"Or maybe because we were lovers," Marc said calmly.

"Maybe," she said, striving to match his calm.

"The connection between us is still there, Dani."

"Yes," she said. "I know."

Hollis stood in the backyard of the vacant house, at the edge of what had been a lovely pool area before a monster had turned it into a scene of carnage now encircled by yellow crime-scene tape. The organs and other body parts had been removed, but bloodstains baked to a rusty tint by the hot Georgia sun still marred the lovely tile and stone, and the red-tinted pool was only partially drained.

She could hear flies buzzing.

Jordan cleared his throat when he noticed the direction of her gaze, and said, "The drain's clogged. We have a call in to the pool-maintenance company. They may want to call a biohazard-removal company."

"Everybody's a specialist these days," Hollis murmured.

"And your specialty is being a medium."

Hollis was tempted to go into the whole most-wounded-in-the-unit thing but decided not to. Mostly because she hadn't yet judged the tolerance level of the (really very good-looking) deputy; he had certainly handled everything thrown at him so far with apparent acceptance, but you just never knew what the tipping point might be.

"Yeah," she said, "that's my ability."

"Is that why you wanted to come out here? Because you hope one of the victims will-will appear to you?"

"Well, don't make it sound like it would be from behind a magic curtain," she said dryly.

"I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, I didn't. Just wasn't quite sure how to put it."

Hollis thought about it, then shrugged. "As good a way as any, I guess. And, yes, I thought I might see something. Or someone. I tend to, at crime scenes. Not always, mind you, but often enough to sort of expect it."

Jordan looked around them somewhat warily. "So… do you? See anyone?"

"Not so far."

"Huh. We wait, then, I take it?"

Hollis was conscious of both amusement and curiosity. "Tell me something, Deputy."

" Jordan, please. I thought we'd gotten past that part, at least."

"We have. Tell me something, Jordan. How come you're so tolerant of all the psychic stuff? Most cops aren't."

"You're a cop."

"Yeah. Well, barely. Anyway, I belong to a special unit where being psychic is the rule. What's your excuse?"

"Raised with it," he said.

Hollis turned her head and stared at him. "You're not the seventh son of a seventh son or anything like that, right?"

He smiled. "No, nothing like that. Not the mumbo-jumbo side of the paranormal. My grandmother wasn't a gypsy fortune teller. But she had the Sight. It's been common in this area for generations." He watched her brows rise, and added, " Prophet County, for a reason."

It was her turn to say "Huh. That didn't come up in the research. I wonder if Bishop knows." Then she shook her head. "Oh, hell, of course he knows. Dani and Paris were born here, weren't they?"

"Yep. And their mother was a medium, like you. Marc was born here too; in his family, the gift has always been an interesting kind of variation. Not exactly psychic but with a better-than-average bullshit detector. The Purcells have always known who they could trust and who was lying to them; it's one of the reasons they've been so successful politically. And maybe why Marc has been so successful as sheriff."

Hollis said, "Huh," again, and studied him more intently. "What about you? Your grandmother had the Sight and…?"

"And I don't." He shrugged. "I've never really decided whether it's a regret or a relief, to be honest. But spending time around some of you who have to deal with it makes me lean a little toward relief. It seems to be more a burden than a gift."

"Well, I've come to the conclusion that it's both. Sometimes a gift, sometimes a burden. But always an adventure."

"That's probably a healthy way to look at it."

The words had hardly left his mouth when Hollis became aware that something was happening. After all this time, her physical reaction was always the same: All the fine hairs on her body stood out as though electrical energy filled the air, and goose bumps rose on her flesh as if someone had abruptly opened a door into winter.

She looked around slowly knowing there was no mist really here but seeing it rising up from the ground. The creepy sight was difficult to ignore, but Hollis was able to when she saw a woman coming out of the pool, walking slowly up the steps out of the water, leaving no ripples behind.

She wore no bathing suit, but casual shorts and a short-sleeved top, and in fact appeared perfectly dry even though she had seemingly just left the red-tinted water. Her long, pale blond hair even gleamed a bit in the sunlight.

Hollis took a step toward her, so focused on what she was seeing that she totally forgot the deputy standing beside her.

"Who are you?" she asked. "I don't recognize you." She meant from the photos of the two missing women.

The woman glanced back at the pool behind her, and said, "You won't find much else now."

Hollis was surprised that the voice she heard was so normal but pushed that aside as unimportant at the moment. "Who are you?" she repeated.

"You don't know about me yet." She glanced back at the pool again, and her expression turned anxious. "Never mind that. Look for her in the water. And be careful. The trail he's leaving for you isn't what you think it is."

Hollis opened her mouth to ask another question, experience having taught her that these visitations never lasted long, but before she could-

"Hollis?"

She looked down at Jordan's hand on her arm, then at his concerned face, already aware that the temperature was hot again, that the energy in the area was gone. She looked back at the pool only to confirm her suspicions.

No woman or spirit stood at the edge of the red-tinted pool.

"What the hell just happened?" Jordan demanded.

"I'm not really sure," Hollis answered slowly. "When did you say the pool-maintenance people were coming to clear the drain?"

"Supposed to be here tomorrow or Monday."

"Call them," Hollis suggested. "Tell them to be here tomorrow. Early."

"And that connection doesn't mean anything to you?" Marc demanded.

"Should it?" She was trying hard to keep her voice level and unemotional. Trying-and failing.

"You tell me."

"What do you want to know, Marc? Whether there's a man waiting for me back in Atlanta? There isn't. Whether I found that normal life I wanted so badly? I didn't."

"Dani…"

"But I found a kind of peace eventually." Once she got going, Dani couldn't seem to stop herself. "When I accepted the fact that there was no escaping this gift of mine, that I couldn't run far enough or fast enough to leave it behind. When I accepted the fact that sleep would never be dreamless for me and nightmares would be the norm. When I accepted the fact that with knowledge comes responsibility, that God, or the universe, or just my own damn stupid moral compass won't let me walk away, let alone run away even when I see things that scare the living hell out of me."

She forced a laugh and heard the brittleness in it. "Once I accepted all that, once I made peace with it-"

"Bullshit. You haven't accepted anything. Least of all yourself."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? Dani, I'm the guy who got left behind, remember? I'm part of what you were running away from."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I don't consider it a plus in my life, believe me. In fact, I must have been dumb as hell not to see you already had your bags packed and one foot out the door about the time I was congratulating myself on a relationship so solid you were willing to share your dreams with me. Literally."