed there through the quiet halls.

The cafeteria was empty. The smell of antiseptic was strong, mingling with the aroma of old coffee. A yawning waitress came around the corner. "What can I get you?"

"Hot water." It had been lunchtime yesterday since she'd eaten. She reconsidered. "And a bagel with cream cheese. Thanks."

"No problem." The waitress yawned again. "It'll be just a few. I have to wake up the cook."

Rae smiled. "Sure."

The familiar noises of the griddle sizzling and fresh coffee perking were strangely comforting. The hushed voices of the waitress and the cook made her feel less alone. She slumped into a ladder back wooden chair at a table near the windows. She was almost too exhausted to think.

The street outside was still dark. There were only a few cars passing by. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky above the shoreline. Past that dark water was Charleston. A surgeon might be deciding if he would operate on Lessie that day. Somewhere, Steve Williams was in a torment that all of his money couldn't change. You might be her last hope. There was desperation in his voice when he was at her shop. He specifically asked about the kidnapping cases. She'd waited with parents through that long night, waiting to hear from a kidnaper. Hoping for some clue that would give him away and bring a loved one home safely. There was no fear, no agony, like it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rae's fingers tightened into fists at her sides. Think about it hard enough and it comes, sure enough. That was her grandmother's theory. She forced herself to relax. She needed him. He needed her. She was going to save her grandmother. "No."

"You aren't surprised to see me." He put a small green backpack down on the table.

She looked away from it. He means to test you. She studied the wear marks on the Formica tabletop. Tension made her neck feel unnaturally stiff.

She didn't want to help him. She never wanted to be involved in finding another missing child again. If it meant her life, she would've been as stubborn as her grandmother with that old house. But it wasn't about her. Lessie's life was worth more than her sanity or peace of mind. "Not really. I wasn't sure if you'd get my message."

He sat opposite her at the table. "I didn't. I hired someone and he followed you here. I wanted to talk to you again. I thought there might be a chance I could persuade you to help me."

The waitress brought him coffee and dropped off Rae's hot water. She left again with a weary yawn and a shake of her head.

"You must be a good salesman." Rae took out her green tea, making a little ritual out of scooping it into the cup. Anything to put off that moment she was dreading. "You don't give up."

"I don't actually sell software. I used to write it. What made you change your mind?"

"I don't really know a lot about software." She purposely looked down at her chipped cup, refusing to look across the table at him.

"It's simple. Software makes the computer run." He stirred sugar into his coffee. "You still don't want to help me, do you?"

He's perceptive. "No."

"Then why...?"

She was blunt. "For the reward."

"At least you're honest about it." He paused and studied her. "What makes you run, Ms. Harris?"

"Isn't that 'tick'? What makes you tick? Or is that computer slang?" Please God, don't let him see how scared I am.

He took a few papers from his jacket pocket and set them out on the table between them. "You ran pretty far to get away from your FBI days. I spent last night doing more research on you. Computers are wonderful research tools."

"I don't want to help you." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"But you said you left me a message. You decided you want the reward."

Rae shot to her feet. "I changed my mind. I-I can't do this."

"Wait!"

His hand snaked out and captured her. Long fingers circled her wrist.

There was an explosion of light behind her eyes. She groaned at the contact then shook off his hold on her. Control. You have to get control.

"My contact said you brought an elderly woman to the hospital. Your mother? Grandmother?"

"My grandmother." She wanted to deny him that tidbit of knowledge. She wanted to run away and hide. But she sat back down and forced herself to focus. Lessie needed her. "She's ill. I need the money."

"I appreciate your position. Let me be equally as honest with you. My niece has been missing for two days. I need your help finding her. What you do with the money is your business."

Rae swallowed a sip of the bitter green tea. She was exhausted. She didn't feel like negotiating anything but she had no choice. "Let's get right to it. How much money are we talking about? I need some of it right away."

Her bagel arrived. The waitress put down a full meal in front of her companion. Rae stared at the eggs, toast, and pancakes crowded on the plate. She wasn't surprised.

Steve had changed clothes. His soft blue sweater and tan jacket were more appealing than the stark black suit coat and white shirt he was wearing in the shop. Without the hat, without her initial feeling of panic, he seemed more human. Very approachable. He was right the night before. It helped to be in a public place.

He broke a piece of toast between his fingers. "I'm willing to negotiate. What do you have in mind?"

"You give me a hundred thousand dollars up front. The same again when I bring your niece home."

"Don't you want to know any of the details first? You don't know anything about the case."

They're all the same. It doesn't matter. "I can find her."

"You obviously have a gift--"

"You know my record. You know I can find her. Or you wouldn't have come all this way and gone through the trouble of finding me."

He considered it for a long moment. "You're right. I'm impressed with your record and I'm desperate. But I'm not a fool."

"You can always sue me for the money if I don't find her."

Steve sipped his coffee and signaled the waitress for more. "You don't have assets worth half that or we wouldn't be talking, would we? You're as desperate as I am."

