Why hadn’t she been able to get into their minds, instead of his? He had to select them in some manner; maybe one or all of them had known his name. But instead it was his mental energy that had reached out and tapped into hers, forcing her to feel his evil. But she had once before been in the victim’s mind, had felt Dusty’s death, and it had nearly killed her too. What would it have done to her to have mentally endured that pain and terror again?
“Marlie?” Dane shook her lightly, forcing her to focus on him.
She squared her shoulders, bracing herself. She couldn’t turn her back on this now any more than she could have at the beginning. “All right,” she said steadily. “I’ll go with you.”
Once she had agreed, he didn’t waste any time. Within five minutes they were on their way. It was just after noon; churches had let out, and children were swarming as they drove through the upscale neighborhood where the Elrods had lived. She sat silently, her eyes on her hands as she tried to prepare herself. She didn’t know what to expect; maybe nothing, maybe she would relive the vision, maybe she really would sense something new.
And maybe she would look in the mirror and come face-to-face with a killer.
She knew him, knew that he killed without remorse. He enjoyed it. He gloated over his victims’ pain and terror. He wore a human form, but he was a depraved monster who would keep killing until someone stopped him.
Dane pulled into a driveway. The house was sealed with yellow crime scene tape. Though it had been twenty-four hours since the body had been found, neighbors stood in small knots pointing and gawking, rehashing the few details they had gleaned from television and newspaper reports, and adding new gory ones from the multitude of rumors that raced through the neighborhood.
“We think he entered through the garage, when she went out early in the evening,” Dane said, keeping a firm hand on Marlie’s elbow as they went up the walk to the front door. He held up the crime scene tape for them to duck under. “Because the power was off when she got home, the electric garage door opener wouldn’t work. She left the car in the driveway and entered through the front door. The alarm system didn’t work, either, because of the power outage, but it wouldn’t have helped in any case: It wasn’t connected to the door from the garage into the house. People can make some of the dumbest decisions, for the dumbest reasons. Mr. Elrod said that particular door wasn’t connected so they would have a way of entering without having to fool with the alarm code. They might as well have put a sign on it saying ‘Criminals Enter Here.’”
He talked steadily as he unlocked the front door and ushered her inside. The alarm system had been turned off, because there had been so many people coming and going the day before.
Marlie took a deep breath. The house looked deceptively normal, except for the black powder dusting every slick surface. It had been a very nice, upscale home at one time. She wondered if anyone would ever live here again, if Mr. Elrod would be able to sleep in this house, or be able to sell it if he couldn’t. Perhaps it could be unloaded on some unsuspecting snowbird newly migrated from the North. In her opinion, it should be razed.
She looked around at the spacious, open, high-ceilinged rooms. There was a sense of airy coolness; it must have been a wonderful place to live. The downstairs floors were either polished hardwood or designer tile. She wandered silently through the rooms, trying to force herself to relax and let her mind open, but she couldn’t lock out the dread of going upstairs. She didn’t want to, but knew that she would have to.
Maybe if they waited another day; she wasn’t fully recovered from the vision. Maybe that was why she couldn’t open the mental door that would allow the impressions to enter. She glanced at Dane, then abandoned the suggestion that had been on her tongue. He hadn’t been following her every step, but remained in the doorway of each room while she prowled it. His face was grim, his expression shuttered as she had never seen it before. There was something curiously remote about him, as if he had shut himself off from any appeal she might make.
“Anything?” he asked, seeing her look at him.
She shook her head.
He didn’t push her. He didn’t urge her to try harder. He didn’t try to hurry her, or tell her to go upstairs to the scene. He was just there, waiting, implacable.
But when she put her hand on the railing and her foot on that first step of the staircase, he caught her arm. His gaze bored into hers, an expression she couldn’t quite read flickering in his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not enjoying this, but I’ll make it.”
“Just remember,” he muttered. “I’m not enjoying it either.”
She looked at him questioningly. “I never thought you were.”
Then she went upstairs. He was right behind her, his tread silent, his presence as solid as a wall.
Where had the killer waited for Marilyn to come home? Her vision hadn’t quite picked up on that; it had begun when he had begun trailing her through the dark house. Maybe, when the electricity had gone off, he had left his hiding place and made himself comfortable where he could see if anyone drove up. She stopped in the hallway and closed her eyes, concentrating, trying to read any leftover energy. Cautiously she opened that mental door, and a buzz of static assaulted her. She slammed the door shut and opened her eyes. She had gotten an impression of many people, of much activity; too many people had been here since the murder, blurring the image.
The door at the end of the hall stood open. That was Marilyn’s bedroom. Marlie walked steadily toward it, and once more Dane caught her arm. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said abruptly. “You don’t need to go in there.”