The Watcher

I hand them back to Williams with a shake of my head. "I don't think I've ever seen this guy before."

"Who is he?" David asks.

Williams gathers the sketches. "The Ghost."

My internal alarm system shrieks. Ghost? A real ghost?

Williams allows a bubble of laughter to escape before realizing how inappropriate that will seem to Max and David. He tries to stifle it but not quickly enough. Max and David are staring at him.

He covers his mouth with his hand and fakes a cough. Not a real ghost, he says sharply. There are no such things as ghosts.

Like I'm supposed to know that.

He drops his hand and his features have rearranged themselves into a properly somber expression. "He's called The Ghost because we don't know who he is or where he comes from. The Feds suspect he's responsible for two dozen contract hits, maybe more. But ballistics matched the bullets from the Palm Canyon killing and David's shooting to others on file."

David asks the obvious question before I have a chance to. "A contract killer? Why would he be after A

"That question I think I can answer." Williams pulls a folded newspaper out of his case. "Have either of you seen this?"

He hands it to me and I hold it so that David and I can look at it together. There's a small article circled in the middle of the page. It's from the local paper and dated four days ago.

INMATE FOUND SLAIN IN JAIL CELL

Anthony (Tony) Tuturo was found dead in his jail cell early yesterday morning. Tuturo was being held pending extradition to New York where he was facing charges of extortion and grand theft. He was stabbed in the chest. No motive has been cited for the killing and no suspects have been named.

David and I finish reading at the same time. He says, "I didn't see this article. But what does his death have to do with a hit man? Or with A

"Tuturo was to be extradited to New York," Williams replies. "Where he'd made a deal with the Feds. A deal that involved implicating a high-ranking government official in some kind of shady arms deal. That's when we believe a contract went out on him. Tuturo heard about it, panicked and ran. You picked him up on his way to Canada. When he was killed in jail, that effectively rendered the contract void. I suspect our Ghost friend was not happy about that. He was out a lot of money. I figure he decided to take his revenge on the two people who denied him a kill and a payday."

I start to wonder out loud why this Ghost didn't just kill me in Palm Canyon. Then I remember his last call. He wants to enjoy it. Must mean he intends to get up close and personal. Instead of sharing that, I say, "So, let me get this straight. David and I are the targets of a contract killer pissed off because we got his guy before he did?"

Williams nods. "It's the only thing we can figure out."

"So what do we do now?"

Williams smiles. "We set a trap."

It's not hard to figure out who the bait will be. David, after all, is already "dead."

Max jumps in before I can say anything. "You aren't seriously considering using A

He says that with great concern in his voice. And knowing what he does about me, that means a lot. Of course, he may not really understand what being a vampire is all about but I'm touched by the effort anyway.

I put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Max. Chief Williams wouldn't put me in any real danger. I'm sure he has a plan, don't you?"

My gaze shifts to him. He has his arms crossed over his chest. "A good one I think. Reporters have been waiting to speak with A

Max shoots me a look. "What Palm Canyon thing?" he asks.

But before I answer, David asks, "Mt. Hope? Why Mt. Hope?"

Williams says, "Mt. Hope is perfect for what we have in mind. Hilly. Lots of big trees. We'll have the place staked out. When A

It's a good plan. I nod that I accept.

"The press will get the details tonight. A

Now Max is staring. "What do you mean A

"I got involved in a domestic violence thing, Max. No big deal but the papers got hold of the story."

David and Williams are frowning at me. Max sees it and grumbles, "Why do I think it was a big deal?"

When no one jumps on that, he continues. "Well, I don't like it. If this guy is as dangerous as you think, how do you plan to keep the press away from the cemetery? I

"They may be waiting for A

Still, he doesn't look convinced. "I want to go with her."

I put a hand on his arm. "In a wheelchair? I appreciate your concern, but that's not practical. Besides, you know I can take care of myself."

Williams picks up on something in my tone and he immediately sends me a mental demand to explain. I ignore it, countering with a demand of my own. "I think my friends and I deserve a little peace today, don't you, Chief Williams?"

He is clearly taken aback by the dismissal. He frowns. I thought we would spend the day together. I want to know more about what happened in Mexico.

I'm not sure whether he means what happened with Burke or what happened with Martinez and Foley. In any case, my response is the same. Not today.

Suddenly, I'm bone tired—tired of explaining and defending myself, tired of fighting.

I just want to be by myself.

Williams seems to detect a shift in whatever mental vibe I'm sending out. My actual thoughts are shielded, but he's picking up on something.

A