Conner put a hand at the small of her back and led her inside the hotel. “I’ll stay here tonight. In the lobby. That should give you a peaceful night’s sleep.”

Adrienne wasn’t sure how to respond. She was so grateful for his offer. The thought of having a night of uninterrupted rest made her feel as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

But she didn’t want him in the lobby. She wanted him in her bed.

Adrienne smiled up at Conner shyly, and reached for his hand. “There’s no need for you to stay down here.”

He pressed the button for the elevator then stepped close enough to Adrienne that his lips were just inches away from hers.

“I think we both know if I stay up there, a peaceful night’s sleep is not what’s going to happen.”

The elevator door opened but Conner didn’t move. Finally Adrienne put a finger on his chest and pushed him back into the elevator and didn’t stop until Conner’s back was against the elevator’s wall.

Primal Instinct

Janie Crouch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANIE CROUCH loves to read—almost exclusively romance—and has been doing so since middle school. She learned to love Mills & Boon® romance novels when she lived in Wales, UK, for a few years as a pre-teen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult.

Janie lives with her husband and four children in southeastern Virginia. Her “day job” is teaching online public speaking and communication courses at a community college. When she’s not listening to the voices in her head (and even when she is), Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie-watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing.

Janie tries to live by the anonymous quote “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn-out and proclaiming, ‘Wow, what a ride!'” You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com.

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To my mother, the smartest and most well-read person I know.

I call you family because I have to, but call you friend because I’m blessed.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

EXTRACT

Chapter One

FBI agent Conner Perigo knew throwing the file in his hand across the room would be childish and ultimately accomplish nothing except making a mess, but he was still tempted.

Ten months.

Ten months they had been on the trail of this psychopath. Ten months of being two steps behind and watching, helpless, as another woman was murdered. It wasn’t in Conner’s job description to attend the funerals of women he had never known. That hadn’t stopped him from attending one last week. Or three weeks before that. Or a month and a half before that.

Each time he saw one of these women buried, it renewed Conner’s determination to catch this bastard.

Five women dead in ten months. Most within a fifty-mile radius of San Francisco, which, of course, had the city in a panic.

“I’m not picking that up, so don’t even think about throwing it,” Conner’s partner and friend, Seth Harrington, said without looking up from his desk.

Conner looked at the file in his hand, then set it down. Maybe flying papers would make him feel better momentarily, but it wasn’t worth the aftermath. He sighed. “This case, Seth. I swear I’m about to lose it over this case.”

“I hear you, man. It’s messed up.”

It wasn’t just the murders, although those were bad enough. Now the perp was taunting them.

Yesterday the San Francisco FBI field office had received another package. It was the same thing every time. The outside was a box addressed with an innocuous label—like a care package. Of course, innocent-looking or not, each had gone through the extensive FBI bomb scannings and toxic screenings. There was nothing dangerous in any of the packages.

Every delivery was box after box, wrapped in plain brown paper, nested inside each other like one of those Russian dolls. Every time, inside the smallest box, Conner and his team had found a lock of a woman’s hair.

And every time, the dead body matching the hair had been found a few days later.

The packages also contained a handwritten note, in third person, with the killer referring to himself as Simon. As if this was all a game of Simon Says.

“Simon says, the FBI is too slow.”

“Simon says, you should try harder.”

“Simon says, uh-oh, there goes another one.”

They had kept all info about the packages from the public, knowing it would cause more of a panic. But around the San Francisco field office, the killer was known as “Simon Says.”

There was no doubt about it: this pervert was calling the shots. The game was consistent. The FBI received a package—with zero helpful forensic evidence—then ran around for the next couple of days trying to figure out where the woman was being held with only the city in the return address to go on.

They were always too late. A body would be found somewhere; usually local law enforcement would call it in, and the Bureau would rush to the address. The crime scene, just like the packages, would hold zero helpful forensic evidence.

And then the game would start all over again.

Conner and Seth worked in the FBI’s ViCAP division—Violent Criminal Apprehension Program—a subdivision of the Bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Their job was to help law enforcement agencies apprehend violent criminals through investigative analysis. They were the best of the best.

But this killer was always one step ahead of them.

“Perigo, Harrington, my office.”

Upon hearing his division chief’s words, Conner rubbed his eyes wearily then glanced over to find Harrington looking at him, shaking his head. A trip to Division Chief Logan Kelly’s office was never good. The two partners grabbed their notebooks and headed down the hall. The chief took his chair behind his desk and motioned for them to have a seat in the chairs across from him.

“I have spent the entire morning fielding calls. The governor. The deputy director. Even a city councilman. Everybody wants to know the same thing. Where are we on the Simon Says investigation?”

Conner and Seth didn’t answer. Chief Kelly knew full well where they were in this investigation: nowhere.

“It’s getting a little tiresome explaining over and over that we’ve got absolutely nothing on this psycho, despite our best efforts.”

Conner couldn’t agree more, although he didn’t say so out loud.

The chief continued, “After talking with the deputy director this morning, we’ve decided to pull in some independent contractors to help on the case.”

Conner sat up a little straighter in his chair, as did Seth. “Independent contractors, sir? What type?” They had already brought in some outside help on the case—in particular, handwriting experts for the letters. What else could Chief Kelly have in mind?

“Actually we have just one specifically in mind. We want to bring in a...nontraditional profiling expert.”

Conner glanced at Seth to find him looking as confused as Conner felt. Why would the department bring in an outsider for profiling? Despite what popular media suggested, there was no actual profiler position at the FBI. All agents were trained in profiling. But just like in all other training—hand-to-hand combat, weapons, languages—an agent could excel at profiling.

Conner and Seth were decent profilers, although both had other specialties. Rarely did the Bureau bring in outsiders unless it was for something very specific. They didn’t know enough about Simon Says to bring in someone specific.

And what the hell did Kelly mean by “nontraditional”?

Conner leaned forward. “You and the deputy director have someone specific in mind, sir?”

“Yes, Perigo, we do. Have you ever heard of a profiling expert named Adrienne Jeffries?”

“No.” Conner looked over at Seth, who shook his head.

“Perhaps you’ve heard of the Bloodhound?”

Now Seth spoke up. “Well, yeah, everybody has heard of her. She worked for the Bureau, what? Fifteen, twenty years ago? Had some sort of superpower or something. Could sense and track evil—I don’t know. Something like that.”

Conner barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Superpowers? Seriously? Didn’t they have more important things to do than talk about FBI urban legends from decades ago?

“Adrienne Jeffries last worked for us eight years ago.” Chief Kelly pushed a thin file across his desk toward Conner and Seth. “She was hands down the most gifted profiler any of us had ever seen. We want to bring her back in to help with the case.”

Conner shrugged, grabbing the file and giving it to his partner without even looking at it. “No offense, Chief, but we have more important things to do than chase down a woman who has been out of the game for a decade.”

Seth backed him up. “Yeah, Chief. If she’s such a great profiler and can do everything the legend says, why isn’t she still on the Bureau’s payroll?”

“Ms. Jeffries cut ties with the FBI eight years ago after working with us for two years. During her tenure she was directly accredited with providing critical leads for thirty-seven criminal apprehensions. All over the country. Every team she worked with listed Jeffries as their number one asset and direct link to the arrests.”

Seth whistled through his teeth. Conner had to agree. Thirty-seven cases solved in two years was unheard of. It also begged the question: With that success rate, why had she only worked for the FBI for such a short time?

“Why did she quit?” Conner asked.

The older man glanced away for a moment then looked back at Conner. “She decided working with the FBI was not what she wanted to do.”