Icy fingers touched her spine. "What did you have in mind?"

"A test. Tell me something, anything, about my niece." He picked up the backpack and pulled out two small pink jackets with tigers on them.

Rae's brain shut down. It wasn't possible. But the proof was there before her eyes. Both jackets were identical to the one that belonged to Denise Little, her first kidnapping case. Seeing them plummeted her into the past.

* * *

Nine years ago, a little girl was taken from her front yard while she was waiting for the school bus. Her name was Denise Little. She was five years old.

Rae was in her second year of college. On campus, there was talk of a large ransom demand that the parents paid with no result. Students gave out flyers with Denise's face and name, hoping that someone had seen her. Her grin was on the front of every newspaper. The police crawled through the city looking for the man who was seen with her that morning. Their only description was a large man in a uniform. In a city filled with military, it wasn't much of a description.

Rae knew she could find her. It was a gift from God. At least that's what her mother and her grandmother always called it. The gift of sight. Being able to find lost people and lost things.

The gift, the sight, came in with puberty. A year and a half of psychology in college honed those basic skills. Rae suddenly knew what she was looking for when she evaluated people. She added a few courses in criminal behavior and criminal psychology. It wasn't her goal but it was interesting. And it was just enough information to make her cocky.

It wasn't every missing person case that she felt she could help. In fact, it was only one out of ten times that she was able to touch a jacket and find the man who'd been wearing it.

She was so sure that she could help Denise and her parents. Part of her argued that she was crazy to try. Another part of her knew she had to offer. Cerise brought her up with the belief that the gift should be shared. She was meant to help where she could. That was why God gave her that special opportunity.

She took her courage in hand and went to the police. Of course, she was met with skepticism. They questioned her as a suspect. But there was nothing to tie her to the kidnapping. Finally Denise's parents, frantic with worry and fear, begged for her help. They gave her a little pink jacket with tigers on it that belonged to Denise. Rae clutched it to her and went out to look for the girl.

* * *

In the hospital cafeteria, Rae stared at the two jackets. She recoiled from them in amazement and terror. He couldn't know. It was only a fluke that they were the same. "You had this in mind all the time, didn't you?"

"What would you do in my place? I'd give anything to have my niece back. So far, no one has been able to help. I need to know if you can find her. I don't have any more time to waste."

Abruptly, she excused herself and went to the restroom. She splashed cold water on her face with shaky hands. When she looked up, Denise's white face was where hers should be in the mirror. She gagged at the image. The agony in her eyes was only a reflection of what she felt in her soul. She couldn't bear to touch those jackets. All of the nightmares she had down through the years flooded in on her.

"You have to do this," she told herself. "When has Lessie ever asked you to do anything for her? She needs you. You can't fall apart now!"

Rae finally emerged from the bathroom. She was cold and shaken but determined to lay the ghosts of her past to rest. She had to face her fears to help her grandmother.

She was surprised to see Steve still waiting for her at the table. Or maybe part of me was hoping he'd be gone? She didn't stop to examine that thought too closely.

"I wondered if you were coming back."

She smiled wryly at her cowardice. "So was I."

"What happened to you on that last case, Rae? Did you lose your ability...or your nerve?" He put a warm hand on her cold, trembling arm. "Is that why you couldn't find that child in time? Is that why you're hiding on this island?"

A flash of vision blurred her senses. The images in her mind were hazy. But there was no doubting what she saw. A man and a woman. Arms and legs entwined. A dark bedroom. A cool breeze blowing down from the mountains. She and Steve naked in his bed. Raw, animal emotions flaring through her.

She jerked her arm away from him. It's not possible. My visions don't work that way.

To cover up while her brain worked overtime, Rae tore into her bagel and used her knife to swirl the cream cheese around on it. "I didn't lose the ability. I chose not to use it anymore."

"Is it like that? Something you can turn on and off?"

"Didn't your computer answer these questions for you?"

"My computer told me that you left college right after the first time you tried to help find a lost child. There was lots of bad publicity and stupid questions. You didn't go back. You worked successfully for the FBI for seven years. Ten commendations. You lost a few partners and messed up a few cases. Your last case, you attacked the father of the child you found dead. The FBI retired you with no severance and no chance of reinstatement. In return, there were no charges filed against you."

"But I still found more children and caught more of the bad guys than any other agent. And that's why you're here."

"That's why I'm here. You're right. But I need to know that you still have that ability that made it all work for you. I don't understand it. But I know it was more than just good police work. The kidnappers have me on a timetable. I only have four days left to find my niece." He put the two jackets down on the table in front of her. "Can you tell me something about her?"

Rae sipped her tea. She shredded what was left of her bagel and stared at the abused tabletop. Anywhere except at the two jackets.

Both were identical. She knew that from her first glance. Was it possible that he knew about Denise's jacket? Or was it only a coincidence? He knew about the case from his research. Was he hoping to throw her off with it? She had to know the truth. "I have a question I need to ask you first."

"What?"

