Whisper of Evil (35 page)

"Oh, great," Justin muttered. "Let's widen the range of possibilities even more. Why is it that each time we find out or figure out something new, it does nothing except give us too much to think about?"

"Murphy's law," Shelby offered.

"The question is," Galen said, "what's our next step?" He was looking at Nell.

Rather than answer that directly, she said, "Justin, Ethan was planning to go over the birth records tonight, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, from what he said. The last few weeks, he's pretty much worked 'til long after midnight and then sacked out on the couch in his office for a few hours. I'd expect more of the same tonight, especially after another murder. And Shelby and I can vouch for the fact that it'd take one person hours and hours to go over all these records."

"I'm certainly not likely to see anything you two missed," Nell said. "You're a good cop, and Shelby knows this town and its people. So as far as these records go, we'll just have to see if Ethan notices anything."

Max said, "It's too late for you to check out Caldwell's apartment or Nate McCurry's house tonight, even if you were up to it. And considering the possibility that the killer is somehow influencing you when you do try to use your abilities—"

"I'm still not sure that's possible," Nell objected, as she had when Galen and Max had brought up the subject earlier.

"You know it's possible," Galen said.

"Yeah, I know it's technically possible for a strong enough psychic to influence another's mind. I just don't believe I could be influenced and not know it. Not feel it somehow."

"If he's only able to reach you while you're asleep or in a blackout," Max pointed out, "how would you know? Nell, you've been blacking out too often, and it always seems to be either immediately after a vision or when you've pushed yourself too hard. Who's to say he hasn't found a way to make damned sure if you get too close to figuring out who he is you'll black out?"

"Even if that's true, I can't stop looking for him," Nell said. "It's my job, the reason I'm here."

"Yeah, we know that. I know that. But you won't solve this if you're out cold or worse. All I'm saying is that it might not be such a good idea for you to try to use your abilities again, at least not anytime soon."

"In the meantime," Galen said after checking his watch, "it's nearly ten, and I think we'll all agree it's been a very long day. What say we start fresh in the morning?"

Nell was conscious of an uneasy sense of time ticking away, but told herself it was only because things were finally starting to come together now. That was all.

"Suits me," she said firmly.

***

It was after eight when Ethan finally managed to settle down at his desk with the copies of parish birth records, and he was so tired by then he was afraid he wouldn't see something important if it reared up and bit him on the nose. Still, he grimly drank black coffee, turned his office television to CNN with the volume down low, and began going through the records.

It must have been at least a couple of hours and several cups of coffee later that one of the records caught his attention and made him concentrate harder. He'd already found the birth records for several of his deputies and most of the thirty-five-to-forty-year-olds he knew in town without seeing anything odd, but something about this record nagged at him.

Why?

Place, time, father's name, mother's name—

Mother's name.

Ethan Cole knew the history and people of Silence very well indeed. He'd made it his business to know, and for a good many years. So he was pretty current in terms of who was getting divorced or married, who was expecting a baby, who might be in trouble financially, who had drinking problems, and who was cheating on a spouse.

But that was now. Facts dealing with events in his earliest life and even before his birth were not things that had particularly interested him. Like most kids, he had accepted things at face value, so if a childhood acquaintance had mentioned at some point that his mother—his real mother—had died years before, Ethan wouldn't have questioned or doubted. He'd probably felt no more than a quick rush of fellowship for another semi-orphan and may even have complained himself that his own father's remarriage to

Max Tanner's mother had landed him with a new mother and younger sibling who were demanding all the time and attention his father could spare after endless ranch work.

A moment of camaraderie with a casual friend, hardly a blip in Ethan's life.

Until now.

He picked up a pencil and circled the name he'd found. "She raised him," he murmured. "Her name is here as his birth mother. So why did he say his real mother was dead?"

"You haven't said a word about me contacting Galen."

Nell didn't look up from the copies of the birth records she was studying. "What was there to say? You made a judgment call, probably the right one. We had reached the point where it was undoubtedly best to meet and compare notes." She paused, then added wryly, "Though it taught us both a valuable lesson in being undercover. Next time, we'll make damned sure our cell phones don't allow just anyone to access the menu or redial options."

"I thought that might have been overlooked."

"Yeah. Well, we live and learn."

"If we live."

Nell hadn't been surprised that Max had—without comment or explanation—remained behind when the others had left. He had helped Shelby clear away the remains of the Chinese takeout she and Justin brought along for everyone, giving Nell the chance to speak quickly and privately to Galen, and then had made a fresh pot of coffee while the others said their goodbyes to Nell.

The coffee told her he expected to be here awhile.

He had been watching her more or less steadily most of the evening, and she had been highly conscious of it. He hadn't said much about the blackout, beyond asking her if she felt better, and since Galen had been present and Justin and Shelby had arrived very soon afterward, there had been no opportunity for them to continue the discussion that the blackout had interrupted.

Something for which Nell had been deeply grateful.

He and Galen had appeared to be perfectly comfortable with each other, which hadn't surprised her; Galen could make himself agreeable when he wanted to, and since he wasn't the type to play macho games with other men, Max had undoubtedly found him both informative and easy to talk to.

Informative. Nell hadn't yet had the nerve to ask exactly what the two men talked about while she was out cold upstairs, but the possibilities worried her.

Still, Max had seemed calm. Surprisingly so, really, given how much her blackouts seemed to upset him. Even the revelation that Nell had known from the beginning that Justin Byers was working for him hadn't seemed to bother Max too much, though Shelby's participation had startled him, at least initially.

But Nell didn't have to look at him now to read his increasing tension; she could hear it in his voice.

