FBI Psychics: The Missing Part 10

"Calling three or four times an hour is a little more than impatient." His features were tense, and he glanced at the phone, then at her face, troubled. "I need your help right now, Taige. Jilly needs you."

She drained the rest of the water, and feeling steadier, pushed herself to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that, Cullen. I said I'd help, and I will."

"And if that's your boss calling about some other kid?"

Taige narrowed her eyes, staring at Cullen. Some other kid. Then she scowled. He knew about her work with the feds. For some unknown reason, that made her d.a.m.n uncomfortable. "I pick and choose the jobs I take, Cullen-or, rather, the job picks me.

It's not up to him who I'm going to be able to help." She went to move past him, shifting her body so she could edge by without making contact, and when he reached out to touch her, Taige jerked away.

He closed his hand into a fist, and it fell to his side. "Taige . . ." She shook her head.

"Don't, Cullen." She didn't know what he had been about to say, and she didn't care. She didn't need to hear it, didn't want to hear it. It was hard enough seeing him like this after twelve years. The sight of him hit her on a deep, visceral level, and she hated that he could still affect her like this. Even after all this time.

Taige knew she hadn't ever gotten over him, and truth be told, she had little interest in trying. It wasn't that she was pining after him. She was just protecting herself, keeping her heart closed off because she didn't want any man to ever have the power to hurt her again.

He was here because he needed her help, and that was more than enough for Taige to deal with. She didn't need any more complications piled on top of it.

She held his eyes for a long moment and then turned away from him, heading to her closet and digging out some clean clothes and her boots. She studied the boots with their intricate lacing and scowled. The boots reminded her that she stil couldn't fasten her bra, either. A sports bra wasn't much better, just because the d.a.m.n things were so tight, she couldn't work it into place one-handed.

And there was no way she was going to spend the next day or two in Cullen's company without a bra. She grimaced, realizing what she was going to have to do. She tossed her boots on the floor and shot him a look over her shoulder and said, "Wait here." On the way into the bathroom, she gave her casted wrist a dirty look. She'd fractured one of the bones in her hand when she hit a guy last week after she'd caught him trying to slip out of town with his girlfriend's daughter stowed in his trunk.

It hadn't been a federal case. Taige had been watching TV when the AMBER Alert was activated. The girlfriend was in the hospital recovering from the beating he'd given her after she tried to leave him. As though Taige had been in the car with the man, she'd seen him sitting behind the steering wheel, unfazed about the woman he'd tried to kill and the girl crying in the trunk.

He was a cold piece of work, that was for d.a.m.n sure, and Taige didn't regret hitting him, not one bit. But she was completely disgusted about her busted hand and the fact that she was going to have to ask Cul en, of all the people in the world, for help. When she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Cullen was standing exactly where she'd left him, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his legs spread wide. His hair, that same, dark shade of near black, was tousled and standing up on end. As she watched, he pul ed a hand from his pocket and shoved it through his hair for what was probably the hundredth time.

He caught sight of her and went still. Taige had her bra on, hanging unfastened over her back, and her T-shirt tucked against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. A dul flush rushed up her cheeks, but she kept her voice empty as she presented him with her back. "I can't fasten this."

Blood drained out of his head as Cullen stared down at Taige, her long, slender, back bare from her neck to the base of her spine where a pair of stark black cargo pants molded her round a.s.s. His mouth went dry as he recalled a thousand dreams where he'd cupped that plump, perfect b.u.t.t in his hands as he pul ed her close against him. Dreams . .

. they weren't dreams at all. How it was possible, he didn't know, because Cullen wasn't any more gifted than he was blind. That weird connection between him and Taige was something she must have brought on, consciously or not. Otherwise, there was no way he'd know about her broken hand or her battered face-or the round, puckered scar low on her back.

A bullet wound. Somebody had shot her. He wished something besides Jilly had brought him here, wished he had the right to sink to his knees and kiss the mark some senseless act of violence had left on her. But he was here because of Jilly, and once Taige found his daughter, he was going to disappear from her life, and no doubt, that was exactly what she wanted.

