Blood Dreams

Chapter Five

EVEN WITH DAYLIGHT Savings Time still in effect, the sun was going down and the air had grown decidedly chillier by the time Marc pulled his unmarked cruiser into the driveway of Paris Kincaid's rehabbed farmhouse on the edge of town. He assumed Paris 's BMW was in the garage, since he didn't see it and since she was known to be finicky about leaving it out in the weather.

Dani's Jeep was in the drive ahead of Marc's cruiser. And parked beside it was an innocuous black SUV.

Innocuous, my ass. Why not just use plates that say FED? Standard Georgia license plates or not, Marc knew a federal vehicle when he was staring at one.

And because he didn't really want to think about why federal agents would be here now, on this particular day unsummoned and, please God, unneeded, he chose to focus instead on the irritatingly neon choice of vehicle.

Even with all the SUVs on the road, there was just something about this one that screamed out what it was. Way too obvious for his taste. Marc never wore a uniform, did not carry his weapon openly if he could avoid it, and had made certain his "unmarked" cruiser looked more like a businessman's nice car than one belonging to a law-enforcement official.

He didn't like to be all that visible while he kept an eye on his town; his might be a political position in some minds, but not in his, and he probably knew more about what went on in Venture than any sheriff before him could have claimed.

Not that it was always a pleasure to be so well informed.

Like now. Knowing that at least one citizen of Venture had died horribly and they had so far found only pieces of her made his stomach churn in a way his chief deputy would have recognized. The difference was that Jordan could get physically sick and pretty much rid himself of the poisons-and sleep like a baby tonight.

Marc would be having nightmares for weeks.

Assuming he could even sleep.

Dani met him on the front porch, her face pale and drawn, the earlier worry now even more obvious. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "When we talked before, in town, I didn't know."

"You knew something." It wasn't-quite-an accusation.

"Something. But not that. What I knew-what I know or think I know-hasn't happened yet."

Marc considered that briefly, then shrugged it off to be dealt with later. Right now he had to be concerned with what had happened, not what might. "When you called a few minutes ago, you knew."

"Because somebody told me. Come in, Marc. There are people here you need to meet."

Feds. But why come like this? Why so… unofficially? He didn't budge. "So you said. What people?"

Dani didn't seem surprised or put out by his stubbornness, and answered readily. "John Garrett, for one. You've probably heard of him."

"I've heard he's a very wealthy man and a very powerful one. I don't know what the hell he'd be doing in Venture."

"He's also a good man, trying to make a difference. He and his wife, Maggie, run the… company Paris and I work for. You know about Haven?"

"I know it's not federal."

"No. Privately run."

"I don't know much more than that. I knew Paris traveled some for work, but far as I can recall she never said much about her job, other than mentioning the name one day in passing. She did seem to have very flexible hours and workdays."

"I guess people have noticed that," Dani murmured.

"When you're gone for a week and then don't seem to work again for a month or more, yeah, people do notice. Honestly, though, most assumed, at least this last year or so, that Paris was still being supported by her ex."

"Damn. She'll hate that if she finds out."

"I'd be real surprised if she didn't already know. The gossip in Venture is hardly a furtive thing; it's a recreational activity. Want me to tell you how many cities Dan's job has taken him to in the last year? I understand there was some betting as to whether he and Paris met up at least twice for reconciliation attempts."

"I hope you bet against that."

"As a matter of fact, I did." Quite deliberately, he added, "I'm a bit better than the average Venture citizen at reading the Justice twins."

For an instant he thought she would challenge him on that point, but in the end Dani pushed it aside with a gesture. "But the town doesn't know much about Haven. Do you know any more than that?"

"I admit I got curious. Asked around. Police scuttlebutt says it's a civilian organization of mavericks, supposedly psychics, people just barely this side of the lunatic fringe."

"Thanks a lot."

"I'm just telling you what I've heard."

Despite her words, Dani didn't appear to be offended, and just nodded. "Okay. What else have you heard?"

"That the services Haven offers run the gamut from advising on police cases and running independent investigations of things like insurance fraud to going undercover in big companies to find evidence of industrial and corporate espionage. And that you guys will investigate just about anything-for a price."

