Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [77]
“I had Maggie Barnes,” Hollis reminded her. “That empathy thing of hers did a dandy job of taking away a lot of the pain and healing the trauma. Even though what happened to me was just months ago, it feels more like years. Decades. Distant, unimportant, almost as if it happened to someone else. Almost. Do I know if I can feel a normal, healthy desire for a man? No idea. Not yet anyway. Haven't met a man I felt that sort of interest in so far.”
Isabel lifted an eyebrow. “You seemed a bit drawn to Caleb Powell, I thought.”
“A bit,” Hollis admitted with a shrug. “But . . . a big-city-caliber attorney lives and works in a small town for a reason. He wants a simple life. Had one, too, until a lethal killer began stalking his nice little town, and his employee and friend was horribly murdered. Now, like it or not, I'm part of that gruesome series of events that's turning his simple, peaceful existence upside down.”
“You're one of the good guys.”
“Yeah, points in the positive column for that. But not enough to balance it, I'm afraid. Especially since I have my own horror story.”
“Did you . . .”
“Tell him? Yeah. I met him in the coffee shop earlier, by chance, and we talked for a while. He asked questions, so I answered them. He didn't take it all that well. Sort of freaked, actually. In a very quiet, controlled, lawyerish kind of way. But I saw his face. And he certainly didn't offer to drive me home.” Her smile was wry. “It was the eye thing that finally got to him. Up until then, he was more or less okay, but that was a bit too much to take.”
“Hollis, I'm sorry.”
“Oh, don't worry about it. Some things aren't meant to be, you know? I mean, if he couldn't accept a little thing like an eye transplant, then it's a cinch he'd never be comfortable with me talking to dead people.”
“No, probably not.”
“Some people just . . . can't think outside the box. You're lucky Rafe can.”
Isabel was frowning again. Her head tilted a bit, the frown deepening. Absently, she said, “Yes. Yes, I guess I am. The psychic stuff doesn't throw him at all, and he was more than okay with the rest.”
“So if you can just deal with these control issues of yours, and always assuming we get this killer before he decides to add you to his blonde collection, maybe the universe really is offering you something special. A man who knows what you've been through, what you are, and doesn't mind all the baggage you have to drag around with you.”
“Maybe.”
“At least accept the possibility, Isabel.”
Isabel blinked at her. “Sure. Yes. I can always accept possibilities.”
It was Hollis's turn to frown. “Are you thinking about the long-term complications of him being settled here and you at Quantico?”
“No. I haven't gotten that far. I mean, I haven't really looked past now.”
Hollis studied her. “So what's bothering you?”
“It's just . . . I'm tired. Really tired.”
“I'm not surprised. You need a good night's sleep.”
Still frowning, Isabel said, “I know I do. I can't remember ever being this tired. So that's probably why, right?”
“Why what?”
Softly, Isabel said, “Why I don't hear the voices. At all.”
12
Sunday, June 15, 10:30 AM
GINNY HUNG UP the phone and frowned at the clock on the wall. Three times. Three times she'd tried to call Tim Helton, hoping his wife might have come home and he just hadn't thought to report in.
It was after ten-thirty; dairy farmers got up at dawn, she knew that much. Even on Sundays. And Tim Helton wasn't a churchgoer. Maybe he was out with his cattle. Except he'd given her his cell-phone number and said he always kept it with him. And a body would think he'd be eager to hear whatever the police might have to say about his missing wife. Unless she'd come home.
Or unless he knew she wasn't going to.
Travis wasn't at his desk, so Ginny couldn't ask him, as she usually did, what she should do. This would have to be her call, her decision.
Surprising herself somewhat, Ginny didn't