A Deadly Web by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online Page B

Withfingers left over. So how had they managed that? How had they managed to so easily just walk through all the security barriers she had wrapped around herself?
    What was she supposed to do, lock herself into a bank vault?
    I think they’d get to me even there.
    Don’t let fear rule you.
    How about panic? I think panic is good.
    Not panic either. Don’t let others dictate your responses.
    My responses?
    They act. You react.
    They who?
    We aren’t thinking about that right now.
    For several long minutes, Tasha stopped thinking about anything but the growing certainty that she really
wasn’t
arguing with herself. Because that other “voice” in her mind seemed way too calm, and way too knowing about what might have happened tonight—and why.
    Tasha.
    Go away. Whoever you are.
    I can help you. We can help you.
    Well, that was sure as hell unnerving.
    We? There’s a we? A we and a them?
    Two sides. They want to hurt you. We want to help you.
    Oh, yeah? And why is that?
    Which?
A twinge of humor there.
    Oddly reassuring.
    Both. Who are they? Who are we?
    We don’t know who they are. A group. Motives unknown, but actions definitely deadly. We believe they’ve been . . .active . . . a long time. A large group. Organized. Secretive. Incredibly skilled at . . . disappearing people.
    Disappearing people? Why?
    Tasha, their interest is in psychics.
    Another unnerving moment. Tasha wished the sun would come up. She wished daytime would come. Because everything was normal in the day. Normal, and ordinary, and not scary.
    The other voice in her head
was
hers, that was it.
    Anything else was her imagination.
    You know better. You know yourself. You know this voice isn’t yours, isn’t you.
    Sure. Sure.
    All right. Think that way if you wish. For now.
    Enough. I’m over this. I don’t know what happened tonight or why, but tomorrow I’m going to the building super and—
    And what? Tell him someone broke into your condo in the night, you watched them do it, the security cameras
didn’t
and the security guards
didn’t
, but you did? You watched from the stairwell and alerted no one? You don’t know who they are or why they were here. You can’t explain how they got past security. You have nothing missing, no damage. No witnesses. And the building’s security system won’t show any signs of tampering.
    How do you know that?
    Because they’re good, Tasha. Very, very good. They don’t leave evidence behind. They don’t leave witnesses.
    I’m still here.
    Yes. You sensed them coming.
    Tasha hesitated, but . . .
Yes.
    Maybe that’s what they wanted to accomplish. To find out if you’d sense them coming.
    That doesn’t make sense.
    Be rational. Think about it reasonably.
    There’s no reason to this.
    There’s reason to everything, even if it’s only
their
reason.
    Which is exactly zero help to me, because I don’t have a clue what their reason could be.
    You’re psychic, Tasha. They value psychics.
    Why?
    We don’t know.
    Then why the hell should I believe you?
    Think about it. Reason it out. There were three of them. Professionals. They weren’t here to kill you; it only takes one to kill someone sleeping in bed, as any normal killer would have expected you to be.
    Normal killer. Nice world you live in.
    You live in it too, Tasha.
    Tasha threw back the covers and slipped from bed. She went to the window and stood to one side looking through the blinds out on the quiet Charleston streets below. Even this late, this early, there were a few people about. Early-morning joggers. People who went to work very early or came home very late. A street-cleaning crew. A couple of yawning people who looked as if they had dressed in the dark walking their dogs; there was a small park half a block west, and most dog owners in the area clearly took advantage of it.
    A normal morning. Normal people doing normal things, things they did even before the sun came up.
    Tasha.
    Go away. I don’t believe in you.
    I want