Half under her breath, Dani said, "John was right. We need to work on our image."

"Does the scuttlebutt have it wrong?"

"The bare bones of it, no. We are mostly psychic, varying abilities and degrees of strength and control. A lot of us are… a bit out of the norm even among psychics, with abilities you won't find named in any of the reference books. We have extremely flexible hours because each of us has an ability that may be useful to a particular case or investigation but certainly not all of them. Paris and me… well, you of all people must know that what we can do wouldn't be all that handy in investigating anything under ordinary circumstances."

"Considering you're precognitive only when dreaming, and Paris's abilities barely register unless you two team up, yeah, I can see how that could be a drawback in using the abilities as tools."

"Exactly."

"And yet you get work."

She nodded. "You'd be surprised how many extraordinary circumstances there are. Or maybe you wouldn't be. I was."

Instead of asking about particulars, Marc said, "Was the gossip right about what Haven offers?"

"We do advise and investigate. Work with police as well as private companies and individuals. We do go undercover, if the situation calls for it."

"Services for sale to the highest bidder?"

She shook her head. "No, that part's wrong. Really wrong. Look, do you know about the FBI's Special Crimes Unit?"

The presence of the federal vehicle in Paris 's driveway now began to make sense-though he was still suspicious of and very much worried about the timing.

"I've heard of it," Marc replied. "Gained a rep in the last few years for solid police work and a very high solved-case percentage. Also considered by local law enforcement wherever they've worked to be trustworthy, because they do what they say they do-advise and aid, not take over. And they don't want the credit, not publicly. In fact, they stay as far out of the spotlight as they can get."

"Haven is basically a civilian offshoot of the SCU. John Garrett has a good friend in the unit, and there was an investigation he became a part of-and one thing led to another. The idea for a civilian organization made sense, if only to make use of talent going to waste. In putting together the unit, its chief had located any number of strong psychics who just weren't suited to be cops, federal or any other kind."

"Mavericks?"

Dani began to shake her head, then shrugged. "Some, sure. People who don't like rules, who don't… play well with others. Emotional baggage is probably the norm rather than the exception, and that can get in the way, more for some than others. I mean, using psychic abilities can look a lot like conning somebody, and plenty of us have had bad experiences with the police. Plus, just being psychic seems to make some of us… fragile. Difficult to work with, or at least unable to work within certain rigid structures such as law enforcement."

"So you work outside the law."

"We're not crooks or con artists, Marc."

"No?"

"No." She let out a little breath, and added, "I didn't think I'd have to convince you. Not you."

"Convince me of what, Dani? That psychic ability is real? We both know I'm in the believer's camp on that one. That doesn't mean I can automatically agree that mixing unstable psychics with a killer who has to be the poster boy for unstable is a good idea."

She flinched visibly. "Miranda said it was bad, but-"

"Who's Miranda? A fed or part of Haven?"

"She's SCU. Her husband, Noah Bishop, created the Special Crimes Unit, fought for it, recruited the right people. He's officially the unit chief, but they run it together. They share… a unique connection. Come inside, Marc. Listen to what we have to tell you."

He still didn't budge. "I don't recall asking for help."

Dani hesitated, then said steadily, "I think most sheriffs in your position would wait. Investigate this one murder as a single murder. And then the next one. And maybe, before the third one or just after, he'd realize he had a serial killer on his hands. That's when he'd ask for help. And by then it would be too late."

"Most sheriffs."

"Yes. But not you."

"Because?"

"Because it's not about ego with you, it's about justice. Because you have a better sense than most that there are dark forces all around us-all the time. And because what you saw today was only the tip of the iceberg, and that's something you feel. Something you know deep inside yourself."

"Dani-"

"It's evil, Marc. What's underneath the surface you saw today is pure, raw evil. Something no amount of conventional police work can even begin to handle."

She drew a breath and added, "And you know it."

Jordan Swain, in addition to priding himself on his good looks, also prided himself on the fact that he was a good cop. He hadn't joined the sheriff's department just because it was better than a job selling insurance or real estate or something.

He genuinely wanted to help people.

