Part 9 (1/2)

Someone was calling his name. It sounded like a long distance off, but as he blinked and pulled in a breath-the air in his lungs had gone sour and stale-he saw that Katie Rush was leaning over him. Her face was tense, worried and pale.

He managed a weak smile. ”Found her,” he said. His voice sounded strange and rusty. ”There was a car catching up to them. Maroon. Woman behind the wheel, maybe one of yours, I don't know. They ran it off the road-”

”Slow down, Stefan. Here.” Something cold pressed into his hand-a bottle of water, beaded with sweat. He twisted off the cap and chugged down several gulps before nodding.

He was sitting on the curb next to the police cruiser-he remembered getting in, remembered discussing things-that was the polite term-with the two cops Katie had a.s.signed to take him away from her, but then...then...

Then Teal had connected again, and blown his mind like a circuit trying to channel too much current. She was getting stronger each time. And much better.

”You said something about a car?” Katie asked in that low, soothing voice he was sure she used for dealing with victims, and sometimes-maybe-suspects. ”Can you describe it?”

He struggled to put impressions into words. Nothing felt right, inside or out. Definitely one of the more disconcerting experiences of his life...”Maroon, some kind of sedan. I didn't get a better look. There was a woman behind the wheel, like I said. I think she might have been hurt in the crash.”

”Do you know where?”

He struggled to find anything in the vision to tell him where they'd been traveling, and finally shook his head.

Katie made a low, frustrated sound. ”What kind of road? Highway? Freeway? Separated? Two-lane blacktop?”

”Two-lane blacktop,” he said. ”Not in very good repair, I-Teal was feeling the roughness of the road.” He held up a finger as something flashed across his mind, just a glimpse out of the corner of Teal's eye. She'd been focused on the wreck, the woman behind the wheel, but at the edge of her vision there had been a road sign. Green and white. ”There was a sign that said it was sixty-two miles to Blythe-does that help?”

”Yeah,” said one of the cops who had been listening. ”Narrows it down. We can send cars to every road within that radius, see what we come up with.”

”Do it,” Katie said. She hadn't, and didn't, look away from Stefan. ”You all right?” Her voice had dropped lower, almost a caress.

”Never better,” he said, and she held out a hand to him. He looked at it, at her, and then took it. She hauled him to his feet. ”Just another beautiful day on Planet Psychic.”

”I mean it. Are you okay?”

”I'm fine.” Their eyes met, and Stefan felt something s.h.i.+ft inside, s.h.i.+ft and lock. I finally found you, some part of him said-the hopeless romantic part. Until I lose you, the cynic in him added. Which he always was, in the end, not from any bitterness or anger or frustration, but just because he wasn't really capable of deep and abiding commitment.

He knew, to his marrow, that this was not a woman he could have a pleasant, superficial love affair with. It wasn't that she was a cop, or that she was so capable. There was something inside her that just went deeper than that.

Not, he reminded himself as she pulled her hand free of his, that she'd really let him get close enough to find out.

Whatever she'd felt in that moment, she was turning away now, facing the cops standing nearby. ”I'm taking him with me,” she said. ”Get those units rolling on the roads toward Blythe.”

”Where are we going?” he asked. It occurred to him, wryly, that this was getting to be a standard question with her.

”We're heading the same direction,” she said. ”Whenever that crash happened, that's our next crime scene.” A tick of silence, and then she said, ”If there is one.” But it was a pro forma afterthought. She'd given up her skepticism; he could feel it.

It should have been a victory, but it felt hollow. He kept feeling the all-too-real pain Teal was experiencing, and seeing the dead gas station attendant, the woman slumped behind the wheel of the maroon car.

It might be a victory, but they weren't exactly winning.

Katie hadn't paused for long before leading Stefan to her new FBI-supplied transportation; she'd only stopped to grab Alex and Justin for a huddle, to update them on the information Stefan had provided. What Justin thought, she couldn't tell; he was carefully neutral. Alex accepted it, though Katie thought she detected a slightly wry twist to her lips.

”Katie,” Alex said as she turned away. ”I'm following up on our lovely Sheila. I'll get the info to you as soon as I can. You be careful.” She meant that in a number of ways, not the least of which, Katie suspected, was be careful of that gypsy prince, he's got you wrapped around his little finger.

And Katie also suspected Alex might be right. It p.i.s.sed her off, and it made her tone cooler than it should have been when she rejoined Stefan and headed for the car. ”Let's go.”

He didn't comment. In fact, he didn't comment as he got in the sedan, closed the door and strapped in. Nor as she backed up from the parking spot and headed for the apartment complex exit.

Eventually, she felt compelled to offer a conversational olive branch. ”Blythe's only about two hours away on the freeway,” she said and turned onto the street. It was late, verging on early morning, and traffic was light. She surprised herself by yawning. She hadn't realized she was that tired.

”But they'd only gotten halfway there,” Stefan said. ”If the sixty-two-mile sign was right. Why?”

”They're working hard to stay off our radar. We've got cops fanned out all over the state. Eventually they're bound to run into the net. It slows them down.”

”Not that much. Where have they been since the gas station?”

It was a pretty decent question. She didn't have an answer. Stefan was concentrating on it, frowning, and then answered it himself. ”The van.”

”What about it?”

”You're looking for the wrong one.”

Katie shook her head. ”We have a good visual of it on the surveillance tape from the gas station.”

”They've changed vans,” he said. ”I'm sure. It was different on the inside. And there were more windows on the sides. They ditched the first van and stole one, or had one waiting. It has to be.”

It would make sense, especially as professional as these a.s.sholes seemed to be. They'd have a means to ditch the first compromised ride and get something clean, and they'd take their time doing it, knowing that the search was likely to widen outward, leaving them in relative safety.

d.a.m.n.

She hated smart criminals. It was a good thing they were so rare.

”Can you describe the new van at all?” she asked. ”Color? Make? Anything?”

She'd known what the answer would be, but she still felt a surge of frustration when Stefan shook his head. What the h.e.l.l use was having your own pet psychic if he couldn't describe the color of the getaway van?

”But at least you know where they are,” he pointed out.

She reached for the radio and got a patch to Arizona Highway Patrol, where they put her through to Captain Menchaca. ”FBI Special Agent Katie Rush,” she identified herself.

”Go ahead.” Menchaca sounded gruff, tired and distracted. She understood that. It hadn't been an easy day for anybody.

”Check in the Smurr area for any vans that have gone missing in the past couple of hours,” she said. ”Pa.s.senger or cargo, with windows in the back and on the sides.” She raised her eyebrows at Stefan for confirmation, and he nodded. ”Maybe we'll get lucky.”

”You think they switched?”

”We think so.”

”I'll put my people on it,” he promised. ”Anything else?”

”I'd ask for coffee, but I don't think you guys deliver,” she said, and got a chuckle. ”Rush, out.”

Menchaca signed off. She put the handset back in its cradle and settled back, foot pressing past the legal speed limit, as the car headed for Blythe, California.

”This is wrong,” Stefan said after a few minutes. ”They weren't on a major freeway like this. It was a smaller road.”