Текст книги "Firestorm "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

13

Well, was it real enough for you?” Kerry rose on her elbow to look down at him, trying to catch her breath. “If it wasn't, then you're out of luck. I don't think it gets any earthier than this.”

“We could try again and see.” His hand covered her breast. “I believe in frequent reality checks.”

She chuckled. “I can see why you'd need them.” She flopped back down on the pillow and stretched lazily. “Give me a little time to get my breath. I didn't expect—I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. You're very . . . strong.”

“I didn't hurt you?”

“Don't be ridiculous. You know how much I liked it.” She reached out and rubbed his chest. She loved the prickly feel of hair against her palm. She loved the feel of him, the rough, smooth textures, the hardness. Jesus, how she loved that hardness. “It was just different.”

“I love the way you feel too. Different?”

She laughed. “How can you ask? I've never made love to anyone who knew what I was thinking every minute. It was incredibly exciting.”

“It could have gone either way.” His hand covered her hand on his chest, stilling it. “And I tried to block you out. I thought it would be fairer to you. It didn't work. The bond was too strong.”

“It didn't matter.” It was difficult to be critical at the moment, since this sexual encounter was probably the most intense she'd ever had. He'd known every thought, every emotion, and had been able to meet and escalate them to the height of sensuality. She could still vaguely sense him, but it was the shadow presence to which she'd become accustomed. “I may feel differently tomorrow, but tonight it was definitely a plus.”

“Too late. You can't back out now.” He pulled her closer to lie against him. “You're the one who seduced me. You even turned my own scenario against me. Now you've got to live with it.”

There was a note in his voice that made her stiffen. “What do you mean?”

“I told you I was a selfish bastard. I'm also chock full of the usual testosterone. I'm not giving this up.”

“That has to be a mutual decision.”

“You made your decision.” He was silent a moment. “I . . . like what we are together. I'm usually pretty much of a loner. I have trouble getting close, even in sex. I guess it's because my work forces me into an intimacy that's sometimes suffocating. But it's not like that with you. I felt—Hell, you know how I felt. So I don't care if your decision was based on pity or curiosity. I'm going to do everything I can to keep this happening.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“Don't sound so wary. I'm not going to try to force you.” He took her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “But I learned a lot about you tonight. You can't blame me for using it to make the pleasure so intense you won't want to give it up.” His breath was warm on her palm, and every word was sending a ripple of heat down her arm. “You like this, don't you? Your palms are very sensitive.”

“I like it.” The heat was spreading throughout her body and her breath was quickening. “And I like having sex with you. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you dominate me. I can still take what I want and then walk away. So you just take your best shot, Silver.”

“Oh, I will.” He chuckled as he moved over her. “I can't thank you enough for the invitation. . . .”

The girl was alive.

Trask gazed at the picture of Carmela Ruiz in the newspaper in angry disgust. How the hell had she escaped Firestorm? He'd been sure that the fire would travel too fast for her to get away before the flames devoured her. He'd been wrong. She'd managed to get to the roof and somehow whipped up her courage to jump.

And Kerry Murphy had made sure that those firemen were there to catch her.

That didn't mean he'd failed and Kerry had won. The warehouse had still burned to the ground and he'd walked away free and powerful as ever.

Screw the warehouse. He wouldn't lie to himself. It had been Carmela who was to be the pièce de résistance of that delicious event, and she'd escaped. And it had been Kerry who'd called the firemen who'd saved her so she could claim the victory.

His hand clenched on the newspaper as fury tore through him. Calm down. It was only the opening gambit. No, it wasn't. He'd failed at that fire in Macon at her brother's house. Two failures chalked up to Kerry Murphy. It was an unbearable humiliation. No, he could bear it because it would only make him stronger and more determined.

But she had to be shown that he was the one with a power that could reach out and scar and twist her life. Carmela? Or go after Kerry herself? He'd have to think about it. He'd have to reconsider a good many things in light of this defeat. His priorities had been clear before Kerry came on the scene, and he'd allowed her to disrupt and disturb those plans. Should he ignore her and go on as if—

No! The rejection came with unexpected violence.

Very well, then certain adjustments might have to be made.

He reached out and punched in Dickens's number.

Dickens.” George walked out of the library as Kerry and Silver were coming down the stairs the next morning. He waved a sheaf of fax papers in his hand. “Donald William Dickens. Age forty-two, and every year after the age of ten devoted to petty and not so petty crime. Theft, rape, suspicion in two murder cases. According to the dossier the FBI managed to pull up, he grew up in Detroit and was associated with the Mafia for a few years, but then broke away and started to freelance. He's not supposed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he has the reputation of being very thorough and reasonably loyal to his employers.”

