took him maybe three heartbeats to get it. Then he said, “Ah” again—a bit more sardonic, this time. “Your grandmother has it, too, then? This…”
“Gift?” They were passing through the gallery, and he saw Tierney pause to touch the watercolor painting of Multnomah Falls. He saw tension in the lines between her eyebrows and wondered if she had a headache. “Days like this, it’s hard to think of it that way.”
Then she seemed to shake it off, whatever the darkness was, and moved on. “My grandmother’s…abilities, or whatever you want to call them, are different from mine. I am what is known, in the psychic world—” she cut her eyes at him in a droll way that made him chuckle “—as an empath. There’s probably a word for what Jeannette is, as well, but I don’t know what it is. She just…knows things. About people. Like she knew you aren’t really Irish. Plus, she and I have this special connection, I guess, because we can share memories. Normally, I don’t really see actual images, but with her I can. Used to, anyway.” Her face seemed to cloud over. “I used to see them—her memories of my mother—like photos in an album. Color photos, clear and bright. Now…well, now they’re sort of fragmented, like a jumbled jigsaw puzzle.”
I have memories like that.
The thought came to him with a flash of surprise, like what his mother used to call a lightbulb moment—from the comics, she’d explain. He heard himself say, “I know what you mean.” And frowned, because he hadn’t meant to voice the thought out loud.
Tierney glanced up at him, smiling her gentle smile.
Yes…I think you do. That’s what these flashes I keep getting from you are all about. We’ve a kinship, you and I, whether you like it or not. The truth is, neither of us had a chance to know our parents.
“How old were you when you were adopted?” And she wondered, even as she asked it, how she’d found the audacity to probe into the personal business of so guarded and resistant a man.
She was greatly surprised when he hitched a shoulder in an offhand way and answered her. “I don’t know—six, I think. Maybe seven.”
“Really? You weren’t a baby, then. What happened to your parents?” But this time she knew at once she’d gone too far. She saw his jaw tighten, and he didn’t answer right away. She muttered, “I’m sorry,” putting up a hand as if to stop herself. “Forgive me, please. I’m not—It’s none of my business, I know.”
The detective let out a breath, frowning. “No, it’s a legitimate question, considering the conversation.” He paused, shifting his car keys from one hand to the other and back again, then turned to her. “They’re dead, that’s all I know.” His grin appeared, tilted in a way that made curious pleasure-ripples course through her chest. “Believe me, as a police detective it irks me no end to have to admit that. I’ve tried—” He broke it off with a shake of his head, seemed to hesitate, then turned to the gallery door.
“Do you remember them?” Tierney asked softly. “Your parents?”
She was unprepared for the sudden surge of emotion, followed by a withdrawal so abrupt it was almost violent, like a slap in the face. She stepped back reflexively, and so almost missed his reply, spoken in a quiet voice and without turning.
“I don’t remember anything from before I was adopted.”
Still reeling from the emotional one-two punch, she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d been able to think of what to say. After a brief but electric silence, he threw her a glance that didn’t quite make contact.
“Yeah, look—I need to get back to the job.”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”
“Let me know if you get any more on our killer—or the victims.”
He pushed the door open and went out, hurrying, like someone escaping from a trap.
She wasn’t sure why she followed him. But she did. And when she stepped onto the sidewalk, she felt as if she’d collided with an electric fence. Energy sizzled along her scalp and crawled over her body, just beneath her skin. Even her bones seemed to vibrate. As if it were frantically batting at a bombardment of tennis balls, her tired mind tried to give names to the overwhelming emotions ricocheting inside her head.
Watching…watching…
Waited…searched…so long!
Found you!
Glee!
Victory!
Success! At last!
The only thing she knew for certain was that someone was watching. Watching with riveted attention and avid interest, a focus so intense it felt like a laser beam. Watching Wade.
A few dozen yards down the block, the police detective was getting into his car. She called out to him—a croak, at first, then louder. “Detective Callahan—Wade! Wait—please!”
He turned to look at her across the roof of his car. He was frowning because his heart was beating way faster than it had any reason to, unless he wanted to count having just scared himself silly, coming so close to telling a woman he didn’t know or trust things he’d never told another living soul. Right now half of him wanted to ignore her, jump in his car and get the hell out of there, get back to dealing with things he knew were real, and knew what to do with—like facts and evidence and witnesses. Dead bodies. Those things he understood.
Fortunately the other half reminded him that he’d just told this woman to let him know if she picked up anything more on his killer—or his victims. And even if he wasn’t sure whether he believed in her “gift,” the department had made her part of his team, and it behooved him to listen to what she had to say.
He watched her hurry toward him, breaking into a run the last few yards so that she arrived breathless and pink-cheeked, reminding him once again of a high school cheerleader.
Except, as she came close, he got a good look at her eyes, and against all reason and everything he thought he believed in, his skin began to crawl. He’d seen that look before.
Damn, he wished he didn’t have to ask it. But he did. “What is it? Radar pick up something?”
A pained smile flashed on and off like a light with a bad connection. “It was…someone was here, Wade. Just now. I think he’s gone, though…”
She didn’t look around, as anyone else would have, to see if she could see someone lurking in the vicinity. No—this lady closed her eyes and went still. Looking inside her own head. It gave him cold chills.
“What do you mean, someone was here? This have anything to do with—”
“No—I mean, no, not the case. At least, I don’t think so. But…he was watching you, Wade. It was like…he’d been waiting. Looking for you. For a long time. And now he’s found you. He was so…happy about it. Gleeful.”
Well, hell. What was he supposed to say to that? He ducked his head and ran a hand over the crisp stubble of his short-cropped hair while he thought
