Haven by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online

weather?” Special Agent Tony Harte of the FBI’s Special Crimes Unit stood at the window, frowning as he stared out at the heavy rain. “No matter where we land, the weather invariably begins to suck. Are we carrying around our own dark cloud?”
    “Do you really want me to answer that?” Bishop asked absently. He was half sitting on one end of a long conference table as he studied crime scene photos, suspect photos, time lines, and other notes on an evidence board in front of him.
    “It’s been raining for three days straight, Boss.”
    “It’s Seattle, Tony. It rains here. A lot.”
    Tony sighed and moved away from the window. “Yeah, yeah. At least it’s just rain now and not a storm. I hardly slept a wink last night. The storms just kept rolling through, hour after hour.”
    “I know.”
    Not for the first time, Tony reminded himself that if he, only a second-degree telepath and so relatively weak in terms of sensitivity, had been disturbed to the point of wakefulness by the energy of the storm, then Bishop, whose abilities were redefining the limits of power even within the SCU, must have been driven nearly mad by it.
    Then again, he was Bishop. So probably not.
    Tony said, “Well, it makes things difficult. The rain. If there was any evidence at that murder scene, it’s been washed away, same as with the first two.” He frowned as he sat down at the conference table near his unit chief. “Do you think that was deliberate? Waiting for the weather to help him?”
    “I think there’s very little about this killer that isn’t deliberate,” Bishop responded.
    “But it’s gotta make it harder for him to hunt,” Tony said.
    “Maybe somewhere else. But in Seattle? If people stayed inside to avoid the rain, they’d never go anywhere. He’s chosen spots that aren’t well traveled but do serve as handy shortcuts for people who live and work downtown. Pedestrian shortcuts.”
    “Good point. I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”
    Bishop turned slightly to look at his agent. “Something on your mind, Tony?”
    “You don’t already know?” Tony frowned, then said, “Oh. You’re shielding.”
    Bishop didn’t change expression, his face remote in a way that might have made someone who didn’t know him uneasy. “Miranda is working that serial case outside Chicago.”
    Tony did know his boss, and nodded in understanding. “Then you two are taking the threat against her task force seriously.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you believe the serial they’re after is psychic.”
    Bishop nodded.
    So he and his wife had closed down the link between them as much as possible, the two of them shielding their abilities, both for their own protection and to safeguard what information both knew about their investigations.
    Tony wondered, not for the first time, what really would happen if one of them was—He shut even the wondering down, remembering instead what had happened only a few months previously, on a painfully bright street in a terrorized small town, Miranda lying there bleeding while her husband, ashen-faced, held on to her hand and to the telepathic link between them with all the considerable strength at his command. 1
    Psychic connections could be lifelines.
    They could also be very, very dangerous.
    “Tony. What is it?”
    Pushing that horrible memory aside, Tony said, “What’s going on with Haven?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean all the e-mails and phone calls and other communication between Haven and the SCU. Between you and Maggie. I know what’s normal, Boss, what’s usual. And I know what’s unusual. This is unusual. What’s going on?”
    Bishop didn’t question his agent’s knowledge of communications that were, to say the least, sensitive. Within the SCU, it was commonlyrecognized, however wryly, that there were few if any secrets inside a unit made up of psychics.
    Instead, he merely explained the situation with Jessie, her homecoming, and what she had seen