"What made you decide to find me?"

"It sounds strange. I was listening to NPR while I waited to hear some word about my niece. They were talking about various kidnapping cases that had been solved by the FBI. Your name came up. I knew that I had to find you. I knew you were the one who could help me."

Rae believed him. The same thing had happened to her before. A name or a picture brought an answer. Anything else might have been a lie.

It would only take touching the jackets to know for sure. If one of them belonged to his niece, Rae would know. At least she hoped she'd know.

It had been two years, three months, and four days since her last drink. Her last clear vision had been before that. Her grandmother blamed the loss of sight on her drinking. Rae avoided thinking about it. She was careful not to touch people she didn't know. Certainly, no one challenged her on it. But what if she had lost the gift?

"You haven't used it in the two years since you got back here, have you?" His voice was as quiet as the breaking dawn around them.

"I didn't expect to ever use it again."

"We're all surprised by what we'll do for a loved one."

With a terrified reluctance, Rae picked up both jackets. She took one in each hand and closed her eyes on Steve Williams' shrewd face. He sees too much about you. She took a deep breath, tried to clear her mind. He was only guessing. No one in the FBI knew she had the sight. The only one she ever shared that knowledge with, outside her family, was John.

John Matthews had been her recruiter and later, her partner. He cautioned her about telling anyone else the truth. He recognized her gift right away. He was deftly persuasive. Rae didn't want to go home in defeat after the Little kidnapping. She agreed to join the agency and left school. She went through the basic FBI training courses. John Matthews became her mentor...and in time, her lover.

Profiling was an accepted fact in criminal psychology. But the FBI frowned on any relationship it bore to psychic research. Mumbo-jumbo, the Bureau cordially referred to it. It gave John and Rae an added benefit in looking for the kidnapers and their victims. John was psychic, too. Not as strongly as Rae. But between them, they were a formidable force.

In an instant, Rae got an impression from both jackets. She was relieved, then immediately uncertain. At one time, she wouldn't have hesitated to give her opinion. So many things had changed her. So much had happened. And her grandmother's life depended on her being right. For the first time, she was scared of her gift being wrong.

She opened her eyes to find Steve regarding her intently from across the tiny table. He looked exhausted. His eyes were deep and darkly shaded. His mouth was tight. Instinct told her that he was a man who was at the end of his resources. Trained observation answered that he was desperate and would do anything to find his niece. A dangerous combination.

The vision she had of the two of them together sizzled through her brain. She recalled the strange feeling that passed between them at the shop. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She was nervous. She'd been up all night. Focus.

Rae held the jacket in her right hand out to him. "This is her jacket. Her name is Bryce. She's five years old. She wasn't wearing this jacket when she was taken." She put the other jacket down on the table and sat back, breathing hard. She didn't look away from him or allow him to see that she was unsure of herself.

He stared at her without speaking for an instant out of time. "I'll write you a check."

She reached into her pocket and took out her checkbook. "Have the money sent electronically to my account."

"It'll be there later this morning." He took the check from her and put it into his pocket. "How soon can you be ready to go?"

"As soon as the money is in the bank."

"You don't trust me? It seems like you'd be the kind of person who took everyone on trust. After all, you know everything about them, don't you?"

She tossed some money out on the table. "I'm the kind of person who's seen too much to ever trust anyone or anything again. It might be a good thing to take that into account during our working arrangement."

"You don't look that hard."

"How long to Atlanta?"

"How did you--?"

"I saw you on television. Not everything I say or do is paranormal."

"Sorry. It takes about an hour to get there from here. If we leave by nine-thirty--"

"I'll be ready."

"Until later then." He reached out his hand.

Rae looked at it like it was a snake. She didn't want to touch him again. She fumbled with her checkbook.

Steve saw her dilemma and solved it. His fingers slid around her hand before she could move away from him.

Rae was submerged in feeling. It started in her hand and flew like wild fire to her brain. She called his name and he kissed her. His lips followed the line of her throat. There was a faint scent of wood smoke. His hands cupped her breasts and his mouth...

Reeling from the vision, she left him in the cafeteria without a word. She went back to the lobby outside her grandmother's room. She closed her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the chair. There was too much energy. She hadn't seriously tried to use the sight in a long time. Her brain was short-circuiting.

She didn't expect him to test her. There were always skeptics. Of course, she couldn't find lost people or things. That was ridiculous. She had to be crazy. She belonged in an asylum. But she knew he wasn't one of them. He spent too much of his limited time searching for her. His answer to her question was too near her own heart.

Steve Williams was a man used to dealing with facts and figures. It was only out of sheer desperation that he came for her. Whoever else he was working with hit a dead end. He was out of ideas.

If she believed in omens, she would've walked away from the sight of that little pink jacket. She was terrified to think about what it meant. It was a coincidence. A horrible coincidence. It didn't mean she couldn't find Bryce. She connected with the little girl quickly. This could be a kidnapping that she could solve easily. Or it could be the one that destroys you.