Whenever she looked at him, it was with empty eyes as though she didn't give a d.a.m.n about him. He lifted his hands and watched, unable to stop himself, as he stroked one hand across her smooth, rounded shoulders. She stiffened, and Cullen cursed himself, reaching for the straps of her bra. She dropped her shirt on the floor, and Cullen quickly averted his eyes, but it was too late. He'd already seen the satiny slopes of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she adjusted the lace cups around them. Jaw clenched, he fastened the back strap, and the second his hands fell away, they both pulled away from the other as though they'd been burned.

Taige bent and grabbed her shirt from the floor, and Cullen groaned softly as the fabric of her pants stretched taut across her a.s.s. Turning away from her, he stared out the window. "I'm going to need your help with my boots," Taige said.

He looked back to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding her feet into a pair of boots that looked like something that belonged on a soldier, not the woman whose face haunted his dreams. He hunkered down in front of her and started drawing the laces tight, concentrating on that task as though it required all of his attention. Better to focus on it than Taige-or worse, Jillian.

"You going to tell me why I found you on the floor?"

She shrugged. "Works like that sometimes."

"I don't remember it ever working like that before."

He stole a glance at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring somewhere over his head. "That's because back then every time this . . . thing . . . occurred, it was pa.s.sive.

Seeking it out hits me harder." She shrugged.

Harder how? He wanted to ask, but in all honesty, he was afraid to. He really didn't want to know, because even if it was some kind of agonizing h.e.l.l that she went through, he'd ask it of her a thousand times over if it saved Jillian.

As he went to work on the other boot, the phone started to ring again. She grabbed it and turned it on, held it to her ear. "Yeah?"

Faintly, Cul en heard a voice, and he knew who it was. Taylor Jones.

Taige averted her head, and the voice faded to an indistinct buzz. He started to look back down, and then Taige glanced at him, frowning. "Yeah, actually, I have heard from him. He's here right now."

s.h.i.t.

Listening to Jones on the other end of the line, Taige shook her head. "He showed up this morning. We're getting ready to head out now."

"What do you mean, we, Taige? That's a civilian you have with you, and the victim's father. This goes against Bureau policy."

She smirked. "Well, I didn't take the case from the Bureau. I took it from him."

"You can't mean to take the girl's father with you, Taige. It isn't safe."

Taige glanced back at Cul en. He wouldn't let her leave him behind, but truthfully, it hadn't occurred to her. It was his daughter, and if it were somebody Taige loved who had gone missing, n.o.body could keep her away. He had a right to be there. She didn't tell Jones that, though. Instead, she pointed out, "I'm still a little limited here as to what I can do on my own. Only got one good hand."

"Then you'll d.a.m.n well wait for the team to get there."

With a laugh, Taige said, "No. I don't think so." Then she disconnected the cal . She was tempted to leave the phone behind, but she wasn't sure what was waiting for them. If she knew Jones, he'd have a team tailing them using the GPS on the phone, and the backup might come in handy.

But there was no way she was waiting. This wasn't going to turn into an agency case.

She wasn't going to let them slow her down with policy and procedure, not when it was Cullen's daughter out there who needed her. She stood up and headed for the door. On the way out, she remembered that soft, strong little voice from her vision.

The little girl. How Taige had realized, with complete and utter certainty, that Jillian had been aware of Taige's presence. It's okay, sweetie. I'm going to bring you home. I promise you that. Taige had been making the promise to herself. But the girl had heard her.

Pausing by the door, she glanced back at Cullen. "We're leaving. And on the way, you're going to tell me more about your daughter."

"More what?" he asked warily.

She c.o.c.ked a brow. "I think you know what I want to hear."

She saw the knowledge glinting in his eyes. "That could get complicated."

Taking the steps two at a time, she glanced back over her shoulder at him with a humorless smile. "Not a problem. We got a good three-hour drive ahead of us."

SEVEN.

"WHAT happened to her mother?" Taige rested her head against the headrest as she spoke, closing her eyes to block out the blur of the countryside. They'd left behind the flatter areas of southern Alabama, climbing into the heavily forested area north of Birmingham. They weren't too far from William B. Bankhead National Forest.

