swore three times. The hands vanished. Lights flashed red and blue. She’d be fine, a stranger promised. As for Andrea …
The voices stopped abruptly. The lights blurred. Her mind stuttered then seemed to wink out.
“Try to remember, Dr. Hudson …”
The mental prod repeated with an eerie echo. A man’s face, hazy at first, solidified. He had creased, careworn features. He looked sixty and tough, yet she sensed an underlying kindness.
She also knew a cop when she saw one.
“I’m sorry your colleague’s dead, Doctor. I wish I could change that, but I can’t. Neither can you.”
Had she thought the man was kind?
“You need to concentrate,” he pressed. “We found a white bandanna at the murder scene. It’s the signature of a serial killer. A phantom. You saw the person who did this—we’re sure of it. You called Security. You screamed. The guard was down the hall, less than ten seconds away. He thought you were both dead when he found you …”
His voice trailed off. This really was a nightmare, Sera decided. Maybe if she did as the cop suggested and concentrated, she could erase some of the more gruesome aspects.
Determined, she willed the man away, shut out the blurred lights and, because she knew it was important, concentrated on the throbbing pain at the base of her skull.
For a heartbeat, the world went dark.
When it relit, she was being ushered through a door. And, damn, there he was again. The careworn cop.
“You’ll be safe here, Doctor. Leo and I have been partners for twenty years. We haven’t lost a witness yet.”
She was a witness? Her mind snapped to attention. Had she seen Andrea’s killer? Please, God, no, had she watched her die?
The walls and fixtures distorted. Two men spoke in the distance.
“Captain thinks there’s a leak at headquarters, Leo. I agree with him.”
“You’re a pair of old ladies.”
“She saw him. I know she did. If we can buy her enough time, she’ll remember, and we’ll have that bastard Blindfold Killer cold …”
The image of a white bandanna floated in. It fell over Andrea’s lifeless, staring eyes.
Sera’s mind gave a single convulsive shudder that had her surging upright in bed.
“Sera!”
The cop’s voice cracked the night shadows like a whip. He caught her by the shoulders, held her steady and stared into her eyes. “Are you awake?”
Was she?
Sera’s heart settled as the image of Andrea’s rigid features faded.
“Yes.” She breathed in, then out. “I had a nightmare.”
“You only had the beginnings of one, Doc. Worst part’s still to come.”
Instinct had her bracing. “There’s worse than my nightmare?”
“There’s a leak in the department. I’ve suspected it for a while. I’m sure of it now. My partner’s been killed. This place isn’t safe.”
Questions raced through Sera’s head, too many to ask. She wanted this to be part of her dream, but she knew it wasn’t.
Two people were dead, and if the man who’d murdered them had his way, she’d be joining them. She’d been there the night he’d murdered Andrea. She’d seen his face.
All she had to do now was remember it.
Chapter One
“You’re the psychiatrist, Doc. You tell me what’s going on in this guy’s pathetic excuse for a brain.”
Sig Rayburn pushed on his forehead as if to compress his thoughts. Pain, worry, even a hint of fear had clouded his eyes during the two-day drive from San Francisco. The long, hot drive that currently had them blasting along Wyoming’s I25 in his rusty brown Ford.
Sera searched for another vent. “Murderers usually have agendas, but that’s not a given. I worked with a man once who liked watching people die. He said it gave him a buzz.”
“Sexual?”
“Probably, although victim gender didn’t matter. Neither did age or appearance.” She paused, sat back, sighed. “Sig, where are we going?”
He pushed harder. “Tenth time you’ve asked me that since we left the motel this morning. I’m still not gonna tell you.”
“Which says to me you don’t know yourself, you think your car’s bugged or you’re weirdly superstitious. You’re too good a cop to drive a bugged car, and you strike me as a man who always has a destination in mind, so I’ll go with superstition and point out that wearing the same ratty T-shirt for three days straight at the safe house still didn’t help the Giants win their series against the Dodgers.”
“Got ‘em close, though. Final game, eleventh inning. One little error in the outfield and poof, streak done.”
The clouds rolled through his eyes again. Reaching over, Sera squeezed his arm. “I’m really sorry about your partner’s death.”
“Not your fault, Doc. You didn’t fire the bullet that took out the back half of his skull. Didn’t slit your friend’s throat either.” He slanted her a speculative look. “You know who did, though. That’s why we’re doing this. You need time, distance and a safe place to unlock what’s hidden inside that pretty head of yours. No offense,” he added gruffly. “I know you have impressive credentials.”
“None taken, and they’re not as impressive as Andrea’s were.” Setting aside a twinge of guilt, Sera fanned her face with a Wyoming road map. “I’m pretty sure it won’t jinx anything if you tell me our destination.”
Sig waved at a buzzing fly. “You’re wrong, Doc. Leo carried a lucky rock from Sedona the whole time we worked together. Kept it in his pocket with his loose change. When we found him in that alley, the change was there, but the rock wasn’t. Don’t talk to me about jinxes.”
“Yes, but …”
“My nephew gave him that rock. Gave me one, too. Only time I left it behind, I took a bullet in my right calf.”
“Where’s your rock now?”
He jerked his head. “Backseat. Jacket pocket.” When she didn’t respond, he cocked a brow. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”
“I don’t analyze every idiosyncrasy, Sig.”
“Uh-huh.” But the challenge lingered. “You gonna tell me you don’t have a quirk or two?”
“Oh,
