Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [40]
The ringing demand of her cell phone jarred her from the panic, and she took a deep breath to try and steady her voice before she answered it. “Templeton.”
“What happened?” Isabel asked without preamble.
“I checked out Tricia Kane's office, but—”
“No, Hollis. What happened?”
She'd already had a few unsettling experiences with other SCU members and their easy connections with one another, so Isabel's obvious awareness of Hollis's state of mind didn't surprise her all that much. It still unsettled her, however.
“I saw Tricia Kane,” she said finally, baldly.
“Did she tell you anything?” Isabel's voice was calm.
“She tried. I couldn't hear her. Like before.”
“How long did it last?”
Hollis had to stop and think about that. “Not long. Not as long as in the conference room. And not as clear. She was . . . the image was fainter. Wispy. And it didn't feel as spooky.”
“Powell didn't notice anything?”
“I don't think so.”
“You're out of the office now?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. It's getting late. Why don't you go back to the inn and soak in the tub, have a hot shower, something like that. Relax. Order a pizza. Watch something mind-numbing on TV for a while.”
“Isabel—”
“Hollis, trust me. Take the time while you can, and chill. Just chill. Sleep if you can. Don't think too much. We're just getting started here, and it's only going to get harder.”
“I have to learn how to handle this.”
“Yes. But you don't have to learn everything today. Today you just have to get some rest and get centered again. That's all. I'll be back at the inn myself in a couple of hours. I'll check, see if you feel like company. If not, that's cool, I'll see you at breakfast. But if you want to talk, I'll be there. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Don't mention it, partner.”
Rafe watched Isabel close her cell phone and return it to the belt pack she wore in lieu of a purse. They were standing in the living room of Jamie Brower's apartment, but they had barely arrived before Isabel reached for her phone, saying without explanation that she had to call Hollis.
“She was in trouble,” Rafe guessed, watching Isabel.
“She saw another of the victims. Tricia Kane. It freaked her out a bit.” Isabel shrugged, frowning slightly. “Still couldn't hear what Tricia was trying to tell her, so no help for us.”
“You knew she was in trouble before you called her. How?” Before Isabel could answer, Rafe did himself. “Connections. A psychic connection. She's your partner.”
“A connection she finds more unnerving than reassuring at this point,” Isabel said wryly. “I'm sure you can relate.” She began walking through the very nice apartment, looking around her with interest.
Rafe followed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I make you nervous. Admit it.”
“I've known you barely twenty-four hours,” Rafe retorted. “That isn't enough time to get used to a woman's perfume, let alone the fact that she knows without looking what kind of shorts you happen to be wearing.”
Isabel chuckled. “Okay, you win that round.”
Rafe thought it was about time he won one. “Is Hollis all right?”
“She will be, I think. This time. But if she doesn't get a handle on her abilities pretty fast, things are just going to get harder for her.”
“I'd think talking to dead people would never get easier.”
“No, from all I'm told, that part doesn't. It takes an exceptionally powerful medium with a strong sense of self to open that door and yet remain detached—and protected—from all the emotional and spiritual energy pouring through.”
“Protected?”
Isabel paused in the kitchen, running a hand lightly along the immaculate granite countertops. The usual small appliances were scattered about: toaster, blender, coffeemaker. “She didn't cook much.”
“Not according to what her family and friends said, no. A lot of takeout. What do you mean about a medium needing to protect herself?”
“Or himself. It's not a gender-specific ability, you know.”
“I stand corrected. Are there any gender-specific abilities?”
“Not as far as we know.”
“Okay. What