Three people were sitting there, and as soon as Sarah walked in, the man rose to his feet. He was a big man, physically powerful enough to give one pause, and very good looking in a dark, brooding way. He made Sarah think of a soldier; something about the way he stood, about his sharp sentry eyes and spring-coiled stillness, spoke of danger and the readiness for danger.
“I’m John Brodie,” he said to Sarah.
“I know.” She looked at the woman sitting beside Leigh on the couch, a younger woman with dark gold hair and friendly gray eyes in yet another face she had encountered along the way, and said, “You’re Cait.”
“Yes. Cait Desmond.” She looked pleased, but whether it was because Sarah recognized her or just knew her name was hard to say.
Sarah nodded. “I…heard you all talking. When I woke up. So I listened.”
Brodie glanced at Leigh. “Did you—”
Leigh shook her head. “No. I had no idea she was even awake. Remarkable.”
“Who are you?” Sarah asked Brodie.
“If you were listening to us,” he replied, “you must know.”
“I know what I heard. I don’t know what it means.”
“We’re the good guys,” Cait said, in the tone of someone who’d wanted to say that for a long time.
Brodie looked at her and then, dryly, said, “We left our white hats at home this morning.”
Sarah ignored that byplay, still a bit suspicious and too anxious about Tucker to feel much humor. Looking at Brodie, she said, “You—the two of you—have been following us.”
“Until Chicago,” he agreed. “When you traded cars, we lost you.”
“Sit down, Sarah,” Leigh invited, gesturing toward the chair beside Brodie’s.
She did, slowly, trying to think. To Brodie, she said, “The bug. The tracking device. It was yours?”
He nodded, sitting down. In answer to her obvious confusion, he said, “The other side doesn’t use electronic tracking devices, so far anyway. We don’t know why.”
Sarah thought it was interesting that he used the same phrase to describe their enemy that she and Tucker used. It was a fleeting thought, however. “But they were able to track us. They were there in Cleveland. And they got Tucker here in Portland when we’d been here hardly more than twelve hours.”
Grimly, Brodie said, “They’re very, very good. And they seem to be all over the place, certainly in every major city.”
Sarah was still trying to think clearly. “If they were with us all the way, why didn’t they move? Why didn’t they try to get me?”
It was Leigh who asked, “Why do you think they didn’t?”
“Tucker said…he thought it was because I could sense them near me. He said they’d only move against us in the middle of the night, while I was sleeping and unaware of them. And only then if they could do it without attracting attention. That was why we stayed in large hotels and kept moving in the daytime.”
Leigh nodded. “Very wise.”
“And they did move at night, last night while I was asleep. But I don’t understand how they were able to get Tucker. I know they weren’t in the room and I know he wouldn’t have left me alone.”
“Not in his right mind,” Leigh murmured.
Sarah stared at her. “You mean they…did something to him?”
It was Brodie who answered that. “Probably. One of the things we know about them is that they have some psychics under their control who are sometimes able to influence the minds of others.”
“Neil Mason tried to influence my mind,” Sarah said. “But I was able to…keep him out.”
Leigh nodded, unsurprised by the information. “We know of him. One of their tools, or was.”
“Was?”
“Gone,” Brodie said unemotionally. “We checked on him periodically; as of this morning, his house was empty and the neighbors have no idea when he left or where he went.”
“They don’t like failure,” Sarah murmured, chilled.
Leigh nodded. “And he failed. You were getting stronger by then, and when he failed, they knew they had missed their chance to convert you that way.”
“Why didn’t they try earlier? When I was still so confused and didn’t know how to resist them?”
“As nearly as we can figure,” Brodie said, “they use their psychics very sparingly, always trying more…conventional means first. We think it may be because when a psychic touches another psychic’s mind, it’s like opening a corridor between them, leaving both vulnerable. They seem to avoid that whenever possible, though we aren’t sure why. It may be another reason why they decided to tap into Mackenzie’s mind instead of yours.”
“Think. Seem. May.” Sarah heard the frustration in her own voice. “You don’t know much for certain, do you?”
“No, we don’t.” Brodie met her gaze steadily. “Can you tell us more?”
Her eyes fell. “No.”
Gently, Leigh said, “Not yet, anyway. But, Sarah, we believe you may be able to tell us a great deal about them. One day. When your abilities have had the time to develop properly.”
“And until then—what? Hide me away somewhere?”
“No,” Brodie said. “Hiding isn’t the best idea.”
Cait spoke up finally. “And in another week or two, you’ll be much safer from them.”