EPILOGUE

Monday, January 24


"Well," Tony said, "in case we needed it, we have verification that MacBride's car has the right set of tires, that he ran ads looking for 'willing hands for light work' up until he got involved with the town government ten years ago and then apparently found some of his victims among those answering town and county ads, that both the knife and handcuffs we found in Ramsay's car can be traced to him, along with the ash in that cigar box — which came out of his own personal crematorium — and that the hairs we found out at the old mill-house belonged to him."

"Nice to know," Alex responded gravely, "that good old-fashioned police work can accomplish so much." He was grateful to Tony; the very talkative and humorous agent had kept his mind engaged during the past days — and off a loss he still wasn't ready to face.

"Isn't it?" Tony buffed his fingernails on his shirt.

Accepting his role as straight man, Alex continued. "Of course, given that we also have more than thirty jars holding various body parts, seventeen years' worth of meticulous files detailing every atrocity, and MacBride's journal in which he waxed grotesquely poetic, I'd say everything else is pretty much superfluous."

"You just wanted to use that word," Tony accused.

Alex was saved from having to defend himself when Miranda walked into the conference room. She handed Tony a sheaf of papers, saying, "Add this to the file on MacBride. They're still reading and analyzing his journal, but it appears that what he told us about Adam Ramsay being hired to do yard work and getting a little too curious was the truth. Adam was hired to trim back the bushes around the basement. Apparently, he did a little exploring. And it seems he was very good with padlocks." In a wondering tone, she added, "I'll never understand how anyone could look at the horrors in that room and not run screaming."

"Instead of collecting select items for blackmail purposes?" Alex shook his head, equally baffled. "I guess it takes all kinds. The same town that produced Adam Ramsay also produced our very own Frankenstein. Except that MacBride wanted to tear bodies apart rather than stitch them together." He refused to allow himself to think about Liz.

Not yet. Not yet.

Not until he could stand the pain.

Miranda sighed. "I'm just glad most of the press is camped out around his house instead of here. I'm tired of having microphones stuck in my face and questions shouted in my ears, and I hate seeing myself on the evening news."

Coming into the room just then, Bishop said, "No way are they going to stop aiming cameras at you, love. They've found their hook. Beautiful sheriff hunts down vicious serial killer and makes her town safe again."

Miranda lifted an eyebrow at him. "You forgot the 'aided by handsome, enigmatic FBI agent.' That was today's addition."

To Alex, Tony said, "Don't you feel invisible?"

"And unloved," Alex said sadly.

Looking at Bishop, Miranda said, "We've got to separate these two. They're getting worse every day."

"I thought we were getting better," Tony said, injured. "A little comedy to leaven the tragedy hereabouts."

Deadpan, Miranda said, "A very little comedy."

Alex sighed. "Misunderstood again. It's very disheartening."

Bishop shook his head at Miranda. "I told you to just say the word and I'd take you away from all this. Well, from part of this — Tony's on the team, I'm afraid."

Tony brightened visibly and grinned at Miranda. "Oh, are you coming to play with us?"

"I have a term as sheriff to finish," she said.

As if she hadn't spoken, Bishop went on, "After all, we've solved our little telepathic problem, so we'll be able to work together without ever having to worry about..."

"Self-denial?" Tony finished limpidly.

Miranda eyed him. "You weren't supposed to figure that out."

"I'm very bright," he apologized.

Not quite under his breath, Alex muttered, "Hell, even I figured it out."

In a determined voice, Bishop said, "After helping Bonnie, we ended up with a much tougher and more durable link, that's all I meant. Nothing mutes our abilities these days, and there's no denying we're stronger together than either of us is alone. So there's nothing to stop us working together."

"Except my job. And Bonnie. I'd hate to take her out of school, and I doubt I could take her away from Seth."

"Seth is going to college in the fall," Bishop reminded her. "Lots of great universities in Virginia. And I have a hunch Bonnie wouldn't mind the move too much."

Miranda, who knew, said, "Yes, but there's still my term as sheriff, and—"

"I bet Alex would love to be sheriff," Bishop said. "No slight intended — especially after recent events — but chasing down bad guys on a national scale is a much better use of your considerable talents. And I need you."

Miranda drew a breath, but whatever she intended to say was cut off when both she and Bishop suddenly paled, winced, and closed their eyes.

"What?" Alex demanded, alarmed.

"I think," Tony said, watching them with interest, "they're having a vision."

"Nobody told me they hurt," Alex said, looking from one to the other warily.

"Ouch," Bishop said distinctly after several moments.

"I guess they hurt," Tony said.

Miranda opened her eyes and lifted her hands to rub her temples. "I warned you," she said to Bishop. "They come out of nowhere."

Bishop smiled at her. "I don't think this one came out of nowhere, do you? I think fate just answered the question for you, love."

Unwilling to admit defeat, Miranda said, "Not necessarily. My visions aren't always accurate."

"This one will be."

She stared at him.

He crossed the space between them and kissed her, then repeated, "This one will be. You can't escape destiny, Miranda. Not this destiny. I won't let you." Without giving her a chance to answer — at least out loud — he turned and left the room.

"What destiny?" Tony demanded.

Miranda sat down at the table. "Never mind."

He grinned at her. "I can guess."

"Hell," Alex said, "even I can."

"You're both full of it," she told them.

Tony started laughing. "Miranda, I hate to tell you this, but back at the office we started taking bets ages ago concerning the questions of one, would Bishop ever find you, and two, when he found you, would he ultimately persuade you to join our team professionally — and him personally."

She almost smiled. Almost. "And?"

"And the odds always favored Bishop. By a wide margin." He grinned and shrugged. "What can I say? The man knows how to win."

Slowly, Miranda smiled. It was the first time Tony had ever gotten a true look at the warmth and vitality she normally kept hidden beneath professionalism, and for a moment or two he tried to remember what they were talking about.

All of a sudden, he totally understood why Bishop had asked how fast the jet could be warmed up the moment he learned of her whereabouts.

"Oh, hell," Miranda said, and there was sheer delight this time in giving in to destiny's plan for her. "Alex — you want to be sheriff?"

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