“Did you find any evidence that Trask was here when it happened?”

He shook his head. “The grounds were being watched by the Secret Service at the time. Cam wasn't the first victim, and the President didn't want any more ‘incidents.' But there was no sign of him.”

“I'd bet he was there. Maybe not close, but he likes what he does too much to set a trap and then walk away.” She absently stroked Sam's head as she thought about it. “And your brother was a difficult target. Trask would have wanted to see his child take him out.”

“His child.” Silver grimaced in distaste. “Every time you say that it makes me want to throw up. It's . . . obscene.”

“Yes, but then, you must be familiar with a lot of concepts that are obscene.”

“But they didn't touch someone I cared about.” He opened the door of the library. “It gets beyond all the barriers I've learned to put up. I guess maybe I'm not as tough as I thought I was.”

He was tough enough, she thought. And she didn't want to think about this streak of vulnerability. “No trace of Trask at the other crime sites?”

He shook his head. “You say he was a block away from your brother's house?”

“Yes, but he was having trouble controlling the fire. Do you know the range of Firestorm?”

“Theoretically, with a small transmitter it can be controlled from a distance of a thousand yards. A larger transmitter permits access of a mile or two. Unless he's modified it.”

“Which is possible.” She shrugged. “But I still think that he's going to want to watch. It's the one thing I believe he has in common with other pyromaniacs I've dealt with. There's nothing like watching, smelling.” She moistened her lips. “And if he's there, I think I'll be able to know it.”

“I'm banking on it.”

“That's right. You've spent so many months monitoring me. It would be a great disappointment to you if I let you down.”

“You're damn tooting.” He paused. “But I don't think you will. You've come through with flying colors so far. I wasn't sure you'd even make contact for the first few encounters.”

“This concerned people I care about. It could be an isolated incident.”

“But you don't think so.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “You think that you reached him—and that you can do it again. Exactly how does your talent work? Do you ever have contact before the act?”

She shook her head. “Once or twice I've seen it when it was going on. Other times I get a flash when I'm examining the crime scene.” She paused. “But this was the first time I felt . . . inside. It was as if I was Trask.”

“Welcome to the club.”

She shivered. “I hope I never feel like that again.”

“So do I. I wouldn't wish that feeling on my worst enemy.” He grimaced. “Yes, I would. I'd wish it on Trask.”

“Tea,” George said from the doorway as he brought in the silver tray. “And sandwiches. Ladies like tea.”

“Do they?” Silver turned to Kerry. “Do you like tea?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't see any tea bags in your kitchen.”

“And I didn't see your crystal ball.” She smiled at George. “I like the ceremony more than the beverage itself.”

“I told you so,” George said to Silver. “Ladies have an innate appreciation for the delicacy and orderliness of tea. I've put your bags in the guest room at the top of the stairs, Ms. Murphy.”

“Kerry.”

He flinched. “I don't wish to be impolite, but it would violate my sense of what is proper. Suppose we accept your democratic good feelings and let it go at that.” He glanced at Sam. “May I take that animal out and give it some water?”

“His name is Sam,” Kerry said as she handed him the leash. “And I think he needs something to eat.”

“Probably,” Silver said sourly. “He threw up on the plane.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” George said as he led Sam from the room. “Definitely a light repast.”

Kerry stared after him in bemusement. “You're sure he was a commando?”

“Oh, yes. But he was also raised in domestic service in England. He has firm convictions about the way things should be done, whether it's firing a Sam7 or serving a state dinner.”

“Interesting.” She lifted the cup to her lips. “I'm surprised he's still with you. I wouldn't think he'd believe you worthy of his efforts.”

“Because I'm a slob? He's hoping to reform me.”

“But that isn't all?”

“No. He wants to be around when we corner Trask. As I said, he doesn't like failure.”

“What does he know about you?”

“Only that my brother thought I was a bit of a screwball who studied hydrostatics at the university.” He took a swallow of tea and immediately made a face. “He did this to me on purpose. He knows I hate tea.”

She smiled. “You know, I'm beginning to like George.”

The bedroom she'd been given was as huge as the entire sleeping quarters at the fire station. It was decorated in blue and peach with restrained elegance, and again it jarred against her impression of Silver.

“You're right,” Silver said. “I like warm colors and casual furniture.”

“And Gwyneth Paltrow,” she murmured. Then she stiffened and said, “Were you spying?”

“Nope. I told you that you were safe from me. But, considering how well I know you, it's not hard to read you.” He nodded at the buzzer on the table. “Ring if you need anything. I'll ask George to bring you some supper in an hour or so. Until then why don't you make a call to your brother and then relax. Take a long shower and let it iron out some of those kinks in your neck. You probably need time to adjust. Things have been moving pretty fast.”

She did need downtime, but she resented him realizing it. It was almost as bad having him so familiar with her mental processes and responses as it was to have him inside her head. “And what are you going to do?”

“I have a few calls to make.”

“To Travis?”

“And other associates.” He smiled. “My entire life doesn't revolve around Trask. It only seems that way.”

She thought back to their first meeting. “Gillen? That's who you were on the phone with when I came into my kitchen that night.”

He looked surprised. “You have a good memory. I didn't think you were paying any attention to anything but your friend Charlie's death that night.”

“Oh, everything connected with you stands out crystal clear. Who is Gillen?”

“The present bane of my existence. But no one you should be concerned about.”

He wasn't going to tell her. “And when are we going to talk about Trask's prospective targets?”

“Soon.” He turned away. “You only brought one bag. If you need any other clothes, just tell George and he'll have anything you need sent here from the local shops.”

“I have enough to get by. I don't intend to dress for dinner.” She headed for the bathroom. “In spite of what George might think proper.”

Two minutes later she was under the warm shower and muttering a curse beneath her breath. He was right. She did have kinks in her neck, and the shower was relaxing her. It was very annoying that he was so perceptive.

Yet why was she so sure that he hadn't lied to her about not going inside her mind? She should probably be uneasy. But somehow she wasn't uneasy and she did believe him. Instinct? Whatever it was, she had to accept it. She couldn't keep doubting her feelings. She had to be confident that she was strong enough to know when he was trespassing. Otherwise their partnership would be a nightmare.

Nightmare.

She drew a deep breath as the thought hit her. This was the first time she would sleep since last night, the night of the fire. The night when Silver had assured her that she wouldn't dream of her mother's death. She hadn't believed him then, but there had been no real test. Trask had seen to it that her dream of fire had become reality.

She closed her eyes. God, she hoped she had no dreams tonight. Her nerves were so taut that she was near to breaking. But she wouldn't break. She'd gone through these nightmare cycles many times through the years. She could do it again. So stop being a wimp. Get out of this shower and get something to eat and call Jason.