At least the migraine was almost gone.
But McBride’s touch lingered like a fiery brand on her skin. She could still conjure up the tang of his aftershave, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over her as if he wanted to strip her bare of her defenses and find out what lay underneath.
Idiot. Trying to guess McBride’s thoughts was a fool’s game. If he thought of her at all, it was as a calculating con artist taking advantage of a wealthy but vulnerable man.
Whimsy wasn’t Lily’s style. She wasn’t the fanciful sister; that was Rose, the hopeless romantic. She wasn’t impulsive and daring like Iris, either. Lily was the eldest, the one with her head screwed on firmly. The one who’d taken care of her younger sisters when their mother died six years ago.
Lily didn’t form ridiculous crushes on men who’d never return her feelings.
Mentally she dusted her hands of him. Done.
Her cell phone trilled, making her jump. She dug in her purse with her right hand and pulled out the phone. “Hello?”
“You never call, you never write.” Her sister Rose’s husky voice always reminded Lily of their mother. Iris, with her ebony hair and black-coffee eyes, looked the most like their mother, but Rose had her voice, low and just a little raspy, with a slow, sweet drawl that stretched her words like taffy.
“I talked to Iris just the other day.”
“I always knew you liked her better,” Rose said lightly. “I had a dream about you last night, Lil.”
“Yeah?” Lily slowed her car as she approached Dead Man’s Curve, where Black Creek Road formed a deep S as it followed the winding creek for a couple of miles.
“Yeah. Have you met a new man recently?”
McBride’s rugged face flashed through mind. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to fall in love with him.”
A shiver ran down Lily’s back. She ignored it, pressing her lips into a tight line. “Am not.”
“Well, you also help him find his daughter. I’m not clear on whether you do that before you fall in love or after.”
“Now I know you didn’t dream that. Iris told you about my visions.” Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, Lily put both hands on the steering wheel as she navigated a sharp curve.
“Yes, she did, but I really did have the dream.”
“Well, you’re wrong on this occasion,” Lily said firmly. “I’ve spent time with the little girl’s father, and I assure you the last thing he’s thinking about is falling in love.”
Rose sighed. “It was a great dream. You were in the woods. There was a building with rickety wood steps. There he was—this incredible man, his arm around a little girl. He turned to look at you, and wow.” Rose’s voice dwindled to a contented sigh. “You were so in love with each other. It gave me chills.”
Hair rose on the back of Lily’s neck. If anybody but Rose were telling her these things, she’d laugh it off. But Rose’s gift, predicting a successful love match, was as strong as Lily’s, and much better developed. Still, Lily couldn’t see herself with Andrew Walters. “What did this guy look like?”
“All I remember is dark hair.”
“What about the girl?” Lily asked, thinking about Abby.
“I don’t remember anything except she had big dark eyes that lit up when she saw you.”
An image popped into Lily’s head—of the dark-haired child at the edge of her vision of Abby. Lily shivered. Too creepy.
“So tell me about these visions you’ve been having.”
Lily told her everything, including her newfound ability to make contact with Abby.
“She heard you? Cool! Any closer to finding her?”
Lily sighed. “I hope so. I’m worried, Rose. She’s so scared. I feel helpless.” She took a deep breath. “And during my last vision of Abby, I saw another little girl.”
“The kidnappers have another little girl?” Rose asked.
“I don’t think so. I think the little girl is somewhere else. Maybe nearby, though.” Having spent so much of her life running from her visions, Lily had never figured out how they worked. Did the appearance of the new little girl have anything to do with Abby’s kidnapping? Did the other child even exist, or was she a figment of Lily’s imagination?
Maybe it was just a one-time thing. A fluke. Crossed wires or whatever you called mixed-up psychic signals.
“I’ve gotta run, Lil—Iris is in the cellar boiling her eye of newt and I think I just heard something explode.” The humor in Rose’s voice assured Lily that her baby sister was exaggerating. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Lily laughed. The sound startled her. How long had it been since she’d heard herself laugh? “If there’s still a house left by the time you and Iris get through with it, I’ll definitely be home for Thanksgiving.”
As she ended the call with her sister, she noticed headlights flickering in her rearview mirror.
* * *
HE GRIPPED THE steering wheel, his palms sweating inside his leather driving gloves. In the darkness ahead, all he could see of Lily Browning’s car was a pair of taillights glowing like red eyes. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, eating up the road between them.
She knew too much. Saw too much.
She would ruin everything.
He was close enough to make out the shiny chrome bumper of her Buick and the rectangular sticker with Westview Elementary School printed in white block letters on a field of red.
A schoolteacher, he thought. Panicked laughter rose in his throat. The most dangerous woman in his world was a bloody schoolteacher. How had this happened? How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?
No matter. It was going to end here.
Now.
* * *
WITH THE ON-RAMP to the perimeter highway backed up for more than a block, McBride went with a hunch and took Black Creek Road to avoid the snarl of traffic. If he was lucky, Lily Browning had taken the highway and he’d be sitting at her house waiting for her when she arrived. If not, he had a good chance of catching up with her on the winding back road.
Grabbing his cell phone, he called Theo Baker’s direct line. “Call a meeting of the task force for first thing in the morning. I’ve had a copy of the phone call couriered over—”
“Right here in my hot little hands.”
“Great. Get tech services to make a copy for everyone on the task force. Let’s see if anybody recognizes the voice.”
“Still think it’s a hoaxer?”
“Ninety-nine percent sure.” But it’s that one percent that could bite you in the ass, McBride thought as he ended the call.
The weather was worsening; fog rising to meet the pouring rain that was already cutting visibility to a few yards. McBride peered into the darkness, easing off the accelerator as he approached Dead Man’s Curve. Rain sheeted across the blacktop and pounded his windshield, keeping pace with the wipers.
Ahead, two glowing red dots pierced the gloom. Tail-lights, he realized. Lily’s car? Accelerating, he kept his eyes on the lights. As the road straightened for a long stretch, the taillights doubled. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Now two sets of lights traveled