"And more than likely be waiting. Which is why—"
"No,” she cut in. “Don't say it. Don't even think it."
"What about Mary?” Jake cut in harshly. “What are we going to do with her? We can't protect her twenty-four hours a day—not from this madman, and not if we want to save the other woman."
"No. Which is why I suggest you send her away. She's one of four other women currently living or visiting San Francisco who attended the same year of school as the first four kidnap victims. If Mary disappears, the killer will simply turn his attention to the remaining three.” And if Seline was right—and she usually was—it was all going to end here in San Francisco, anyway. Mary should be safe just about anywhere else in the country.
Jake swore softly. “She's going to assume this is some sort of scheme I've come up with to get her out of San Francisco."
"I'll talk to her,” Michael said.
Nikki's glance was sharp. “Just talk?"
He hesitated again. “No."
"Damn it, you know—"
"And you know,” Michael cut in, anger touching his voice, “That it could be the fastest and easiest way of discovering what is going on."
"Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?” Jake cut in impatiently. “There's a whole level of conversation I'm missing out on here."
"Michael's intending to probe Mary's memories,” Nikki said. Jake's gaze met his. “You can do that? To anyone?"
"Anyone I choose. And most times, they're not even aware of it." Jake's gaze widened a little. “Would Mary be aware?"
"No."
"Then do it.” Jake glanced at Nikki. “If Mary's in the firing line, then we need to do everything we can." The elevator doors slid open. Jake strode down the corridor and swiped his key card through the slot at the last of the half dozen doors.
Mary turned around as they entered, relief etched on her drawn features. “Nikki, Michael, are you all right?"
Nikki walked over and gave the older woman a hug. “Just a little wet,” she said softly. Jake took his wife's hand and led her toward the sofa. “We need to ask you a few questions." Mary's gaze jumped from person to person, finally coming to rest on Michael. “Something's wrong." He nodded and sat down on the coffee table beside Nikki. “You remember when we were talking earlier, you mentioned Boston?"
Mary nodded. “What has that got to do with what happened this morning?" He touched her thoughts, pushing deep into her memories. Controlling, but not intruding any more than necessary. “You were telling me about the prom where the two girls died."
"Yes.” Mary's voice was flat, remote.
Jake, who'd never really seen him in action like this before, stared at him, a touch of fear in his eyes.
"Did you know them?” Michael said softly.
"Yes."
"They were your friends?"
"Yes."
"Did you see them drinking alcohol anytime during the night?"
"No."
"Was anyone else drinking alcohol?"
"Not that I know of."
"Did anything unusual happen during the night?” He'd asked that question before, but this time his control was deeper.
She hesitated. “No."