Conner reached over to grab the file Seth was handing to him. He opened it and took a brief glance. There was no picture of Adrienne Jeffries, and half the file was blacked out with thick black lines—making reading the information behind the lines impossible.

Someone very high in the FBI did not want much known about the Bloodhound. Conner couldn’t help but be suspicious about so many black marks through a file. Somebody wasn’t telling the whole story.

“So for eight years nobody has brought the Bloodhound back in to assist in cases?” Seth asked. “It’s been so long, I think everyone just assumed she was dead or too old or not even real to begin with.”

“No, she’s alive, definitely not too old and very real. We’ve contacted her a few times over the years, to see if she would resume her contract work, but have been met with a resounding no as her answer.” Chief Kelly’s eyes were cold.

“Why?” Conner looked down at the blacked-out file again. Something was not right in this situation. Not that Conner believed in any of the hocus-pocus junk that surrounded the Bloodhound’s reputation. In Conner’s opinion cases were solved by hard work and sometimes a little bit of luck, not by superpowers.

“She says she’s...not interested in renewing her working agreement with the FBI.”

Both Conner and Seth caught the slight hesitation in the chief’s statement, but neither said anything.

“Ms. Jeffries has been more interested in maintaining her horse ranch near Lodi.”

She was much closer than Conner anticipated. Lodi was only about two hours east of San Francisco. Quite a few vineyards out there and farms, too. And a whole lot of empty space. Definitely a good place for a horse ranch.

“What makes you think she’ll be interested in helping us now, if she hasn’t been willing to help before?” Conner asked. Obviously the woman was pretty cold, if she was as good as they said she was, but refused to help. Another reason not to waste time on her in Conner’s opinion.

“Her circumstances have changed in the past year.”

“Does she need money?” Seth asked. Being broke caused many a change of heart.

“No. She hired a convicted felon as her ranch manager almost a year ago.”

Conner leaned back in his chair, confused. “Are they doing something illegal?”

“No, nothing like that,” the chief said. “Her ranch manager, Rick Vincent, was convicted in the mid-1970s for breaking and entering. Did three years, was released. Everything was fine. But he missed his last parole hearing for whatever reason. Warrant’s been out for him since ’79.”

Conner frowned. “Sorry, Chief, but I don’t understand what this has to do with anything. If Vincent hasn’t been arrested since that incident in the ’70s, never had any run-ins with the law at all since then, it doesn’t seem like he would pose much threat to Ms. Jeffries now.”

The chief tilted his head. “No, we’re not worried about him being a threat to her. Reports indicate they are actually pretty friendly with each other.”

Conner frowned over at Seth. Reports indicate? What was going on here?

Seth shrugged, obviously as confused as Conner.

“Reports, sir?” Conner asked. “Has she been under surveillance?”

“Not surveillance, exactly. Just attempts on our part, from time to time, to get her to return and provide profiling assistance.” The chief looked down at his desk and began reorganizing papers, obviously not wanting to provide too much information about the reports or meetings with Ms. Jeffries.

It was damn strange, if anyone asked Conner. He waited for the chief to get to the point he was so long in coming to.

Chief Kelly finally looked up from his desk. “I want you to go out to Adrienne Jeffries’s horse ranch and ask for her help with the case. And if she says no, then I want you to use the arrest of Rick Vincent as a threat to get her cooperation.”

It was all Conner could do to keep from jumping out of his chair. He heard Seth make some sort of incredulous sound next to him. “What? Chief, that’s pretty much blackmail.”

The chief’s eyes narrowed. “No, Perigo. It’s doing your job. She has a criminal on her property, and you need to bring him in.”

“A nonviolent criminal with a B&E rap from more than thirty years ago. No law enforcement agency would waste the gas out to Lodi to pick up Vincent!” Seth exclaimed. He didn’t like this any more than Conner.

“Rick Vincent is not the primary objective here, obviously. Adrienne Jeffries’s cooperation is.”

“Chief...” Conner’s cajoling tone was cut off before he could get a second word out.

“Perigo, I get it. You don’t like the tactics. Fine, they’re not my favorite, either. But how many more women are you willing to let die, when we have a known tool at our disposal? A tool proven to get results?”

Conner sat in silence. He didn’t agree with Chief Kelly’s orders. Hell, he didn’t even believe Adrienne Jeffries could possibly be as useful as everyone said. But regardless, if it meant catching Simon Says and saving even one woman’s life, he was willing to try.

“All right, Chief. We’ll go see her tomorrow morning.”

* * *

A FEW HOURS later, long after the office began emptying and most of the other agents were gone, Conner and Seth sat at their desks. Conner reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a toy baseball made of a foamy material. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, tossing the ball up in the air and catching it on its way back down. Seth saw him and leaned back in his own chair.

They had spent every moment since leaving Chief Kelly’s office going back over the details of the Simon Says case. They had read through the testimony of local law enforcement again, pored over the lives of the victims to see if they could find any commonalities once more, reviewed crime scene video footage and photos additionally, as well.

It had led to nothing.

Conner had hoped to find something—anything—that would keep them from having to bring in Adrienne Jeffries tomorrow. He wasn’t interested in her help, and he wasn’t comfortable with the means they were using to get it.

Conner tossed the ball over to Seth. “This whole Adrienne Jeffries thing just doesn’t feel right, if you ask me.”

Seth caught the ball easily. “Chief Kelly seems legitimately convinced that she can help us.”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“I think this is a waste of time. I think this lady was probably hot back in the day, and maybe she and Kelly had a relationship or something.”

“You think she snowed him.” Seth tossed the ball back.

“Look, I’m really not trying to talk bad about anybody, but I don’t believe in mind reading or telepathy or superheroes to solve cases.”

And dragging some middle-aged woman from her horse farm in the middle of Nowhere, California, into a case of this magnitude was not Conner’s idea of good situational management. Conner threw the ball to Seth.

“You know, there have been documented cases of nontraditional methods actually working.”

Conner dragged a hand through his black hair making it even more scruffy-looking than usual. “I don’t even want to hear it, Harrington. I’m pissed. I’m pissed that we’re wasting time going all the way out there.”

“As opposed to doing what?” Seth interjected. “Sitting around the office waiting for the perp to drop off another package?”

Conner leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing. Seth had a point. If this lady could help them break open the case in some way, Conner would take it. But he planned to be very careful about what info she was given. He wasn’t sure if she had tricked Chief Kelly and the other agents in some way before, but she damn well wouldn’t fool Conner.

“Fine,” Conner said. “But I would just like it stated, for the record, that I am going there under direct orders. I do not believe this to be the most effective use of our time.”

Seth nodded. “Duly noted, counselor.” He tossed the ball back to Conner.

Conner laid the ball on his desk and picked up Adrienne Jeffries’s ridiculously short and useless file. When he had tried to run her info in the Bureau’s computer system, the same thing happened. Somebody pretty high up in the FBI—maybe even higher than Chief Kelly—was protecting her or hiding something. There was no picture, no physical description of the woman, no mention of her ability and definitely no use of the word bloodhound.

By looking at her file, she could’ve been one of thousands of contractors who had worked as support staff for the FBI. Everything from janitorial to catering, clerking to photographing, were hired out each year. Every single one of those people had a file at the Bureau.

The fact that so much was blacked out in Adrienne Jeffries’s file was an immediate giveaway that she was no clerk or anything so benign. Basically her name and the years she’d worked for the Bureau were the only info the file provided.

It was what wasn’t provided that concerned Conner. If she was such a gifted profiler, why wasn’t Jeffries helping the FBI anymore? What type of person would turn their back on an ability like that, if it would save lives? A cold and uncaring one, to be sure.

