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  Then he gave her what she craved, quickening his pace, deepening his invasion into her body, driving into her as she felt his need grow to equal her own.

  And then she exploded. Her arms and legs clamped around him and she screamed his name, clinging to him as spasms racked her entire being. It was only as her coiled muscles began to unfurl that she realized he'd stiffened, too. Moaning long and low into her mouth, he thrust himself into her desperately, and held her tight to him as he throbbed inside her.

  He held her as she relaxed, then eased off her. Lying close to her, he curled her into his strong arms and held her head nestled against his chest

  He kept her there, trapped against him. Not that she tried to move away. Her arm wrapped around his waist and she pressed even closer. Which was good, because he hadn't yet managed to blink all the moisture away from his eyes, and he sure as hell didn't want her to see it there. He hoped her mind-reading talents were as undependable as she'd said they were. His thoughts, his feelings, right now were something he had no desire to share with her. He wasn't even sure he understood them himself. He'd never been moved near to tears by making love to a woman before.

  Hell, he'd never thought of it as making love before. But damned if there was anything else to describe what had just happened with Joey. Until tonight, he hadn't been aware of the difference, hadn't thought there could be more than physical pleasure, mutual satisfaction, two adults sharing a few minutes of passion with the connection broken as soon as it was over. He'd never expected there to be anything more.

  He almost laughed at his naivete. Then he justified his ignorance. How could he have known it could be like this? He'd never seen it firsthand, never known a man and a woman to share anything deeper. His mother certainly hadn't been an example of it. At least his own experiences had been for pleasure rather than for cash.

  He looked down at Joey, cuddled against him, and wished he were the one with the ESP. He'd kill to know if she felt anything like what he was feeling. As if she belonged to him now, and he to her. As if there was no one else in the world he could feel this way with. As if he'd never let her go...not now, not if it meant he had to battle an army to keep her.

  The power of his feelings scared the hell out of him. Especially knowing she'd been lying to him from the start, and still not knowing why. But he would find out. He would dig until he knew everything about Joey, and he would find a way to make her trust him with the truth.

  He rose to his feet, only smiling when she looked up at him with her delicate brows arched. He bent and scooped her into his arms, carried her inside and lowered her onto the bed. Then he got in beside her and held her close. And somehow he knew that as long as he did, the nightmares of his childhood would be powerless to haunt his sleep.

  #

  She was in the shower when the phone bleated the next morning and Ash snatched it up, growling a greeting. He hated the interruption, since he'd been about to slip into the bathroom to join her.

  "Okay, Coye, you owe me big time for this one."

  Radley sounded smug, and his opening line caught Ash's attention. "What have you got?"

  "I saved you some legwork, pal. A lot of it. You were planning to sift all the information from the Vegas murders, but I did it for you, and two tidbits came up that I think you'll find pretty juicy."

  "What're you, bucking to get back into reporting? I thought this was my story."

  "It is, Ash. But your life's on the line here, right?"

  "And you don't trust me to check the facts with an unbiased eye."

  "Hell, what're friends for?"

  Ash sighed into the mouthpiece, shaking his head. "All right, Rad. What've you got?"

  Rad chuckled. "I knew you'd come around." Then he cleared his throat. "This first one might go down hard, Ash. Your little woman was in Vegas during the summer those killings went down."

  Ash felt his spine pull tight, as if it might snap in two at the base of his neck. "How do you know?"

  "Hotel records. I still have a few connections from my reporting days, you know."

  Ash released his breath in a rush, not bothering to ask how Rad had known which hotels to check. He'd either checked them all, or he'd had a tip. Either way, it had to be true. It would be too easy for Ash to verify and Rad knew that. "What else?"

  "Your Christmas present. Like I said, you owe me one. I know you don't want to see the mind reader do time for this. I've found you another suspect."

  His senses pricked to full alertness. "Who?"

  "A cop. A cop who was fully involved in the Vegas investigation. The same cop who's heading up the local one."

  Ash frowned. "Bev Issacs?"

