The Sheriff of Silverhill

“You couldn’t suppress it this time?”

Dana dropped her lashes while folding her arms across her chest. “It’s harder to block it when I’m in a highly emotional state myself.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes as he studied the curve of Dana’s dark lashes and the soft blush that rose to her cheeks. Had his appearance in Silverhill caused her emotions to run high? He’d had the advantage. He knew she was on her way to Silverhill and the reservation. She’d had no warning he’d be here too. Maybe she cared more than she let on with her tough talk.

“Why are you in a highly emotional state?” He raised his brows. Would she finally admit that working together on this case had them both on a roller coaster?

Her eyes widened as she waved her arms around. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably has something to do with a serial killer running around the reservation.”

She didn’t fool him. From what he knew about FBI Agent Dana Croft, she was a professional through and through. But he’d play her game…for now.

He dragged in a deep breath and held it, delaying for a moment the question that had been on his lips since she came out of her trance. The question that could take this investigation in a new direction.

The question that could endanger Dana’s life.

“What did you see in your vision?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I thought you had an otherworldly moment?”

“I told you, I’m not very good at this clairvoyance crap.” She took a spin around the room, her hands shoved in her pockets as if afraid to touch anything else in Holly’s bedroom. “I saw a dark shape. I tasted spearmint. I felt a tightness around my throat.”

“You were choking.” Rafe extended his hand, intent on protecting her from even imaginary madmen.

Ignoring his hand, she raised her shoulders. “That’s it. I didn’t see anyone’s face. I didn’t hear anyone’s name. We already know the women died by strangulation. Not much use, this vision thing.”

“Did you try to block it before it got going, before it could reveal anything?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her jaw tightened into a hard line and her dark eyes glittered dangerously.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. When had Dana gotten so prickly? As far as he remembered, their high school romance ended amicably enough. She was the one who broke things off and even though their friendship ended with the romance, he never bore her any ill will. Obviously, she didn’t feel the same way. She’d been pushing him away with both hands ever since they reunited over Holly’s dead body.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Dana. If you tried to suppress a vision of a killer coming at you, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. If you’re already accustomed to blocking these trances, your mind and body probably kicked into gear.”

She sighed, her lower lip trembling, and Rafe had to dig his heels into the floor to keep from going to her and wrapping her up in his arms.

“I suppose I did try to block it. I felt Holly’s fear and panic. I didn’t want to feel that anymore.”

He reached out and rubbed her upper arm. Feeling the tremble ripple through her body, Rafe clasped her hand and her fingers curled around his.

“Are you two finished in here?”

Rafe jumped back from Dana like a teenaged boy caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom after school. His gaze darted to Dana’s face before shifting back to Mrs. Thompson leaning against the doorjamb, glass in hand.

He didn’t want Dana to tell Mrs. Thompson about the vision. He didn’t want her to tell anyone.

“She has a lot of stuff on her laptop.” Rafe jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can we take it and turn it over to the FBI? They can retrieve her e-mails and review any Web sites she visited.”

Mrs. Thompson’s bloodshot eyes drifted from Rafe’s face to the back of Dana’s head as she bent over the nightstand drawer to drop the brush back inside.

“Sure. Take it. I got that list on the coffee table.” She pointed to the papers scattered on the floor. “Don’t leave a mess in here.”

“I’d like to take those photos with me if you don’t mind.” He crouched on the floor to gather up the papers and pictures.

“I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll pack up the laptop too, and we’ll get out of your way.”

Mrs. Thompson pushed away from the doorway, and Dana looked up. She whispered, “Do you think she heard us before?”

“I don’t know. She’s getting drunker and drunker by the minute. This room’s in the back of the house, and we weren’t exactly shouting.” He walked to the laptop and snapped the lid shut. “You realize the importance of keeping this incident to yourself, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I buried my head in the nightstand drawer? But maybe Mrs. Thompson already knows, or at least she was hoping I’d have a vision of her daughter’s murder.”

“Why do you say that?” Rafe cocked his head while he slipped Holly’s laptop into the case he’d found beneath her desk.

“The tea. She offered me some of Auntie Mary’s special blend of tea. Auntie Mary swears that tea relaxes her, making her susceptible to visions.”

“And you think Mrs. Thompson gave you the tea to kick start your special powers?”

Dana shot a glance at the doorway. “Didn’t she have an expectant look in her eyes when she walked in here?”

“How would you know? You never even looked at her.”

“Maybe it was her tone of voice. I was afraid she’d see something strange about me.”

“There’s nothing strange about you, and I don’t think she suspected a thing.”

Dana nibbled on her bottom lip. “Maybe I do owe it to Mrs. Thompson and all the other families to give it a try, Rafe.”

Rafe trained his eyes away from her lips while he massaged her shoulders, her hair tickling the backs of his hands. “I don’t think you should be putting yourself in any more danger than you already are investigating this case. Leave it. If the visions come, they come, but don’t go seeking trouble.”

She briefly laid her cheek against his hand, her touch igniting a fire in his belly. “I guess you’re right. The gift never brought anything but trouble to my mom.”

He ran his thumb along her jaw. He remembered Dana hated comparisons to her mother. Her mother had died before Rafe met Dana, but he’d heard stories, mostly from Pam, that Ronnie Croft had slept around and couldn’t even identify Dana’s biological father. Not that Rafe cared.

Dana’s refusal to acknowledge she had the gift puzzled Rafe initially. She’d never pushed away her Southern Ute culture before. Now he understood that her reluctance to explore her gift stemmed from the fact that she shared it with her mother. She wanted to distance herself more from her mother than her culture.

Not that he wanted Dana to immerse herself in visions of a serial killer. He’d rather use old-fashioned police work to solve this case than put Dana’s life in danger.

She slipped out of his grasp and bent over to smooth the wrinkles from the bedspread with her palms. Her hair hid her expression as it slid across her face. “Grab the laptop and I’ll turn it over to Steve. Maybe Holly has something on there that can help us out.”

Rafe hitched the laptop case over his shoulder and shoved open the door, gesturing Dana through first. They walked into the living room together where Mrs. Thompson slumped on the sofa, her head tilted back, eyes closed.

A dull pain throbbed at the base of Rafe’s skull. He didn’t have children, but he couldn’t imagine losing a child, especially to murder. When his niece was kidnapped, his brother, Ryder, was almost deranged until he got her back.

Rafe kept his voice low, soothing. “Mrs. Thompson.”