And why the heck had she been under “not surveillance, exactly”? Contract workers quit the FBI all the time. Most were not being watched by the Bureau, as far as Conner knew. But this woman was, at least partially.

There was something not right about this situation and this woman. The one thing of which Conner was confident was that he did not have all the data. He loosened the top button of his shirt under his tie and grabbed the ball again, tossing it to Seth.

Conner did not like going into any situation blind. But it seemed like he didn’t have much choice in this case. They would bring the woman in, as he had been ordered, glean any useful info, if any, and then would get back to real work.

This was a waste of his time.

Chapter Two

The next morning, as they arrived at Adrienne Jeffries’s ranch, Conner was even more certain this trip was a waste of time. He could admit to himself that the ranch was picturesque among the rolling hills in Lodi but still resented having to come here. A modest-sized house sat in the middle of multiple corralled areas. A barn—at least the same size as the house, maybe even a bit bigger—sat a few hundred yards back from the house.

“Let’s get this over with,” Conner muttered.

They parked and walked up the three worn steps to the wraparound porch. Although the porch and its furniture was well kept, everything was obviously old and secondhand. Conner knocked on a door that could use another coat of paint. No one answered.

“Let’s try the barn,” Seth suggested, heading back down the steps.

That the barn was in a much better state than the house seemed to be immediately evident. Well maintained, organized, all repairs up-to-date. Evidently any money the horse ranch made went back into the barn first.

Conner could hear a man talking inside the barn, although couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Both Conner and Seth were immediately on alert.

“Hello in the barn! This is FBI Special Agents Conner Perigo and Seth Harrington,” Conner called.

The talking immediately stopped, but there was no response.

“Sir? We’re looking for a Ms. Adrienne Jeffries. We would like to come in the barn.”

A muttered curse, then what sounded like chewing tobacco being spit. “Fine. Come on in,” the man in the barn finally replied.

“Sir, is it just you in the barn?” Seth asked as he and Conner entered slowly.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? We heard you talking to someone.”

“Yeah, I was talking to Willie Nelson, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be talking back anytime soon.”

Willie Nelson? Conner and Seth glanced at each other again as they walked farther in, both with hands near their weapons. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness of the barn, Conner saw the man was referring to a horse he was brushing inside a stall.

The man was in his mid-sixties, short and wiry. As he walked around the horse, Conner noticed he moved with a limp in his left leg. This had to be Rick Vincent.

“I’m Agent Perigo. This is Agent Harrington. We’re from the FBI.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” The older man was obviously not a big fan of law enforcement. “I’m busy.”

“We’re looking for Ms. Jeffries, sir. She owns this ranch, correct?” Seth asked, moving a couple steps to the left, subtly blocking the exit, should the older man try to run.

“Yeah, she owns it. She’s not here right now.”

“Not here on the ranch or not here in the barn?” Conner asked when the man didn’t offer any more info.

“She’s off riding one of the horses.”

“And may we ask your name, sir?” Although they already knew.

“Vincent. Rick Vincent,” the man offered after a hesitation. Conner could see he was trying to judge how much they knew about him.

“You work here, Mr. Vincent?” Conner asked.

“Just Vincent. Yeah, I work here. I’m the ranch manager.”

“How long have you worked here?” Seth asked.

“Just about a year now.”

“Ms. Jeffries owned the place the entire time?”

Conner let Seth ask the questions while Conner observed the man and the barn. They already knew the answers, but they could learn a lot by what someone was willing to lie about.

“Yeah.”

“Just you and her working here?”

“Yeah. Although we get some kids from the 4-H Club who come in on weekends and stuff like that. And some horticultural students from the local community college every once in a while.”

“May I get your address, Vincent? Just in case we need to talk to you again after we speak to Ms. Jeffries.”

Vincent paused so long Conner thought he might not answer at all. “I live in the house here.”

Conner glanced at Seth with an eyebrow raised. “So you live with Ms. Jeffries in the house?” Interesting.

“Yes.”

“And it’s just the two of you?”

“It’s not like what you boys are thinking. We both live in the house, but it’s not like that.” Vincent glared at them both, then spat to the side again.

Okay, maybe not romantic, but protective. Still interesting.

Seth seemed about to ask another question when a female voice from outside the barn interrupted him.

“Vince! I officially love Ruby Tuesday! I so hope the owners end up boarding her here. Maybe I should offer a discount just so I can see this pretty girl all the time.” A burst of joyful laughter drew Conner’s focus.

The woman’s voice faded as she started talking to the horse, obviously common practice around here.

A moment later a woman in her mid-twenties—probably one of the college students Vincent had mentioned—led Ruby Tuesday into the barn. She stopped, noticeably shocked when she saw Conner and Seth. She looked at Vincent with concern then rubbed her head and took a few steps back.

“You okay, kiddo?” Vincent asked.

The young woman looked almost panicked. Conner stepped toward her with his arms held out in a soothing manner. “We didn’t mean to startle you, miss. My name is Agent Perigo. This is Agent Harrington.”

“You’re FBI,” she stammered out, still panicky. Did everyone here have an aversion to the FBI?

Conner smiled and tried to reassure the young woman. “Yes. We’re actually looking for Adrienne Jeffries. Mr. Vincent said she was riding. Did you happen to see her while you were out?”

The woman took a deep breath and rubbed her head again. She looked at Vincent, then back at Conner. But she didn’t respond.

Seth decided to take a shot. “We can assure you Ms. Jeffries isn’t in any trouble. We were just hoping to talk to her for a bit.”

The young woman took a couple of breaths and seemed to compose herself. “Okay.”

Seth looked at Conner, who shrugged, then asked, “Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

Conner could feel the shock rolling over him. This could not be the Adrienne Jeffries they were supposed to contact. She was too young, with her pixie-short hair and big brown eyes.

She was too damn beautiful.

“No.” Conner denied it before he could help himself. “Your mom, maybe? Is there another Adrienne Jeffries at this address?”

The young woman sighed and shook her head. “Nope, just me.” She led the horse over to Vincent and gave him the reins. “Let’s go inside the house to talk. I think we’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’ll come, too,” Vincent was quick to interject.

Conner watched as Adrienne laid a gentle hand on the older man’s arm. Obviously the protectiveness went both ways. He felt a little guilty that they were about to use that protectiveness against her.

“I’m fine, Vince, I promise.” Adrienne smiled at Vincent then turned to look directly at Conner. “If they’re FBI, I know why they’re here.”

There was definitely no smile when she said that. Vincent was obviously reluctant but agreed.

Adrienne Jeffries silently walked out of the barn, leaving Conner and Seth to follow, or just as obviously not to follow. They made their way behind her wordlessly. Conner couldn’t help admiring how well she filled out her worn jeans as she walked ahead of them. They obviously weren’t designer jeans, but who the hell cared if she looked like that in them?

Seth reached over and nudged him with his elbow.

“What?” Conner whispered, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from Adrienne’s jeans.

“I don’t have a hankie so I’m offering you my sleeve.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“To wipe the drool from your mouth, man. You missed some.”

Conner thought just a moment about gut-punching his partner before reaching the house but decided it wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t drooling, for God’s sake.

But his eyes were drawn back to her jeans one more time.

Adrienne Jeffries was definitely not some middle-aged woman who had worked for the Bureau a decade ago. Something was not adding up between what Chief Logan Kelly had told them and what Conner was seeing with his own eyes.

If she had been the Bloodhound for the FBI, then she would have been a teenager when it had happened. He knew that couldn’t be right. Something did not fit in this situation.