The itching in her gut was getting worse, and she knew it was going to go from an itch to downright nausea before the adrenaline finally cleared everything from her system so she could focus on nothing but finding the girl.

The girl. No, not the girl; she had a name now. Jillian. Sweet Lord, Cullen's daughter. It stil didn't seem real. None of this felt real, and she kept expecting to wake up and find herself alone in her empty bed once more, alone and aching for the man who didn't want her.

"She died having Jillian. She started hemorrhaging; she never even made it down to surgery." Cullen's voice was oddly flat and, unable to help herself, Taige looked at him.

His face was as expressionless as his voice, and she wondered how much grief he was keeping hidden under that calm mask. For the past three hours, ever since they'd left the house, he'd been remote, almost distant. It was a few minutes after two now, and she would bet that he hadn't looked at her once since they'd stopped half an hour ago for gas.

At her house, he'd shown fear and desperation, but now it was as if those moments hadn't existed. She couldn't really even pick up on any emotion from him at all. She'd never been able to read him the way she could other people. Over the years, her mental blocks had gotten strong enough that she no longer picked up so much random emotion, but there had only been a few people in her life like Cullen, people she didn't have to shield so strongly against. Under any other circ.u.mstance, it was a welcome respite, but right now, she wished he wasn't such a closed book.

Then again, this was a blessing. She didn't know if she could have dealt with the pain it would cause her if she knew how much Cullen had loved this wife of his. "I'm sorry," she finally said, looking away from him and closing her eyes again. "That must have been awful for the two of you."

"Harder on Jillian than me," he murmured. "I hate her growing up without her mother."

Deep inside, she felt something wrench, almost like some rope was tied around her gut, and it had been jerked, pul ing on her until she had no choice but to follow. "We need to head west now," she said, opening her eyes. They were on a long, empty stretch of the I-65, heading north. There were no major interstates for a good while, but it didn't matter.

They needed to go west, and they needed to do it now. Up ahead, she caught sight of an exit ramp.

Highway 940 wasn't much more than a two-lane highway that would lead them to a town not really big enough to be called such. But that was where they needed to go. She pointed ahead. "Get off there."

"What are we looking for?"

She shrugged. "I don't know yet."

A little bit of impatience edged into his voice as he asked, "Then how do you know we need to get off here?"

Taige bit back the pithy response that came instinctively and kept her voice calm as she said, "I know what I'm doing, Cullen. I've been doing it a long time, and I'm good at it.

That's why you came looking for me, right?"

Cullen blew out a sigh. He cut across the interstate, hitting the exit ramp and not slowing down until the very last second. It was midafternoon, but there wasn't a car in sight on the highway as he turned left, punching the gas until the speedometer was edging up over seventy. He took the turns at a speed that would have made Taige nervous if she hadn't been feeling the same uneasiness.

"Can you-" His voice broke off, and he shoved a hand through his hair. Taige glanced at him and saw that his hair was standing completely up on end.

c.o.c.king a brow, she asked, "Can I what?"

"Has he hurt her?"

Sympathy and understanding flooded her. If Jillian had been hurt, Taige didn't know what she'd say to him just then-he was already so tense. That calm mask he wore was just that, a mask. She'd dealt with distraught parents before, but Cullen-he was different.

No matter how this ended, it was going to affect Taige in ways that no other case, no matter how heartbreaking, had done.

Part of her wanted to run and hide from that fact. This man had caused her enough heartbreak. It might seem infantile to some, still mooning over a man who had dumped her twelve years ago, but Cullen was the only man who had ever been able to get close to her. She hadn't been interested in having that again, but the few times she decided maybe it was time to get back to life, even time to start having a life, the man she thought she might want turned out to be like gla.s.s to her, so transparent she either had to keep her mental shields in place or her thoughts were swamped with memories and emotions that weren't her own.

None of those guys had been shallow. There had only been a few, and they'd all been pretty hot. All of them smart and decent guys. But one touch was all it had taken to shatter any hope of having a relationship. It just didn't work trying to get with a man when she touched him and realized he was thinking about what kind of panties she wore.

