Part 15 (2/2)

When she opened her eyes, she saw Jones watching her with faint amus.e.m.e.nt.

”Considering what your uncle did to you in the name of G.o.d, it's a wonder you pray at all.”

”My uncle did it, not G.o.d, Jones,” she said tersely. Slowly, every muscle in her body protesting, she pushed herself upright. Taige doubted she had the strength to stand, though. Instead, she rested there on her heels and waited until her breathing slowed. She jerked her chin back to the coffee table where two more pictures still sat. ”Those pictures of the boy or other people?”

”Others. Two girls. Did you see anything?”

She shook her head jerkily. ”Not much. Not him.” Taige didn't need to clarify. She didn't like Taylor Jones, but she knew him well, and she knew what he had been hoping for when he showed her those pictures. ”I can't help you find him-not yet. The boy couldn't see him.”

”His name was Kendrick.”

Kendrick. Taige squeezed her eyes closed and tried to block out the sound of his screams. ”He had a sweet smile.”

Jones didn't respond to that. Instead, he rose to his feet and went back to his briefcase.

”I have the original file from his case. He disappeared in 1982 from a mall in Atlanta. He was there with his mother, picking out clothes for school. He would have started third grade that year.”

”Third grade,” Taige murmured. ”He was so young.”

Jones glanced at the pictures and then back at her. ”I'll warn you now. One of the girls was even younger.”

With a grimace, Taige said, ”I need a drink.”

”You drink too much as it is.”

Her legs still felt way too unstable as she shoved to her feet. Three unsteady steps had her back to the couch, and she collapsed on it thankfully. ”Considering the s.h.i.+t you dump on me, it's amazing I still have a functioning liver.” She started to ask how young, but then she shook her head. It was best she not know much before she looked at the picture.

”Did you notice anything unusual about the boy?”

Frowning, Taige asked, ”Like what?”

”Like the fact that he was like you.”

Taige blinked. ”Like me how?”

”Gifted.” Jones leaned back into the dark blue leather of his chair, watching her closely.

”His mother ran away with him when he was two, because his father was using him to help win at the races. The boy knew which horse would win, which would lose. All before he could even tie his shoes.”

”Could it be just dumb luck?”

Once more, Jones glanced at the coffee table.

Taige felt something sick spin inside her.

”It could, but you and I don't believe in coincidences, do we? Jillian is gifted. Kendrick was gifted-and at least one other victim that we've identified.”

No. It wasn't coincidence. Taige reached up and wiped a hand over her mouth. She felt numb inside, chilled from the fear. Three victims. No way was that a coincidence. Which meant the other children were probably gifted as well; more, it meant that the killer was probably gifted. It usually took one gifted person to recognize another.

”It isn't over,” Taige whispered, more to herself than him.

But Jones responded anyway. ”No, it isn't. But I think you already knew that.”

NINE.

THE scream woke Cullen out of a dead sleep. He raced down the hall toward Jillian's room and hit the partially opened door with the palm of his hand, shoving it with a strength that sent it flying. He heard it hit the wall, but the sound barely registered as he crouched by Jillian's side and pulled her into his arms.

”Wake up, Jilly. Come on, baby, wake up,” he whispered, his voice harsh, almost thick with tears. The knot in his throat threatened to choke him, but he didn't know what would kill him first: the knot or the poison of the rage that flowed through him. This was killing him.

Every night for the past week Jilly had awakened screaming from the nightmares. Every d.a.m.n night. And each dream made him feel more and more helpless. He had to do something. Had to.

”Daddy . . .” Jilly moaned, and he pulled back just enough to see her face as her lashes fluttered open.

”I'm here, baby. I'm here.”

”He's going to hurt her, Daddy. Don't let him.”

Cullen stroked a hand up her back and whispered, ”He can't hurt you again, baby. I won't let him.”

But she shook her head, shoved against his chest with a strength that was almost unnatural for a child so young. ”Not me, Daddy. It's Taige. The lady that helped me. He wants to kill her. He knows she helped me, and he hates her.”

It took several hours to get her back to sleep, and as the night stretched out in front of him, Cullen lay on the bed beside Jilly, her head cuddled on his shoulder. Staring at the wall, he replayed those words in his mind. Not me, Daddy. It's Taige.

Not once did he doubt Jilly. He'd never doubt that eerie, bizarre knowledge again. No, it certainly wasn't doubts that plagued him now, just conflicting desires. He needed to be with Jilly. She needed him right now, needed him to keep her safe.

Don't let him.

Don't let him hurt Taige. His little girl somehow thought he could protect the woman who had saved her, and in his heart, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Did Taige really need to be protected? He'd watched as she went, steely eyed, into a house, and he knew that she'd do whatever was necessary to get the job done, to save a child she didn't know. He remembered all the bruises and injuries he'd seen on her over the years, through their shared dreams, and he didn't doubt Taige's strength, her courage, or her spirit.

But, despite her gifts, despite her skill with her fists and with a gun, Taige was just a woman. She bled, she breathed just like anybody else, and she was only one person.

Cullen didn't know exactly what he could do to help her, didn't even know it was expected of him by anybody other than his daughter. And himself.

But if he didn't do anything, and Taige was hurt, he'd never forgive himself. It would destroy a part of him, and what was left wouldn't be worth much.

As dawn slowly broke over the horizon, he stared at Jilly. The sun slanted on her small face, painting it a soft, sun-kissed gold. Gently, he leaned down and brushed his lips over her temple. Jilly's lashes fluttered open, and she looked at him, gave him that sweet, heart-stopping smile. She'd owned his heart from the first time the doctors had placed her in his arms. From her very first breath, she'd owned him.

But she wasn't alone inside his heart, and that was what was kil ing him. Much like it had been with Jilly, Taige had forged a place inside of him in a way that even twelve years apart hadn't been able to dim. He loved that woman. He couldn't let anything happen to her.

”Sweetheart, I've been thinking. Grandpa's been wanting to take us to Ireland again.

How would you like to go with him, all on your own?”

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