Rae finally fell asleep in the chair and woke up with a stiff neck around eight that morning. She called her bank. The hundred thousand dollars was there, as promised. As much as she loved her grandmother, a part of her wished it wasn't so. She was suffocating, drained and empty. She dialed Dr. Salter's number and told him to find a surgeon for them. Then she went to the restroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was relieved to see her own tired, dispirited brown eyes. She was accustomed to the fact that she looked just like the other Harris women. Oval face. Too much curly brown hair. A body that tried to gain weight from magazine pictures of food.

She had her father's nose and possibly his chin. The thin blade of her nose contrasted with her mother's petite, upturned one. It seemed to be the only remnant of her forgotten father. Maybe her stubborn streak and her fierce need for independence came from him as well. Her mother never understood that part of her. It wasn't good enough for her to do things the way they'd always been done. She had to strike out on her own.

But she didn't want to strike out this time. She didn't want to leave everything behind again and start over. She didn't want Lessie to die, like her mother.

Cerise died only three weeks before the incident with her last FBI case. Lessie called her late one night. Rae was in Tennessee. It might as well have been the moon. Cerise suffered a massive heart attack. She was dead before she hit the floor.

Rae was in the middle of a case. She didn't fly home for the funeral. Her mother's loss added to the grief and the floating sea of dead faces that haunted Rae. She stopped sleeping at night. She started drinking more heavily after her mother's death. She was drunk when she found that last baby. She almost killed the man responsible.

With an effort, she pushed everything else out of her head and focused on her grandmother. The past was past. She couldn't bring back her mother. Or any of the dead children she'd been too late to save. But she'd made peace with all of them.

There was no going back on her deal with Steve. She might have sold her soul to the devil but Lessie was going to live.

It was amazing how quickly things moved when there was money to grease the way. Dr. Salter found a surgeon. His friend from Charleston stepped in and took over all of Lessie's treatment. He was going to perform the surgery later that morning. She'd be in the hospital for about two weeks; then she could go home or be transferred to a nursing home for recovery.

Rae explained to Dr. Salter that she might not be there to oversee her grandmother's recovery. She trusted him to find a nurse that could stay with her. She already knew what her answer would be to a nursing home. Then she explained that she was going home to pack a few things and ask Jean to watch the house and feed the cats.

He looked at her closely as he took her hand. "It's the money, isn't it? What are you going to have to do for it, honey?"

Rae grew up with Sam Salter as a frequent visitor to their home. He and her grandmother debated long and noisily into the night about the preferred treatment for various medical problems. She squeezed his hand to reassure him. "Nothing I haven't done before."

"Lessie won't thank me for letting you go back to that life again to save her."

"I know. Maybe you could dance around the truth a little."

He laughed briefly to keep from crying at the thought of losing his old sparring partner. "I'll try. But you know Lessie. Don't be gone so long this time. You know she'll take it out of my old hide."

"I won't. Take care of her."

"You know I will. If nothing else, just so we can keep arguing!"

"I'll be back to see her before I leave."

The house was strangely quiet and empty without Lessie there. As always, Rae could feel the disapproving eyes of all those Harris women who lived there before her. From the time she was old enough to understand, she felt them there. Sometimes, it was comforting. Sometimes, it was unnerving.

Today, it was comforting. She didn't want to leave. She hadn't been afraid for a long time. She was scared now. She wished she understood what it all meant. But it was too much to take in all at once. She was going to have to be patient. Another of my weak spots.

She fed the cats, about a dozen of them that her grandmother cared for and spoiled.

After throwing a few things into a lightweight duffle bag, she brushed her dark hair. She pulled on a warm sweater, jeans, and boots. Then she stepped out of the door into the frosty morning air. Hunching down into her wool coat, she walked quickly across the street.

Jean and her mother both wanted to talk about Lessie. They had lived across Spring Street from one another since before Cerise met Rae's father.

"How is she?" Jean's mother wore a worried expression on her tired, dark face.

"She's going to be fine. She's going to have surgery to remove the blockage. Then she'll need a lot of rest to recover. But she'll be fine."

Jean's mother cried. She thanked Rae for the information and promised to look after the house and her grandmother. She hugged her and made her promise to call.

"Where are you going?" Jean followed Rae to the porch as she left.

The morning was bustling around them. From inside the tiny house, Rae heard Jean's little girl, Sarah, call for her grandmother.

"Atlanta. I don't know how long. I put a sign up at the shop. I'm going to leave it closed while I'm gone."

"I'm sorry, Rae." Jean was one of the few people who knew everything about Rae's past. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'll be fine."

"You know what I mean." Jean cast a knowing look at her friend.

"If you mean am I going to pick up a bottle again, no, I'm not. Lessie is going to be fine and I'll be back. Sober."

"I know you. You're messed up inside about this. You never wanted to do this work again."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to start drinking again, Jeannie. I can handle this. I owe Lessie that much."

"All right. I know you've made up your mind. But call me if you need to talk to someone. Promise?"