“The FBI had a record?” Kerry asked. “But how did Trask get hold of him?”

George shrugged. “Dickens spent twelve years in Asia involved in drug and artifact smuggling before he came back to the States. He had a lot of contacts in North Korea.”

“You're thinking he was a gift to Trask from Ki Yong?” Silver nodded slowly. “It's possible. Trask could have made the providing of help a part of his price.”

“Where is he?” Kerry said. “Now that we know who he is, can we find him?”

“We're trying,” George said. “Remember, he's a professional, and it won't be easy.”

“Nothing's easy,” Kerry said. “Do we have a photo?”

“I wouldn't fail you.” He handed her the sheaf of papers in his hand. “The second sheet down. The third is his rap sheet.”

Dickens was a heavyset man with bulldog jowls and unruly red hair sprinkled with gray. She handed the sheet to Silver. “Since he doesn't know that we know who he is, it should help.”

He nodded. “And Trask must have had him doing the legwork before he approached you. I don't think there's a question that he'll have him on your heels when he finds out that Carmela is still alive.” He glanced at George. “Is her rescue in the papers yet?”

“You've got to be kidding,” George said. “Pretty, homeless teenager rescued from a fiery death by our city's finest? It's a story made in media heaven.”

“Then Trask knows about it already.” Kerry had to make an effort to keep from shivering. It was stupid to feel this bolt of fear that had come out of nowhere. It wasn't as if she hadn't expected Trask to learn that he'd falled to kill Carmela. “You're sure Carmela is well guarded?”

“I'm sure.” Silver handed the sheaf of papers back to George. “But Trask may not think it's worthwhile to target her again. She was only a random victim.”

“Random.” The word left an ugly taste in Kerry's mouth. It was a cold word for a cold act. The idea of anyone casually choosing a victim as Trask had chosen Carmela was terrible. She moistened her lips. “Maybe you're right. But I'm not a random victim, and there's not a chance in hell that Trask won't go after me. And he'll probably need Dickens's help.”

“Probably.”

“So maybe we should make sure I'm accessible.”

“No way,” Silver said flatly.

“Wait a minute.” George's eyes narrowed on Kerry's face. “I don't believe she's talking about making herself a martyr. What do you have in mind?”

“Just moving around town a little. Dickens isn't going to show himself as long as I'm barricaded behind these walls. If I make a few trips, it will give him reason to follow me. And that will give Ledbruk's agents a chance to identify or apprehend him. Isn't that right?”

George nodded. “It makes sense.”

She turned to Silver. “And if we manage to identify him without him realizing we're doing it, we may be able follow him back to Trask.”

“And what if Trask decides not to use Dickens? What if he's out there with his little dish all set to burn you to a crisp?”

“Then it's up to you to make sure he doesn't. I can't do everything.” She turned and strode down the hall toward the kitchen. “But I can make myself coffee and some toast, and that's what I'm going to do right now. You argue with George about it, if it makes you feel better. But you know I'm right.”

She heard him mutter a curse behind her, but she ignored it. She had no desire to argue with Silver right now. She was having to exert all her effort to shake off this sense of . . . what? Fear, anxiety, foreboding? Maybe a little of all those emotions.

Or maybe her imagination was just working overtime. She had a right to a case of nerves after what had happened at the warehouse.

She had the coffee brewed and was on her second cup when Silver came into the kitchen. “It took you long enough. I thought George was more persuasive than that.”

“I didn't waste my time. I knew you had your mind made up.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from her. “I just talked to him and Ledbruk and set up your surveillance. If you're determined to do it, I want to make sure the security is iron-tight.” He took a sip of coffee. “But understand this. I go with you every trip. I'm with you every minute.”

“I've no objection.”

“And one trip a day. Never at the same time. Never going to the same place.”

“That makes sense.” She met his gaze across the table. “Now admit I'm right. This way we have a chance at Dickens.”

“Okay, you're right.” He scowled. “Satisfied?”

“My, that hurt.” She smiled. “Jesus, you're a surly bastard. I don't know how I managed to get past that sulkiness to realize you weren't a complete asshole.”

His scowl disappeared. “Shall I tell you?” He leaned across the table and took her hand. “Sex is always the bridge.” His thumb slowly rubbed her palm. “I may be an asshole, but I'm damn good. Now you admit I'm right.”