Adrienne made her way through the back door, not gesturing for the men to follow, but at least not slamming the door behind her. Conner and Seth followed her and found themselves in the kitchen. The room, like everything else they’d seen on the ranch—the front porch, the steps, the barn, her jeans—Conner quickly pushed that thought away—was clean but worn.

Adrienne crossed over to the sink, filled a glass with water and drank it down without stopping. Only afterward did she place the glass on the counter and turn to face them.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the four chairs at the kitchen table. Conner took one and Seth took the one across from him.

Adrienne stayed where she was with her back against the sink counter. She didn’t offer them a drink or any food. Nor did she offer them any information. She didn’t exactly glare, but her gaze definitely wasn’t inviting. Conner reclined in his chair and returned the almost hostile look.

If this was the way she wanted to play it, that’s how he would play it.

Seth noticed Conner’s angry expression and sighed. They had played Good Cop–Bad Cop many times over the years, but it was usually Conner who was the good cop. He had a way of putting people at ease when he wanted to. But looking at the woman staring at him so haughtily, Conner had no desire to play good cop today.

“Ms. Jeffries,” Seth took over, “we’d like to ask you a few questions about your...contract work for the FBI.”

“What about it?” Adrienne spoke to Seth but continued to glare at Conner. Conner glared back.

Seth sighed again. “Can you tell us the nature of the work you did for the Bureau?”

Adrienne finally looked over at Seth, her stance softening a bit. “Why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll fill in some gaps.”

Conner cut in. “How old are you?”

The glare was back at him now. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that is a rude question? Besides, I’m sure you have a fancy FBI file on me with that sort of information.”

Seth smiled engagingly. “You’d be surprised at how sparse your file is.”

Some of the heat left Adrienne’s eyes. “I’m twenty-eight.”

Conner shook his head. That could not be right. “Are you sure?” he demanded more gruffly than he intended. He heard Seth sigh again.

“Am I sure?” All the hostility was back. “Am I sure how old I am? Wait, let me get out all my fingers and toes so I’m sure I haven’t miscounted.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just mean, now is not the time to lie about your age for vanity’s sake or some such nonsense.”

“I am quite sure of how old I am and have no need to lie about it. Twenty-eight.”

Seth jumped in, obviously trying to instill some reason into the situation. “I think what my partner means, Ms. Jeffries, is that, if you are twenty-eight years old and worked for the FBI ten years ago, that would’ve made you pretty young.”

Adrienne looked away but not before Conner saw shadows looming in her eyes. “Let’s just say the FBI made a special exception in my case.” She walked over and got her wallet from a purse hanging on a wall hook. She took out her driver’s license and threw it down on top of the table.

“Twenty-eight.” Seth glanced at it then slid the license over to Conner.

She wasn’t lying. He supposed the ID could be forged, but it didn’t seem like there was much purpose to it.

That meant she had been eighteen years old when she’d been the Bloodhound for the FBI. No wonder all the information was blacked out in that damn file.

“Still rude to ask,” Adrienne muttered under her breath from back at her perch at the sink.

Conner knew he should apologize but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Twenty-eight or not, this woman was getting under his skin.

Seth attempted to start again. “Obviously there’s a lot we don’t know, Ms. Jeffries. If you would be willing to help us fill in the holes, this would probably be a lot easier on all of us.”

“Please, call me Adrienne, Agent Harrington.” The invitation was very obviously not extended to Conner.

“Thanks, Adrienne. And you’re welcome to call me Seth.” She smiled sweetly at Seth, and Conner thought he might have to jump out of his chair and stand between the two of them. Neither of them seemed to notice his strange behavior, thank God. He needed to calm the hell down.

“Could you tell us what you did for the FBI?” Seth asked her with a smile that had Conner ready to jump up again.

Calm. Down. What in the world was the matter with him?

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors. I have a special talent. I can profile evil very well.”

Seth nodded. “Exactly how did you use your talent to help the Bureau?”

“The closer I am to a person with malicious intent, the more clearly I can sense what the person is thinking. And I don’t have to be near the actual person. I can be around something he or she has touched or been near and be able to ‘read’ the evil.”

“Bloodhound,” Conner muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He still didn’t believe any of it.

“Yes, it’s an accurate description, I suppose.” Adrienne’s smile was rueful. “Although I was glad nobody ever called me that to my face. Teenage girls don’t respond well to being told they’re like a dog.”

Conner still did not like this teenager talk. He planned to have a discussion about Adrienne with Chief Kelly as soon as possible.

“So you’re a psychic? Or an empath or something like that?” Harrington asked gently, although his doubts crept into his tone.

“No, not really. I don’t have superpowers. I can’t read people’s minds or anything. I don’t feel what other people are feeling. Like, if you were sad right now, I wouldn’t feel your sadness. Really it’s just evil I feel, malicious intent. It’s kind of like they draw me into their thoughts.”

“Why? How?” Conner didn’t attempt to hide his incredulity at all.

“I don’t know. Some people are terribly sensitive to heat or light. My brain is just sensitive to negative energy.”

“Do you feel it about everybody?”

“No. Most people aren’t menacing. They can be catty and rude, but usually it’s due to their own insecurity rather than actual malevolence.”

“So how do you ‘sense’ it? Do you see images? Have visions?” Seth asked.

“Hear little voices in your head?” Conner tagged on.

Adrienne ignored Conner. “The closer I am to the person—in terms of physical proximity—the clearer I can sense everything. From far away it’s like seeing and hearing through multiple panes of glass—difficult to make out the details. If I am close, it’s like being inside someone’s head. I can see and hear everything.”

Conner didn’t believe any of this. “So what if I want you to demonstrate your ‘powers’? Can you do that?”

Adrienne’s irritated gaze swung around to Conner again. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s pretty convenient, isn’t it?” Conner snapped.

More glaring was shared between Adrienne and Conner. “It’s not a dog and pony show, Special Agent Jackass.”

That got a snicker from Seth.

“And no offense, but I don’t owe you anything.”

Conner stood up before he was even aware of what he was doing and took a step toward Adrienne. What was it about this one tiny woman that made him feel like he was about to jump out of his own skin?

Fortunately Seth waylaid him before he had a chance to... Conner had no idea what he would’ve done when he reached Adrienne.

“Adrienne, can you excuse us for a moment? I need to discuss a text I just received with Agent Perigo out on the porch.”

Seth grabbed Conner’s arm—hard—and began pushing him through the small living room and out the front door.

“What?” Conner barked at him the moment the door was closed.

“You’re asking me what?” There was obviously no text Seth wanted to show him. “I was just wondering if you wanted to arrest her. Maybe you’ve got her fingered as our killer.”

“What?” Conner felt like a parrot.

“Well, the way you’ve been treating her, Agent Jackass, is like she’s a perp, or at the very least some sort of hostile witness.”

Conner rubbed his hand over his face wearily. Everything Harrington was saying was true.

“I don’t know what the hell’s the matter with me, Seth.”

“I don’t know either, but you’ve got to get yourself under control. She’s not the bad guy here.”

“I know.”

“You think this is a waste of time, Con, I get that. And to be honest, I don’t know what to believe, either. But if what she’s saying—what Chief Kelly said—is true...”

“Then it could really be the break in the case we’ve been hoping for,” Conner finished for him.

“You don’t like her, for whatever reason. Fine. But let’s see what she can do.”

Conner almost corrected Seth but stopped. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Adrienne Jeffries—he hadn’t made up his mind whether he liked the little spitfire or not. But liking or disliking didn’t really seem to matter. He was affected by her. And it made him damn uncomfortable.

“All right, I’ll behave.”

Seth looked relieved. “Good.”