"I promise." Rae smiled at her. "I have to go. I want to see Lessie again before I leave."

Jean hugged her tightly. "Good luck, honey."

Rae didn't look back at the homey porch or her friend. She turned her footsteps resolutely back towards the bus that would take her to the hospital.

Dr. Salter met her at the door to her grandmother's room. "Are you going to tell her?"

"That I'm leaving to do another job?" She was uncomfortable talking about it. "I don't have much choice, do I? She'll wonder where I am when she gets out."

"Maybe you'll be back by then."

"I know she might be upset by it--"

"She will be upset by it, Rae! You know she will. She knows what you went through last time. I don't think you should tell her."

She considered his advice as she looked at his wrinkled white jacket and his thinning white hair. His straw hat was in his hand. "All right. I won't tell her now. I'll try to be back before she gets out of the hospital. I'll call you when I know how you can reach me. If I'm not back by the time she realizes I'm gone, I'll explain then."

He looked relieved. "Thank you."

"Does Lessie know how you feel about her?"

He rocked back on his heels. "No. And I'll thank you to keep my secrets to yourself!"

Rae grinned. "I will. Your secret's safe with me."

Lessie opened her eyes as Rae walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Brown eyes met brown eyes across the pale green wash of the room. Bleeping sounds that monitored Lessie's heart rate echoed between them.

Lessie looked at her granddaughter, then she turned her face away. "You're leaving, aren't you? That's where the money came from for the surgery."

Chapter Three

Rae could have told Dr. Salter that none of her secrets were safe from Lessie. It didn't matter if she carried a jacket or bag. Lessie's keen eyes saw into her soul.

"Yes." She didn't lie to her.

Lessie sighed. "I knew when Sam told me about the surgery that you took another job."

"It'll be okay." Rae sat in a chair beside the bed and took her grandmother's hand. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Lessie turned her head to glare at her. "You don't know what that word means! You get too wrapped up in the emotions around you and you lose track of yourself! That was your problem the last time!"

Rae's lips tightened. "I've already taken the money. There wasn't any other way. I'm not going to sit here on my hands and watch you die."

"If you start drinking again, it will kill me faster than this thing inside of me can grow. You might as well help me up and we can save a pile of time and money!" Lessie began to push herself up on the bed.

Rae put her arms around her grandmother's shoulders. The frail body shook in her clasp. "I won't drink again, Lessie. I swear I won't."

"I suppose Sam is laughing at me after all our discussions about his medicine and mine?"

"I don't think so." Rae kissed her grandmother's gray curls and smoothed a hand across her soft cheek.

"Still in love with me, huh? The old fool!"

Rae laughed. "Why's that? You're still a good-looking woman in the prime of your life."

"He's a fool because he hasn't ever worked up to saying anything about it, that's why! After your grandfather went away, I knew how Sam felt but he wouldn't tell me. I think he's afraid it won't work out."

"You could tell him how you feel." Rae helped her settle back against the pillows. "I know you care about him too."

"A Harris woman doesn't inform a man that she cares for him until there's a ring."

"Then you're just as stubborn as he is."

"I might be." Lessie looked at her granddaughter. She looked so like her mother that it was painful. "I'll be fine. You do what you have to do. But you come back here sober, you hear? Unless you want me to lock you in the drying shed again!"

"I love you." Rae hugged her grandmother. "I won't let it happen again. You just get better and don't worry so much. Okay?"

"You can't change a leopard's spots, honey."

"I have to go."

"There's one more thing you should know."

"What's that?"

"I didn't want to tell you when you first came back. I wanted you to get on with your life. You were carrying enough guilt for five people. I didn't want you to suffer anymore."

"What is it?" Rae sat down, afraid of what she had to say.

"Cerise didn't die like I said, honey. She lived for a while. Only a little while. She wanted me to tell you that she loved you. She begged me to get you there for her to see you before she died. But there wasn't time."

"How long?"

"She was alive for about twenty minutes. She was alive when I called to tell you."

"Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me?"

"When I got you on the phone, she was still alive. Remember? I started talking to you then I stopped. Then I told you that Cerise was dead."

"I remember." Rae was stunned. "Why didn't you let me talk to her?"

"Your mother was stubborn and proud, just like all the Harris women. She swore she wouldn't speak to you again until you came home. When I got you on the phone, she wouldn't speak to you. Even though it was her last breath."

"She was that angry at me?"

"That angry and more. I wouldn't tell you now, child, but I can't go with it to my grave. I didn't want to burden you. But you still have time to sort through it and I might not."

"I wouldn't expect you to hold on to it. I'm glad you told me. I-I have to go. I'll call when I get settled. I love you."

"I love you, Rae! Remember that you have the strength of the Harris women!"

"I will. Get better." She focused on her grandmother's proud face for one last moment then straightened her shoulders and left her. She walked out of the room in a daze, straight into Steve Williams.

He put his hands out to catch her arms and steady her. "Are you all right?"