Dammit, he knew how sensitive her palms and wrists were to touch. He knew everything about her body. He only had to touch her to cause her to be ready. She drew a shaky breath and pulled her hand away. “No big deal. Stop bragging. It's not as if you didn't start with a gigantic advantage over most men.” She looked him in the eye. “And I'm not talking physiology.”

He frowned and then started to laugh. “My God, Kerry. You really know how to deflate a guy. I hope you'll concede the physiology is adequate?”

She smiled. “Quite adequate.”

“Then let's go back upstairs and test it out.”

Her smile faded. He wasn't joking. “You can't be serious. We just got out of bed an hour ago.”

“I didn't get enough. I don't know if I'll ever get enough. I told you, we're pretty extraordinary together.”

She wasn't sure that she would ever get enough either. She had never believed she could be addicted to sex, but now she wasn't sure. And that uncertainty was enough to make her very wary. “That doesn't mean we should spend all our time in the sack.”

“Well, we could get up occasionally.” He sat back, studying her expression. “No?”

She shook her head. “It's not a good idea.”

“But not because you don't want to. You're just afraid that you're liking it too much. That you're liking me too much.”

“You're too demanding. You even warned me that you—” She drew a deep breath. “And you're getting sidetracked. What about Trask?”

“I haven't forgotten him. But since we have only one trip a day . . . that leaves all that other time to play.” He smiled. “And we will play, Kerry. You know it as well as I do. Life's too short to skip the good things.”

Yes, she knew it. If they were together, there would be sex, and in the present circumstances there was no walking away from him. But it was important that he not get all his own way. “Not now.” She got to her feet. “I'm going to the hospital to visit Carmela. Why don't you make yourself useful and see what you can do about arranging to get her sister out of her mother's house?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He rose to his feet. “But I can do that by phone on the way to the hospital. I'm going with you.” He headed for the door. “Remember? I go with you every trip. I'm with you every minute.”

You're not really a social worker, are you?” Carmela glared at Kerry as she walked into the hospital room. “Who the hell are you?”

Kerry gazed at her warily. “Why do you think I lied to you?”

“I asked the nurse and she said she didn't know anything about you. And the hospital has its own social workers.” Her gaze bored into Kerry's. “So are you a reporter?”

“No.”

“Or maybe from the police?” She didn't wait for an answer. “I'm not going back to my mother. You can forget it.”

“I'm not with the police. Actually, I work as an arson investigator for the fire department.”

“I didn't set the fire.”

“I know you didn't.”

“I didn't see who set it.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell don't you get out of here?” Carmela's eyes were glittering with tears. “I don't want to talk to you. You lied to me. The owner of the warehouse isn't going to give me any money, is he? I'm not going to be able to get Rosa away from that bastard.”

“We're working on it. It would help if you'd admit that Harvey raped you.”

“Yeah, sure.” She turned her face to the wall. “And the police would arrest my mother too. I know how it works. I went to the library and looked it up before I left home. It's called child endangerment.”

“I know you don't want to hurt your mother, but you have to admit that Rosa is in danger.”

“I don't have to admit anything to you. I've told Rosa to go on the run if Harvey comes near her. It may not happen. He's going to be careful after I went to Mom about him. Besides, I'll take care of Rosa as soon as I get out of here.”

“Okay, but that may be a few days. I believe we'll have to find a way to get Rosa out of that house right away.” She held up her hand as Carmela looked at her in alarm. “Without involving your mother with the police.”

Carmela stared at her for a moment. “Why would you do that?”

“For heaven's sake, Carmela. Maybe I don't like the idea of a young girl being victimized. Is that so hard to believe?”

“How do I know? I don't know you. And I don't think the fire department goes in for this kind of charity work.”

Lord, she was suspicious, Kerry thought. Well, why not? She hadn't had much opportunity to develop trust, and the one person closest to her had betrayed her. Tell the kid the truth. “No, it doesn't. We help where we can, but you're an unusual case. And it's a personal issue with me.” She paused. “The person who started the fire wanted you to die in that blaze.”

“You're crazy. No one knew I was in that warehouse.”

“Trask knew it. He called me and told me your name. He even described you.”

“Trask? That's his name?”

“James Trask.”

“But why would he want to kill me?”

