Charmed (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter Page B

seem to have penetrated the skin. Gently, he turned her hand over in his and then back again, looking for other areas the boiling water might have hit.
    “The cold water helped,” he said, as they both looked down between them.  
    He ran his thumb over the untouched part of the back of her hand and realized that holding hands was something they never did, even though she wore gloves.  
    “So,” Isabelle said quietly. “Daniel is the commune’s system administrator.” Mac cocked his head at her as she looked up into his eyes. “I couldn’t help but see it.”
    “I know but…”
    He’d never thought in exactly those terms–only that Daniel was their computer guy and they had to have someone administering all those machines he’d seen at the commune.
    “Sometimes I see things more clearly than people actually know them.” Mac frowned a little but thought back to other times she’d read him. Even from the beginning, it’d almost been like déjà vu to hear Isabelle say what he was thinking. “Most people have no idea what they’re own mind is doing.” She paused and looked down at their hands. “But you’re different.”
    Different? he thought. Maybe so. Because of the profiling . Part of being a profiler was knowing your own biases and preconceptions–knowing how your own mind worked. But what Isabelle could see had to be infinitely more. Given time, there might be no limit to–
    Hold on. What about classified data?
    He stared hard at their hands together, his thumb still lightly tracing the top of her hand but his shoulders and neck were suddenly tense.
    All FBI agents had a top secret clearance. The TS was simply part of the qualification process. He hadn’t had to have access to classified data for some time but if he ever did again, how was that possibly going to work?

CHAPTER TEN

    DANIEL FOLLOWED THE signs to the nursery of the maternity ward. Hospitals were like mazes but he decided it was a good thing. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be signs. They were even color-coded and matched painted strips on the tile floor.
    Too easy.  
    He’d unpacked the car seat in the store’s parking lot. Rather than try to hide the fact that he was taking his baby, he’d decided to make it obvious. He carried the seat like a bucket next to him with a big blue bow tied to the handle.
    He smiled at the nurse, sitting at her terminal in the central station, but something in her lingering gaze set off an internal alarm. He paused and pointed down the corridor.
    “Nursery?” he mouthed.
    She smiled back at him and nodded.
    “Down to the end and make a right,” she said.
    “Thanks!” he said quietly.
    He was perfectly within his rights. No need to be nervous. He made himself walk at a normal pace down to the end of the corridor and then turned right.
    There they were. Babies. Lots of them. With their beds turned toward the large window, lined up in rows and columns in clear plastic cradles, some with pink blankets, some with blue. He wasted no time, headed to the door at left, and entered. A slightly sweet smell permeated the room and one of the babies close to him was making a barely audible squeaking sound. He glanced out the window. The corridor was still empty. Quickly, he moved down the first row of beds.
    At the head of each crib was a note card tucked into a plastic pouch. Last name and first name were printed in large blocky letters. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know his baby’s name.  
    Well , he thought, filing past the placards. It has to be my last name or Kayla’s . He didn’t bother looking at the ones with pink blankets. As he rounded the bend and headed into the second row, the nursery door opened. It was the nurse from the station–a young Asian woman.
    “Can I help you?” she asked, a slight accent, clipping the l.
    She’d surprised him and he didn’t bother hiding it.
    “My son,” he blurted out.  
    She put a finger to her lips, scowling.  
    He ducked his head a