Samantha nodded. "He's invented a very special game just for the two of you to play. And don't think he doesn't know his opponent. The first few kidnappings may well have been test runs, just to lure you in and watch what you did."

"I can't believe you're buying any of this," Metcalf said to Lucas.

"You don't know all the background, Sheriff," Lucas responded, frowning. "The cases going back eighteen months. This… theory… fits."

"It's not a theory, Luke," Samantha said flatly. "It's a fact. This is all a game to him."

"Games have rules."

"Yes. Which means you have to figure out what his rules are before you have a hope in hell of saving the next victim's life, catching him-and winning the game."

Tuesday, September 25

I don't need watchdogs," Carrie Vaughn said with a considerable amount of force. "I can take care of myself, and I don't like people hovering around me."

"They aren't hovering, Miss Vaughn. I've got a patrol car parked across the highway on that old dirt road; you can barely see them when you look out a window." Sheriff Metcalf kept his voice as patient as possible. "They're just keeping an eye on things, is all."

"Because some gypsy fortune-teller says I'm in danger? Jesus, Sheriff."

"I have to act on information received, Miss Vaughn, especially when we've already had one kidnapping that ended in murder."

"Information from a fortune-teller?" She didn't try to hide her disgust. "I hope you aren't planning on running again at the next election."

The rest of the conversation was brief, and Metcalf hung up the phone a minute or two later, scowling. He turned to face Lucas, who was on the other side of the conference table, and said, "Tell me again why we're listening to her."

Lucas didn't have to ask which "her" the sheriff was referring to. "She's genuine, Wyatt."

"You're saying you believe she can see the future before it happens."

"Yes."

"Because she proved it to you in the past."

Lucas nodded.

"I've never in my life met a gullible cop. You sure you're a fed?"

"Last time I looked." Lucas sighed. "I know it's difficult to accept, especially given her role in a carnival."

"You can say that again. I think the lack of credibility sort of accompanies the purple turban."

"She warned you about Callahan."

"A fluke. A coincidence. The one lucky guess in a thousand tries."

"And if she's right about Carrie Vaughn?"

"The second lucky guess." Metcalf grimaced when Lucas lifted an eyebrow at him. "Okay, so a second lucky guess that specific would be pushing it. But you are not going to convince me that she can see the future."

Lucas had heard that particular note in someone else's voice often enough to recognize it: for Wyatt Metcalf, believing that it was possible to see the future before it occurred was a direct challenge to some deep and long-held belief. It would require drastic evidence to convince him, and he would be angry rather than happy if that evidence presented itself.

So all Lucas said was, "Then treat her information the same way you'd treat any anonymous tip; take precautions and check it out."

"In this case, watch Carrie Vaughn and wait."

"I'd say so. Unless and until we have another lead or information more useful than this lot." He gestured toward the files, reports, and photos spread out on the conference table.

"Nothing positive from Quantico?"

"Not so far. Your people are thorough and well-trained, just as you said; they didn't miss anything. Which means we're not left with much in the way of evidence."

"What about that handkerchief Zarina says she got her vision from?"

Lucas cleared his throat. "At Quantico being tested. We should have the results by tomorrow."

Metcalf eyed him. "Something on your mind?"

"I wouldn't keep calling her Zarina if I were you."

"What, she's going to put a gypsy curse on me?"

"She isn't a gypsy."

Metcalf waited, brows raised.

Lucas really didn't want to get into this with the sheriff, and that reluctance was in his tone when he said, "Look, she doesn't deserve scorn or ridicule. You don't believe she's a genuine psychic, that's fine. But don't treat her like a joke."

"I can't get past the turban," Metcalf admitted.

"Try."

"I seem to remember you making a crack about the circus being in town."

"I'm allowed," Lucas said wryly, even as he wondered if Samantha would agree with that.

"Oh?"

"I don't think I'll show you my scars, if it's all the same to you."

"Ah, so there is a history."

"You didn't need a crystal ball to figure that out," Lucas muttered, frowning down at the postmortem report on Mitchell Callahan.

"No, it was fairly obvious. And very surprising. I don't see you as the type to visit carnivals."

"No."

"Then she was involved in one of your cases before this?" Metcalf didn't try to disguise his curiosity.

"Something like that."

"I gather it ended badly."

"No, the case ended successfully; we got the guy."

"It was just the relationship that tanked, huh?"

Lucas was saved from replying when Lindsay spoke from the open doorway.

"Jesus, Wyatt, you're worse than a woman."

"I was investigating," he told her.

"You were being nosy." She came into the room, shaking her head. "Luke, Jaylene's on her way in. She says she didn't get anything new from Mitch Callahan's wife."

"Well, we didn't really expect to," he said. "But the base had to be covered."

"So this is what you guys have been doing for a year and a half?" she asked, curious herself now. "Zipping around the country on that private jet of yours as soon as the kidnapping reports come in? Double-checking everything, combing through reports, talking to family and coworkers of the abductees?"

"When we get a case after the fact, yes." He knew the frustration was in his voice but didn't try to hide it; after more than twenty-four hours in Golden and working with Wyatt and Lindsay, they knew much more about the serial kidnappings and Lucas felt more comfortable with what they knew.

He had not, however, told them the whole story of the SCU or his own and Jaylene's abilities, an omission that bothered him less on his and Jay's account than on Samantha's.

A sobering realization.

"What about when you get the case right away-after the abduction but before the ransom is paid or a body found?" Lindsay was asking, still curious.

"It's only happened twice, and both times we were a step behind him all the way." He hesitated, then added, "In fact, I got the distinct feeling we were being led by the nose."

"Which," Lindsay said, "lends weight to Sam's theory that this guy is playing some kind of game with you, and has been for some time."

It was Metcalf who said, "You two seem to be getting awfully chummy."

"You mean just because I don't treat her like a leper the way the rest of you do? That I might sit down and have a cup of coffee and a conversation with her?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The hell you don't." Lindsay shook her head. "She volunteers to stay here at the station, under your and everybody else's eye for the duration, and you're still acting like she stole your dog."

"Dammit, Lindsay, I'm getting a lot of questions and you know it. I can't hold her here legally, and explaining that she's here voluntarily just opens up a whole new can of worms."

"I don't see why it should," Lindsay responded. "She has a cot in one of the interview rooms and she's paying for her own food, so it's not like the taxpayers have an extra burden. The press certainly understands what she's trying to do."

"Oh, yeah," the sheriff said sardonically, "they had their headlines for today, all right. Gypsy Seeks to Prove Innocence by Remaining in Police Custody. The problem is, the more astute among the media have figured out that the only way she can prove herself innocent doing this is if we have another kidnapping while she's in custody."