  "The same. She worked on the Vegas PD when the murders were committed. And she smokes the right kind of cigarettes."

  Ash swore softly, his mind working full speed. "I can't believe she's a killer."

  "No one believed Ted Bundy could be one either, pal. I'm just giving you the facts."

  "Are the police aware of this?"

  "I don't know. If they are, they aren't talking. But Ash, I got a tip. The cops got DNA off of a cigarette butt found at the most recent scene."

  Ash licked his Lips. "We need to get our hands on a sample of Bev's DNA. Compare it to what the cops got from the saliva on those butts at the crime scenes. That's the only way we'll know for sure."

  Rad was silent for a long moment, and Ash heard the flick of a lighter, and then the sound of Rad blowing smoke. "Look, Ash, if we're checking DNA, don't you think we ought to have a sample of Joey Bradshaw's, as well?"

  "Hell, no." He answered too fast, and automatically.

  "Afraid it's gonna clinch the case against her?"

  "It would clear her."

  "Then get it. I'll get an independent lab to do the testing, and work on getting SPD to give me a copy of the DNA profile they have on the killer."

  Ash hesitated, chewing his lip.

  "Look, Coye, we won't tell the cops a thing until we have the results."

  He let his chin fall to his chest. "Yeah. All right. How long will it take?"

  "Two weeks, minimum."

  "That's too long."

  "Nothing to be done about that, Ash. Can you get me a sample from Joey?"

  Ash looked around the room, his gaze settling on the wad of bandages she'd taken from her thigh before going to the shower. There were traces of blood marring the white gauze. "Yeah. I can get it. What about Bev?"

  "I'll handle it"

  He didn't elaborate and Ash didn't ask.

  "I think you ought to sit tight on this until we have some answers."

  "No, Rad. I already have an appointment to talk with a psychiatrist. I want to see it through."

  "It's a waste of time."

  "It's my time to waste. I'm still on leave, remember?"

  "Pigheaded son of a—"

  "It can't hurt, Rad. The more we know about who we're dealing with, the better."

  "No shrink's gonna tell you anything you don't already know. They're quacks, all of 'em." Rad sighed hard.

  "Ben Kramer's been studying serial killers for years. I've only been at it for a few weeks. Come on, Rad, ease up."

  "Kramer, eh? Never heard of him."

  "He's from Ithaca. I'm heading down there this afternoon."

  "Your wife going along?"

  "Well, I'm sure as hell not leaving her alone here until I get to the bottom of this. Not that she'd let me." Ash glanced toward the bathroom and smiled slightly.

  "Why wouldn't she let you?"

  "This psychic thing she has—"

  "She's got you believing it?"

  "Yeah. And she thinks the Slasher's added my name to the hit list. And now that you mention it, while you're checking on Bev, keep your eyes open for a pair of black gloves, kid leather, two small buttons at the wrist. Joey says that's what the killer wears."

  Rad was silent for a long moment. Then, "Gee, Ash, why don't you just ask her who the killer is? If she's that good, she ou
ght to be able to figure it out. Save us some time and effort."

  "She doesn't know, but maybe she will in time. She can't control what she, you know, what she sees. But when she does get something, it's so damned accurate it's scary."

  "Never thought I'd hear you talking like that about an alleged psychic."

  "No less than I did." Ash heard the shower stop running. "Later, Rad."

  "Right."

  Ash hung up just as Joey stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. He got up, stark naked, and met her halfway across the room, pulling her towel away. She squeaked in surprise, but he silenced her with a kiss. God, she tasted good. He picked her up, carried her into the bathroom and turned the shower back on.

  #

  Dr. Benjamin Kramer's office seemed more like a living room, and Joey was glad of the comfort after the hour-plus drive down from Syracuse. They'd stopped at the house and Ash had made coffee and filled a thermos jug while Joey had packed a few things. He didn't see her stuff her two helmets into a duffel bag, and she was glad. She wasn't sure her attempts to get him into a cave would be successful and she was sure they wouldn't if he had time to think about it.