Until now, he had cruised along his career path pretty much as planned.

Until now.

"The first halfway free day we get," Teresa Miller was telling him grimly, "Shorty and I are teaching all the rest of you how to collect latents and DNA evidence."

"Teresa, I know it's asking a lot, but-"

"A lot? Christ, Jordan, you were the one tossing his cookies at the scene-what was it?-at least twice today."

"I'm not ashamed of it," he said with total honesty. "If I'd wanted to look close-up at blood and guts, I would have gone into your end of police work. But you went into that end, Teresa. And until we get that halfway free day, I need you to lead one team and Shorty the other to collect prints and DNA from the Norvell and Huntley homes."

"Shit."

"Today."

"There's no day left in today Jordan. And why does it have to be now?"

"Because the sheriff said so. Because it should have been done already, when we got the missing-persons reports."

"That's not SOP, not for every missing person."

"It is now. Look, Teresa, I'm sorry. But I need you and Shorty to do this. You're both getting double overtime, if that helps."

She sighed and for the first time looked simply weary. "It doesn't help much. I don't know how I'm going to face either of those families, knowing I've probably been picking up pieces of their loved one half the afternoon."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

She squared her shoulders. "Okay, I'll tell Shorty and we'll pick our teams. They can print family members for elimination while we collect all the latents we can find. And DNA, if we can find that."

"Sheriff said to try not to alert the families we're looking for DNA," Jordan reminded her.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. But you can tell the sheriff from me that I think he'd better come clean with the families about what we found today-and soon. Because we both know they're going to hear about it."

"We need a positive I.D., Teresa. Maybe we'll be able to spare at least one of the families the certainty that a daughter or a wife was hacked up and left in pieces."

A hollow laugh escaped Teresa. "You think we'll be able to do that?"

The question caught him off guard. "If we get a positive I.D., we'll be able to eliminate-" He broke off, going cold inside, because Teresa was slowly shaking her head. "What?"

" Jordan, I had some preliminary tests run on the early blood and tissue samples we took out there."

"And?" All of a sudden he really wished he could take back that question. But it was too late.

"And I can tell you right now that we have blood and tissue from at least two victims. At least."

If Marc hadn't known before being introduced to the two strangers waiting for him in Paris 's living room that Miranda Bishop was with the SCU, he would have pegged the wrong one as the fed.

John Garrett really looked the part.

He was a big man, broad-shouldered and athletic, with dark hair and the level gaze of someone accustomed to command, and the dark suit he wore only intensified that impression.

Miranda Bishop, on the other hand, was casual, in a silk blouse and jeans that did nothing to disguise her centerfold measurements, with her longish jet-black hair pulled back at the nape of her neck-and was the first woman Marc had ever met in the flesh who was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.

That was his first impression.

Shaking hands with her a moment later, he looked into electric-blue eyes and knew immediately that her stunning exterior was the least important aspect of her. He could easily see her as a federal agent handling herself in any dangerous situation that came along.

But even more-

"You're a telepath," he said. "And not just that. A seer. And you have one hell of a shield."

"Told you," Dani murmured.

Miranda released his hand, smiling faintly. "And you," she said pleasantly, "are a rare bird in our universe. A non-psychic with the ability to recognize psychic abilities in others. Even shielded abilities."

"It hasn't been much of a gift," Marc told her, avoiding so much as a glance at Dani. "Passive in the extreme."

"But it could be helpful," John Garrett said as the two men were introduced and shook hands. "Under the right circumstances."

"Maybe. Not circumstances I've encountered so far, however."

Paris spoke up then to say dryly "You just haven't been running with the right crowd, Marc. Have a seat."

"I have a murder to investigate," he said.

"You wouldn't have come this far if you hadn't been willing to listen. Have a seat."

She was right. Dammit.

Marc sat down.

The room was spacious for a relatively small house, but not so spacious that there was much real distance between any of the five people in it. Except for two of them.

Dani was sitting in a chair not three feet away from the one Marc chose, but he thought she was nevertheless far away from him, despite the faint connection he could still feel. She seemed shut in herself, withdrawn, and he knew it was deliberate.