“It wasn't about you. It was about me. He has a sort of . . . fixation about me. He knew I'd hate the idea of a young girl dying in a fire, and he wanted me to get to know you so that your death would mean more to me.” She added gently, “He succeeded. I began to feel very close to you while we were searching for that warehouse.”

She didn't speak for a moment. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But I still don't see why he'd try to kill me. I didn't do anything to him.”

She could see why Carmela was having difficulty accepting Trask's motivation, when Kerry herself found it totally incomprehensible. “I told you, he wanted to get at me through you. I'm the one he wanted to hurt.”

“Well, he hurt me too. He's got to be one nutty son of a bitch.” She hesitated. “Is he still going to try to—”

“I don't think so. But we have a guard on you just in case.”

“Nutty.” She shook her head in disgust. “Do you run into people like him a lot?”

“No, not like him.” She had told Carmela enough, and she wasn't about to go into details that might frighten her. “But you can see why I'm concerned about you. You may not have known about it, but we have a connection.”

“Yeah, that nut who has it in for both of us.” Carmela's lips tightened. “If you're telling me the truth.”

Lord, the kid was tough. “You have to trust someone sometime, Carmela.”

“Why? It's lots safer not to—”

“Here he is.” A young candy striper was half pulled into the room by Sam. “The kids in pediatrics loved him.” She made a face as she handed the leash to Kerry. “I didn't think you'd be able to convince the head nurse to let a dog in the ward.”

“I had to have her call the hospital in Atlanta and get a recommendation.” She patted Sam's head. “But I knew once Sam started strutting his stuff that no one was going to kick him out.”

“He's adorable.” The candy striper smiled as she headed for the door. “And amazingly well behaved once he saw the kids.”

“That's because he knows his job. Thanks for bringing him up here.”

“My pleasure.” She waved as she left the room.

“It probably wasn't a total pleasure.” Kerry smiled as she turned back to Carmela. “He's not the best-behaved dog on the planet.”

Carmela's gaze was fixed on Sam. “He's . . . beautiful. Why did you bring him here?”

“I thought you might want to meet him. And I knew he'd help the kids.” She unsnapped the leash. “Do you want to pet him? Just call his name.”

“Sam?”

Sam bounded across the room toward the bed and planted his forepaws on the mattress.

Kerry chuckled. “He doesn't take much urging.”

Carmela tentatively reached out and stroked his head. “He feels . . . silky.”

“Did you have a dog?”

She shook her head. “Mom said they were too much trouble.”

Sam rubbed his head on her hand and gave a soft woo-woo.

Carmela smiled. “He likes this.” She looked up at Kerry. “I've heard about arson dogs. Is Sam one?”

She nodded. “He's very famous.”

Carmela frowned in puzzlement. “But you told that nurse he knew his job when he was with the kids. That's not his job.”

“Sure it is. Actually, he's far more suited to help those kids than he is to fight fires.” That was certainly the truth. “Sam has one outstanding gift. He gives love and keeps on giving.”

“That doesn't seem to be much of a gift.”

“It's the greatest gift. Unconditional love? Not many creatures are capable of that kind of affection. He warms the heart and keeps loneliness away. Why, Sam's a blooming miracle.” She smiled ruefully. “He's a rambunctious rascal, but I've never seen him be anything but gentle with any of those kids. He seems to sense when he has to take care.”

“He doesn't seem—” She broke off as Sam licked her hand. “He . . . likes me.”

Kerry could almost see the wall around Carmela melting. Thank you, Sam. “Yes, he does. And as long as he senses you're not in top shape, he won't jump in bed and lick you to death.”

“I wouldn't mind.” She laid her cheek on Sam's head. “He's so soft.”

“Do you want me to bring him back with me?”

She didn't speak for a moment and then straightened. But her hand remained on Sam's head. “Maybe.”

“Will you let me come back? Do you believe what I told you about Trask?”

“It seems weird.”

“It's true.”

Carmela was silent again and then said, “I think I saw him once.”

She went still. “What?”

“That day of the fire. Some guy was following me.”

“What did he look like?”

“A little heavy, reddish hair. Was that him?”

Dickens.

“No, but he probably worked for him.”

“That kook has people working for him? What is he? Some kind of mobster?”

“Not exactly.”

“You're not going to tell me.” She shrugged. “I don't care. It doesn't matter, as long as you keep him away from me and Rosa.” She paused. “Are you really going to go get Rosa?”

“I wouldn't lie to you. My friend, Silver, is downstairs in the parking lot on the phone now trying to arrange a way to get her away from your mother.”

“Where are you going to put her? One of those DFACS houses?”