They walked back through the door and into the kitchen.

“Saving the world one text at a time?” Adrienne asked with one brow cocked. She had taken a seat at the table in the chair farthest away from where Conner had been sitting.

“Something like that.” Seth smiled.

Conner didn’t say anything. He figured opening his mouth would just get him in trouble.

“You two must be on some pretty big case for the FBI to put you at my doorstep after all these years.”

“We are. It’s gruesome,” Seth informed her.

“And you were told I could help.”

Both men nodded.

Adrienne continued. “And when they sent you out here to bring me back, did they warn you I would tell you to go screw yourselves?”

Chapter Three

Adrienne could not believe it was all happening again.

She would not let the FBI just walk in and take over her life. She was older now, wiser. And she knew the toll using her gift to help the FBI would take. She had lived through it before.

Barely.

She knew Special Agent Friendly and his sidekick Special Agent Hot-But-Annoying sitting at her kitchen table really had no idea what her gifts were or what her life had been like ten years ago when she had worked for the Bureau.

Worked. Adrienne barely restrained a bark of laughter. More like duped and manipulated.

She knew Agent Hot, excuse me, Agent Perigo was particularly skeptical. Adrienne wasn’t offended by that. But there was something about him that made her slightly crazy. She had spent the past twenty minutes itching to slap the alternating smug and hostile looks off his face. Either that or jump his bones.

Adrienne had been downright shocked when she had returned Ruby Tuesday to the barn and found the two men standing there with Vincent. Whenever someone unfamiliar was around, Adrienne could always sense it.

Unless they had some sort of malevolent side, she couldn’t see their thoughts, but everyone—good or bad—gave off some sort of buzz that she picked up on in her brain. With familiar people she had learned to ignore it, the way someone ignores the slight sound a computer or TV makes when it’s on but has no volume. Just the slightest buzz. The more people that were around, the louder the buzz.

But Adrienne had heard nothing when she had walked into the barn. That’s why she had been so shocked to see the agents—she hadn’t heard their buzz.

Nothing. As a matter of fact, she still couldn’t hear it.

But they were here, and they wanted her help. She couldn’t afford to help them. The best thing she could do, she knew, was be cold and turn them away. But looking at Agent Perigo, she knew turning them away would not be easy.

“Guys, I appreciate that you’ve come all the way out here. But Chief Kelly shouldn’t have sent you. Whatever your case is, I can’t help you.”

“Adrienne...” Agent Harrington began in a cajoling tone.

“Can’t or won’t?” Perigo interrupted Harrington and got right to the point.

The urge to slap Perigo was itching its way through Adrienne’s palm again. “I have responsibilities here.”

“The FBI would more than compensate you for your time. Plus, don’t you have Vincent to run things for you if you’re gone?” Perigo continued.

“It’s not just that,” Adrienne backpedaled.

“Then what is it, Adrienne?” Seth asked in a concerned voice. He sounded completely sincere. Adrienne wondered for a moment if he practiced that voice.

“There’s a discomfort that comes with using my gift.” That was putting it ridiculously mildly. “Plus, like I said, I can’t—or am not willing to—uproot my life. I’m needed here.”

Adrienne watched as the two men looked at each other across the table, communicating without speaking. Obviously there was a plan B, although it looked as though both of them found the thought of it distasteful.

“Adrienne, we were sent here by our superiors with a directive to obtain your cooperation in our case.” Agent Harrington paused, but she knew his statement wasn’t finished. She didn’t have long to wait. “By any means available to us.”

Adrienne looked at Harrington, then Agent Perigo, confused. “‘Any means available?’ Are you planning on making me leave the ranch at gunpoint?”

“No. Nothing so drastic, I assure you,” Harrington responded with a smile. “But our instructions are to either bring you back with us or bring in your ranch manager, Mr. Vincent.”

“Why Vince? What does he have to do with this?”

Agent Perigo interjected, “Do you make a practice of hiring and cohabiting with convicted felons or fugitives on your ranch?”

“What?” Adrienne expressed her shock before she could help herself. Not a good logistical move.

“So you’re unaware of Mr. Vincent’s past history and that he is currently wanted in the state of Nevada for parole violation?”

Adrienne shook her head. “I knew he had some trouble with the law a while ago. But he never offered much information about it, and I never asked.”

Harrington leaned toward her. “Isn’t it dangerous to work and live with a man you know so little about?”

Adrienne smiled grimly. She had never been concerned about her safety with Vince—she had known from the beginning he meant her no harm. That was one of the few good things about her gift. “Let’s just say that my talent makes me an excellent judge of character. Vince would never harm me.”

Agent Perigo sighed. “Regardless. Our instructions are clear. We’re either to bring you in or bring Rick Vincent in. You choose.”

Adrienne could feel temper rising up through her body. Obviously nobody in the FBI had changed in the past decade. They still didn’t care who they used—or used up—to get what they wanted.

“Common blackmail? Is that what the FBI has resorted to?” It was all she could do to keep her fist from banging down on the table.

Harrington reached a hand out toward her, but she jerked back in her seat. “Ms. Jeffries.”

At least he had the sense to revert to last names if they were going to use blackmail.

“We have to uphold the law. There is a warrant out for Mr. Vincent’s arrest.”

“That you will conveniently overlook if I agree to help the FBI on the case.”

Agent Harrington cleared his throat. “Let’s just say, if we had your help on the case, we would probably be so busy, we may totally forget we even saw Rick Vincent here.”

Adrienne was too angry to say anything. She did not want to be forced back into helping the FBI but couldn’t stand the thought of Vincent going to prison. The older man had no evil in him whatsoever. Whatever crime he had committed, it was in a past far behind him. Now he was kind and helpful and wonderful with the horses, if a little gruff with people.

They sat in silence for long moments. Adrienne had no idea what the FBI agents were thinking, but they wisely did not give voice to their thoughts. She glanced at Harrington first but found him looking down at his hands. She then glanced over at Agent Perigo with hesitation, unsure of what she would find.

He met her eyes directly. Instead of the hostility she had expected to see, she found sincerity and the slightest hint of compassion. No matter what he thought of her abilities, or her personally, he obviously found this stalemate distasteful.

And he had the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen. Just the slightest hint of gold in them. For the first time Adrienne wished she had met Agent Perigo under different circumstances. Wished he didn’t work for an organization that was sure to leave her broken by the time this was all over.

Adrienne looked away from Agent Perigo’s piercing eyes and down at her kitchen table. She couldn’t see any way out of this. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to Vincent, as long as there were any other options. Plus she was older now, wiser, more able to protect herself from the FBI. Because she had no doubt that what had happened before, ten years ago, would happen again if she wasn’t careful. The solution was making sure it didn’t repeat itself.

Of course she had no idea how to do that.

She looked up from the scarred kitchen table, hoping she didn’t resemble it by the time this was all over.

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you.”

An hour later, just before lunch, Adrienne watched Agents Perigo and Harrington drive away. She had been given instructions about where and when to report tomorrow, and had assured them she would be there. Then, just before leaving, Agent Perigo made a special trip out to the barn to say goodbye to Vincent. All for Adrienne’s benefit.

Jackass. Obviously, she had been mistaken about any compassion she had seen in him.

Vince immediately knew something was up.

“That FBI agent came out to the barn to say goodbye to me,” the older man stated as he washed his hands for lunch. “Seemed a mite odd.”

Adrienne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. If it helps, I think it was a gesture meant for me, not you.”

“We never really talked much about you working for the FBI.”

Adrienne began making each of them a sandwich. “I worked for them briefly years ago. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Not something I discuss much.”