  Shivers of dread had rippled up her spine when she'd entered her bedroom, but the sense of a menacing presence had faded a bit overnight. Still, she packed quickly, wanting to get out of the house as soon as possible.

  Now she reclined in an armchair, extending her aching leg in front of her. Kramer frowned at her, his bushy gray brows bunching behind round tortoiseshell glasses. Then he pushed a footstool in front of her. She smiled gratefully and propped her leg on it.

  "Recent injury?" He settled himself into a rocker, his paunch protruding slightly over the waistband of his cream-colored trousers.

  "Very recent," she replied.

  "Can I get you anything? Aspirin?"

  "No, thank you, I'm fine."

  He nodded, and turned his attention to Ash. “Now then, the reason for this visit. You're interested in serial killers. No doubt due to the string of murders you're investigating.”

  Ash nodded. "I'm hoping you can give me an idea of the kind of person we're looking for."

  He shrugged. "Perhaps. The papers haven't been very forthcoming with details. It's difficult to judge without knowing more. Have the murders been particularly grisly?"

  Ash glanced at Joey. "A single slash to the throat, Doctor. The victims bled to death. And there were..." He frowned a little. "Of course, I'm counting on your discretion. None of this is public knowledge."

  "You have my word, Mr. Coye. Believe me, I'd do nothing to jeopardize the investigation. Please, go on."

  Ash bit his lip. "There were cigarette butts found at three of the four scenes."

  Joey stiffened. He hadn't told her that.

  "Any blood on them?"

  "No. Is that significant?"

  Kramer shifted, leaning forward in his chair. "Could be. If the killer smoked while killing, there's likely to be blood spattered on the cigarette. Likewise, if he smoked beforehand, say, while waiting for the victim, and tossed the butt aside, it would still be spattered in blood. A bleeding jugular would be quite forceful." He cupped his chin, tilting his head. "I see a man who slashes, then steps out of the way and calmly smokes while the victim lies bleeding." He shook his head. "He's a predator."

  Ash shook his head. "She, Doctor."

  "Ben, please," he admonished with a wave of his hand. "Do go on. What makes you think the killer is a woman?"

  "The butts were ringed with lipstick."

  Kramer smiled slowly and shook his head. "Well, now I see why the police are stumped. They're taking too much for granted."

  Joey blinked. "Are you saying it isn't a woman, Dr. Kramer?"

  He tilted his head to one side. "Highly unlikely, Mrs. Coye. Highly unlikely. Female serial murderers are as rare as snow in July."

  "But not nonexistent?" Ash stood, obviously agitated.

  "No, not nonexistent. Although, those few I've studied have been violent in their methods, violent to the extreme. Multiple stabbings, dismemberment..." The doctor's gaze slid toward Joey. "I'm sorry. It disturbs you to hear all of this. You're pale."

  "I'm fine."

  Ash sent her a worried glance. She nodded to assure him she could handle whatever was said, and he returned his attention to Dr. Kramer. "What about the victims being men? Does that mean anything?"

  "Perhaps. Have they all been males, Mr. Coye?"

  Ash had been pacing, but he stopped. "No. I don't think so." Joey frowned at him. He watched her face as he went on. "I think this killer may be the same one who committed a series of murders in Las Vegas. One of those victims was a woman."

  "Ah, yes...June and July 2006. I'm familiar with the case."

  "My God..." Joey said no more, but her eyes widened as she searched Ash's steady gaze.

  Dr. Kramer rose from his chair and went to the window, pushing aside the curtains to look outside. "We're dealing with a predator, Mr. Coye. One who doesn't wish to be caught. He kills not in a fit of rage, but calmly...like an executioner. He's hunting for a man he believes deserves to die, which is why he stays around to be sure the deed is done. He might be acting in vengeance against a real man in his past, perhaps a man who is no longer around for him to kill. And I don't believe he'll stop until he feels that man has died at his hand." He turned to face them. "If that man is already dead, then the killer might never stop. I'm not sure of the significance of the single female victim. There are hundreds of possibilities there. I wouldn't presume to hazard a guess."