“No, we'll find a safe place for her. Don't worry.”

“What a stupid thing to say.” Carmela gave her a withering look even as she continued to stroke Sam. “Of course I'm going to worry. She's my sister. I have to take care of her.”

Kerry chuckled. “You're right. It was stupid. Worry all you please, but I won't, because I know she's going to be okay.” Her smile faded. “And so will you, Carmela. Things are going to work out for you. I promise.” She came toward the bed and put the leash on Sam. “Now I'll go and let you rest.”

“I don't do anything else in this place.” Her hand reluctantly left Sam after a final pat. “Did they tell you when they're going to let me leave here?”

“In a few days. You're still running a fever.” She started for the door. “Has your mother contacted you yet?”

“She called me last night.” She defiantly lifted her chin. “It's just like I told you, she couldn't get off work. It's not as if she doesn't care about me. She just has . . . problems.”

“Well, maybe we can rid her of a few of those problems.” Kerry opened the door. “I'll come and see you tomorrow, Carmela.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know I don't.” She smiled. “But I know you'll want to hear what progress we're having with your sister.”

“You're really gonna help her?”

“I lied to you once. I won't do it again.”

“I hope you don't.” Her hands clenched on the sheet. “I won't take charity. It sticks in my throat. But if you'll do this for me, I'll owe you big time. And I'll pay you back. I promise.”

She could see that the girl was deadly serious, and Kerry wouldn't insult her by refusing. “I'll take you up on that. See you tomorrow, Carmela.”

“Wait.” When Kerry looked back at her, Carmela said awkwardly, “I wouldn't mind if you brought that pooch back. He's probably good for those sick kids.”

“You're right.” She nodded solemnly. “Okay, if you really don't mind.

“Good job, Sam,” she murmured as she left the room.

His tail wagged as he pulled Kerry down the hall, all gentleness and decorum forgotten. Kerry didn't care. He'd given Carmela affection and softened her pain in a way she could accept.

Poor kid, Kerry thought as she waited at the elevator. Life had not treated her well, and she had all the prickly barriers to prove it. But it was a wonder she wasn't even more defensive and that she'd somehow managed to develop a code.

Silver was waiting in the lobby when she got off the elevator. “How is she?”

“Smart, vulnerable, wary. Sam helped a lot.”

“I was wondering why you wanted to take him.”

“Sam's great with kids. She needed him. But she found out that we're not social workers.”

“Busted. What did you tell her?”

“The truth. I decided she could take it.” She started down the corridor toward the parking lot. “I like her, Silver. She's tough, but I think she . . . Oh, I don't know. She reminds me of someone. . . .” She frowned, trying to think who it was, but it didn't come to her. “I like her.”

“Well, that's clear.” He fell into step with her. “I'll have to take your word for it. I'm still too bruised and exasperated from trying to get her to jump off that roof to be objective.”

“She was scared.”

“And you're being defensive.”

“Someone has to defend her. She's not had much help from her mother.” She glanced at him. “And speaking of her mother, did you make any progress?”

He nodded. “I contacted Travis and told him to have some strings pulled with DFACS in Louisville. He's going to send a caseworker to put some subtle pressure on Carmela's mother to release Rosa into their care.”

“How subtle?”

“Maybe not all that subtle. A velvet-gloved threat that I hope will scare her into cooperating.”

“And after DFACS takes Rosa away from her mother?”

“Then we'll make sure there's a grade-A foster home ready to receive her until Carmela is out of the hospital.”

“When will we know?”

He shrugged. “Tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I told Travis it was urgent.”

“Good. I want something encouraging to tell Carmela tomorrow.” She motioned for Sam to jump in the back of the SUV before getting in herself. “It wasn't pleasant telling her about Trask, but she took it well.”

“Like you said, tough.”

“And prickly as the devil. She wanted to—” Kerry suddenly started to laugh. “Lord, I just figured out who she reminded me of.”

“Who?”

“You.”

He glanced at her as he started the car. “I beg your pardon?”

“Prickly and surly and not letting anyone near.”

He smiled faintly. “I'll accept the description since you said you couldn't help but like her. But you should really examine that response. You obviously have a weakness for difficult people like us.”

Her smile faded. She didn't want to examine the warmth she felt for Silver. That softness was even more dangerous than the sexual pleasure she experienced with him. She glanced hurriedly out the window. “Do you think we were followed?”