It made it that much harder to look at Cullen now because it drove home the reminder of just how fricking perfect he'd been for her-and how little he'd loved her.

Even though she couldn't read him, she could read his tension, and it was so thick and heavy in the car, it was choking her. Feeling his gaze on her, she closed her eyes and reached out.

Taige found her quicker this time, and adrenaline started to pound as she realized how close they were. Through the gray, she saw Jillian, and the girl was as Taige had seen her last time, three hours earlier. Dirty, pale, and still. Taige tried briefly to make a connection, but Jillian was sleeping, lost in a deep, deep sleep. Still, the brief surface connection she made was enough to let Taige know that Jillian hadn't been hurt.

They would be in time-this time. Cautious, she expanded her search, looking for the man who had grabbed Jillian. The cabin was small, a couch that opened up into a bed, a kitchen with a minuscule, meticulously cleaned sink. Jillian lay behind the only door in the cabin, besides the main door at the front. That room disturbed Taige, way down deep.

It was a bathroom, but it wasn't the kind of bathroom Taige would have expected to see. The room itself was large, nearly the same size as the other room that served as both kitchen and bedroom. The cot where Jillian lay was tucked up against a wal . The tiles were a bright, blinding white-almost everything was white. Everything but the cot itself, the sink and shower fixtures, and the shiny drain cover in the middle of the floor.

The floor sloped down in the middle.

The showerhead was the removable kind, the sort that came with a head that detached, but this thing looked industrial-grade, more like something used for power washing than personal hygiene. The hose itself was long, so long it could have spanned the entire width of the room.

Her belly churned as she examined the room as closely as she could through the gray's connection. Take me closer, she commanded, but it wasn't the room itself she wanted to observe.

She had to reach out, make a deeper connection.

A warning voice screamed at her from inside her skull, but she pushed forward, reaching out, out, out . . . The warning voice was suddenly drowned out by screams of the d.a.m.ned. Young voices, older voices, al of them screaming and begging for help as pain rained down on them like water. She heard the harsh crack of something striking flesh, a voice garbled, an ugly voice that turned her blood to ice.

Sliding farther and farther into that mora.s.s of pain, Taige panicked and jerked away, but it was too late. The screams forced themselves inside her head, echoing through her heart and soul.

Who are you . . . ? Who did this . . . ?

There was no voice, however, to answer. They were all long dead, and the man who had killed them had left nothing of himself behind for Taige to find.

She heard a strange rattling sound and then Cullen, shouting her name. Hands squeezed her arms brutally, and she realized Cullen was shaking her hard. So hard it felt like her teeth were rattling around inside her skull.

"d.a.m.n, Cul en," she wheezed out. "Are you trying to shake my head off of my shoulders?"

His arms came around her, and now, as hard as he had been shaking her, he was holding her, a big hand cradling the back of her head and holding her tight against him.

"d.a.m.n it, what was that? You looked terrified."

Weak, she shoved against his chest, trying to get some air between them. He let go only to cup his hands around her face and stare at her. "What in the h.e.l.l was that? d.a.m.n it, you started screaming, and you wouldn't stop. I didn't think you'd ever stop."

Taige swallowed, and her raw throat rebelled. She looked at the digital clock on the dash: 2:59.

Her jaw dropped. "How long . . . ?"

"You closed your eyes about thirty minutes ago. You started crying," he said softly, reaching up to wipe away tears she hadn't even been aware of. "And about ten minutes ago, you started screaming. You started screaming, and you didn't stop." He pushed her hair back from her face. "What happened to Jillian?"

Taige shook her head, and he growled, "Don't lie to me."

She reached up and covered his hand with hers. "I'm not. Jillian's not hurt. He's not even there."

HE would have driven right past the gravel road if Taige hadn't tensed up, her back arching up off the leather seat. Her hand flew out and grabbed him. Short, neatly trimmed nails bit into his forearm. "Here."

He didn't see anything. He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road and looked around him. "Here where? There's nothing here."