"You and Ethan seemed to get along fairly well today, all things considered," she noted, ignoring his comment. "When are you two going to make peace?"

"Whenever he's ready. I've been more than willing for years. But then, I'm not the one who felt wronged."

Nell did look up then, gazing across the table at Max with lifting brows. "It was hardly your fault or even your choice that his father left you the ranch. Besides which, Ethan would have made a lousy rancher, everybody knows that. Even Ethan knows it."

"I gather it's the principle of the thing. Or a question of fairness. The ranch was in the Cole family for three generations."

"And he would have sold it if he had inherited it. Anyway, his father did leave him other properties and holdings. The estate was fairly divided between the two of you."

"I was the stepson, yet I inherited what his father loved most. It bothers him. There's nothing I can do about that."

"So the peace is his to make." Nell sighed.

"Would you make peace with Hailey if she was standing here in front of you?"

"I don't know," Nell answered honestly. "I'd like to ask her why she made some of the choices she made in her life. If she got involved with all those abusive men because in some twisted way she thought it was punishing our father for not loving her. Or punishing herself for being unworthy of his love."

"Is that what you think?"

"It makes sense. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe Patterson seduced her or lured her into that basement playroom of his when she was a kid, starting her down a path she has to follow for the rest of her life."

"But?"

"But I don't think it was that simple. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was her seducing Patterson rather than the other way around."

"Seriously? That young?"

Nell hesitated, then said, "When she was even younger, she… saw things in our house. Things that would have given her a very twisted idea of how relationships between men and women are supposed to be."

Max was silent for a moment, then said, "What about you, Nell? How did living in that house affect the way you look at relationships?"

"I got away."

"When you were seventeen. But any psychologist will tell you that most of our attitudes and ideas are formed before we reach adulthood. So how twisted are your ideas of relationships between men and women?"

Nell knew he was deliberately goading her—but she also knew it was a real and honest question, and she did her best to answer it honestly.

"I lived in my own little world, Max, you know that. Even at a young age, I knew there was something wrong with my father, something unnatural in how he treated all of us. So while Hailey was watching avidly and trying her best to be what he wanted or what she thought he wanted, I was trying to pull away."

"And me?"

"What about you?"

"Why were you drawn to me? Why was I able to get close to you when no one else could?"

Nell dropped her gaze finally to the records on the table in front of her. "I don't know. I don't even remember knowing you until—until you came home from college that summer."

"The summer before. When you were sixteen."

She nodded. "By then I stayed out of the house as much as I could. During the summer, that meant riding a lot. Exploring the fields and trails, the woods. I'd creep out of bed early every morning and throw a couple of pieces of fruit and a sandwich in a paper bag, then bridle my horse and ride away. Most days I didn't come home until sunset."

"It didn't bother your father that you'd stay gone all day?"

"He didn't like it. But by then I had made it such a habit there wasn't much he could say about it. When I was younger, sometimes I'd be out riding and hear something—and there he'd be, in his car or on another of the horses, watching me."

Max drew a breath and let it out slowly. "Which explains why you were always so tense and nervous even miles away from this house."

"By the time I was sixteen, he'd stopped following me so often, I guess he'd learned that I was always alone and never doing anything he could have objected to. But every once in a while, he'd still turn up without warning, checking on me. So I knew he could. I knew I couldn't let my guard down for long."

"Jesus." Max shook his head. "Do you realize it's a goddamned miracle you let yourself get involved with me?"

"Is it?"

"Well, from my point of view. Maybe from yours it's more like the one huge mistake you made in your life."

Nell flinched slightly. "I never said that."

"No. You just ran out of my life without a backward glance. And after—" He drew another breath and, again, let it out slowly. But his voice was still strained when he finished,"—and after we'd made love for the first time that very day. We'd made love, and while I was still trying to cope with the unexpected… aftershocks of that, you were gone."

"I told you why."

"Twelve years later, you told me why. Then… all I knew was that you were gone. You were seventeen years old and, as far as I knew, completely alone in the world. I can't begin to tell you how many nights I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified that you were lost somewhere with nobody to help you, maybe even pregnant, having to do God knew what just to stay alive."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't say good-bye, TLA* I didn't let you know I was all right. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to come back in all the years since. But as long as my father was alive, I—"

"You didn't have to come back to let me know you were all right. You didn't even have to pick up a phone or mail a postcard." Max's voice was slow, deliberate. "All you had to do was let me in just long enough. What would it have cost you to open that door just for a minute, Nell?"

She pushed her chair back away from the table and left the room without a word.

Max followed her, not surprised when they ended up in what was arguably the most coldly formal room in the house, the living room. There were only a couple of lamps burning, so it was dim and cool and quiet. Nell stood as she had earlier that day before the dark fireplace and didn't seem to notice the missing family photo that had been on the mantel.

"Is it cold enough for a fire, do you think? No, never mind, it's so late anyway—"

"Not this time," Max said grimly. He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "This time we'll finish it if it kills both of us."

"Max—"

"I want to know, Nell. I want to know why you chose to let me think you could be dead or starving somewhere rather than open yourself up to me."

"You knew I wasn't dead." She didn't try to escape his grip, just stood there looking at him with unreadable eyes.

He let out a laugh that was no more than a breath of sound. "Yeah. I knew that much. That was almost the worst of it, is almost the worst of it, this constant sense of you. In the quietest moments I can almost hear you breathe. Always there with me. And yet not. A flash of your mood, like quicksilver. A whisper of a thought. The flicker of a dream. Then you slip away from me again. Cool, distant, just out of reach—a part of me I can't even touch."