  "You really believe the killer is a man? Some kind of cross-dresser or something?" Ash asked, his voice incredulous.

  "The odds are that it is a man, though it is not impossible that it's a woman. The cross-dressing is arguable. Perhaps the lipstick on the cigarettes is a deliberate attempt to mislead police. Perhaps he dresses as a woman only when he kills. Perhaps not."

  Ash pushed a hand through his hair. "You're not giving me much to go on."

  Ben Kramer chuckled. "I'm not a psychic, Mr. Coye. I can give you a bit more, though. This kind of anger probably began in early childhood. I believe you're looking for someone who was horribly hurt by an adult male."

  "Physically hurt?"

  "Not necessarily, but that's likely. The killer believes this man deserves to die for whatever he did."

  Ash looked at Joey, and she cringed, knowing he must be thinking about her feelings for her father. God, did he suspect she was the Slasher?

  He didn't give her a clue as they left the office, and remained silent when he slid behind the wheel of her car.

  She got in, fastened her seat belt and turned to face him. "You think it was me, don't you?"

  Chapter Ten

  He looked at her. Just looked at her, his eyes probing so deeply she felt their touch. "No, Joey. I don't think it's you." He started the car and pulled into traffic.

  "I despise my father. I blame him for my mother's death. You know that"

  He nodded. "I know that."

  She closed her eyes, wishing she could tell him everything, wishing she could believe he trusted her, even knowing about her lies. "Ash, I was in Vegas when those killings happened. I was there with Caro and Ted. I was—"

  "I know that, too."

  She felt her eyes widen. "And you told me not to tell the police I smoke. The cigarette butts they found—"

  "Same brand as yours. And before you ask, so was the lipstick. Same brand. Same shade. Coral frost."

  She pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Oh, God." She felt her stomach heave. "Oh, God," she repeated.

  Ash pulled the car onto the shoulder, gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him: "How long have you been smoking that brand, Joey?" She didn't answer and he gave her a little shake. "How long? Tell me."

  She bit her lip and tears filled her eyes. "A month, I guess. I never liked menthols before. Then I quit for a while, and when I got the craving again I bought those. I...God, I don
't know why." She was crying openly, sure he believed she was a killer, feeling sicker by the minute. "I didn't kill those people, Ash. I swear to you—"

  "I believe you."

  She blinked and looked up at him.

  "I believe you, Joey."

  She shook her head, confused, bewildered. "Why?"

  He pulled her across the space that separated them and kissed her hard and long and deep. And when he finally lifted his mouth from hers she saw the passion and the caring in his eyes.

  "That's why."

  He let her go, pulled back onto the highway and drove a short distance in silence. "The lipstick is new, isn't it?"

  She nodded.

  "I thought so. Never bought that color before, did you, Joey?"

  She frowned. "How did you know?" He said nothing, so she went on. "No. I haven't even used it more than once or twice. The shade's all wrong for me. And I never liked frosts, anyway. I bought it on impulse."

  "You bought it because the killer bought it."

  She frowned hard. "What do you mean?"

  "I have a theory. And I want you to hear me out before you shoot it down. I think you're more connected to this person than you realize. You're picking things up from him...or her, and you're not even aware of it."

  She thought about that "Ash, do you hear yourself? You don't even believe in psychics." She shook her head, looking at her hands folded in her lap. "I'm not even sure I do. At least, I didn't. Before all this."

  Ash frowned at her, then shifted his gaze quickly back to the highway. It was smooth, and the blacktop smelled new. The yellow lines were still glow-in-the-dark brilliant

  "How could you not believe in it? You've made a business out of it"

  "But I never saw it as being...psychic. Just intuitive. Maybe as being more sensitive than other people. I never...never had visions or dreams or anything like that. Not until...these murders started."

  Ash's head tilted to one side and he took a gentle curve too slowly, deep in thought she presumed. "Maybe there's a reason for that" he said at last. "Maybe...maybe there's a connection between you and the killer that you just aren't aware of. Maybe it's someone you know."

  She sighed hard, shaking her head at the ridiculous idea. "Like who?"