Touching Evil

One artist who painted masterpieces for the world to enjoy, and another who talked gently to traumatized victims of crime and then sketched unca

Two talented artists who shared a mother and who both possessed other unique abilities. It really made him wonder about their mother. A powerful psychic as well as a gifted artist? Or were psychic abilities in any way hereditary?

Deciding that he was doing the i

He'd had enough news for a while.

He made coffee, having little trouble with Maggie's old-fashioned percolator, then explored her freezer and found a large package of what looked like homemade soup. It seemed an ideal meal to prepare and allow to simmer until Maggie woke up, so he did that.

While the soup was heating, he checked all the doors and windows a second time, making certain everything was locked and secure. He wasn't normally so security-conscious, but what had happened to Maggie had shaken him more than he wanted to admit even to himself, and he intended to be as careful as possible.

Maybe he couldn't protect her from "psychic vibes" that could cause her pain and injury, but he could damned well make certain nothing more tangible could hurt her.

Such as a serial rapist who might have been watching the police station and so might have seen Maggie as easily as he could have seen Je

Restless, John went to Maggie's bedroom door and eased it open. The room was quiet and still; the lamp on her nightstand was turned low and showed him that she was still sleeping, apparently peacefully.

He stood in the doorway for several minutes, just watching her, listening to her breathe. He had removed only her jacket and shoes and covered her with a blanket when he had carried her in here. She had been too drowsy to protest and terrifyingly slight and defenseless in his arms. As far as he could tell, she hadn't moved so much as an inch since he had left her here.

He stepped into the room and picked up her fla

Blood. Real blood. He could smell it.

He had seen the gash in her throat, all too horribly real, and though Maggie had not cried or made a sound afterward, he had also seen the suffering in her eyes.

Slowly, John lay the jacket back across the bench, then went out of the room, easing the door nearly closed. He checked the rest of the house again, methodically, checked the soup. Then he returned to the living room, drinking coffee and broodingly watching a weather report that promised a wet and blustery night for Seattle.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Even though the weather had worsened by late afternoon, Je

"Nearly fifty old black Caddies in the city, dammit. It's going to take time to run all the names through the computer even to give us a place to start."

Kendra, who knew her partner, merely said, "It isn't your fault Joey decided to take matters into his own hands."

"Yeah? Then whose fault is it?"

"He's a big boy, Quentin. A very big boy."

Quentin didn't laugh. "And he never would have gone looking for this bastard if I hadn't pointed him in that direction."

"You asked him to find out who claimed a kidnapping that never happened, that's all. Anything more is Joey's doing, not yours."

"Yeah, yeah." Quentin sighed. "Listen, you and Je

"You know something?" Kendra asked bluntly.

"No. I just have a very bad feeling about tonight." He sounded restless.

Kendra, who had almost as much respect for Quentin's "feelings" as she did his premonitions, nevertheless thought he was probably letting his worries about Joey get the best of him. But all she said was "We'll be careful. Two transients we talked to about an hour ago swear they know David Robson and that he'll be at the Fellowship Rescue Mission tonight, so that's probably where we'll be."

"Okay. Keep checking in, will you?"

"You bet." Kendra turned her phone off and returned it to her shoulder bag, then filled Je

"Your partner sounds a little antsy," Je

Kendra nodded. "Yeah, I give him another hour or so, and he'll be out here himself looking for Joey."

"They're friends?"

"That I couldn't tell you. All I know is that Quentin feels responsible for the guy, maybe because they knew each other as kids."

"Baggage from the past. We all have that, I expect." Je

"True." Kendra looked out at the dreary streets and added, "It's already getting dark. I figure the shelters are getting busy about now."

"Yeah. We'll give it a few more minutes, then go on over to the mission, okay?"

"Suits me."

It was raining when they left the cafe, the wind fitful as it gusted one moment and died off the next, and the temperature had fallen to hover only a few degrees above freezing. So it wasn't surprising that they found the Fellowship Rescue Mission to be a very popular place.

"We'll have a full house, all right," Nancy Frasier told them. "I've already opened the rooms upstairs and put out all the cots and sleeping bags we've got."

"We're still looking for David Robson," Je

"It's fine with me, as long as things stay polite. Some of these people are a little… uneasy around cops, remember."

"We'll keep it low-key," Kendra responded with a smile.

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it." Frasier sighed. "We've already had a couple arguments today. I knew it was tense out on the streets, but the nerves are coming inside now."

"Because of the rapist?" Je

"That's a big part of it. Because two of the victims were found in this area. Because the women are frightened and the men are getting tired of the way the women are looking at them. Because we're heading toward the holiday season. Because the weather's really lousy." She sighed again. "Take your pick."

Somebody down the hall yelled for Nancy to come help get something unstuck, and she left the two cops with an apologetic grimace.

"If we split up," Je

Mindful both of her partner's warning and the reason she was with Je

"And they'll be less likely to take on both of us?" Je

"Down here, I guess. It looks like the main room for the men is already full." They heard a sudden burst of laughter and a few colorful curses coming from that room, and Kendra added, "Rules or not, somebody always manages to smuggle in a bottle."