“I’ve found, in my general experience, that anything having to do with law enforcement is not a pleasant experience.”

Adrienne smiled at that. Although her and Vince’s experiences with law enforcement were different, the resulting feelings were the same.

“And now they want you to come back and work for them again?” the older man asked.

Adrienne slapped mustard onto the sandwich and rubbed it around with more force than necessary. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“But you don’t want to go back to work for them.”

“My life is here. My responsibilities are here.” More mustard was slapped on the other piece of bread.

“Well now, you know I can handle everything around here if you needed to go off somewhere. This place isn’t so big that one person can’t hold down the fort for a while. You did it for long enough before I came along.”

“I know you can handle it, Vince. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you for the past year.” She smiled gently at him.

The older man blushed and looked away. Nothing thrilled Vince less than talking about feelings, Adrienne knew.

“Vince, I know you had trouble with the law in your past, but I’ve known from the beginning that you were someone I could trust. Whatever happened in the past isn’t important to me. You’ve been a godsend.” She handed him a sandwich.

“Well, you know that goes both ways.” Vince took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Why do I get the feeling all of this conversation has to do with those FBI agents?”

Adrienne sighed. “It looks like I’m going to need you to keep things afloat for me here for a little bit.”

“While you go help the FBI.”

“Yeah.”

“What exactly do you, or did you do, for them?”

Adrienne pushed her sandwich around on her plate. How was she supposed to explain this? “I guess I was kind of a profiler for them.”

Vince grunted in agreement the way he often did. He didn’t look at all surprised. “I figured it was something like that, given your...” He waved his hand in circles above his head.

Adrienne was shocked. She had no idea Vince was aware of her gift. They had never talked about it. “You knew?”

“Not at first. As a matter of fact, when you initially hired me, I thought you were a little reckless. What woman hires someone completely unknown, then invites him a few weeks later to move into the house with her?”

“Vince, you were sleeping out in the barn!”

“I know, I know. Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for your invite. But I could’ve been dangerous.” Vince shook his head.

“I knew you weren’t.”

Vince grunted in agreement again. “Then I saw over the next few months how patient you were with almost everybody. Even some of the brattiest or angriest kids who came out here to work. You were always kind and gentle, when I wanted to throw some of them out on their ears.”

Vince put down his sandwich and looked Adrienne right in the eye. “Then that blond guy showed up last July. He seemed polite and charming. All the college girls were sighing over him and his good looks. You came out of the house, glanced at him for five seconds, and asked him to leave and never come back.”

Adrienne remembered very clearly the appearance of the young man, probably twenty or twenty-one years old. Like Vince said, he had blond hair, blue eyes— all-American good looks. Seemed amiable and charismatic, at least on the outside.

But the thoughts in his mind were utterly sinister. A malevolence that only Adrienne could pick up on had permeated the air around the young man. The things he thought of doing to the female students who had worked at Adrienne’s ranch—to Adrienne herself, once he had seen her—made Adrienne’s stomach churn. She had immediately made him leave, much to the girls’ dismay, telling him there were no more internships available.

Then had promptly gone back inside and vomited the entire contents of her stomach.

The next day Adrienne had gone into town to check with the sheriff’s office to see if there were any warrants out for the man or any reported attacks on women in the area. There were none. Adrienne decided to leave it alone—after all, she had no idea if he would ever act on any of those evil instincts floating around in his brain. Perhaps not. But either way she did not want him around her ranch or the young people she had working there. Thankfully they never saw him again.

Adrienne looked at Vince. “Yeah. I remember him.”

“I don’t know why you sent him away. I don’t know why you made him—a good, clean-cut-looking kid—leave when you had hired some of the roughest-looking tattooed hoodlums multiple times. Hell, I’d seen you make jobs for people when we didn’t need another soul.”

“He just wasn’t a good fit for our ranch.”

“It’s your ranch, and you can certainly hire or not hire anyone you see fit. But you not even giving that kid a chance—that kind of caught my attention.”

Vince stood and walked his plate over to the sink, then continued. “I watched you after that when you were around people—especially new folk. It took a while, but I realized you have a sort of insight into people that most don’t have.”

Adrienne sat in silence as Vince rinsed his plate off, then turned to look at her. “It’s probably more than just an insight if the FBI wants your help.”

“A little. Especially when it comes to anyone who has some sort of sinister intent. I can kind of hear their thoughts.” Adrienne was worried that she may be freaking Vince out, but he seemed to take it all in stride.

“Hmm. And you helped the FBI before?”

“Yes.”

“You must have been pretty young.”

“Barely eighteen.”

Vince’s eyes narrowed at that. “Hmm. And working with them wasn’t a pleasant experience?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Vince nodded. “But you’re going back to work for them?”

Adrienne looked away; she didn’t want Vince to know he was the reason she was returning to work for the FBI. “Yeah.”

“Even though you don’t want to.” It wasn’t a question.

“Pretty much.”

“And you told them you’re not interested in helping?”

“I tried.”

“But they didn’t listen?”

“Evidently they need my help in a pretty big way. ‘No’ wasn’t a possibility for an answer.”

“Seems to me, living in this free country of ours, no is always a possibility in a situation like this.”

Adrienne finished her sandwich and brought her plate to the sink so she wouldn’t have to look at Vince. “Well, let’s just say they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

There was silence for long moments, and Adrienne made the mistake of looking over at the older man.

“If I told you,” Vince began with a grimace, “I had missed my last few meetings with my parole officer after I left prison, and that there’s a warrant out for my arrest, would this be new information to you?”

Adrienne looked back down at the plate she was washing. “I already told you, Vince. I don’t care what happened in the past. I just know I can trust you now,” she sidestepped.

Vince nodded. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

Adrienne sighed. “No, that info isn’t new to me.”

“Did you know this before today?”

Adrienne turned and looked the older man in the eye. “No. Agents Perigo and Harrington told me.”

“And that’s how they’re getting you to come back, right? By using me?”

“Vince...” Adrienne reached toward him but he leaned back in his chair away from her.

“I won’t let you do it, you understand? I’m not going to let you be forced into something because of me!”

“Vince, it’s all right. I’m going to do this one thing for them, and that will be the end of it. And before I do, I’ll get their assurance that the warrant for you will be canceled or whatever. I promise. It’s not a big deal.”

“I still don’t like this,” Vince muttered.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. Maybe I’ll find that the FBI has become a little better at playing with others in the past ten years.”

Vince took a sip of his drink and sat back in the chair. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Chapter Four

Hours later Conner lay sprawled in his bed looking up at the ceiling. After leaving Adrienne Jeffries’s house, he had been pretty much useless for the rest of the day. They had gone back to the office for a couple of hours, briefly reporting to Chief Kelly about their success with getting Adrienne’s agreement to help. Seth, well aware of Conner’s black mood, had talked Conner out of questioning the chief about Adrienne’s history with the FBI.

There were so many things about Adrienne Jeffries’s history that didn’t add up that Conner didn’t know where to even begin his questioning. Definitely better to leave his questions until he was in a better—or at least more respectful—frame of mind. Maybe he would just talk to her and leave the chief out of it altogether. Less chance of Conner getting fired that way.

Adrienne definitely had not been what he was expecting. For one, her age. Certainly not the middle-aged woman he had been anticipating. But that wasn’t even what caught him off guard so much. Conner ran his hands through his hair, staring up at the ceiling from his bed. He had never had such an instant reaction to a woman before. Adrienne Jeffries had affected him on every level.

She was five feet four of pure dynamite, it seemed. Conner normally preferred taller, more athletically built women—and with long blond hair. Adrienne Jeffries was slender, but short, and her hair definitely wasn’t long and blond. Rather pixie-short and brown, with little chunks of copper in it. But Conner found his fingers itching to run through it.

