Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [49]
“We can't be sure everything she's picked up is factual, not yet,” Rafe said without commenting on the sparking thing.
“I wouldn't bet against her.”
“Well, I sure as hell hope she's wrong about one thing. She thinks one of Jamie's little games got out of hand. We're now looking for evidence of a death here.”
“Shit.” Mallory stared at him. “You mean separate from our serial killer?”
“God knows. Hollis, are you getting anything?”
“I haven't tried.” From the slightly stubborn set of her jaw, it didn't appear she planned to anytime soon.
After seeing what had happened to Isabel, Rafe wasn't about to push either psychic, but he was still curious. “Isabel never seems to try. I mean, it doesn't seem to be an effort for her.”
“It isn't. For her.”
He waited, brows raised.
After a moment, Hollis said, “You know the bit about me not being able to hear what these victims have tried to tell me? So far, I mean.”
Somewhat warily, Rafe said, “Yeah, I think I get that.”
“There's a barrier, something virtually every psychic has. We call them shields. Think of it as a bubble of energy our minds create to protect us. Most psychics have to consciously make an opening in that shield in order to use our abilities. We have to reach out, open up, deliberately make ourselves vulnerable.”
“You didn't seem to be doing it deliberately,” Rafe noted.
“I'm new at this. My control isn't as strong as it should be yet, so sometimes I reach out—or at least open a door or window in my shields—without meaning or wanting to. Usually when I'm tired or distracted, something like that. Eventually, they tell me, I should be able to shut this stuff out unless and until I very specifically want it. Most psychics can do that. Isabel is the very rare one who can't.”
“You mean—”
“I mean she lacks the ability to shield her own mind. She's always wide open, always picking up information. Important stuff. Trivia. Everything in between. All that stuff always coming at her, crowding into her mind, like the voices of hundreds of people all talking at once. It's a miracle she can make sense of it at all. Hell, it's a miracle she isn't locked up in a padded room somewhere, screaming her guts out.”
Hollis drew a breath. “When she told you she couldn't stop it, she meant it literally. She can't shut it off, ever.”
Isabel sat in the cool Jeep and stared down at her hands. Watching them shake.
“Okay,” she murmured, “so this one was bad. You've had bad ones before. You've heard all the ugly voices before. You can handle them. You can handle this.”
She heard the ghost of a laugh escape her. “But not if you keep talking to yourself.”
She laced her fingers together in her lap and raised her head, staring through the windshield at the building where Rafe and the others were.
It was where she should be, dammit, and never mind the pain. In there trying to sort through all the impressions, listening to the voices still echoing too loudly in her head. Even the ugly ones. Maybe especially the ugly ones.
Doing her job.
Isabel drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus, to soothe raw nerves and regain control of her senses, all her senses. Control. She had to find control.
Jamie had liked controlling people.
And that preacher . . .
God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Obey your mistress! Crawl!
Just three quarts more, and—
Bones bend before they break, you know. Bones bend—
Blood . . . so much blood . . .
Her shaking hands lifted to cover her face, fingertips massaging her forehead and temples hard, and Isabel