“Who does? But it doesn’t feel right anyway. You saw them. Something about it keeps nagging at me. Misdirection. That’s what I’m thinking.”
Gage nodded, pulling a couple of the crime scene photos toward him. “I guess we won’t know for sure until we find out who they are.”
Any identifiable items had been removed. Adrian stared at a photo, thinking. “If it was a hate crime, wouldn’t they want us to know who the vics are?”
“You’re talking about a rational mind, Adrian.”
“Even neo-Nazis can be rational. They’re just wrong.”
At that a faint smile flickered over Gage’s face. “Maybe.”
“Well, the statement gets kind of overlooked if it takes us weeks to find out who these guys are. By then the news will have moved on.”
“Don’t mention the news. The major media are going to crawl all over us tomorrow.” Gage heaved a resigned sigh.
“Too bad,” Adrian said, “that these guys couldn’t have been on state forest land.”
“Yeah. Then we could have called in your old buddies.”
Adrian had retired on disability from the Wyoming Department of Criminal Investigation. He would have loved to turn all of this over to them.
Or maybe not. Despite himself, his interest was piqued.
“Too bad,” Gage said, “it didn’t happen in Denver. Anywhere but my county.”
“Gage?”
At the soft voice both men looked up to see Emma Dalton, Gage’s wife, standing in the doorway. The years had dissolved none of her beauty, and to Gage she still appeared to be the redheaded, green-eyed goddess he’d fallen in love with in the darkest time of both their lives. “Have you got time to listen to a witness?”
“Witness to what?”
“The murders. Kerry Tomlinson. You remember her. She had a vision about it.”
The two men looked at each other, neither of them knowing what to make of this announcement. It was almost as if they had just ridden over the hump in a roller coaster, the word witness starting to fill them with excitement just as the word vision sent them plunging. But there was Emma, a paragon if ever there was one, asking them to listen.
Gage cleared his throat. “I didn’t know Kerry was a psychic.”
“She’s not.” Emma stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She smelled like rose water and the library, and a touch of cold autumn air. “But she’s very scared and very frightened, and she can’t shake the images out of her mind. So you are going to listen to her and reassure her. If she’s got information you can use, good. If not you can at least put her mind to rest about whether she’s really seeing the murder victims.”
Gage and Adrian exchanged looks again. To Adrian it seemed both of them felt the same reluctance.
“Okay,” Gage answered after a moment. “But we’re not shrinks. Let me just put all this stuff out of sight.”
Emma glanced down and her lips tightened. “Please do,” she said. “I don’t need to look at that, either. Let me get her.”
Emma hovered over her like a guardian angel, Kerry thought as they walked down the hall to the sheriff’s office. The sense of having an ally in this craziness reassured her almost as much as the sense of an unseen presence just behind her shoulder disturbed her. Emma might spread her metaphoric wings, but those wings seemed unable to hold back the push from the invisible presence.
This is insane.
But insane or not, she had the strong feeling that if she didn’t spit out these images, they were going to plague her forever.
She entered Gage’s office tentatively, giving him a small, weak smile. Then she saw the other man. Tall, rugged-looking, dark hair with a dash of gray at the temples. Adrian Goddard. What was he doing here?
At that instant she almost turned and ran. Being crazy was one thing. Announcing it to a whole bunch of people, one of them almost a stranger, was entirely another. His gray eyes flicked over her, as full of doubt as any atheist’s when inside a church.
“I can’t do this!” The words burst from her and she started to turn, but Emma gently caught her arm.
“You can,” Emma said firmly. “None of us know what happened to you this morning. Nobody can say whether it was something random occurring because of the news you heard, or whether you really saw something. But one thing I do know, Kerry. You’re not crazy, and if there’s even a slender hope that you might have picked up on something useful, you owe it to the victims to tell Gage.”
Kerry closed her eyes a moment, felt again the pressure pushing her forward, thought she almost heard a whisper in her ear. “Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Maybe if I tell you all, I can forget about it, which would be a blessing.”
She took one of the two chairs facing the desk, refusing to look at Adrian Goddard. Right now she needed his apparent dubiousness as much as she needed another vision. Gage merely looked inquiring. And kind.
“It’s okay, Kerry,” he said. “Before this week is out we’ll have had a handful of people claim to have committed these murders even though they had nothing to do with them, and a thousand useless tips. And we have no leads at this point. So a vision of any kind is welcome, okay?”
Kerry nodded slowly, trying to find the persona that could control a classroom full of rowdy teens, and leave behind the disturbed woman she had become today.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.” But it was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his flat stomach, trying to appear impassive. His gaze bored into Kerry Tomlinson, though. A schoolteacher with visions. He’d noticed her around, of course. You couldn’t live in Conard County for long without noticing just about everyone.
She was tiny, almost frail-looking, with long dark hair caught in a clip at the nape of her neck. Her dark eyes were large in her face, her cheekbones high and her unpainted lips invitingly shaped. Pretty, but able to pass unnoticed if she chose. A quiet prettiness, the kind that for the right person could easily turn into brilliant beauty. A man would have to approach carefully, slowly, and gently, to bring that out, but once he did…
Catching himself, Adrian almost shook his head to bring his attention back to what she was saying.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said, looking at Gage. “I was just sitting there waiting for my breakfast to finish cooking…” She trailed off and looked down at her knotted hands.
“Start wherever you want,” Gage said gently. “You don’t have to get right to the vision.”
That seemed to reassure her. Her head lifted, and Adrian now saw the woman who taught for a living, the woman who could handle rooms full of teenagers.
“All
