Manhunt. Carla Cassidy

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      From the kitchen, she heard Nick’s deep voice, although she couldn’t make out what he had said, but Virginia’s peals of tinkling laughter grated on her nerves.

      In the three months Virginia had stayed here, Alyssa had found herself alternating between feeling sorry for the pretty woman and wanting to wring her neck.

      She gathered up the last of the freshly baked biscuits and took them out to set on the table. “So, Ms. Whitefeather, when do you eat breakfast?” Nick asked.

      “Ms. Whitefeather…my, how formal. Call her Alyssa and you can call me Virginia,” Virginia said. “And this is Dave and Cindy.” She gestured to the couple, who beamed at Nick with smiles that looked surprisingly alike. “And even though you’ll probably never see him, weird Michael is in the purple room.”

      “Weird Michael?” Nick raised a dark eyebrow quizzically and looked at Alyssa.

      “Michael Stanmeyer, and he isn’t weird. He’s just extremely shy.” Alyssa wanted to glare at Virginia, but instead she kept her focus on Nick. “Mr. Stanmeyer is a very nice man.”

      “Speaking of nice men…” Nick looked at his watch and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got a couple of my friends to meet. I hope you all have a pleasant day.”

      Alyssa could have sworn his gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer than on the others and she felt the beginning of a headache thrum at her temples.

      No, she thought desperately. She was not going to have a vision…not here…not now. She had to control it. She had to suppress it. She’d done it before, felt the pressure of a vision trying to get through and had managed to back it away.

      What she needed to do was get away…escape to the isolation of the kitchen where she could focus on refusing the vision entry into her mind.

      “Excuse me, I forgot something…” She ran for the kitchen and sat on the stool where she had been sitting when Nick had first entered the room.

      Gripping the edge of the countertop, she closed her eyes and fought against the dizzying blackness that sought to possess her. “No,” she whispered, the words a half sob.

      But, no matter how hard she fought, the blackness came and immediately following the dark was a vision…the vision. Nick’s lips on hers, his hands stroking heat into every area he touched and finally her begging him to take her, to make love to her.

      Then, as always happened, the scene changed, transformed into something ugly and violent. Nick’s face twisted with surprise and pain as she stabbed him and his blood splattered.

      She came to on the kitchen floor, her hip aching from where she must have banged it when she slipped from the stool.

      She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, but she could still hear the sounds of the guests chatting and laughing in the dining room. Thank good ness. Nobody had seen. Nobody knew.

      Two in two days. That wasn’t a good sign. She’d never had two visions so close together, first the one last night as she’d touched the bed where Nick would be sleeping, and now this one. Two in two days.

      She had a feeling Nick’s presence had stirred the psychic winds and they were blowing cold through her one right after another.

      The Cherokee Corners Police Station was housed in a low brick building that looked relatively new, but Nick supposed that was the glory of brick…it always managed to look relatively new. It was located two blocks off the city square on a quiet tree-lined street.

      His two-man team was already waiting for him, sitting in the confines of the air-conditioning in Bud’s sports car. They both got out of the car as Nick pulled into the parking space beside them.

      Bud Johnson, a tall, good-looking man with streaked blond hair, grinned at Nick. “There he is, looking fine and fit. Probably just ate a big breakfast at that fancy bed-and-breakfast he’s staying at.”

      Nick nodded. “Eggs and toast, biscuits and gravy, muffins the size of your fist and all the sausage and bacon I could eat.”

      “You pig,” Tony Marcelli exclaimed. Tony was a handsome man with two ex-wives that he claimed were bleeding him dry with alimony payments. “We had a couple of stale doughnuts and a cup of the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

      “I highly recommend Ruby’s Café for your dining needs. I ate there yesterday for lunch and dinner, and both meals were terrific,” Nick replied.

      As if on cue the three of them turned and faced the police station. “Well, guess it’s time to go meet the locals,” Nick said.

      Together the three of them entered the police station. The man behind the front desk eyed them curiously. “We’re here to see Chief Glen Cleburg,” Nick said and flashed his badge.

      “Oh sure.” The officer rose and opened the secured door that led down a hallway. “The chief’s office is the second door on the left. He’s waiting for you.”

      Nick led his team down the hallway to the closed door. He knocked and waited for a response, then opened and met the man he’d be working with for however long it took to catch their killer.

      Glen Cleburg was a big man with graying dark hair and hazel eyes. Lines of stress bracketed his thin lips.

      Initial introductions were made, then the men got right down to business. “We’d like to set up a six-man task force, including the three of us and three men from your department,” Nick explained. The chief nodded. “Perhaps you have suggestions as to who you want on the team.”

      “Definitely Clay James,” Cleburg said without hesitation. “He’s head of our crime scene unit and is as bright as they come. He even runs a small lab in the back of the building.”

      “You have a crime scene unit here in Cherokee Corners?” Bud asked in surprise. It was rare for a town so small to have trained crime scene investigators and particularly ones trained in forensic science.

      “Yes, my predecessor, Thomas James, foresaw Cherokee Corners growing into a town that would eventually need well-trained police officers in all areas of law enforcement. I encourage my men to get all the education they can.”

      “That’s commendable, sir,” Nick replied.

      “As far as the other two members of the team, I’ll leave that up to Clay’s discretion. He can decide who he wants working with you.” Glen rose from his desk and motioned for them to follow him out of the office.

      “I’ve set up a room for you to use. Unfortunately, space is not a commodity around here, so the room is rather small, but it’s the only place I could free up indefinitely.”

      They all followed Cleburg down the hall to a room that had apparently been used as a classroom of sorts. It was, indeed, small, but one wall held a blackboard, and the other held a corkboard. It would be perfect for how Nick liked to work his task forces.

      “I’ve had a separate phone and fax line put in and I’m having some of the other officers bring in a couple of computers for your use.” Glen frowned. “Unfortunately, you’ll find our computer system rudimentary. We’ve just gone from paper files to computers СКАЧАТЬ