An explosion of emotion, sound, and texture rocked her. Fear. Passion. His hard body sliding against hers. The taste of his lips on her mouth. Feeling him inside of her. His head resting against her breast.

"Don't touch me!" She pushed away from him, breathing hard. "I'm fine. Were you afraid I wouldn't show so you came and got me?"

"I wanted to offer you and your luggage a lift to the airport. I know that you ride the bus."

Rae picked up her jacket and her single bag. "Me and my luggage are ready to go when you are."

He glanced back at the hospital room. "Is your grandmother all right?"

"Leave her out of this." She stalked past him. "Let's go find Bryce."

On the silent elevator ride, Rae was careful to stay on her side. She didn't know what was going on in her head when he touched her. She didn't want to know. She couldn't deal with it right now.

The morning was sunny when they emerged on the street. The temperature dropped again and the air felt like rain. Rae put her hands in her pockets. "What now?"

"Now, we get into the limo before we freeze to death here on the street. Then we fly to Atlanta in my plane. I never intended for you to have to have any expenses on this, Rae."

"That makes two of us." She raised her chin. "It keeps the whole thing level."

"I know I'm here at a bad time in your life. But we're not enemies." Steve opened the limo door for her, waving the driver back into the car. "You're going to have to trust me a little to get through this."

"I don't have to trust anyone." She tossed her bag into the limo and climbed in after it.

Rae was dazed and sick. Her grandmother's parting words raced through her head. Cerise was too angry to speak with her even when the words were her last. Lessie was right to keep it from her when she first returned to the island. She wouldn't have been able to handle it. Even now, the information rattled the serenity that she cultivated so carefully since she emerged from the drying shed with Lessie's arm around her shoulders.

She was shaky after everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. But she was holding her own. Rae loved her mother but they rarely saw things in the same light. If she could do it over, would she choose to stay on the island and never know the terrible pain and sadness she'd faced?

Steve got in behind her and closed the door. The big car nudged its way back out into the street. "What is it, Rae? Is it your grandmother?"

"No." She pushed everything else out of her mind. "Let's talk about your problem. That's the one you're paying me for."

"All right." He paused and gathered his thoughts. "You felt something from the jacket, didn't you? Something more than what you told me. You know that it belonged to Bryce. But there's something else."

Rae studied the shadowed aspects of his face as he spoke. There was a dim light inside the back of the limo. A dark glass discreetly separated them from the driver. The seat that she settled into was black. The tinted windows shaded the light from the outside. It was like they stepped into a world of darkness.

"Something." She didn't want to go into detail. She wasn't ready. She was still too scared of being wrong. The darkness suited her depressed mood. Even without her grandmother's confession, it wasn't easy to go back into this job. She could feel the tentacles of awareness drawing her back into the murky sea. No one was any more concerned than she was about surviving it.

Steve wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Could you elaborate? We're talking about my niece's life and there isn't much time."

"I don't know. Do you have a picture of her?"

"Yes." He produced a glossy studio print from his jacket pocket.

Rae looked at the little girl's face. She had a head full of curly brown hair and big blue eyes. The picture was posed, presenting only a superficial aspect of the girl. It was better than nothing.

"How does it work?"

"I don't think I can describe it. If you want my help, you'll have to let me do it my way."

"In other words, you want me to trust you with Bryce's life. Even though you don't trust anyone."

"It's the only way."

"You don't ask for much!" His tone was sarcastic. "Maybe that's why you scare me."

Steve's statement was too close to her feelings. "Why?"

"You forgot how to be a team player, Rae. The first few years, you and your partner did everything right. You let him in. Then suddenly, everything was wrong. You became a loose cannon that the FBI couldn't afford to have on its payroll anymore. You scared them too."

"Maybe." She wouldn't confirm or deny anything he said. She knew that, after John, there wasn't anyone who understood and could work with her sure knowledge. On the record, it probably looked exactly how he described it.

"I realize that I'm not an FBI agent but I think you need someone to help you. It might as well be me."

She laughed unpleasantly. "You?"

"Who better? I've read through your cases. I have an idea of how you work. And I have a lot at stake."

That wasn't going to happen. The idea of sharing everything with someone again made her shudder. She wouldn't do that again. Not after John. "I work alone, thanks."

"What about that first girl? The one before the FBI? Denise Little, wasn't it? You worked alone on that case. Did you know that she was dead before you found her?"

She winced. She held the memory of losing Denise to her like a dying lover. She didn't try to resolve or understand what happened during that awful time. She couldn't bear to think about it. The pink jackets ripped open that wound in her heart. He found her sore spot with surgical precision. "Denise was different."

Steve pressed for more information. "Different how?"

"I don't think it matters." She pushed back the whispers of that time that echoed through her brain. "I think it would be more to the point to tell me what happened to Bryce."

Rae didn't want to discuss her failure with Denise Little. In the first four months of her FBI career, she and John found three missing children. They found the children alive; then they tracked down their abductors and helped put them in prison. Rae's life changed. She was in love for the first time. She and John were always together. She was doing what she wanted to do.

