“He tried. He always tried, but I wasn't having any of it. I finally exhausted myself sowing wild oats locally and took off and started wandering the world. I finally hit bottom in Tangiers and was considering going home and committing myself into the local loony bin.”

“What stopped you?”

“Ego. I decided that anyone who was as normal as me in every other way couldn't be nuts just because I was sucked into people's brains. So I gave myself six months to experiment and see if I was really nuts or if it was a true psychic ability. It was an interesting six months. I was lucky I wasn't psychotic after it was over. You'd be surprised how many nasty, twisted minds there are out there, and I dipped into some choice specimens. Sometimes the only way I could survive was to turn their reality into fantasy and alter it so that I could break free.”

“Like you did with me.”

He nodded. “Only their fantasies needed to be much filthier and more complex. I never knew that was part of my talent, but I got to be an expert from sheer necessity.”

“What happened after those six months?”

He didn't answer immediately. “You're very interested. Are you trying to find a gallows to hang me on?”

“I'm trying to find a way to protect myself. I don't want to punish you. It's not worth my while. Besides, I may need you to find Trask.”

“I'm relieved.” He pulled into the airport parking lot. “I don't mind baring my past if it makes you feel safer. What do you want to know? Oh, yes, you asked about what I did after my six months of learning my craft.”

“Craft?”

“Craft, skill, talent. Whatever you want to call it. I decided that I had to develop control and harness the craziness or I'd eventually slip down the path to insanity. I started looking for psychic groups and university projects that could teach me something. It was a very delicate operation to investigate without letting anyone know I was there on the outside looking in. While I was searching I ran across Michael and Melissa Travis. They weren't charlatans and seemed honest, but as far as I could tell there wasn't anyone connected with them with my particular talent, so they'd be no help. I had hopes for the Russian government project, but that didn't pan out either. I couldn't find any group or study that did have anyone like me.”

“I can believe that,” she said dryly.

“So I decided that I was going to be forced to develop it on my own. I joined a psychic think tank at Georgetown University that seemed to be doing some interesting things and I found my niche.”

“What kind of niche?”

He smiled. “Everything from espionage and helping with Homeland Security to doing my bit at local mental-health facilities.”

She raised her brows. “My, don't you sound heroic and charitable.”

“Heaven forbid. I was just learning and expanding my talent so that I ran it instead of it running me. I never wanted to feel as helpless as I did during those first months after I came out of that coma.” He met her gaze. “I think you can identify with that feeling.”

She could identify, but she didn't want to admit to any bond with him. “I didn't know what was happening, but I never thought I was going crazy. I just thought I needed to get a handle on what was going on in my head.”

“Well, our talents are a bit different. Yours came and went erratically. I couldn't get away from mine. Every day I had to face it. Before I developed control there was no telling whose mind I was going to be sucked into.”

She tried to imagine what that would be like and shuddered at the thought. My God, she'd had only a small taste of what he must have gone through with Trask, and it was the seed of which nightmares were born. “Yes, it would be different.” Christ, she was actually feeling sorry for him, and that was a megamistake. No one was less deserving of sympathy than Brad Silver. He had faced his problems and found a way to solve them, but that didn't excuse him for invading her privacy. “But I didn't suck you into anything.”

“True.” He parked the car and opened the door. “You're the victim and I'm the bad guy. I don't expect you to forgive me.”

“That's good.” She jumped out of the car and let Sam out of the backseat. “Because I've no intention of letting you off the hook.” She started for the terminal. “Come on, Sam.”

“I just had a thought. How good a flier is Sam?”

“I've no idea. He's never been on an airplane.” She gave him a malicious glance. “But he does occasionally get carsick.”

This is your house?” Kerry gazed at the white-columned mansion with the same amazement she'd experienced moments ago when they drove through the iron gates that enclosed the Oakbrook estate. “I'm surprised. It doesn't look like you.”

“How can you say that?” He opened the door and helped her out of the car. “Don't I impress you as the Rhett Butler type?”

“No.”

“You're right. I inherited Oakbrook from Cam. He fit like a glove into the Old South scenario. But then, there weren't many places he didn't fit. He was one of those men who—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “He was a great guy.”

And Silver had obviously loved him very much. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He climbed the steps. “He always tried to mold me into his image. He thought it was safer for me.” He smiled bitterly. “But it wasn't safer, was it?”

“No, I guess it wasn't.”

“He was going to ask me to help in finding Trask. He tried several times to get me to see him, but I kept putting him off. I was too busy. When I finally did come, it was the night Trask decided to burn Cam into a cinder.”

“But you didn't know he was in danger. It wasn't your fault.”

“I'm not playing the martyr. I just wish— Hello, George,” he said to the tall, dapper man who opened the front door. “How have you been?”

“Bored, sir.” The butler gave Silver a resigned look. “Do you have luggage?”

“Yep.” Silver handed him the car keys. “This is George Tarwick, Kerry. Ms. Murphy, George. George worked for Cam, and I'm a great disappointment to him.”

“Not a disappointment.” George gave him a faint smile. “More of a challenge. When you give me the opportunity. How do you do, Ms. Murphy? I'm delighted you've come to stay with us.” He moved past them down the steps toward the car. “If you'll take Ms. Murphy into the library, I'll be right in to serve refreshments.”

“Right.” Silver took Kerry's arm. “Come on, Kerry. We've been given our orders. Mustn't upset George. He has his way of getting his own back.”

“Absolutely,” George murmured.

Kerry glanced back at the butler as she reached the door. George Tarwick was moving down the steps with an athletic grace and vitality that was at odds with his august manner. At first glance Kerry had thought he was perhaps in his forties, but that stride and suppressed energy was that of a younger man. Thirties? His temples had just the hint of gray and his brown eyes were sparkling with intelligence and humor. “He's not exactly Mr. Jeeves, is he?”

“No way. Before he decided on his present career, he worked for two years with the Secret Service. He's a black belt, was once a commando, and is an expert marksman.”

“What?”

“There are all kinds of discreet organizations that furnish butlers who serve as bodyguards. Four years ago I persuaded Cam to hire one. I thought it wouldn't hurt him to have a little protection. He was in the public eye and there are all kinds of nuts around.” He smiled crookedly. “But George couldn't stop Trask. Neither of us could. We stood there and let Cam burn to death before our eyes.”

“How did it happen?”

“Trask rigged the limo. It automatically locked so Cam and his wife couldn't get out, and then he turned loose a little Firestorm on them. So damn hot . . . They burned to death before we could get the car door open.”

“Christ.”

“So George and I have grown very close in the past months. We share a bond. Failure. And it bugs the hell out of us.”