LITMIR.BIZ

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ringing, she wasn’t surprised. She was listed in the directory; any reporter with a taste for a trumped-up scandal could look her up.

      Lily grabbed the phone and took a deep breath, steeling herself for unpleasantness. “Hello?”

      “Lily Browning?”

      She knew that voice. The kidnapper’s harsh drawl was unmistakable. Lily’s heart slammed into her ribs. “You have Abby Walters.”

      There was a long pause over the phone. When the man spoke, he sounded wary. “How’d you know that?”

      “Is she okay?” Lily’s mind raced, wondering what to do next. Nobody was expecting the kidnappers to call here; all the recording equipment was no doubt set up at Andrew Walters’s hotel, waiting for a ransom demand. As she scrabbled for something to write with, her gaze fell on the answering machine attached to her phone.

      The kind that allowed her to record incoming conversations.

      She jabbed the record button with a shaking finger.

      “She’s fine, for now,” the kidnapper said.

      “You hit her, you son of a bitch!”

      There was a brief silence on the other end before the man spoke in a hushed tone. “What the hell are you?”

      Lily ignored the question. “Let me talk to her.”

      “Don’t be stupid.”

      Shivers raced up her spine, followed by the first hint of gray mist clouding the edges of her vision. Gripping the phone harder, she fought off the sensation. “Why are you calling me instead of Mr. Walters?”

      “You think we don’t know the cops have his phone tapped? We’ve been looking for a way to contact him away from his hotel.” The caller laughed. “Then we seen your picture in the paper. Lucky break, ain’t it?”

      Lily sank down on the floor, tucking her knees close to her body. “You want me to pass along your demands to Mr. Walters?”

      “Tell him it’s time to pay up. We’ll be in touch.”

      She heard a soft clicking noise. “Wait!”

      But the man had already disconnected.

      She slammed down the phone and covered her face with shaking hands. The door in her mind bulged, trying to force its way open, but she continued to fight the vision.

      She had to call McBride.

      With pain lancing behind her eyes, she checked the tape in the answering machine, terrified she’d pushed a wrong button and failed to record the kidnapper’s message. But the harsh drawl was there. “Tell him it’s time to pay up.”

      She shut off the recorder and dialed McBride’s cell phone number. He answered on the second ring. “McBride.”

      She released a pent-up breath. “It’s Lily Browning. The kidnappers just phoned me.”

      “What?” He sounded wary.

      She told him about the call. “I managed to record most of it on my answering machine. Do you want me to play it for you?”

      “No, I’m on my way.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

      By the time he arrived ten minutes later, her head was pounding with pain, the vision clawing at her brain. She didn’t bother with a greeting, just flung the door open and groped her way back to the sofa, concentrating on surviving the onslaught of pain in her head. She wished she could escape to her room and let the vision come, but she had to stay focused.

      McBride went straight to the answering machine. “What time did the call come in?”

      She altered her expression, trying to hide the pain. “The phone was ringing when I got home—maybe three-forty?”

      He listened to the tape twice before he pulled it from the machine. “I’ll get this to the feds on the task force, see if they can clean it up a little, pick up some background noises. Maybe we can pinpoint where he was calling from. And I’ll take a copy to Mr. Walters, see if he recognizes the voice.”

      “I recognized it,” she said, keeping her voice low out of self-defense as the pounding in her skull grew excruciating. She tried to say something more, but the merciless grip of the impending vision tightened. Helpless against it, she sank into a whirlwind of dark, cold mist.

      Chapter Five

      The mist parted to reveal a small, blue-clad figure. Lily’s heart quickened at the sight of dirty red curls. “Abby?”

      The child didn’t respond.

      The mist dissipated, revealing a tiny room with mottled faux oak paneling and faded yellow curtains splotched with sunflowers. A tiny bed occupied the entire wall under the metal-frame window. A prefab house, or maybe a mobile home.

      “Abby?” she whispered again.

      The child sat on the cot, huddling in a ball against the wall, tears sparkling on her grimy cheeks. With horror, Lily realized one of the smudges there was a bruise.

      Abby stirred, her blue eyes darting around the room.

      “Abby, it’s me. Lily. I talked to you the other day. Remember? In the car?”

      The little girl’s eyes widened. Her pink rosebud mouth opened, making words without sound. But Lily heard her thoughts, as clearly as if the child had spoken. “Are you a ghost?”

      “No, I’m not. I’m not scary at all.” Lily touched her. “Can you feel that?”

      “Yes.” Abby whispered back in her mind.

      “Good. See, I’m not hurting you, am I?”

      Abby shook her head.

      “My name is Lily. I teach at your school. Maybe you remember me from there?”

      “I can’t see you,” Abby replied.

      Lily wondered if she could make herself visible to Abby. Was it even possible? She concentrated on seeing herself in the vision. She looked down at Abby’s arm and visualized her own hand gently squeezing the soft flesh. But nothing happened.

      Abby’s eyes welled up. “I can’t see you!” she whimpered.

      Aloud.

      “Shh, baby, don’t say it out loud.” Lily held her breath, fearing the arrival of Abby’s captors. After a few seconds passed and no one came, she exhaled. “Remember, Abby, you have to think everything. We don’t want the mean men to hear you.”

      “Why can’t I see you?” Abby’s thoughts were a frantic whisper. “Where are you?”

      “I’m at my house, but I’m thinking real hard about you, and my mind is touching your mind.” Lily didn’t know how to make Abby understand. She didn’t really understand it herself.

      “Like a psychic?” Abby asked. “Like on TV?”

      Close enough, Lily thought. “Yes.”

      “Can you tell my future?”

      “I know you’re going to be okay. I’m going to help you.”

      “I want to go home.” Abby started to cry. Lily put her arms around her, surprised by the strength of the mental connection. She felt the child’s body shaking against hers, heard the soft snuffling sound. Warm, wet tears trickled down Lily’s neck where the little girl’s face lay.

      “Soon, baby—” Lily stopped short.

      Something began to form at the edge of her vision.

      Her eyes shifted to the emerging image, her grip on Abby loosening. She drew her attention back to Abby, but not before she saw a shape begin to take form in the mists.

      Another little girl.

      “Lily?

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