“If we were, then it was definitely done by an expert.” He stopped at the parking-lot booth and handed the clerk the ticket and money. “And I contacted Ledbruk, and his agent didn't think we were being watched.”

She frowned. “Then was I wrong? I thought it was a reasonable assumption that—”

“It was reasonable. Maybe Trask just hasn't gotten his shit together yet. There's still a good chance that Dickens will show.”

He was probably right. What did she expect? It wasn't likely they'd be able to grab Dickens the first day. But telling herself that didn't stop the uneasiness she felt. Trask wouldn't be spinning his wheels after he learned he'd falled to kill Carmela. He'd want to make a move to show Kerry that she hadn't really won anything of importance.

And if that move didn't involve having her followed by Dickens, what other action was he planning?

“Stop fretting,” Silver said. “I learned a long time ago that if you can't do anything about a problem, it's better to relax and gather strength for the moment when you can.”

“It must be nice to be so patronizing. I'm not some psychic superman like you. I'm not good at this and I don't have your experience. I can't relax.”

He gave a low whistle at the sharpness of her tone. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound patronizing. And you're getting better and stronger all the time. You can block me, and that last time I felt a definite nudge when you made the attempt at a push.”

“Nudge? That's not going to do me any good when I come up against Trask.”

“I told you that I couldn't gauge how strong that push would translate with someone else.”

“That gives me a hell of a lot of confidence.”

“Easy. I can't furnish you with confidence, but you know I'll keep on working with you until you—”

“I know. I know.” Her lips tightened. “Christ, I'm sick of it all. I never wanted to have to learn anything like this. After we get Trask, I'm going to take Sam and go back to doing what I do well. I'm going to block these weeks out of my mind and never think of them again.”

He didn't speak for a moment. “Or me?”

“What do you want me to say? One goes with the other. Don't tell me you won't be glad to be rid of me too.”

“I wouldn't think of telling you that.” He looked away from her. “I'm just saying it may be hard to do.”

She knew he was right, but there was no way she would admit it. Difficult or not, she was going to break this link between them. She leaned her head back on the seat rest and closed her eyes. “You're wrong. After what I've gone through, it will be a piece of cake.”

“Nothing like being sure.” His face was expressionless. “We'll see . . .”

I may have found a lead to our mysterious Helen,” George said when they came in the front door. “I talked to a few of my friends at the FBI, and they wouldn't tell me anything but they pointed discreetly.”

“Where?” Silver asked.

“At the CIA.” He smiled. “So I'm trying to tap a few sources there.”

“Good God, you have as many contacts as a Fox News reporter,” Kerry said. “I'm not even going to ask how you got them. When will you know?”

“Soon. Possibly tonight or tomorrow. I believe I've found someone who might have information.”

“Let me know as soon as you hear.” She started up the stairs. “I could use some good news.”

Yes, she could, Silver thought, as he watched her reach the top of the steps. She was scared and worried and wanted only to bury her head beneath the proverbial covers and hide away from everyone.

Hide away from him, dammit.

You're gritting your teeth,” George said. “May I tell you that your dentist would advise you that could seriously contribute to TMJ?”

“No, you may not.” Silver turned on his heel. “Shut up, George.”

George gave a low whistle. “Nasty.” He headed for the library. “Where will you be if I get a sudden breakthrough on Helen?”

“I'm going for a walk.” He jerked open the front door. “A long, long walk.”

“Excellent idea. Exercise is always a good release. Perhaps you'll come back in better temp—”

The door slammed behind Silver before George could finish.

Fire.

She had to get help for Mama.

She slipped on the icy steps and fell to the street.

There was a man across the street, standing beneath the street lamp.

She picked herself up and ran toward him. “Help. The fire. Mama . . .”

He was turning and walking away. He must not have heard her.

She ran after him. “Please. Mama said I had to—” He turned and she looked up into his face.

She screamed.

“Shh, it's too late. You can't help her.” He raised his arm and she saw metal glittering in his hand as he started to bring the gun down—

Darkness. Yes, darkness . . .

“Stop it!” She was yanked out of that welcoming darkness, back to the horror of that night. “You don't get away with that, Kerry. You're not going to black out now. Look at him, dammit.”

Silver!

It was Silver talking, she realized in confusion. Silver beside her, standing beneath the lamppost.

But it couldn't be Silver. He didn't belong here.

But he was here, and the entire nightmare sequence was frozen. The burning building, the lamppost, the man with his hand raised to strike her down.

“Look at him,” Silver repeated. “Look at his face.”