Happy with her life, she raced along from assignment to assignment. They were confident, despite some failures. Every loss was made better by lying in John's arms that night. Every win was celebrated with him. He was quick with a smile and light on his feet. He never took the whole thing seriously. That helped Rae through the times they weren't lucky enough to find a child alive or a kidnapper got away.

John carried a small charm that was given to him by his Irish grandmother. He told Rae that it protected him and brought him luck. But on a rainy afternoon in Des Moines, it deserted him. They cornered a thirty-one-year-old felon who kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and murdered three young boys. They had him pinned down in a small cabin. They were advancing towards the door when he suddenly opened fire. One of the bullets killed John, smashing through his right eye. He died there on the ground in the rain.

Rae finished the job. She shot and killed the suspect when he ran out at her. He was still firing his weapon. But when she was alone in bed that night, she knew it was never going to be the same. A part of her died that day in that brown field.

She was partnered with another recruit after that. She had the experience to show someone else the ropes after five years with the Bureau. The first recruit led to the second recruit. Both accused her of being too reckless, taking too many chances, not letting them in on what was going on. In short, they were afraid to go out in the field with her. Her superiors talked with her briefly, then sent her out with another new recruit.

Rae's cases started going bad. She wasn't sure afterwards if it was John's loss that clouded her judgment or if she was just burnt out. One case after another, she found a dead child. Sometimes, they managed to pick up the person responsible. Sometimes, they didn't. The children's faces began to blur. Rae started drinking more heavily to forget those faces. Then she lost her mother.

Now, four years later, as she sat in the limo with Steve, she fingered John's little charm at her throat. She took it from him before the medical examiner arrived that cold, wet day. She couldn't say that it brought her luck but it was all she had left of him. All she had left of their partnership that brought her so much joy.

Steve wasn't intimidated by her words. Or her silence. "Tell me first. Do you think Bryce is still alive?"

"I have to know more details to make that kind of assessment."

"What does your psychic part tell you?"

She didn't bother denying her gift. He obviously figured it out. "It tells me that I don't know everything. You'll have to fill me in on what's happened to her."

"I want to know more than that, Rae. I want to know what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that I need more information. My sight, as my grandmother calls it, is only part of finding Bryce. It adds to the facts."

"And the result?"

"You've read the cases. Denise Little isn't the only dead body I've ever seen. I won't lie to you. My being psychic doesn't make the danger to Bryce any less."

Steve persisted. "But when you were partnered with John Matthews, you found fewer dead children."

Rae's gaze should have singed his hair. "I don't need a partner."

They were approaching the airport. The limousine went through a special gate on the side of the terminal. An airport security person checked their ID. Then they were waved through the checkpoint. The tarmac was occupied by only one plane. Men and women hurried in and out of it, doing last minute checks for the flight.

"Over that way," Steve directed the driver towards the gray-blue jet with the Solutions logo on the side. Then to her, "I think we should finish this on the plane."

Rae considered it finished. She didn't need a partner. And if she did, it wouldn't be him.

It was strange. A month before, she wouldn't have known the Solutions logo or the company name. She remembered seeing both yesterday morning in a newspaper article about the company. They decided not to diversify, despite months of preparation. Now she recognized the man behind the logo as well.

The sunlight was blinding when he opened the door to the limousine. She lagged behind him, fussing with her sunglasses. Up close, the jet was pretty small. For all of her brave words, she always had a problem flying. That was one good aspect to her drinking. Being drunk most of the time had made it easy to fly.

Steve exchanged a few words with the pilot. She was still hanging back. The driver was waiting to close the limo door but she was standing in front of it. Her eyes were glued on the side of the plane while her fingers clutched her bag in a death grip.

He came back to where she stood. "Don't tell me. You don't like to fly?"

"No." She didn't take her gaze from the plane. "I never got used to it."

A smiling flight attendant held out her hand for Rae's bag. "Welcome aboard."

"Hi." Rae handed her the bag without looking at her.

"We're just about ready to leave."

"Right."

"This is the safest plane on the market." Steve walked with her up the stairs. "I have it professionally serviced every time I land. I have an excellent pilot who's never crashed a plane. At least not one that I know of. Would you like to meet him and look at the cockpit?"

She swallowed hard on her fear. Her mouth was dry as tinder. "Sure."

Inside, the plane was much bigger than she imagined. There were chairs and a bar and tables set around the plush gray carpeting. It looked a lot like someone's living room. "This is nice."

"Through here."

They walked through a narrow aperture that opened into two seats and a very sophisticated dashboard. The big window opened on the tarmac below and the activity of the men still working on the plane. They looked like small creatures from another planet. Rae stood up close to the glass. It was unreal.

"This is Captain James Woodward," Steve introduced his pilot. "He's been a pilot for twenty years."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." The man tipped his hat. "We're going to be flying straight to Atlanta today. Should take about an hour for the whole thing. The weather is good and the sky is clear. There shouldn't be any problem. I hope you enjoy the flight."