Even as a kid she had done that, isolating herself from those closest to her when something went wrong. Not because she didn't care, but because she felt things a lot more deeply than she ever wanted to show. Because she didn't want to see some of the things her ties to people allowed her to see. And it was probably the twin thing too, Marc had decided, the need to be her own person, apart from Paris.

Maybe that was why she had grown up resisting anybody getting too close, resisting attachments. Marc had wondered many times since if, in trying to hold on to her ten years ago, he had actually driven her away by grabbing and holding too tightly.

He caught a glance from Paris and realized that even Dani's twin was worried about her. Which was not a good sign. The question in Marc's mind was whether it was the situation that was affecting Dani-or the people involved.

Was she still trying to pull away from him, him in particular, especially in light of his impulsive words on a very public sidewalk today?

John Garrett said matter-of-factly, "You know I'm not psychic."

Marc didn't even have to concentrate, though he did have to shift his focus back to the matter at hand, and it was more difficult to do that than he had expected. "I do know that. And yet you run an organization designed to make use of the psychic abilities of your people."

"My wife is an empath, and my best friend a seer." Garrett shrugged with a rueful smile. "I'm the one with the business-oriented mind. Somehow it all made sense."

"I can understand that. What I can't understand is what you're doing here. In Venture. You or Agent Bishop."

A faint laugh escaped Miranda Bishop. "Miranda, please. Most people call my husband by his surname alone, so there's really only one Bishop in the family. And in the unit."

"Okay, Miranda it is. I'm Marc."

She nodded, exchanged glances with Garrett, then said, "We're here because of the predator hunting in Venture. You found the partial remains of one or more of his victims today."

"One or morel" It wasn't as much of a surprise as Marc wished it was; the leaden feeling in his gut had been telling him for some time that both the missing women were already dead.

"There are probably two victims so far," Miranda said. "At least."

"Am I supposed to assume you know all this because you're a seer?"

"If you're wondering whether I knew in advance that he'd strike here, the answer is no. We'd been tracking him from his last hunting field, using a network of agents and John's people."

"A network?"

Garrett said, "Bishop had the idea, the goal, of building a network of psychics, who could be activated at a moment's notice in any given area to aid police in especially difficult investigations. He started with his unit-with federal agents-of course, and built on that base. There are other law enforcement officers he's reached out to, people scattered across the country, working their own cases but available and willing to help us if we need them. And I've been building the civilian branches of the network. Haven. We aren't cops, but all of our active investigators are trained and licensed P.I.s."

Marc looked at Dani. "You're a private investigator?"

She looked at him directly for the first time since they'd entered the house, if only fleetingly. "No. I'm not an active investigator."

"Dani's abilities," Garrett said, "are specialized, as you know."

"Passive," she said, with another glance at Marc. "Even psychics can have totally passive abilities."

Marc saw both Paris and Miranda frown slightly, but neither of them challenged Dani's statement. Instead, the federal agent got them back on topic.

"Between the SCU, others in law enforcement, and Haven, our network of available psychics has grown even more quickly than we anticipated. Recently, we've been… experimenting somewhat."

"By tracking killers?" Marc asked.

"More or less."

"Successfully?"

"Results have been spotty," she admitted readily. "Probably not surprising, given the varying strengths and abilities of our people."

"But you feel confident that you know who butchered at least one young woman here in Venture sometime in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Who-yes. But not in the helpful sense of knowing his name or even what he looks like."

"So what you know is that he's a serial you've tracked from a prior hunting ground." He didn't make it a question, because he had no doubt that was the answer.

Miranda nodded. "Afraid so."

"And you're absolutely sure?"

"Marc, I'm not absolutely sure the sun will rise tomorrow. Pretty sure, mind you, but not absolutely sure." She shrugged. "Could I testify under oath in a courtroom? Not with facts. But feelings? Psychic certainty? Am I sure in my own mind who this bastard is? Yes."

"Because you had a vision?"

"No. Because another of our psychics got a hit. And she's very accurate. It's the same killer. The Boston serial."

"You haven't even studied the scene," Marc said, knowing the objection was purely a matter of form.

"Yes," Miranda said. "I have. I just wasn't there at the time."