Firestorm

by Iris Johansen

  “I'm not holding a grudge. I'm just wary.” This conversation was becoming unbearably painful. It had to end. “Why did you call?”

  “You're my daughter. Isn't it reasonable I'd want to make sure you're safe and well?” When she didn't answer, he paused. “And that fire at Jason's house was . . . unusual.”

  She stiffened. “Do you think I set it? My God, I love Jason.”

  “Don't be ridiculous. You're jumping to conclusions. I never said anything about—”

  “But isn't it what you'd expect from a nutcase? Isn't that why you put me away?”

  “I put you away because I wanted to get you well. And I know you'd never intentionally hurt Jason or Laura.”

  “Intentionally?”

  “I've been nosing around, and there's no doubt the fire was arson. But other than that fact, I haven't been able to discover anything else. The lid's been closed down tight and no one's talking. Then I hear that you're taking an extended leave from your job and are out of town. Now, I know damn well you'd rather be close to Jason and Laura at this time. So what's happening, Kerry?”

  “What do you think is happening?”

  “I think you might be getting into something that might prove dangerous. I ask myself why an arsonist would wait to burn down Jason's house until the night you came.”

  “And what did you answer?”

  “You deal with crazies all the time. Maybe one came out of the woodwork and decided to get even. But that doesn't tell me why the arson investigation has been put under wraps. Or who did it.”

  “And all your journalistic contacts are coming up with no info? How frustrating for you.”

  “It's more than frustrating. For God's sake, I won't be shut out of this, Kerry.” A hint of anger layered his voice. “Jason is my son and I was looking forward to being a grandfather. I'm mad as hell and I want to find out who did this. I think you may know who it is. Tell me, dammit.”

  “So much for calling to make sure I'm safe.” She interrupted wearily when he started to speak. “I don't blame you. Why should you be worried about me? We're not even on the same wavelength. Never have been. And I think you're probably telling the truth about your concern for Jason.”

  “Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I'm glad you believe I have some human feelings.”

  She had never doubted he could feel affection. She had just never been able to reach out and touch him. And after Milledgeville it was the last thing she wanted to do. “Jason and Laura are safe. I made sure of that. I'm safe too. Stay out of it.”

  “The hell I will. Where are you?”

  “Stay out of it,” she repeated, and hung up.

  Christ, that had been difficult. She felt raw and hurt and angry, as she always did after she talked to her father, and tonight she hadn't needed that additional aggravation. Close it away. Don't think about him.

  She half expected to hear the phone ring again. As a father, Ron Murphy might be hesitant. As an investigative reporter, he had no such compunction. And he wanted to protect his son and get to the bottom of the fire that had hurt him.

  The phone didn't ring.

  Good. Now go to bed and forget about him and all the memories he had resurrected. He was no longer important in her life. The only problem he might pose was getting in the way of her finding Trask.

  Go to bed and forget him. . . .

  You never forget him. He's always there.” Silver was leaning against the weeping willow tree beside the lake. “Because you refuse to deal with him.”

  “The hell I do. What do you know about—” She stiffened in shock, her gaze circling the all-too-familiar scene. “What the devil are you doing to me?”

  “You know what I'm doing. What you asked me to do.” He looked out over the lake. “I didn't really want to use this scenario, because I was afraid it would bring unpleasant memories, but you gave me no choice. It was either this or barge in and risk doing damage.”

  “Damage?”

  “You weren't ready. Two days' infiltration wasn't enough. I needed much more. But you're so resentful now that I can't wait any longer.”

  “Infiltration.” She repeated the word as if it had a bitter taste. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Your mind has too much resistance. I had to slide in on the sly and undermine the barriers.” He smiled. “Even now it's going to be an uphill battle.”

  “On the sly.” Her lips tightened as she worked it out. “You broke your promise.”

  “I didn't break it. I was invited, remember?”

  “I didn't expect—For the past four days you've been—You didn't give me warning, dammit. I was willing to let you help me, but it's not fair of you to—” She drew a deep breath. “What have you been doing to me?”

  “Just what I told you. You thought you were ready, but you were wrong. It would have taken me weeks to get anywhere. We don't have weeks.” He picked up a stone and threw it skipping across the lake. “This last encounter with Trask bruised you. You need healing. You were comfortable here with me before, so this is where we stay.”

  “It's not real.”

  “But it's comforting. You like the sun on your face and the flowers and the lake. It's all very soothing, and you're going to need comfort.”

  She couldn't deny that. She felt . . . exposed, naked.

  “I told you that you wouldn't like it.” He turned to look at her. “There's nothing more intimate than what we're sharing. You're afraid of intimacy.”

  “We're not sharing. You're invading. I don't see you letting me go prancing through your mind.”

  “Good point. I'll make a bargain with you. When you're ready, I'll let you have a peek.” He chuckled. “If you can take it. My mind isn't nearly as clean as yours.”

  “I can take it. Am I asleep now?”

  “Yes, it's easier getting through to you. It may take a while to reach you in a waking state.”

  “I hope to God you're never able to do that.” She braced herself. “Okay, we're here. Start teaching me.”