"Thanks." Rae managed politely. "I'm sure you're a very good pilot."

"Steve only hires the best."

"Thanks, Jim," Steve whispered. "Nothing fancy, huh?"

The pilot rolled his eyes. "And here I was thinkin' about doing a few barrel rolls."

Steve laughed. Rae left the cockpit without another word. He followed her quickly. "Would you like something to drink?"

She resolutely moved herself away from the sight of the well-stocked bar. That was too easy. There was too much solace in that dark brown liquid. She reveled in it while her soul drowned. If she were going to fly, she was going to have to assume it would be all right. Thousands of people did it every day and didn't get hurt. "I'd like some juice, if you have it."

"I have juice. I have some very good white wine and a few bottles of beer. And the hard stuff."

"Just some juice, thanks."

"The hard stuff might make it easier."

"I'll be fine." Her peripheral vision caught the attendant closing the door. Obviously, his computer didn't tell him everything or he would know better than to offer her liquor.

Steve poured her some juice in a thin, crystal flute. He brought it to her without another word. Rae had the feeling that he was watching her. Sizing her up. He wasn't sure if he made the right choice but it was the only choice left to him. He didn't understand her and that bothered him more than anything.

She took a deep breath and accepted the glass of orange juice from him with a shaky hand. "You do this all the time, I suppose?"

"All the time. Sometimes two and three times a day."

She sipped her juice as she listened to the sound of the engine starting up around her. The plane vibrated with it. She took a seat and turned her back to the window. Maybe later she'd like to look out. But not yet.

"You must've flown a lot in the FBI. I'm surprised it still makes you uncomfortable."

"I flew too much." She took another sip of juice like it might be her last. "I never got used to it."

"I have some friends who won't fly unless they're stone drunk." He took the seat opposite her.

Rae was amazed. She barely knew him. How could he manage to hit every chord that bothered her? Could he know more than he was giving away? He zeroed in on her fears. First Denise Little, then her partnership with John and now her drinking. Just how much information could he have gathered about her?

If anyone else besides her family and Jean knew about her being an alcoholic, she would think he was baiting her. But they didn't. It wasn't mentioned on her service record. She'd been adept at hiding it. Her fight was a personal one. Her support group was her grandmother locking her in the drying shed.

She was being paranoid. He was just making conversation. She could do that, too. "It's probably not easy being the head of a major corporation."

"It beats flipping burgers."

"I can see the perks are better than a free order of fries." The plane was making a whining sound that was a little hard on her ears.

"That's the engine." He picked up his drink. "We're getting ready to take off."

She could smell the whiskey but she drank her juice with a steady hand. "Wonderful."

"It'll be over before you know it."

"Great. How fast is that?"

"We have a cruising speed of about five hundred miles an hour."

"Five hundred? I didn't need to know that." The jet lurched forward. Rae grabbed the arm of her chair.

"It'll probably be a while before we're cleared for take off. We're not going five hundred miles an hour yet."

She smiled and nodded, hoping that she wasn't going to throw up.

Steve sat back in his chair. "So, what's it like running your shop?"

"It's good." Everything seemed to be glued down. Nothing was moving. "It's something I'm proud of."

"It looks like you."

She was surprised. "How so?"

"It's a little old fashioned. A little out of time."

"Is that how I seem?" That was the way she'd always seen her mother and grandmother. It grated that he found her that way.

"A little."

She was about to defend herself against the charge of being out of time. The plane started forward again, definitely picking up speed.

"I guess we got the go ahead to take off. Sometimes it comes faster than others."

As the plane traveled faster, Rae gripped her chair harder.

Steve frowned. "Fasten your seatbelt."

Rae fastened the belt that was lying loosely at her sides. She put the juice glass down on the table and held on to the chair with both hands. They were going very fast. She could feel the pressure against her. "I'm not out of time or old fashioned. It's called New Age now."

"You don't own a car. Your shop looks like something from a hundred years ago, even if it is New Age. You still vote in every election."

"That makes me out of time and old fashioned?"

"I'm afraid so. Are you all right?" The nose of the plane lifted off the ground. He put his hand on the arm of her chair.

"I think we're going up." She closed her eyes.

Steve grabbed her hand and held it tightly. "It'll be over with soon."

Heart pounding. Breath coming faster. Shower of colors. Taste of Jack Daniels on her tongue, his tongue. Pleasure spiraling, rushing through her. Hot blackness pulling her down.

Rae bit her lip until she tasted blood to stop the vision. Why was he affecting her this way? She couldn't see the future. It couldn't really be the two of them together. I have to avoid touching him. The plane had leveled off. The pressure that pushed at her was gone. She dared to glance out the window. All she could see was the bright blue sky. "Are we up?"

"For a while."

She looked down. She was clutching his hand. She released it abruptly and put both hands in her pockets. "Sorry."

"That's okay." He looked at the indentations in his hand where her fingers dug into his skin.

She looked