be safe. Safer, anyway. But you can't do that. And the thing is, other people don't understand your abilities, Nell. They don't understand—and yet they're talking. Speculating. Wondering just what the Gallagher curse really is. I've heard at least three people wondering out loud if this elusive killer has a chance of hiding now that our very own local witch has come home."
Quietly, she said, "So maybe he's wondering too."
"Maybe he is."
"Or maybe," she suggested, "he doesn't know a damned thing about the Gallagher curse."
"He knows about secrets, Nell, remember? Every man he's killed has had secrets, and those secrets are out or coming out. I don't know much about killers, but this one seems to have his game plan all worked out, and that plan includes exposing the dark sides of people's private lives. So if you ask me, you've got a double chance of becoming a target. Because you've got a secret, and because that secret—that ability—is a threat to him."
"It's no secret if people are talking about it."
"It's something you try to hide, and that makes it a secretive thing."
"A… dark and secretive thing?"
"Some people would call it that. This town hasn't changed all that much, Nell, and your family never did anything to make this curse of yours something to understand and not fear. People fear what they don't understand, and some people still call psychic abilities dark. Even evil."
"Which is why they call me a witch."
"Which is why some do, yes."
She drew a breath. "And that's why you've been following me? Because you believe what I can do makes me a target?"
"That's why." He smiled faintly. "Of course, I didn't know you had a gun. I suppose you know how to use it?"
"Yeah, I know how." She turned her head slightly, looking toward the door with a faint frown. "They teach us how to do that."
"They? Who are they?"
Before Nell could answer, the door opened quietly and Casey Lattimore stepped into the room. Closing the door behind her, the mayor of Silence said dryly to Max, "They are the FBI. The training academy for agents is at Quantico. Right, Nell?"
"Right."
"Last year," Mayor Lattimore said from her position in the room's one armchair, "weeks after Peter Lynch died, I was feeling frustrated. Not that anybody could have been sure it was murder, not then, but nothing seemed to be happening in the investigation. Worse, I didn't really understand police procedure. I thought it was something I needed to understand."
"So you went up to Quantico," Max finished slowly. "Took that course for civilian authorities." He was sitting on the bed, rather gingerly.
She nodded. "And that's where I ran into Nell."
Nell, still leaning back against the dresser, said, "My unit operates out of Quantico, and sometimes we're tapped to help teach some of the courses offered. I was between assignments and ended up helping the instructor speaking to Casey's group that week. We recognized each other."
"After twelve years?" Max asked.
Casey said, "Don't forget, I taught both of you in high school. Not to swell your head, Max, but some students really are more memorable than others. You and Nell, I remembered."
Max decided not to ask why. "Okay, so you recognized Nell. And then?"
"Well, nothing much happened then. We had lunch a couple of times. Talked, briefly, about Silence. I told Nell about my concerns, about this recent death that seemed so difficult for our sheriff and his people to resolve."
"But there wasn't much to go on," Nell continued, "especially not at a distance. So there really wasn't anything I could do, even offer anything helpful in the way of advice. Casey finished her course, and we said good-bye. Then, a couple of months ago, she called me. By then, three men were dead, and the odd little twist about their sins coming to light afterward seemed to pretty strongly indicate there was one killer. A very unusual sort of killer."
"Which attracted the interest of the Bureau?" Max lifted a brow at her.
"Which
Quietly, she said, "So maybe he's wondering too."
"Maybe he is."
"Or maybe," she suggested, "he doesn't know a damned thing about the Gallagher curse."
"He knows about secrets, Nell, remember? Every man he's killed has had secrets, and those secrets are out or coming out. I don't know much about killers, but this one seems to have his game plan all worked out, and that plan includes exposing the dark sides of people's private lives. So if you ask me, you've got a double chance of becoming a target. Because you've got a secret, and because that secret—that ability—is a threat to him."
"It's no secret if people are talking about it."
"It's something you try to hide, and that makes it a secretive thing."
"A… dark and secretive thing?"
"Some people would call it that. This town hasn't changed all that much, Nell, and your family never did anything to make this curse of yours something to understand and not fear. People fear what they don't understand, and some people still call psychic abilities dark. Even evil."
"Which is why they call me a witch."
"Which is why some do, yes."
She drew a breath. "And that's why you've been following me? Because you believe what I can do makes me a target?"
"That's why." He smiled faintly. "Of course, I didn't know you had a gun. I suppose you know how to use it?"
"Yeah, I know how." She turned her head slightly, looking toward the door with a faint frown. "They teach us how to do that."
"They? Who are they?"
Before Nell could answer, the door opened quietly and Casey Lattimore stepped into the room. Closing the door behind her, the mayor of Silence said dryly to Max, "They are the FBI. The training academy for agents is at Quantico. Right, Nell?"
"Right."
"Last year," Mayor Lattimore said from her position in the room's one armchair, "weeks after Peter Lynch died, I was feeling frustrated. Not that anybody could have been sure it was murder, not then, but nothing seemed to be happening in the investigation. Worse, I didn't really understand police procedure. I thought it was something I needed to understand."
"So you went up to Quantico," Max finished slowly. "Took that course for civilian authorities." He was sitting on the bed, rather gingerly.
She nodded. "And that's where I ran into Nell."
Nell, still leaning back against the dresser, said, "My unit operates out of Quantico, and sometimes we're tapped to help teach some of the courses offered. I was between assignments and ended up helping the instructor speaking to Casey's group that week. We recognized each other."
"After twelve years?" Max asked.
Casey said, "Don't forget, I taught both of you in high school. Not to swell your head, Max, but some students really are more memorable than others. You and Nell, I remembered."
Max decided not to ask why. "Okay, so you recognized Nell. And then?"
"Well, nothing much happened then. We had lunch a couple of times. Talked, briefly, about Silence. I told Nell about my concerns, about this recent death that seemed so difficult for our sheriff and his people to resolve."
"But there wasn't much to go on," Nell continued, "especially not at a distance. So there really wasn't anything I could do, even offer anything helpful in the way of advice. Casey finished her course, and we said good-bye. Then, a couple of months ago, she called me. By then, three men were dead, and the odd little twist about their sins coming to light afterward seemed to pretty strongly indicate there was one killer. A very unusual sort of killer."
"Which attracted the interest of the Bureau?" Max lifted a brow at her.
"Which
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