"At least, you have company." She headed toward the door. "You have the kind of personality that makes people want to share your dark days. Someone will always be there ready to help you, Megan. Grady, Harley, even me."

She closed the bedroom door behind her.

Megan moved toward the window and stood looking out at the moonlit fields. Molino was out there somewhere, eaten up with hatred, planning, moving. How close?

THE PHOTO OF SIENNA AND MOLINO was under her door when she woke the next morning. She experienced a ripple of shock when she saw the picture. She had unconsciously expected a mug shot or passport photo, but this was a shot of the two men together at a bistro table in an outdoor restaurant. They were casually dressed and smiling, two ordinary-looking men in their fifties, relaxing, perhaps on vacation. Grady had arrowed and labeled each man on the fax. Molino was a little heavier, with a hooked nose and a thatch of thick brown hair, sprinkled with gray. He wore an orange-and-brown striped shirt and khakis. Sienna's hazel eyes were slanted and vaguely catlike in his triangular face and his hair was fair and thinning. His shirt and trousers were immaculately tailored and he gave the impression of being ultrafastidious.

She was still staring at the photo when Grady knocked on the door a few minutes later.

"I wanted to make sure you got them first thing," he said. "They came in late last night. Surprised?"

"Yes. I probably shouldn't have been. I don't believe it was the fact that they look so ordinary but the photo itself. They're sitting there in the sun, drinking wine, having a good time as if they deserved it. Yes."

"They don't deserve it." She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "They kill, they torture, they sell little children to beasts that destroy them. If there was justice in the world, they'd be writhing in hell."

"Sometimes justice takes a long time coming."

"Then let's hurry it along, dammit. Can't we do something more?"

"Venable is pulling every string he can with the FBI and local law enforcement in Tennessee to try to locate Molino. It takes time."

"Meanwhile Molino and Sienna are sitting in the sun and living the good life," she said bitterly.

"Not at the moment." He smiled. "I think you stirred him up enough last night to make sure he's not sitting on his duff."

"Good."

"And I did hear from ATLPD about the truck belonging to Phillip's attacker. The tires were purchased from National Car Service by credit card."

"You have a name?" she asked eagerly.

"Tim Darnell. He's a student at Georgia State University. Twenty-two years old, bright, good-looking, no police record."

"Then it might not be him," she said, disappointed.

"And it might be. He grew up on a farm in South Georgia and he was crazy about guns and hunting. His parents are dirt poor, but Darnell appears to have plenty of money. The police interviewed one of his ex-girlfriends and he's into dominance and power games. She left him because she was afraid of him."

"Can't they bring him in for questioning?"

"They would if they could find him. He hasn't been back to his apartment in days. They've staked it out but no luck."

"You think he's gone to join Molino?"

He shrugged. "Molino doesn't keep anyone but old, trusted lieutenants close to him. Certainly not a fresh-faced kid who didn't do the job he set him to do. But if we can get our hands on Darnell, we may persuade him to help us trap him."

She asked cautiously, "How?"

He lifted his brow. "Not torture. Though I'd use it if I had to do it. At this point I'd do anything that had to done. But it would probably be more efficient to pull out the bag of tricks you're so wary about. I'm a Controller and there aren't many people I can't influence. I take it, you wouldn't mind if I made Darnell do what we want?" No.

"I suppose I should be grateful for small favors." He turned away. "At times I suspect you're just as prejudiced as Molino about so-called freaks."

"That would be irrational considering I'm one of you."

"But a small part of you is still fighting accepting that." He said over his shoulder as he walked down the hall, "Harley's cooking breakfast and it should be ready in thirty minutes. Don't be late. Harley's temperamental if his food gets cold."

"Heaven forbid." She threw the photo on the nightstand and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. She was glad that Grady had the news about Darnell's identification to balance the discouragement she'd felt gazing at the photo. It had lifted her spirits that they weren't operating in a complete fog. It might be frustrating and maddening to have to wait for developments that would let them go after Molino, but at least they were making tiny steps forward.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MEGAN'S CELL PHONE RANG late that afternoon.

Dr. Jason Gardner on the ID. Hope soared through her. He'd said he wouldn't call unless there was something to report.

Oh, God. Let it be good news.

"How is he?" she asked as soon as she picked up. "You said you thought there was a change. Bad or good?"

"Don't get excited," he said cautiously. "I can't promise anything. I told you that your uncle—"

"He's better? Stop being diplomatic and talk to me."

"I think he's better. Twice he squeezed my hand when I asked him to answer yes or no to a question." You re sure?

"It was weak, but I don't believe it was an automatic reflex. The machines don't indicate any change, any spiking, but it may be a beginning."

"Thank God."

"But we need a breakthrough. It's as if he's wandering through a maze and can't find his way out. I've seen a few cases where this happened and in a few weeks the response just faded away. I can't let him backslide."

"What can we do?"

"I'm with him as much of my day as I can manage. My head nurse, Madge Holloway, is there the rest of the time. We talk to him. We ask him questions." He paused. "But I believe we need a more personal contact. We need someone who knows and cares about him, someone he cares enough about to make the effort to come back."

"He needs me?"

"I believe it would be... helpful."

"I'll be there tonight. You'll be at the hospital where I can talk to you?"

"I'll make sure I am. What time?"

"Nine or before. We may have to make plans. What room is he in?"

"Suite fourteen B. It's at the end of the corridor."

"I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting for you. Thank you, Dr. Blair."

"No, thank you." She hung up and whirled to face Grady. "Phillip may be coming out of it."

"That's wonderful," he said quietly. "But it's not wonderful that you intend to go flying to his side."

"You're not going to talk me out of it. He needs me."

"I wouldn't think of it. I'm not into futile efforts. I'm just making a statement."

"It's better than sitting here twiddling my thumbs waiting. There's a chance I can do something useful. It may make a difference in whether Phillip comes out of that coma or not."

"Okay." He got to his feet. "Then will you let me set it up so that it's as safe as possible for you? There's a chance that Molino is having the hospital watched."