He knew his behavior earlier today had been unprofessional and may have seemed borderline psychotic to Adrienne. Harrington had let Conner have it more than once on their way back to San Francisco from Lodi. Conner knew, whatever he was feeling, he had to get it under control before he saw her again in just a few short hours.

No matter what confusion Conner may have over his attraction to Adrienne, he had no confusion over his feelings about her so-called “abilities.” Obviously years ago she had somehow convinced the Bureau she could track criminals like some supersleuth. Conner had no reason to believe she could do all that the FBI urban legends about her suggested she could do.

As far as he was concerned, she would come in, they would get all the insight from her that they could—if any—and then they would send her on her way. It shouldn’t take more than a day. His boss would be appeased, and he and Harrington could get on with real law enforcement work and catch Simon Says as soon as possible.

And maybe, after Simon Says was apprehended, Conner would head back out to a certain horse ranch in Lodi and see Adrienne Jeffries again under very different circumstances.

But until then, Adrienne—and her abilities—were just a distraction. Something to draw his focus away from what he knew needed to be done to catch the killer. Conner couldn’t allow that to happen. No matter how much he may want it to.

Conner decided to get up and get dressed since dawn was about to break anyway. He may as well go into the office and make an early start of what surely would be a long day. He wouldn’t be surprised if Seth was there early, also.

* * *

FORTIFIED WITH MULTIPLE cups of coffee, Adrienne drove herself into San Francisco the next day. She needed the coffee after being awake most of the night—first packing and preparing for the trip, and then worrying about the toll it would take on her. The drive was relatively uneventful, but she found herself getting more and more uptight as she got closer to the city. Already she missed her little ranch and the serenity it offered.

And she hadn’t even put herself in the clutches of the FBI yet.

She turned the radio up in her old Corolla as she crossed the Bay Bridge and entered the city. She forced herself to sing along to some familiar song by an ’80s hair band. Singing helped her not to think too much and to ignore any buzzing she might start to hear in her head. With a population of nearly a million, Adrienne knew there would be people around the San Francisco area with malicious thoughts. There was nothing Adrienne could do about them, so she knew it was better to try not to hear them at all.

Adrienne navigated the hills and multiple one-way streets San Fran was famous for and finally parked at the FBI field office’s parking garage. As she shut off her car, Adrienne braced herself to be bombarded by other people’s thoughts in her head or to at least hear a dull roar of competing voices. She was pleasantly surprised to find just the slightest buzz—almost nothing.

Adrienne smiled. Evidently everybody in San Francisco must be having a good day or something. She didn’t mind, less of a headache—literally—for her.

Upon entering the building, she was escorted up to the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program offices. She saw Conner Perigo as soon as she entered the main area. Dammit. The man looked just as good as he had yesterday. She had hoped she had imagined the thick black hair and gorgeous green eyes. But evidently not.

Those green eyes were fixed on her as Agent Perigo’s partner, Seth, came over to meet her in the doorway.

“Ms. Jeffries, we’re so glad you made it,” Seth said as he led her over to an interrogation room. The two agents sat in the pair of seats on one side of the table and motioned for her to sit in a chair across from them.

Teams had obviously been drawn, and she wasn’t on theirs.

“Not that I had much choice,” Adrienne muttered. “But it’s still okay to call me Adrienne.”

She could feel Conner Perigo’s eyes on her. Adrienne resisted the urge to fidget in her chair.

Agent Harrington smiled. “That’s good. Please, like I said yesterday, call me Seth.” He pointed at Agent Perigo. “And you can call him Conner. He promises to be on his best behavior today.”

Somehow Adrienne doubted it.

“Okay, Seth, Conner it is, then.” Adrienne decided she should try to make the best of the situation—not antagonize the agents, especially Conner. “But before we get started, I want your assurances that all charges or warrants or whatever against Rick Vincent will be dropped once I help you.”

Conner spoke to her for the first time. “That won’t be a problem, Adrienne. Neither of us were thrilled with how that went down.”

Adrienne looked at Conner, and he nodded. She believed him. Whoever’s idea it had been to use Vince as leverage, it definitely hadn’t been Conner’s. But that still didn’t mean he liked or trusted her.

“Okay, Adrienne,” Seth said. “We’d like to get started right away. But to be honest, we’re not exactly sure how to proceed. Maybe you can provide us a little insight.”

Adrienne took a deep breath. Might as well just get this over with. She had already made sure her purse contained a full bottle of ibuprofen. She would need most of it over the next few days.

“What can you tell me about the case?”

She watched as Conner and Seth—now in full FBI agent mode—looked at one another. Obviously until she proved herself and her abilities, they were loath to provide her with too much information.

“We have a serial killer on our hands. The victims are all women—five in the past ten months,” Conner told her.

Adrienne waited to see if there would be further information, but evidently that was all they felt comfortable sharing with her.

“Okay, well, do you have anything from the crime scenes? Particularly anything the killer may have touched.”

Seth responded this time. “There was no forensic evidence found at any of the scenes. Whoever the killer is, he’s very careful.”

No forensic evidence made it more difficult for Adrienne to get any sort of clear bearings about the killer, but not impossible.

“Do you have anything the killer might have touched, even with gloves on?”

Conner and Seth looked at each other once again. She saw Conner give a slight negative shake of his head.

Seth handed her an envelope that had been lying on the table. “We have some pictures of the crime scene. Will that help?”

Adrienne nodded and took the pictures. She braced herself as she opened the envelope. Death scenes were always jarring. She took out the first set of pictures, slowly looking at each one. The dead woman in the picture had been left in what looked like an abandoned warehouse of some sort. Multiple stab wounds covered her body. Different pictures showed the poor woman at various angles.

Three or four pictures in, Adrienne realized that, while she was horrified at what she was seeing, none of it was causing her any pain. Which was great, except for the fact that she also was not getting any insights or feelings from the pictures whatsoever.

Adrienne went through the entire set of crime scene photos for the woman in the warehouse. She then looked through them all again to be sure.

She felt nothing.

Adrienne looked up to find Conner and Seth watching her intently. She didn’t know what to say—nothing like this had happened before when she had helped the FBI in the past. What was wrong with her?

“Do you have pictures of any of the other cases?” Adrienne finally asked.

“Yes. The ones you were just looking at is the first victim,” Conner replied as Seth got out another set to show her.

First victim. Adrienne relaxed for a moment. Maybe the reason she couldn’t get any feelings from those pictures was because of the length of time that had passed between then and now. That had never happened to her before, but it seemed plausible.

Adrienne tried to clear all thoughts from her head as she took the next set of photos. Another stabbing scene with a young woman. This time it seemed she had been left under a highway overpass bridge.

Again Adrienne was horrified by the violence but felt nothing in terms of the killer’s thoughts, plans or motivations.

This continued for the next hour as Adrienne pored over the photos again and again. Nothing. Her insight wasn’t working at all. Although the agents across from her never said anything, she could tell their frustration was growing.

“I’m sorry,” Adrienne said, handing the photos back across the table. “I’m not getting anything from any of these.”

Conner Perigo didn’t look a bit surprised. “Do pictures not work for you?”

“They did in the past. The glimpses I would get from crime scene photos weren’t as clear as actually being at the crime scene or touching something the perpetrator touched, but there was always something.”

“I see.” Perigo’s smug tone grated on Adrienne’s nerves. Obviously her lack of ability to perform here was just confirming what he had suspected all along—she was a fake.

