anyone with that particular specialized talent.”
“But she's reluctant to help?”
“She may not be. We just don't know. She didn't want to have anything to do with me or the group five years ago. She's very independent and wanted to live a completely normal life.”
“Fat chance.”
“She's done pretty well. She's smart and very good at covering her tracks.”
“You never gave me a complete background check on her. Talk to me.”
“Her mother was killed in a fire in Boston when Kerry was six. Kerry was struck on the head by the arsonist who set the fire, and she was in a coma for two years. Even after she came out of the coma, she couldn't ID the person who had set the fire. Her father, Ron Murphy, and her mother were in the process of getting a divorce at the time of the fire and he'd taken Kerry's brother, Jason, away on a hunting trip to Canada. Murphy is a freelance reporter and never in one place for long. The children were in private schools or with their aunt most of their childhood. When she was twenty, Kerry began having nightmares about fires and the usual visions. Her father clapped her into a sanitarium. That's when I came on the scene. I'd been keeping an eye on her since one of my informants heard about her background. I thought she might be one of ours.”
“The comas.”
“Yes. I forged documents and showed up as a visiting psychoanalyst. I was able to ease her through the anger and bewilderment, but there was no way she wanted anything else to do with me. She said she didn't need my help and she didn't want to live her life as a kook.”
“Understandable.”
“I do understand. I felt the same way. That's why I was reluctant to give Silver her name when he came asking for recommendations.”
Andreas was silent a moment. “Could he have forced it out of you?”
“I don't know. I don't think even Silver knows what he can do. Maybe he doesn't want to know.”
“My reports say he's . . . remarkable.”
“And that may just cover the tip of the iceberg.” Travis rubbed his temple. “Don't worry. He's not going to go soft on us. He'll get Kerry Murphy.”
“Soon,” Andreas said. “Damn soon. I don't want to have to go to another funeral.”
“I'll convey your displeasure.”
“Not that it will mean a damn to him. Evidently he's not someone to be intimidated. Get back to me.” Andreas hung up.
F
ire!
Mama couldn't get away. She was hurt. She had to find someone to help.
The man across the street.
Help Mama. Please, help Mama.
But she knew he wouldn't help.
Time after time. Time after time.
But she had to try. She ran across the street toward him. “Please. She needs help.”
She looked up at his face.
No face. No face. No face.
She screamed.
Kerry sat bolt upright in bed, bathed in sweat. Her heart was beating so hard it was painful. It was okay. She wasn't standing on that street in Boston. She was in Jason's guest room in Macon.
Only a dream.
Only? It was the same nightmare she'd had since childhood. But she hadn't had it for months and had hoped she might be finally rid of it. It was probably Charlie's death that had triggered its return.
It didn't matter what had caused it to come back. It was here, and if she went back to sleep it would follow her. The pattern was always the same. The dream repeated time after time the moment she went into deep sleep. Sometimes it continued for days before it stopped, leaving her exhausted and drained.
Well, she couldn't lie here waiting to go back to sleep so it could pounce on her.
She tossed aside the comforter and got out of bed. Go downstairs and get a glass of milk. Sit on the porch and let the night air cool and soothe her. And maybe, just maybe, she would get lucky and the dream would fade so far away it wouldn't attack her when she went back to sleep.
Yeah, sure.
She went to the bathroom, washed her face, and then crept quietly downstairs to the kitchen. All she needed was to wake Jason and