By reason of insanity

22

Catherine thought Jamarcus was being overly paranoid, but she still followed his instructions to a T. She drove into downtown Norfolk to get beyond the jurisdiction of the Virginia Beach police. At the last possible moment, she jumped aboard the Norfolk-Portsmouth ferry and made sure that nobody got on after she did. Then she called Jamarcus and told him she was not being followed.

He picked her up on the Portsmouth side of the river in his white Ford Taurus. For a fleeting moment she considered the possibility that Jamarcus might be the Avenger. From what she could tell, the killer had some sort of law enforcement experience-who else could commit such crimes without leaving even a trace of DNA or hair or fiber samples? And what did she really know about Jamarcus? A nice guy. A good cop from all reports. A family man. But she didn't really know him.

It dawned on her that he could snuff her out today and nobody would even know she had been meeting with him.

"Excuse me a second," Catherine said. She dialed her editor on her cell phone. "I'm meeting with my source," Catherine explained. "And I won't be able to get you those journal entries until later this afternoon."

"That wasn't smart," Jamarcus said sternly after Catherine hung up.

"Sorry," she said. She tried to put her suspicions aside and focus on her story. After all, if Jamarcus really wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have asked her to meet him at night?

They drove around Portsmouth, Jamarcus checking the mirrors, while Catherine started explaining about the visions. She watched for a reaction, but the man was stoic, working his tense jaw muscles but little else. When she finished telling him about the handwriting on the wall in the first vision, Jamarcus pulled into a 7-Eleven convenience store parking lot.

"Who have you told about this?" he asked. He looked shaken, his face a lighter hue than normal.

"Just you."

"Good. Until I figure out what to do, you've got to keep it that way."

No way am I making that promise. "So the kidnapper must have used basically the same words in some kind of ransom note or phone call?" Cat asked.

"Not basically, " Jamarcus said. "Almost word for word." He stared straight ahead, deep in thought, watching folks file in and out of the convenience store. "Tell me more about your second vision."

Catherine continued her narration, providing Jamarcus with every detail she could remember about the second vision. The detective immediately started quizzing her about the appearance of the hooded figure. White or black? Male or female? What size? What age?

As he did so, Catherine realized that the person inside the hood was more of a formless ghost than a real person. Her answers alternated between "I don't know" and "I don't have any idea."

"I know this sounds crazy," Catherine interjected, "but you know how some police detectives work with mediums to find killers? Maybe I'm some kind of medium." She shuddered a little at her own suggestion. Mediums were supposed to be whacked-out older women, chunky charlatans who spent too much time with Ouija boards and cats, not serious working women. And certainly not a cynical newspaper reporter who didn't even believe in this kind of stuff.

"Maybe you saw Clarence Milburn at some point in the past, and your brain just registered it away in your subconscious," Jamarcus reasoned. "Maybe you recalled his face for this dream."

Catherine had already considered this possibility but couldn't recall ever having seen Milburn before the vision. She wondered if it had been smart to even say anything to Jamarcus. She hadn't wanted these visions, hadn't asked for this gift or curse or whatever it was. But she knew it couldn't be explained away through simple logic-she had already tried that. "How would I know about the messages?" she asked.

Jamarcus shrugged. "You're a newspaper reporter. You've got sources."

Catherine turned in her seat to face him. "Not for this," she said sharply. "I'm not making this up, Jamarcus. I don't go around quoting Bible verses. And I don't particularly like the fact that when people find out, if people find out, they're going to look at me like I'm some kind of nutcase. But there are three babies missing, and maybe more that you guys haven't linked up yet. I can't just pretend this didn't happen if it might help you find them."

As Catherine talked, a volatile mix of emotions stirred in her. Fear of the unknown. Frustration at the conversation she was having right now. Confusion at what this meant. And power. Undeniably, there was a certain vague sense of some new and mysterious power. But mostly fear.

Given everything she had just been through, she felt like she was losing control of her life, maybe even her sanity, being dragged into something that shouldn't be her burden.

"Off the record, Catherine, we aren't trying to save those babies." Jamarcus spoke softly, the weariness evident in his deep voice. "The note about the Carver twins was sent with a piece of Chi Ying's blanket, spattered with blood. Considering that, along with the contents of the notes and the fact that there has been no request for a ransom…"

He paused and turned to Catherine. "We can't sit on this, you know. I think it might be best if you went to the chief and told him everything you've just told me."

"And leave your name out of it, of course."

Jamarcus nodded. "It won't help either one of us to reveal this relationship. And it sure doesn't bear on whether the visions are true."

Something about this didn't sit right with Catherine. Why should she be out on a limb alone? Did it really make sense to meet with the chief of police, and probably a host of others, with the intent of telling them about the visions but at the same time hide her relationship with Jamarcus?

She fidgeted in her seat. "What if I say no?"

Jamarcus ran both hands over his face and watched an older man limp into the store. "Then I'll go to him myself."

"Give me twenty-four hours to decide," Catherine said.

"Twenty-four hours," Jamarcus agreed. He checked his mirrors and put the car in reverse.

Catherine felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach as they left the parking lot. It was like she had walked over the edge of a cliff and started free-falling into a land where dreams and reality merged, where normality flirted with insanity.

One thing she was certain about. There was a serial killer on the loose. And if she wasn't careful, Catherine could end up right in the middle of his or her crosshairs.

Perhaps she was already there.