  He shook his head. “Easy and slow. Relax.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  “I could help.”

  “No, you can't.” She tried to ease the stiffness of her muscles. “There's only one kind of help I want from you.”

  “Then do it yourself.” He yawned and leaned his head against the trunk of the willow tree. “And while you're at it, start thinking about your father.”

  “What?”

  “He's one of the barriers we have to get rid of.”

  “He has no place in what we're doing.”

  “Yes, he does. I have to clear the path.” He closed his eyes. “Or you have to clear it yourself.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you going to sleep?”

  “Probably. I'm tired. I haven't had any sleep in the last two nights, and we can't go any further until you get used to the idea that we're together.”

  “And you're just going to leave me here?”

  “I'll be with you. I can maintain the scenario.” He smiled faintly. “I know you so well I can do it in my sleep.”

  “I don't know if I want you to maintain—”

  “Too tired.” He yawned again. “Wake me if you have any questions. . . .”

  He was asleep, she realized with indignation.

  Of course he was asleep. She was asleep too. This was only another one of Silver's manipulations.

  And the concept was too confusing to cope with right now.

  She gazed out at the lake. It looked blue and deep and clean. She wondered if she'd be able to feel the water on her hand if she touched it. Probably. Silver was nothing if not thorough.

  But she didn't want to test him. She was tired and on edge and wanted nothing more than for Silver to stay asleep so that she didn't have to deal with him as well as his damn scenario.

  And, okay, at least it was a pleasant escape from reality. She could feel a soft breeze blowing her hair gently away from her
temples and bringing with it the scent of spring violets. He had this dream world down to the last detail. How did he do it?

  Stop worrying about Silver's talent. It existed, and she must use it as he intended to use her.

  Are you listening, Silver?

  No response. Maybe he really was asleep.

  A little of her tension eased as she stared at him. His lips were soft and slightly parted, and his body reminded her of the boneless relaxation of a cat at rest. He didn't look nearly as intimidating as he did when he was awake.

  Had he left some posthypnotic command to make her think that? she wondered suddenly.

  “No.” He opened his eyes. “Just got rid of the barriers. You wouldn't trust me if I messed around with anything else.” He closed his eyes again. “Now will you let me sleep?”

  “How did I wake you up?”

  “Sharp . . . We're linked now and I can feel the sharpness. . . .”

  Linked.

  She felt an instinctive rejection. She didn't want to be linked to him in any way. “I didn't think it would be—I don't like it.”

  “Too late . . . We'll talk about it later.”

  Too late.

  Because she could feel it too. Just a ghost of a tether, but it was there.

  All right, she had asked for it. Accept it.

  She forced herself to look away from him and out at the lake. Relax. Get used to it. The sooner she learned what she needed, the sooner the bond could be broken.

  Open your mind. Close your eyes. Relax. Ignore that strange feeling of being joined to Silver. . . .

  I'm leaving you now,” Silver said.

  She opened her eyes to see the sun going down over the lake and the light mellowing to soft twilight. How long had she been here? she wondered. She had drowsed and woken and drowsed again.

  “Long enough.” Silver smiled at her. “And now you're going to sleep deeply and wake calm and rested.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a posthypnotic suggestion.”

  “Just a suggestion. Take it any way you want.”

  “You don't ever use hypnosis?” she asked skeptically.

  “I told you, not with you. I promise. Sometimes I'm forced to use a form of it with a disturbed mind.”

  “For instance?”

  “Gillen.”

  “The man you talk to on the phone. Who is he?”

  “One of Travis's walking wounded. He's in an asylum in upstate New York. I've been working with him. He's a tough case. He was already unstable before he was injured and went into a coma. I use everything I can with Gillen.”

  “To put him back together.”

  “If I can. Sometimes it doesn't work. Good night, Kerry. . . .”

  He was gone.

  No!

  Good God, she felt lonely. She wanted him back, she realized with shock. It was as if a part of her had been torn away.

  Linked.

  She was frightened at the thought, but that wasn't all she was experiencing. She hadn't expected to feel this sense of loss.

  Empty. So empty.

  The lake was darkening and so was the sky. Everything was becoming hazy. . . .

  Her father called her tonight,” Dickens told Trask when he picked up. “I don't think there's anything you can use there. She wasn't exactly friendly with him. They have issues. He evidently had her committed to a booby hatch several years ago.”

  “She's unstable?”

  “She was at one time. No indication of it in her present life. Unless you'd call her obsession with catching pyromaniacs a sign.”

  “Obsession isn't always a weakness,” Trask said. “I've been called obsessed myself.”

  “Did you get my dossier on her?”

  “Yes, very interesting.” He looked down at the photo of Kerry Murphy on the desk in front of him. She was looking straight ahead, and there was a touch of bold defiance in her expression. “I need to know more. Keep on her.”

  “What about the surveillance of Raztov?”

  He thought about it. He needed to move forward with tying up those loose ends, but Murphy was too alluring. “Put him on hold for now. Find me a way to get to Kerry Murphy.” He hung up, his gaze still on the photo.

