When she was naked, she pulled on a robe and belted it loosely at her waist. She was suddenly too sleepy to do the complete cleansing cream routine, so she simply wet a washcloth in the dark bathroom and scrubbed it over her face, then dropped it in the basin.
She yawned as she went back into the bedroom. The candle flames flickered, sending up sickening waves of incense. She leaned over to blow them out, and a face appeared in the mirror.
She whirled around, a scream lodging in her throat.
“Hellooo,” the man said softly.
20
THE ALBUM WENT SKIDDING ACROSS THE FLOOR, STARTLING everyone. Marlie was on her feet, swaying, her face utterly white. Her pupils were so constricted that only tiny black dots remained, the intense blue of the irises dominating her stricken face.
“Dane,” she said. Her voice was thin and almost soundless.
“Oh, hell.” He lunged out of his chair and caught her weight against him as her knees began to buckle.
“What’s wrong?” Grace cried in alarm.
Both Dane and Trammell ignored her, their attention focused on Marlie. She was breathing in heavy, jerky gasps, her eyes wide and fixed as she stared at something they couldn’t see.
“Dane?” she said again, pleading despair in her voice. Her hands clutched his shirt, twisting the fabric.
Dane gently eased her down onto the couch. “I’m here, baby,” he said, hoping she could hear him. “Is it happening again?” She didn’t answer. He shook her insistently. “Marlie!”
The jerky breaths roughened into dry sobs. “He’s looking at me,” she said in a voice that was no longer hers.
Dane couldn’t get her to respond again. She sat motionless, her breathing evening out until it was barely perceptible. Her eyes were open and unseeing, unblinking.
“Shit,” Trammell said softly, crouched beside Dane. “When I said she could have a vision here as well as at home, I was joking.”
“Alex,” Grace said in a very clear, determined voice. “What is going on?” Her lack of understanding proved that Trammell had been his usual closemouthed self, not telling even Grace about Marlie’s abilities.
Dane didn’t take his worried gaze off Marlie’s face. She was beyond his reach and he didn’t like it, didn’t like knowing that she was going through hell and there was nothing he could do. The waiting was over.
“Alex.” Grace sounded as if she were about to resort to violence.
“Go ahead,” Dane murmured absently to Trammell. “You might as well tell her.”
“Tell me what? What’s wrong with Marlie?”
Trammell stood up and put his hand on Grace’s arm. “Marlie’s psychic,” he explained softly. “She has visions of the murders while they’re happening.”
“Psychic?” Grace glared at him. “I’m warning you, Alex Trammell—”
“It’s true,” Dane said. Violently he wished that it weren’t. “She’s having a vision now. Another murder is happening right now.”
“If this is a joke—”
“It isn’t,” he said flatly.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Trammell instructed. “Other than the three of us, and Lieutenant Bonness, no one else knows.”
She looked uneasily at Marlie. “How long does this last?”
Dane checked his watch. It was 10:36, earlier than the other two murders had happened. “I don’t know. Half an hour, maybe.” The last time, when Jackie Sheets was killed, it had taken him longer than that to bring her out of it. Somewhere in the city, at this very moment, another woman was dying a horrible death; Marlie was gone from him until it was finished.
At 10:54, her right hand twitched convulsively several times, in an abbreviated stabbing motion. Both Dane and Trammell understood the significance of the small movement. Sweat rolled down Dane’s face despite the chill of the air conditioning. He caught her hand and held it, hoping that the contact would comfort her on some unconscious level. Trammell paced restlessly, his dark eyes hooded and dangerous.
“Make some coffee,” Dane murmured. “Or tea. She’ll need it.” Grace moved toward the kitchen, but Trammell waved her back to her seat and went to do it himself.
At eleven, Dane sat down beside her and eased her against his shoulder. Her arms felt icy to his touch. He shook her gently. “Marlie? Can you come back to me now, honey?”
Her eyes didn’t even flicker.
He waited a couple of minutes and shook her again, calling her name. He saw some small movement in her eyelids.
He began stroking her hands and arms, trying to rub some warmth back into her skin. “Wake up and talk to me, honey. Come on, pull out of it.”
Slowly her eyes began to close, and she drooped in his arms as the rigidity began to leave her muscles. He shook her again, not wanting her to slide into that deep, unconscious sleep. “You have to talk to me, Marlie. You can’t go to sleep yet.”
With visible effort she lifted her eyelids and looked at him. She was dazed, incomprehension in her eyes. Panic edged into the blue depths as she fought for consciousness, for her sense of self. It was another moment before recognition flared, followed closely by horror and anguish.
“Shhh, shhh,” he whispered, holding her close. “I’m here, baby.” He could feel the tremor that started in her legs and worked upward, becoming stronger and more violent with every passing second. He reached out, and Trammell put the coffee cup in his hand. Carefully he held it to Marlie’s trembling lips, forcing her to sip. She was gray now, as the shock worsened.