"And why the hell can't they be easy?" Caitlin demanded.

Samantha smiled. "You'd have to ask the universe. All I know is that my visions tend to complicate rather than simplify my life. After a while, you sort of get used to that."

Sticking determinedly with the normal rather than paranormal, Glen said, "We know there's an old mill on the creek that hasn't been used in donkey's years, but last time I was hiking up here it looked in pretty good condition. There's a big cellar cut into the granite back away from the creek, where the people who used to live in the area kept most of their food. Sort of communal storage. Not that there were many who tried to make a go of things way up here."

"In any case," Lucas said, "all those qualities could make it a prime spot for someone needing a remote location, privacy, and a virtually soundproofed, enclosed space in which to hold someone, even though it wasn't on our list. So we search it."

"A deputy, a fed, and two civilians," Samantha said rather dryly. "Wouldn't the press love this."

"With any luck at all, they won't know about it," Lucas said. "They were told in no uncertain terms to remain back at the sheriff's department, and two deputies made sure they did while the rest of us left. We don't need reporters tagging along on a search, especially in this kind of country."

"It is wild," Glen agreed, hanging on to the ATV's wheel as the vehicle bounded across a washed-out section of the dirt road they were following. "Don't forget that fugitives-federal fugitives- have successfully hidden out up here for years on end."

"And don't think our killer didn't have that in mind when he picked Golden," Luke said. "This is the perfect area for him, with plenty of remote land, many with old settlements, abandoned cabins and barns, even a few defunct mines. Lots of hiding places we'll have to work hard even to get to. He planned well, all right. And he has no doubt that he'll accomplish everything he sets out to."

From the backseat beside Samantha, Caitlin said, "What's he accomplishing, beyond killing people?"

"In his mind, he's winning the game," Luke told her. "Every victim we weren't able to save just proved to him that he's smarter than we are."

"Sick bastard," she muttered.

Samantha said, "Broken minds. I do wonder what broke his. I mean, if he wasn't born this way. Luke, did you draw any other conclusions from that note he sent you this morning?"

"He feels in complete control of the situation, you were right about that," Lucas replied. "His confidence borders on cockiness, even a sort of giddiness. It's as if… as if he's reaching the end of a long path and he feels he can begin to relax. That bit about there being only one rule, and then the line Guess what it is is almost playful."

Samantha was silent for a moment, then said, "Why did he take the sheriff?"

"To up the ante, maybe."

"Snatching a law-enforcement officer from beneath everyone's nose?" Samantha frowned. "But he did that with Lindsay. Would he repeat himself? I mean, now that you know it's a game, a competition. Would he?"

Lucas turned in his seat to look at her. "No. He wouldn't."

"Okay. Then why the sheriff? If he isn't repeating himself, then he must have another reason. Something personal, maybe?"

"I don't know."

With wonderful politeness, Samantha said, "This is the point where you tap into your other senses."

"Needling me again won't work, Sam."

"Think so?"

In some surprise, Caitlin said, "You're psychic too?"

"He is sometimes," Samantha told her. "When he lets himself be. Control issues. You know how it is."

"Cut it out, Samantha."

"That means he's getting pissed at me. He only uses my whole name when I've irritated him."

Ignoring that, Lucas looked at his watch and said, "Less than four hours left now. Glen, is there a shorter way?"

"Only if you're a bird. Those of us on the ground have to take this lousy dirt road that leads to an old logging road that's even worse. It'll take us another hour, easy."

Caitlin said desperately, "But what if I'm wrong? You had decided to search another spot, hadn't you, before I showed up? Something already on your list?"

Still twisted around in his seat in order to see her, Lucas said, "I hadn't made up my mind, Caitlin. But, as I said, your hunch is probably as good as anyone else's, and this mill on the creek sounds a likely place."

"And," Samantha said in that same spuriously polite tone, "following your hunch rather than one of his own sort of absolves Luke of responsibility, you know?"

Instantly, Lucas said, "You know goddamned well that isn't true. If I didn't believe we could find Wyatt up here, I wouldn't have come. If we don't find him, it certainly won't be Caitlin's fault."

"No, of course not. So whose fault will it be, Luke? Who gets the blame if Wyatt Metcalf dies because we couldn't find him in time?"

"Me. I get the blame. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No, I want to hear you feeling what he feels, right now, this minute."

"Don't you think I'm trying?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not, because you're still closed up. Think I can't feel that, Luke? Lie to yourself if you want, but you can't lie to me, not about this."

Caitlin, following the quick, back-and-forth conversation warily, half expected the two to come to blows. She'd never heard either of them sound so fierce, but she barely knew Lucas and wasn't sure how unusual it was for him. It was Samantha's pitiless determination that surprised her; she would never have expected such force from the slight, watchful, quiet woman she'd thought she knew.

Seemingly transformed by anger, Samantha was leaning as far forward as her seat belt would allow, one hand gripping the shoulder strap and the other braced on the seat. Her face was tense, her heavy-lidded eyes narrowed and normally full lips thinned, and every word bit with sharp teeth when she repeated, "Not about this."

"You're not a telepath, Sam," Lucas retorted.

"I don't have to be. Think I can't read you, Luke? That I couldn 't always read you, all the way down to your bones, to your soul? Think again."

"Sam-"

Abruptly, in a soft voice that was nevertheless audible over the straining engine of the ATV, Samantha said, "I even know about Bryan, Luke."

By sheer chance Caitlin's gaze happened to be on Lucas when Samantha spoke, and she wanted to look away from what she saw.

Shock, and then a flash of pain, intense, raw, draining the color from his face. He looked like a man who had just been knifed in the gut.

"How could you-"

"Feel," Samantha snapped, her voice intense again. "Damn you, open up and feel."

Clearly unhappy, Glen Champion said, "Hey, you guys-is this really the time? I mean-"

"You just drive," Samantha ordered, never taking her eyes off Lucas. "Feel, Luke. Reach out. Open up. Wyatt Metcalf is going to die if you can't connect with him. Do you really think the kidnapper is going to leave his victim in a place you're likely to search? No, not this time, not again. He meant you to find Lindsay, meant her to die before you could get there, but he won't take a chance you might find Metcalf in time, so he's hidden him from you, very deliberately."

"I don't-"

"Where is he, Luke? He won't be anywhere on the map, on that list you've drawn up. He won't be anywhere you expect. And when time's run out and Metcalf is dead, you'll get another taunting message telling you exactly where you can find the body. Do you want that? Do you?"

"Stop."

Glen jammed his foot on the brake, instinctively obeying the harsh order.

Softly now, Samantha repeated, "Where is he, Luke?"

"North," Lucas replied slowly.

"At the old mill?"

"No. North."