were moving home."
"I will, bud."
"When?"
David clenched his jaw. "Soon."
Grinning widely, Jeremy threw his little arms around David and gave him a big hug. "Yay!"
Rain always made Skye a little uneasy, but tonight the hollow, echoing patter on her roof unnerved her more than usual and drove her from her bed. Sometimes, if it was a big storm, the sloughs would overflow their banks, break through the levees and wash out the roads. It was fairly common in winter, part of life in the delta--the excitement of which she'd loved as a child. But knowing Oliver Burke would soon be back in Sacramento, free to roam wherever he wished, transformed the anticipation she'd once felt into raw anxiety. It wasn't a good time to be worrying about getting cut off from the rest of civilization.
God, if she was this unsettled before he got out of prison, what would she be like afterward? She'd been this way all weekend.
Fixing herself a cup of tea, she turned on the television and tried to focus on the news. But when the immaculately groomed anchorman launched into a story on the disappearance of a "Del Paso Heights man in his early forties," she turned it off. Sean Regan. She hadn't rescued him in time.
But she was doing what she could, right? Jonathan had started on the case last Friday. He'd find Sean eventually.
43
Unfortunately, that didn't make her feel a whole lot better. Sean was out there somewhere, in the storm, like so many other victims....
Using exercise to work off her excess energy, she did fifty push-ups, two hundred stomach crunches and a half hour of yoga but still couldn't relax.
After making another cup of tea, she settled at the kitchen table to call Jasmine. They'd spoken briefly over the weekend--Jasmine had called the second she heard Burke was about to be paroled, but she'd been with an FBI agent at the time so they hadn't been able to discuss the situation in Ft.
Bragg. Skye hoped Jas was in her hotel room now. She needed to talk to someone, and she was eager to hear how Jasmine had been received by the small, conservative police force that had requested her help.
"Hello?"
Skye winced at Jasmine's raspy, exhausted voice. She was in her room, all right, and had probably been fast asleep before the jangle of the phone. "Did I wake you?"
"Skye?"
"Yeah."
"I haven't been in bed long. Are you okay?"
"I'm worried about you."
"Why me? I'm fine. I guess," she added.
It had been on the tip of Skye's tongue to tell Jasmine to go back to sleep, that they'd talk tomorrow, but the concern she felt over the "I guess"
overcame the concern generated by the fatigue in her voice. "You don't sound too sure."
"This isn't going to be easy." Skye could hear the bedclothes rustle as Jasmine moved. "I have an especially hard time whenever a child's involved."
Most people had a more difficult time working a case that involved an endangered child. But Jasmine's qualms went deeper than that. One hot August day fifteen years ago, when she was only twelve years old, her own sister had been taken from their home and never found. To this day, Jasmine had no idea what'd happened to her. She could use her psychic abilities to find others but drew a complete blank when it came to her own sister. She'd been to hypnotists, counselors and other psychics, all in an attempt to break through the mental block. But she couldn't even help a sketch artist come up with a good likeness. The trauma she'd experienced back then--and since--
had been too much. Which was probably why she embraced each abduction case.
If it turned out that the Ft. Bragg girl had already been killed, how 44
would Jasmine react? Would she feel responsible? Have a breakdown like the one she'd had ten years ago? As it was, she blamed herself for the fact that they'd never been able to recover Kimberly. She'd seen the man who took her sister, had even spoken to him, but her inability to recall enough details to identify him still devastated her.
"How old is the girl
"I will, bud."
"When?"
David clenched his jaw. "Soon."
Grinning widely, Jeremy threw his little arms around David and gave him a big hug. "Yay!"
Rain always made Skye a little uneasy, but tonight the hollow, echoing patter on her roof unnerved her more than usual and drove her from her bed. Sometimes, if it was a big storm, the sloughs would overflow their banks, break through the levees and wash out the roads. It was fairly common in winter, part of life in the delta--the excitement of which she'd loved as a child. But knowing Oliver Burke would soon be back in Sacramento, free to roam wherever he wished, transformed the anticipation she'd once felt into raw anxiety. It wasn't a good time to be worrying about getting cut off from the rest of civilization.
God, if she was this unsettled before he got out of prison, what would she be like afterward? She'd been this way all weekend.
Fixing herself a cup of tea, she turned on the television and tried to focus on the news. But when the immaculately groomed anchorman launched into a story on the disappearance of a "Del Paso Heights man in his early forties," she turned it off. Sean Regan. She hadn't rescued him in time.
But she was doing what she could, right? Jonathan had started on the case last Friday. He'd find Sean eventually.
43
Unfortunately, that didn't make her feel a whole lot better. Sean was out there somewhere, in the storm, like so many other victims....
Using exercise to work off her excess energy, she did fifty push-ups, two hundred stomach crunches and a half hour of yoga but still couldn't relax.
After making another cup of tea, she settled at the kitchen table to call Jasmine. They'd spoken briefly over the weekend--Jasmine had called the second she heard Burke was about to be paroled, but she'd been with an FBI agent at the time so they hadn't been able to discuss the situation in Ft.
Bragg. Skye hoped Jas was in her hotel room now. She needed to talk to someone, and she was eager to hear how Jasmine had been received by the small, conservative police force that had requested her help.
"Hello?"
Skye winced at Jasmine's raspy, exhausted voice. She was in her room, all right, and had probably been fast asleep before the jangle of the phone. "Did I wake you?"
"Skye?"
"Yeah."
"I haven't been in bed long. Are you okay?"
"I'm worried about you."
"Why me? I'm fine. I guess," she added.
It had been on the tip of Skye's tongue to tell Jasmine to go back to sleep, that they'd talk tomorrow, but the concern she felt over the "I guess"
overcame the concern generated by the fatigue in her voice. "You don't sound too sure."
"This isn't going to be easy." Skye could hear the bedclothes rustle as Jasmine moved. "I have an especially hard time whenever a child's involved."
Most people had a more difficult time working a case that involved an endangered child. But Jasmine's qualms went deeper than that. One hot August day fifteen years ago, when she was only twelve years old, her own sister had been taken from their home and never found. To this day, Jasmine had no idea what'd happened to her. She could use her psychic abilities to find others but drew a complete blank when it came to her own sister. She'd been to hypnotists, counselors and other psychics, all in an attempt to break through the mental block. But she couldn't even help a sketch artist come up with a good likeness. The trauma she'd experienced back then--and since--
had been too much. Which was probably why she embraced each abduction case.
If it turned out that the Ft. Bragg girl had already been killed, how 44
would Jasmine react? Would she feel responsible? Have a breakdown like the one she'd had ten years ago? As it was, she blamed herself for the fact that they'd never been able to recover Kimberly. She'd seen the man who took her sister, had even spoken to him, but her inability to recall enough details to identify him still devastated her.
"How old is the girl
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