Adrienne sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with both hands. On one hand she was happy her gifts weren’t working—it definitely saved her a literal headache—but on the other hand she desperately wanted to show Conner Perigo he was wrong.

Adrienne crossed her arms on the table and laid her forehead on her arms, taking a few deep breaths. She needed to center herself. She needed to block out all the buzzing around her and focus.

That’s when Adrienne realized there was no buzzing going on inside her head at all. It was completely silent.

Even if she wasn’t getting any reading from the pictures, she should still be hearing some sort of low murmur just by the very nature of being in a large building filled with people. Everyone gave off static. The more people around, the louder it was to her. That was why she chose to live in a relatively isolated area—so she wouldn’t have to put up with the white noise all the time.

As long as there was no one with malice in their thoughts, then everything stayed at a low static—annoying, but bearable. But sinister intent would instantly throw pictures into Adrienne’s mind. Along with searing pain. When she touched something that had been handled by someone malicious, she also could usually get some sort of picture of what had been going through the mind of that person.

She should have been able to do that with the crime scene photos, but she couldn’t. Right now not only was she not getting any pictures in her head, she wasn’t even getting any static. That had never happened before.

The silence was so unusual to her it was eerie. But not unwelcome.

She had no idea how long the silence would last. But the way the agents across the table were looking at her—especially Conner—they were not willing to wait long to see. Maybe she would get out of this after all. But then she thought of Vince back at the ranch. She wanted to get rid of whatever guillotine blade that the FBI had hanging over him.

If only for Vince’s sake, she wanted her gifts to work, just this one time. Although, if she were honest, Adrienne knew she also wanted to show Conner Perigo what she was capable of.

She watched Conner and Seth look at each other. Seth finally broke the awkward silence that had been building. “Look, it’s early. Maybe I can get you a cup of coffee or something and that will help.”

Adrienne nodded, grateful for the reprieve. “Yeah, coffee would be great. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on. Maybe I’ve just been out of the game for a little too long and need to ease my way back in.”

“No problem,” Seth said. “You stay here and look through the pictures a little more. Conner will stay, too. I’ll get coffee and be back soon. Anything in particular in it?”

“No, just black, thanks.”

Seth stood. “I’ll run down to the coffee shop in the lobby and get it. If you drink what’s in our office, you’re liable to have to be chained up in the next full moon.”

Conner looked over at Seth. “If you’re going down there, I’ll have the usual.”

Seth rolled his eyes and snickered, walking out the door without responding.

“What’s ‘the usual’?” Adrienne asked Conner, her curiosity piqued by Seth’s response. In the long silence that followed, Adrienne wasn’t sure he was going to tell her.

“Skinny vanilla chai tea latte with no foam and sugar-free vanilla,” Conner finally said. “I get ragged pretty hard from the guys.”

Adrienne couldn’t help it; she broke out into a smile. The thought of this big tough-looking agent whose shirt seemed to be perpetually slightly wrinkled and whose tie was probably one of a dozen stuffed in his glove compartment, using the words skinny and latte when referring to his coffee was downright hilarious.

Conner smiled back, looking sheepish. “I know. It doesn’t exactly fit the tough-guy image.”

The way he cocked his head to the side caused his black hair to fall onto his forehead. Before she could stop herself, Adrienne’s fingers reached up to tuck the hair into place. Halfway to his head she realized what she was about to do and immediately lowered her hand back to the table. She studied the photos again intently, hoping he hadn’t noticed her...

Her what? Desire to touch him? Inexplicable need to be closer to him? Complete lack of control of her own hands?

Adrienne stared down at the pictures for a long time without looking up, grateful for the distraction, although she still wasn’t getting any helpful info from them.

“Are you sure these are all the work of the same killer?” she finally asked.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in Conner’s voice. “He has a signature that makes it clear they are all the same killer.” He didn’t offer any information about what that signature was. Adrienne didn’t ask, knowing he wouldn’t tell her anyway.

Adrienne was tired of looking at these poor dead women. It was so frustrating to review them without any understanding as to what and how it had happened. She pushed the pictures back toward Conner’s side of the table.

“I need a break. I can’t look at them anymore right now.”

She gazed at Conner, expecting to find more of yesterday’s hostile and condescending tone from him. Instead, he looked attentive, even the slightest bit sympathetic.

“You know, it’s okay,” Conner said gently. “Whatever’s going on here, whatever reason you’re not able to help us, it really is okay.”

Adrienne couldn’t help but respond to his gentleness. “This has never happened to me. The...nothing. I’ve always been able to hear or see or feel something before.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve done anything like this, right? Maybe you just need to ease yourself back into it, like you said.” The gentleness was still there but Adrienne could hear the disbelief that colored his tone.

“You don’t understand. I always hear something when I’m around people, no matter what. It’s like a buzz. But right now I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe it’s the pressure of the situation. Or maybe the pictures are too old or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Look, Adrienne. I want to give you this chance, while we’re here alone, to tell me if there’s something you want to tell me. You know, about your abilities or about when you worked for the FBI before.”

“I don’t understand.” Adrienne was honestly puzzled.

“I mean, if you were in some way exaggerating what you could do—in terms of profiling and working for the FBI—either then or now. Or, hell, even if you had completely tricked the Bureau before, you can tell me, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

“What?”

“I’m just telling you, I’ll protect you from any repercussions. We’ll come up with some reason why you can’t help us that everyone will buy. I’ll even make sure Rick Vincent is taken care of and won’t be arrested.”

He had the nerve to sit there with his gorgeous green eyes and say this to her.

Adrienne struggled to keep her temper from boiling over. “So let me make sure I understand this. You think I deceived the FBI ten years ago when I worked for them and that I’m back again, lying now. Wasting my time and yours.”

She could see Conner attempting damage control in his mind. But she never gave him a chance to speak.

“And you, very magnanimously I might add, are offering to protect me if I just come clean now and, what, admit this was all a hoax?”

“Adrienne, calm down.”

Adrienne raised her eyebrows at that—no man should ever tell an upset woman to calm down—but she kept quiet.

“I’m just trying to offer you an out if you need it.”

“Well, thank you, Agent Perigo.” She saw him grimace. “But despite you thinking I’m a liar and a cheat, not to mention some sort of juvenile attention-seeker, I don’t need an out!”

“Listen, I’m not trying to offend you. But I’ve been an agent a long time, and I’ve never seen anything that suggested a gift such as yours is real. As a matter of fact, the exact opposite is true. When someone comes forth and claims to be ‘psychic’ and know something about a case, almost always he or she is involved in some way.”

Adrienne took a deep breath. Conner was skeptical. She had dealt with skepticism before, even considered it healthy. No one should blindly believe someone else without reason. Why did she feel the need to prove herself to him when she never had felt that way about anyone else?

“I’m not a psychic,” Adrienne said quietly.

“Whatever you want to call it. Good, smart detective work is what solves cases, not hocus-pocus.”

“It’s not magic, Perigo. It’s just the way my brain works. Some people are geniuses with musical instruments. Some are whizzes when it comes to math. My brain is just wired differently than most people.”

“Then why isn’t your gift working now?”

Temper threatened again. “I don’t know!”

Seth chose that moment to come in with the coffee. He put the cup carrier down, looking back and forth between Adrienne and Conner, noticing the obvious tension between them.

“Here you go, Adrienne. Coffee, black. And here’s your froufrou, princess,” he said as he handed Conner his drink. “You owe me $4.50.”

“How come I have to pay, but she doesn’t?”

“Because her drink didn’t involve an embarrassing list of words to order.” Seth sat down in his chair. “Anything come to you while I was gone?”

“Nothing, Seth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

Adrienne hoped time would help.

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