Free Touching the Past by Ilene Kaye Page B

successfully. She’d see it on the news. She was probably asleep. He’d be waking her for nothing.
    But the part of him that wanted to hear her voice again was speed dialing her number before he’d known he’d made a decision.
    I was waiting.
    Resolutely he pushed the memory of the words and their effect on him away as he looked at the woman beside him. This wasn’t the time or the place. He had a job to do. Three people to find and reunite with their worried families. But afterwards—
    He cleared his throat. “How about you take that side of the room.” He nodded to the right. “I’ll take the other side, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
    “Sounds good.”
    She was already walking off when Zac said, “Mallory.”
    She turned, pushing her hair back off her face. She didn’t say anything. She just looked at him, waiting.
    “Watch yourself.”
    She nodded, turned, and walked away.
    Zac watched her slip into one of the lines. He hadn’t wanted to split up. It was Mallory who pointed out they’d cover more ground that way.
    Zac still had misgivings. While it was unlikely anything would happen here, he still knew too little about the “why” behind the kidnappings. What had set the kidnapper off? Mallory could hit all the right buttons and never know it. He didn’t want her here, but she had the best chance of finding him another lead.
    Taking another quick look at her, he moved to stand in line for a tarot card reader.
    Three hours later, he was hoping to never hear the words “stress,” “worry,” or “confusion” again. Though he’d tried very hard not to give off any signals, each and every one of the psychics had given him the same spiel. He was stressed over a current project at work. He was worried about its outcome. He was confused about which path to take in a current relationship.
    Of course it was all vague enough to fit anyone. Looking around at the tired, eager, hopeful faces of the people waiting their turn, Zac guessed his reading would apply to most of them. Hell, he could probably come up with something just as good or even better if he spent ten minutes with each customer. Maybe he should rent a table.
    He took a sip of the weak free coffee and grimaced. He’d probably be better at the psychic gig than detective work. He’d dropped Beth, Daniel, and Kim’s names at every table, referring to them as friends who had suggested he come to the fair. Not a single suspicious response. Either these psychics were better at hiding their thoughts than he was, or the fair was another dead end.
    Well, not a complete dead end. He’d figured out how the kidnapper had tracked his victims. At each table there was a sign-up sheet to receive mailings on future fairs or events. All the kidnapper had to do was stake out the address of a target, watch, learn their schedule, and pick the right time. Because they’d met him, they wouldn’t be overly suspicious about his sudden appearance.
    “How’s the coffee?” Mallory asked from behind him.
    “Terrible.” Zac turned to her. Seeing her, he spoke without thinking. “And you don’t look so good, either.”
    She gave him a wan smile. “Thanks. Just what a woman wants to hear.”
    Zac sloshed coffee into a plastic cup and poured in a generous amount of sugar. “Drink.” He pushed it into her hand and watched with concern as she swallowed. Her face was pale and her eyes overly bright, as if she had a fever. There were dark smudges under them.
    “Ugh.” Mallory grimaced, looking into the cup. A slight tremor shook her hand. “That’s horrible.” A little color came into her face.
    “I’ll treat you to a cup of Tim Horton’s dark roast when we get out of here.” Which was going to be soon, he promised himself silently.
    “There’s a Tim’s around here?” Mallory instantly looked more alert.
    “Probably, but I was thinking of the bag I have in my apartment.” Mentally he groaned. Talk about a bad pick-up line.
    She grinned, the