Touched (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter

again. 
    Suddenly, his phone rang.
    For a moment, he couldn’t place the sound. His mind had gone somewhere else completely and his mouth–it couldn’t stop exploring Isabelle.
    But on the second ring, he couldn’t ignore it and on the third he knew he had to answer.
    “Dammit,” he muttered quietly, as Isabelle stood upright. 
    With more willpower than it should have taken, he withdrew his arms from around her and took the phone from his pocket. 
    It was Sharon. He jabbed the answer button with his thumb.
    “Mac,” he said, as he watched Isabelle take a deep breath and try to straighten her dress.
    “We’ve had a call,” Sharon said. 
    Mac’s mind immediately snapped to an image of Special Agent Lyang at her laptop in Ben’s living room.
    “The kidnapper?” Mac said, almost not believing he was saying it. He and Ben had both known that the chances of getting a ransom call at this point were none.
    Isabelle had stooped to pick up her keys but looked up at him.
    “Yes, the kidnapper,” said Sharon. “But no ransom.”
    Mac scowled as Isabelle stared at him.
    “He wants to talk to the psychic,” Sharon said. “To Isabelle.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Keep him talking,” Isabelle said. “Ask to speak with Esme.”
    “Right,” Mac said.
    The living room was buzzing with excitement. Anita and Ben stood together at the far end of the room and stared at her, looking hopeful. Worried but hopeful. Ben held a headset with a wire that led to the computer and other electronics boxes on the coffee table. Sharon already wore her headset and sat to Isabelle’s left, on the couch. Mac sat to her right. He’d quickly jotted down some dialogue for her to read and that sheet of paper lay on the coffee table in front of her. 
    Why me?
    “Just act natural,” Mac said.
    She nodded and tried to give him a smile. Though they hadn’t held hands or anything, Mac had stayed close.
    “One minute,” Sharon said.
    She pointed to the clock on the screen, almost nine o’clock.
    Why does he want to talk to me?
    Her gloved hands seemed to wrestle with one another in her lap and now she realized they were shaking.
    “You’ll do fine,” Mac whispered. “I’m right here.”
    She nodded, aware she was holding her breath, and let it go with a whoosh.
    The phone rang.
    As though a fire alarm had gone off, the sound seemed to shatter the air. Isabelle jumped, her hand flying to her chest.
    Sharon held out two fingers, then one, then pointed at the handset in the charger. Isabelle picked it up.
    “Hello?” she said.
    Sharon hit the enter key on her laptop and a timer started. Mac had already explained that every second on the phone could count. If he was calling on a land line, they’d be able to trace it instantaneously. If he was calling on a cell phone though, the longer the better to narrow down which cell tower was being hit the strongest. Something about triangulation.
    Another agent across from her, also wearing a headset, nodded.
    Isabelle listened but there was only silence.
    “Hello?” she said, again louder.
    “Your gift comes from Satan,” a man’s muffled voice said. “It’s filthy.”
    Whether it was the tone of his voice or what he said, Isabelle didn’t know, but a shudder ran down her spine. Sharon nodded, rotated her hand as though she were cranking a pencil sharpener, and pointed at the timer.
    “Satan?” Isabelle asked. “Satan gives gifts?”
    That was lame.
    “Do you mock me?” the voice said.
    “No!” Isabelle quickly answered. “No. I’m just a psychic. I don’t know the first thing about Satan.”
    There was a dry chuckle on the other end of the line. 
    “But he knows you,” he finally said. “He owns you.”
    Isabelle glanced at the laptop screen. Fifteen seconds elapsed. Across the room, Anita was clutching Ben as the two of them shared the headset. Mac pointed to the top paragraph on his sheet of notes.
    “May I speak with Esme?”
    There was silence