He nodded. “As I recall, it refers to the devil and his minions.”
“Evil.” Sarah shivered. “I…feel that about them, in a way. Darkness, shadows. Threatening, always threatening. And all around me. Reaching out for me. They want me, and I don’t know why.”
“But you do know that your life was perfectly normal until you were mugged—and woke up psychic.”
She tried to think, to force her fears to the back of her consciousness. “Yes. So it has to have something to do with that.”
“Somehow,” he mused, “being psychic, having visions, makes you valuable to someone. Or a threat to someone. Why? Did you—have you made a prediction that hasn’t yet come true? I mean, one involving someone else?”
“No. The only threat I saw was aimed at me.”
“That serial killer out in California; you predicted something about him, didn’t you?”
“Just that he’d strike again. Which he has. But he’s still out there killing. And he’s just one man.”
“You don’t feel a threat from him?”
“To myself? No. He doesn’t even know I exist.”
Tucker glanced at her. “Okay, tell me this. Are we heading in the right direction?”
“We aren’t heading in the wrong one,” she said slowly.
He let out a faint sound of humor. “Well, that’s something.”
“I’m sorry.” She felt a bit stiff, very conscious of the things she had not been able to bring herself to tell him. Like those other voices. But he didn’t need to know about them. Not really.
“You’re doing fine. Tell me this. Do you know why we need to head in the right direction? Are we looking for something? Someone? Or is the point simply to get away from Richmond and the threat back there?”
“I…don’t know.” Then, suddenly, she did know, and blurted, “Someone. I think there’s someone we have to find. Someone we have to look for.”
“Who?”
The moment of clarity was gone as abruptly as it had come, and Sarah slumped in the seat. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“All right, Sarah. Don’t force it. You’re exhausted anyway; it’s a miracle you were able to come up with anything at all. Look, I think we could both use some coffee and a couple of breakfast biscuits. I’ll get off at the next exit and find a place.”
She looked down at her hands and rubbed them together because they felt so cold.
“Sarah?”
“I’m okay. But I could use some coffee.” She didn’t want him to know how fragile she felt right now. How unutterably tired. How frightened.
This is my fate. My destiny. All this has to happen.
“You’ll be safe at the cabin, Sarah. You’ll be able to rest.”
“At least for a while?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “At least for a while.”
Staring through the windshield now, she said idly, “They will find us, you know. They’re very, very good at that. They’ve been good at that for a long time. A long time.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.” It was like catching a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye, Sarah realized. There was knowledge there, off to the side, just out of sight. Waiting for her to pay attention. She could see it if she looked.
She didn’t want to look.
After a moment, Tucker said, “A long time. Then maybe you’re not the first psychic they’ve gone after.”
She turned the possibility over in her mind. “Maybe. Maybe there are others. Or were.”
Almost to himself, Tucker muttered, “That might explain a few things in my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“There have been a few psychics I heard about and went looking for, but was unable to find. They just seemed to have…dropped off the face of the earth. I always assumed they changed their names and ducked out of sight because one scam too many had brought the cops sniffing after them. Or disgruntled customers.”
“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.”
Tucker fell silent, frowning a little as he guided the car onto an exit ramp where signs promised several fast-food restaurants. He didn’t speak again until they had collected coffee, orange juice, and several sausage biscuits from a drive-through and were once again on the highway heading north.
“So…what we know or think we know is that there’s someone after you. Possibly because you’re psychic, but we don’t really know that. We think they want to kill you—but we don’t really know that. And we think we should head north, maybe to look for somebody, but we don’t know who or why.”
“We don’t know a hell of a lot, actually.” She bit into a second biscuit with more determination than appetite.
“No, but it ought to be an interesting trip.” He laughed a little.
She looked over at him, more wary than reassured by his humor. “Tucker’s excellent adventure.”