Live to Tell - Lisa Gardner [105]
“She likes you?”
“She believes in my work.”
“You’re rich and good-looking. Bet that doesn’t hurt.”
“You think I’m rich and good-looking?” Lightfoot smiled again.
“I think you’re cocky and arrogant,” D.D. countered.
Lightfoot’s smile grew broader. “Leopard can’t change all of his spots,” he agreed.
“You and Karen ever go out?”
“It is strictly a professional relationship, Sergeant. I assist her and her staff. She recommends my services.”
“Did she recommend you to the Harringtons?”
“That referral came from a different source.”
“When was the last time you saw Ozzie?”
“Three months ago.”
“And Tika?”
“I don’t know that child.”
“Yet you know she’s a child,” D.D. pounced.
Lightfoot regarded her evenly. “We are talking about kids, thus it stands to reason that Tika is a kid. Sergeant, you seem angry. We should leave this room; it’s not good for you.”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply, but turned toward the doorway. It forced her to follow him, which, come to think of it, made her angrier.
“We’ll go to the classroom—” she started tightly.
“This is perfect,” Lightfoot said, as if she’d never spoken. He’d stopped in front of the huge window at the end of the hall. “Here, in the sunbeam. You’ve been spending too much time under fluorescent bulbs, Sergeant. You need more vitamin D.”
D.D. stared at him wide-eyed.
“I’m a healer,” Lightfoot said quietly. “Just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean I’m going to change who I am.”
“Have you ever worked with a child who was a cutter?” D.D. asked.
“Who self-mutilates, you mean? Not lately.”
“Karen refer you to such a family?”
“No.”
“What was the last family she referred you to?”
“I don’t really remember, or keep track,” Lightfoot said vaguely. D.D. narrowed her eyes, studied him for a bit.
Up close and personal, she could make out deep shadows beneath Lightfoot’s eyes, a pallor beneath his tanned skin. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one not getting enough vitamin D.
“Up late last night?” she asked him.
He hesitated. “I have been up late ever since you visited my home. I had planned to take a few more days off, but it is not to be.”
“Why?”
He turned toward the window, seemed to be studying the sun. D.D. was startled to realize that the healer was shivering slightly, his bare arms still covered with goose bumps.
“I have spent the past two evenings on the spiritual interplanes,” he said at last. “As I tried to explain to you by phone, something is coming. I can feel it. Have you ever heard the expression ‘a darkness deeper than night’?”
D.D. nodded, still studying him.
“I never knew what that meant, but now I do. There’s something terrible out there. Or maybe, now it’s in here.” Suddenly, Lightfoot reached out, touched her cheek.
In spite of herself, D.D. gasped. Lightfoot’s fingers felt like dry ice against her skin. So cold they nearly burned. She took an instinctive step back.
The healer nodded. “Negative energy feels like a deep chill. However, I’m an advanced and powerful healer. Meaning I should be able to fight that cold. I should be able to warm my hands. But since entering the unit, I can’t do it. Something terrible holds sway here. It’s rooted in Lucy’s room, but is already expanding to the entire floor. A cold, malevolent force. A darkness deeper than night. Lucy couldn’t survive it. And neither, I think, can we. It’s why I asked you to leave that room and join me here in the sun.”
“Because some celestial Big Bad hurt Lucy?” asked D.D.
“I’m tired,” Lightfoot said, as if it were important for her to understand that. “I’ve been expending vast amounts of energy on the interplanes each night. Then I’ve had healing exercises to tend to during the day. And now I’m trying to cleanse the taint that has corrupted this ward. I’m drained. Not at my best today. I’m sorry I can’t do more to protect you.”
“What?” D.D. said, looking around.
“You’re angry,” Lightfoot continued. “You’re hurt. Under better circumstances, I would help you center more, bolster your own defenses. But not this afternoon.”
“Okay.