Free Hunting Fear by Kay Hooper Page B

brazen. And I don’t think he’s stupid.”
    “When is the ransom to be delivered?”
    “Tomorrow afternoon at five.”
    Frowning, Samantha said, “But if he knows Metcalf has the right amount in savings, he must know the sheriff could get his hands on it today. Why give you more than twenty-four hours to try and find Lindsay?”
    “Just for that reason, I think. To give us time to search. To see how good we are. Maybe he’s even out there watching, observing our methods.”
    Samantha studied him across the table. “What else do you think? What do you feel?”
    “I don’t feel anything.”
    “You know Lindsay, you’ve been around her for days. You don’t feel anything from her?”
    Lucas shook his head.
    Refusing to leave it, Samantha said, “Because she’s unconscious, maybe.”
    “Maybe.”
    She didn’t have to touch him to know what lay behind the calm tone and expressionless face, but all she said was, “If Metcalf got the ransom note, do you think it’s because he’s Lindsay’s boss—or her lover?”
    Lucas was clearly unsurprised by her knowledge of that relationship. “The latter. He knew their secret, and he wanted us to know he knew. He’s making it personal.”
    “Where’s Metcalf now?”
    “On his way out to the carnival.”
    Samantha came up out of her chair. “He’s what? Jesus, Luke—”
    “Calm down. Jay’s with him; she’ll see to it that nothing gets out of hand.”
    “He can’t possibly believe anyone at the carnival had anything to do with this.”
    “The carnival is fairly close to the café where Lindsay’s car was found. Someone could have seen something. He’s justified in wanting to talk to people out there.”
    “Talk? You know damned well he wants to do more than talk.”
    “I know he wanted to come in here and throw that picture in your face about ten minutes ago. Sit down, Sam.”
    She did, but said bitterly, “Oh, it’s my fault again, is it? Because my prediction was only half right?”
    “He’s not entirely rational at the moment. And don’t expect him to be anytime soon. You’re an easy target, we both know that, and he badly wants to get his hands on whoever’s responsible for this.”
    “It is not me.” Her voice was flat.
    “I know that. On some level, Wyatt knows it. Even the media outside knows it. Which is another complication, since they also knew you were in here to prove your innocence.”
    She sighed. “And what I’ve really proven is that I knew or strongly suspected there’d be another kidnapping.”
    “Business should be brisk at your booth tonight, assuming you mean to open up for readings.”
    Samantha leaned back in her chair, staring at him. “Yeah, genuine psychics are rare beasts. Isn’t it dandy—and useful—publicity that I’ll be validated in the media now.”
    “I didn’t say—”
    “You didn’t have to.”
    Lucas drew a breath and let it out slowly. “People will be curious, that’s all I meant.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “Stop being so goddamned touchy and help me find Lindsay Graham before this bastard kills her.”
    “Are you asking?”
    Getting to his feet, he said roughly, “Yes, I’m asking. Because I don’t have a clue, Samantha. Is that what you want to hear? I don’t even have a place to start. And I have no time for regrets, or explanations, or this little dance you and I always seem to do. I’m out of time because Lindsay is out of time; if we don’t find her by tomorrow night, in all probability she’ll be dead. So if you don’t want to help me, at least try to help her .”
    “The sheriff,” Samantha said, “is not going to like it.”
    “I’ll deal with Wyatt.”
    She gazed up at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “Okay,” she said, getting up. “Let’s go.”
     
    Lindsay wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she was fuzzily aware that it had. Try as she might, the last thing she could remember was eating breakfast that morning with Wyatt; everything after that was