"No!" Ben shouted, lunging up from the chair.

He was too late.

"Cassie?"

The room was so deathly silent that Bishop heard the shots through the open line of the cell phone. They were close together, but he was able to count three of them, and each one made Cassie's slender body jerk. Then her eyes closed, a long breath escaped her, and she went totally limp.

Bishop eased her back against the pillows and felt for a carotid pulse. It was so faint, he could barely discern it, and her skin was like ice.

"Cassie?" He slapped her cheek sharply, getting absolutely no response. Over his shoulder to the deputy, he snapped, "Call EMS."

"My God," Danny whispered. "Look at her hair."

"Get EMS here now!"

MARCH 10, 1999

"I've run every test I have." The neurosurgeon Ben had flown in frowned at his clipboard. "The MRI showed no tumor, no bleeding or swelling of the brain. There's no apparent injury or trauma, no disease we can detect. She's breathing on her own. The EEG shows brain activity, though of a kind I find unusual."

Bishop, who'd been standing on the far side of the hospital bed gazing out the window, turned to look at the doctor. "Meaning?" His voice was cool.

Dr. Rhodes shook his head. "I mean there's activity in an area of the brain where there is normally little or no activity, especially during coma."

"Is that good?"

"I don't know," the doctor replied bluntly. "Just like I don't know how that white streak could have appeared in her hair instantaneously. If anyone else had told me it just appeared like that – "

"I was there," Bishop said. "It appeared in a matter of seconds as she fell unconscious. Started at the roots and went right to the ends."

Almost to himself the doctor muttered, "The medical literature says that's an old wives' tale."

"Rewrite the literature," Bishop suggested.

"I may have to. On several counts. I just don't understand what's causing this coma. There's no medical reason to account for it."

Sitting beside the bed, Ben said, "So what you're telling us is that you have no idea what's wrong with her?"

"I know she's in a coma, Judge. I don't know what caused it. I don't know how long it will last. She may recover naturally." Rhodes clearly felt helpless. "I'm sorry. There just isn't anything we can do." He looked from one man to the other, then sighed and left the room.

"She won't recover naturally," Bishop said.

"You were her lifeline." Ben's voice was harsh. "Why did you let go?"

"If I had let go, she'd be dead." In stark contrast, Bishop's voice was calm, even mild.

Ben reached over to touch Cassie's cheek gently, his eyes fixed on her face as they had been too many long hours during the last week. Her terribly still face. "Then what the hell happened?"

"I've told you. She was trapped inside the mind of a maniac when he died. She wasn't strong enough to pull herself completely free of that psychic backwash of energy."

"Completely free? Where is she?" "Somewhere between."

A laugh escaped Ben, and it held no humor whatsoever. "Christ. That's helpful." "You asked."

"Look, if you're going to stand there spouting bits of information like Yoda, at least tell me something I can use to get her back."

"All right. If you want her back, go after her." "How? I'm not psychic."

Bishop moved away from the window and toward the door with a shrug. "Then she's gone. Have a memorial service for her and get on with your life." "Bastard."

At the door the agent turned and gave Ben one last, steady look. "You're the only one she's allowed to get close to her in more than ten years. The only one with a connection to her that is literally of the flesh. And you're the only one who can bring her back." He walked out the door.

Ben stared after him for a moment, then returned his gaze to Cassie's still, pale face. He was finally getting used to the stark white streak in the black hair above her left temple, but her utter stillness was killing him.

He had tried talking to her. Pleading with her. He had watched Rhodes and the staff try various loud and seemingly painful methods to wake her, all without success. Her heart beat. She breathed. And there was activity in her brain.

But she was not here.

"… a connection to her that is literally of the flesh."

What was that supposed to mean? That because they were lovers they shared a bond? Ben wanted to think so. But during the endless week past, when he had sat there staring at her, talking to her, trying to reach her, there had been no response at all.

The white streak had made him think of her aunt, and so in desperation he had combed through Alexandra Melton's journals, searching for something he could do to help Cassie. He had found unexpected and astonishing information, including the fact that Alexandra had left a warning for her niece to stay away from him or be destroyed.

A warning Cassie had clearly ignored.

He discovered that her mother and aunt had quarreled over how to raise her, the mother insisting her child be imbued with a strong sense of responsibility to use her talents to help others while the aunt warned of a dangerous gift that could too easily destroy – as her own psychic ability had very nearly destroyed her.

Ben thought he might have found an answer there, thought Alexandra's survival after some kind of psychic shock must bode well for Cassie. But what he discovered was that Alexandra had survived simply because her shock had not been as extreme as Cassie's; she had been pulled from an insane mind, but not a dying one.

Her journals offered Ben no help. And precious little hope.

"Ben?"

He turned his head to see Matt standing in the doorway. "No change," he reported quietly.

Matt still felt guilty at the unwitting part he had played in what had happened to Cassie, and it showed. "Abby wants to come see her. I said tomorrow would probably be better."

"Yeah."

"She said to tell you not to worry about Max, he's doing fine with us."

Ben nodded. "Thanks."

"I told Mary I'd drive her home today, but Rhodes volunteered to do that."

Despite everything, Ben felt a rueful amusement. "Is it my imagination, or did those two take one look at each other and tumble?"

"Not your imagination." Matt smiled. "Rhodes seems to be completely smitten, and Mary's been telling everybody that Alexandra Melton told her a long time ago that because of her son she'd fall in love with a tall, dark man and marry him."

"Because of me. Well, I did fly him in from Raleigh." Ben looked back at Cassie. "I'm glad that worked out for somebody."

"She'll be all right, Ben."

"I know. I know she will." He had to keep saying it. Had to keep believing it.

Matt began to turn away, then hesitated. "I know you probably don't give a damn right now, but Shaw's finally talking. And we finally know why the coins." "Why?" Ben asked, not giving a damn. "Vasek. Part of his sadistic fantasy was the need to leave a token of his affection with a victim. He knew his usual paper roses would give him away to Cassie, so he came up with the coins. They actually came from his own father's collection, locked in a bank vault for twenty years. Traceable. It's the first tangible connection between Shaw and Vasek," "Good," Ben said.

"And we found out something else. About those kittens Cassie saw in Lucy Shaw's mind. It seems she had a cat she adored, and she was thrilled when it had kittens.

She came home from the store one day to find Mike sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Cutting the kittens into pieces with his Boy Scout knife. He was eight years old."

"Jesus Christ," Ben said.

"Yeah. Russell came home to find Lucy trying to… pick up all the pieces. And she's been trying ever since."