  Kerry Murphy was probably an indulgence he couldn't afford, but the more he learned about her, the more he was enticed. As he'd stood watching her at the Krazky ruins, he'd felt an odd sense of empathy and familiarity. It had been very strong and caught him completely off guard. It was probably that, in her way, she was as enthralled with fire as he was. It had dominated her life as it had his. It made him feel very close to her. Almost as close as he'd been to Helen. . . .

  His finger traced the curve of Kerry Murphy's cheek in the photo. It was strange to feel this mixture of emotions where she was concerned. His rage and desire to destroy in the most painful of ways were becoming tainted with an almost sexual attachment.

  Because, even though she didn't realize it, he knew she didn't hate the fires she fought. She was fascinated by them; they possessed her.

  And that possession formed a strong bond between them.

  Linked.

  Pardon me, Ms. Murphy. But it's after noon and Brad said that you needed to eat.”

  Kerry opened her eyes to see George standing by her bed with a breakfast tray. “Oh, he did.” She yawned and sat up in bed. “I'm surprised you went along with him.”

  “Oh, I agree with him on occasion.” He put the tray on her lap. “You haven't been eating decently since you came here. And he seemed convinced he was right. I thought it was worthwhile going along with him.” He tilted his head. “You look very rested. Sleeping late did you good.”

  She felt rested. And calm. Damn Silver. She still wasn't entirely sure he hadn't left some sort of suggestion when he'd—

  “You're frowning. Don't you like pancakes?”

  She smiled. “I love pancakes.” She picked up her fork. “Thank you, George.”

  “Thank Brad.” He turned to the door. “It was his suggestion.”

  “I'm a little wary of his suggestions at the moment.”

  “Indeed?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I'm sure there were all kinds of layers to that remark.”

  She suddenly remembered something. “You weren't here last night when we arrived. Or maybe you were. Did you go to bed early?”

  “No, I took a little trip of my own.”

  “Where?”

  He smiled. “You might call it an exploratory journey. Brad wanted me to ask you if you'd see him after you got dressed.”

  He wasn't going to tell her where he'd gone. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked. Everyone had a right to their privacy. “How very polite of him.” She took a bite of pancake. “You can tell him to come up now. I want to see him.”

  “He's on the phone. From what I overheard he evidently got a call from someone who needed soothing.” He made a face. “It's weird to see Brad in that kind of nurturing mode. Like watching a tiger protecting a goat. I find myself waiting for him to pounce.”

  “Was it Gillen?”

  He shrugged. “I've no idea. You know this particular goat?”

  “I just know about him.” She sipped her coffee. “And I don't think you need to worry about Silver devouring him. Maybe he's not as ruthless as we thought.”

  “Don't count on it.” He studied her. “Do I detect signs of softening?”

  “No, but he's like everybody else. I'm sure he has a good side and a bad side.”

  “Yesterday you would have argued with me if I'd tried to tell you that. What changed you?”

  “I was angry yesterday. I've had a good night's sleep and now I'm more reasonable.”

  “And Silver is looking more like a pussycat than a tiger to you?”

  She chuckled. “No way.”

  He breathed a sign of relief. “You were beginning to worry me. I was afraid you were having a serious lapse of judgment.”
>
  “Are you trying to warn me about Silver? It's not necessary, George.” She leaned back against the pillow. “And I'm surprised you'd try. I think you like him.”

  “Oh, I do. I've always liked him. I admired his brother, but I've always felt a sense of empathy with Brad.”

  “Because you're a tiger too?”

  He shook his head. “We have similar savage instincts, but I'd consider myself more of a leopard. Less straightforward and very changeable.”

  “Changeable . . .” Yes, she could sense the volatility beneath George's calm surface. “Yet you've chosen a profession that requires the utmost in trust and reliability.”

  “That's my Dr. Jekyll persona.” He smiled. “And, as you've said, no one is one-dimensional.”

  “But you're not Mr. Hyde either.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that's more than I am.”

  “Believe it. Lately I've come too close to a monster not to know one when I see it.”

  “Trask.”

  She nodded. “And your choices seem to have always been on the side of the good guys. Silver told me you were a commando and then worked for the Secret Service. Why did you decide to go to work as a butler?”

  “Why not? I'm very good at it and the pay is extraordinary.”

  “Because . . .” She frowned, trying to put her thought into words. “I can't see you . . . It's too . . . confining.”

  “Exactly.” He laughed as he saw her troubled expression. “Stop trying to put me in my own niche. I'm the one who likes everything done properly.” As her expression failed to lighten, his own smile faded. “Some people should be confined, Kerry. When I was a boy growing up in a family of servants, I hated the idea of being like them. I couldn't stand the concept that everyone has a place in society. I ran away and sowed my wild oats, and in the process I learned a good deal about myself.”

  “Such as?”

  “I'm not at all civilized. I like violence. Yes, I chose the good guys, but given time I would have slipped. Violence is permitted, even applauded, in some professions. I had to find a cage where it was hard to break free.”

  “A cage . . .”

  “A cage isn't that bad as long as it's self-chosen.” He turned to go. “And I permit myself a few perks to liven it up.”