Her hands shaking, she took the phone, pain and grief swamping her eyes. She hit a button and winced when the video began playing just as Caleb brought the knife down and Ramie screamed.
“T-there,” Eliza stammered, pausing the video clip. She turned the phone around and shoved it in Dane’s face. “Tell me what you see.”
Dane frowned, studying the still shot of Caleb kneeling over Ramie’s body. Then his heart slammed against his chest and his breath expelled in a rush, as though someone had just sucker-punched him.
“His nose is bleeding. Sweet mother of God,” Dane said in horror. “A psychic bleed. The bastard was controlling him the entire time and Caleb was trying to fight back. Just like Ramie did when she saw the bomb.”
“What?” Beau said in disbelief.
“He’s fighting the compulsion. Fighting himself and what he knows he’s doing,” Dane said quietly.
“You’re saying Caleb wasn’t cognizant of doing this?” Beau demanded.
“Dane, look,” Eliza hissed.
Dane and Beau swung around to see Caleb on his knees, his face drawn in a black rage, blood streaming from his nose and over his mouth. It was a macabre sight but not as gruesome as the video footage of Ramie being systematically carved up by an unwilling hand.
Caleb’s face was stony, his features rigid, his eyes glazed over with a faraway look to them.
“I think he just went after the bastard,” Dane murmured.
THIRTY-FIVE
CALEB was pale and sweaty, his hands shaking, his head throbbing from the effort of trying to trace the mental pathway back to the killer.
Realization was slick and oily with fear. His head pounded, his heart broken into a million pieces.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “It was him. Goddamn it! That fucker used me to get to her.”
“What the fuck is going on, Caleb?” Dane shouted.
“He bumped into me on the street. I didn’t think a thing of it. How could I have? Psychic links are hokey bullshit. He set me up. He established the link when he grabbed my arm and then he used me to turn off parts of the surveillance system so he could get in to plant the bomb. He used me to torment Ramie and hand her over to him on a silver platter,” Caleb choked out, grief consuming him.
Eliza, Dane and Beau stared at Caleb in abject horror. Then Eliza stepped forward, her expression determined as she got down on her knees in front of Caleb. She framed his face in her hands and shook him fiercely.
“You have to find her, Caleb. If the killer established a link to you then you have a link to him as well. Just like Ramie had. It will enable you to see into the killer’s mind and through his eyes.”
“I can’t do what Ramie does,” Caleb said in frustration. “I’m not psychic like her.”
“You’re not doing anything,” Eliza said impatiently. “The killer is. All you have to do is use the already established pathway into his mind.”
“Do it, Caleb. What have you got to lose?” Beau said tersely. “If we don’t get Ramie back, you’ll go to jail for her murder. Time is of the essence. We may already be too late.”
“Don’t goddamn say that!” Caleb roared. “We aren’t too late. We can’t be too late.”
He closed his eyes and tried to shut down everything around him. Frustrated by his inability to trace any sort of pathway back to the killer, he rammed his fist into the floor.
Eliza slid her cool hand over Caleb’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re trying too hard,” she said softly. “Relax and let it happen. Think only about finding Ramie and then open your mind.”
He huffed breath in and out, rage blowing like a firestorm inside him. The realization of just what he’d done, unwittingly or not, sickened him. It was a burden he’d bear for the rest of his life. That one night would haunt him forever.
He tried to relax, focusing on Ramie’s image. Her smile. Her beauty and resilience. She deserved better than a weakling who could be bent to another’s will.
There was a brief moment of peace and then he was assaulted by a bombardment of images. Ramie bruised and bloodied, arms tied over her head, legs spread-eagled and tied to posts thrusting upward from the floor.
The killer taunted her, demanding that she beg for mercy. She remained quiet, her eyes defiant as she stared him down. The killer flew into a rage, kicking and lashing out at Ramie, her body jerking from the multiple blows.
Then she lifted her gaze, hatred glittering in the depths of her eyes.
“Go to hell,” she said through swollen lips, blood spitting from her mouth with the effort.
Caleb curled his fingers into tight fists until his nails dug into the skin of his palms. Baby, no. Do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means surrendering. Please, stay alive for me. I’ll come for you. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll find you.