“I’d hate to bet his life on that,” she said. “And the lives of whoever else he might be struggling not to kill.”
“You still need the break,” DeMarco insisted. “This thing’s just getting started, and it’ll be a lot worse before it’s better. I’m betting you’re the one who’s going to hold the team together for the duration.”
“Oh, shit, don’t say that.”
“You know it’s true. You’re team leader.”
“They don’t even know how to be a team.”
“Which is why they need you. You can—forgive the term—empathize with most if not all of them because of your own abilities and experiences. I can’t even empathize with Dalton, even though he’s another telepath.”
“I still think he may have the best defense of us all,” she said, then frowned and said, “or the most vulnerability. Just depends on how his rage is affected by all this damned energy. Bishop didn’t give him a gun, did he?”
“Of course not. None of them will be armed until we have some idea of who might be affected and how. And possibly not even then.”
“I’m worried about Reno. Her ability is wholly receptive, and unlike Sully she’s never needed a shield. She’s wide open. If all this energy is looking for vulnerable minds, it won’t find one in hers, I know that, but it’s bound to have some kind of effect on her. And it’s likely to be a negative effect.”
Archer drew their attention, silently making a “time-out” gesture with both hands. His face was very calm.
Hollis wasn’t tempted to laugh. “Sorry. I know it’s confusing,” she told the sheriff. “Baffling, crazy, unbelievable—whatever you want to call it. But it’s real. What’s happening here is real. You get that, right?”
“I’ve got seven people dead since daybreak,” he said in a very, very steady voice. “One killer sleeping and another one who is clearly unaware he’s done anything wrong, much less shot two people to death in cold blood. Believe me, I know this is real.”
“Okay.” Her voice remained calm as well. “We’re real too. Nothing we do is magic. Nothing is beyond the realm of science or the limits of the human mind. We’ve just learned to use energy because we have the natural abilities to do that, and because we’ve spent years working to understand and use those abilities. To . . . home in on frequencies beyond the range of our normal hearing. To see further than most people, and see more sharply, even around the next corner sometimes. To focus our own energy and use it in very specific ways. Because these abilities are natural to us.”
Archer made a slight, helpless gesture. “Okay. Fine. I don’t have to understand. If you can stop these killings, stop whoever or whatever is causing them, and get Prosperity back to normal, I don’t give a shit if you do use magic.”
Chief Deputy Katie Cole came out onto the porch in time to hear that, holding a bagged pistol and looking a bit queasy. But all she said was, “Oh, good, you told him the rest.”
“You should have,” Hollis said somewhat severely.
“Didn’t know how.”
Archer was staring at her, and Katie managed a rather weak smile. “Sorry, Jack.”
“You too?”
“Yeah, since I was a kid. That’s how I knew which unit in the FBI to call. I’d met Bishop a couple years ago, even considered joining his unit.” Her voice was casual, though the hazel eyes were watchful on her boss’s face. “I’m clairvoyant.”
“Which means?”
Hollis answered. “It means she knows things, picks up bits and pieces of information without really being able to explain how.”
He frowned at his chief deputy. “Anonymous tips,” he said somewhat bitterly. “You always said they were anonymous tips.”
“Sorry, Jack,” Katie repeated, then went on quickly. “The doc’s assistant had a print kit, so this has been printed; I think we’ll find only Weston’s prints on it, and that we’ll be able to match the registration number of the gun to Weston. So far, nobody’s tried to hide anything, so I don’t know why he would have used somebody else’s gun.”
“Probably wouldn’t have,” Hollis agreed. “And that means, if it’s his gun, he brought it along today. I don’t think real estate agents normally show homes while armed.”
“No,” Archer said almost absently.
Hollis, aware that the sheriff’s entire world was in the process of being adjusted rather drastically, looked at him with sympathy as she said, “Which means someone or something told him to bring his gun. And I’m betting that someone or something was . . . whispering in his mind while he was showing the house. Telling him whatever it took to cause him to kill them. And then to forget he’d done it, or care about that or anything at all.”
“Why?” Archer demanded. “I don’t have to understand how, maybe, but why?”
“That’s one of the questions we have to answer,” Hollis told him. “And we’ve assembled a . . . unique team for this investigation. Galen stayed behind at the station to wait for the first two, arriving tonight. The rest will be coming in tomorrow. Four more.”
Archer blinked. “Agent Bishop said there’d be more following you three, but didn’t say how many. Um . . . all psychics?”
Hollis nodded. “With differing abilities and differing strengths and weaknesses. The idea is to complement each other, each supplying another tool or two for the toolbox. So we can cover all possible bases in terms of abilities.”
She studied the sheriff and decided to keep things brisk and businesslike. No need to mention the energy . . . dome . . . which she had discovered was eerily visible to her even after dark: a faint reddish glow to the night sky, and softly hissing strands of energy moving high above them like lacy patterns of sheer electricity.
More weird and crazy.
No need to mention that. And no need, she hoped, to go into anything but the briefest details about the rest of her team.
“The other members of the team,” she told him, explaining what they had decided would be cover for the non-SCU members, “have been attached to this investigation because their tools are needed. They’re members of our civilian sister organization, Haven.”
“The FBI has one of those?”
“The SCU has one of those.”
He stared at her. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Most law enforcement officials haven’t until they have need of Haven’s investigators and operatives—or until we do. Haven operatives and SCU agents have worked together a lot. They’re all licensed investigators. And part of this team. They wouldn’t be if our unit chief wasn’t convinced they need to be here.”
Archer might have said something else, but Jill came out of the house just then and joined them on the porch.
“Preliminary report?” she said to the sheriff.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe it’ll help us.”
“Help you to convict Weston, sure, assuming he’s fit to stand trial if any of this gets that far. Otherwise, not so much.”
She had examined Elliot Weston briefly when she’d arrived, finding normal vitals and nothing else that had appeared out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for his smiling unconcern.
Archer nodded. “Okay, got it. Your report?”
“What you saw in there is what I expect to find in the posts. Two victims, each killed by a single gunshot from the weapon found on scene. No defensive wounds at all. No sign that they were anything but completely surprised and didn’t have time to run or even try to defend themselves.”
Archer drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You think you’ll find the same with the other victims killed today, don’t you, Doc? That they were killed just as it looked like they were.”