Free Blood Ties by Kay Hooper Page B

the killers are in the area and we have a shot at finding them.”
    “You know there are two of them, don’t you?” DeMarco had asked.
    “We believe there’s a good chance.” We meaning she and Bishop. “But we’re not certain, Reese. Until we are, we investigate this case according to procedure and the evidence, not speculation.”
    DeMarco had been about to remind her that they speculated all the time, when something she’d said before began to nag at him. “Nothing in our written reports? We don’t let the Bureau in on what’s going on?”
    “We don’t speculate in our reports about something we have little or no evidence to support.”
    He eyed her. “Oh, they are really not going to be happy with us about that.”
    “When we stop these killers, that’ll be the only thing anybody who counts remembers about the investigation. That the killing was stopped.”
    “I doubt the Director will be one of those people.”
    “That’s okay. There are others. Noah’s spent a great deal of time and effort building a network of support, and that network will hold. No matter what the Director thinks.”
    “And what about Bishop’s enemy? Whoever’s been reporting SCU movements back to the Director since—what—last summer? If we don’t know who that was—or is—we can hardly stop the leaks. And if we mean to withhold info from the Bureau, we damn sure need to make sure they don’t catch us doing it.”
    Miranda hesitated, then said, “Noah’s working to resolve that situation. It’s one reason he’s not here. Until he does, we’re doing what we can to keep a low profile and not draw undue attention to the SCU.”
    “On a serial-murder case with six certain and two possible victims already? Good luck with that.”
    “We’ve managed so far. The local police have been willing to work with us, willing to not… overreact… to a body dumped in their jurisdictions, especially since none of the victims have turned out to be local citizens. Since the victims have been dumped over so large an area, and since no single police department or sheriff’s department has had to cope with more than one, media attention has been minimal and brief.”
    “But we’ve got two possible victims in the same area this time.”
    “Yes.”
    “Somebody’s going to connect the dots soon enough, Miranda. You know that. There’s a story here.”
    “Yes. And an even bigger story if word breaks that we suspect a pair of killers. Which is why we keep that quiet as long as we possibly can.”
    DeMarco shook off the memory of that conversation and frowned once again down at the map, this time not really looking at it. He felt oddly… cold… all of a sudden, tense and alert in a way he recognized, every sense flaring, expanding beyond himself to seek out and pinpoint a threat of some kind. He looked up, scanned the room warily. But nothing seemed out of place or otherwise amiss.
    Pleasant bedroom, neat and attractive without being overly fussy, which suited him. The TV was on and tuned to MSNBC but muted.
    He had removed his shoulder holster, of course, when he at least nominally turned in for the night, but his weapon lay within easy reach. Reaching out slowly, he put his hand on it but didn’t draw it from the holster.
    Because everything he felt told him the threat he sensed was not anything a bullet could stop.
    DeMarco didn’t particularly like to think about many of his experiences in the military, but they had certainly left him with sharpened instincts in addition to his psychic ones. In those days, it had meant the difference between dying—and coming out alive to not talk about it.
    These days it meant a sense that was not quite psychic telling him something was off-kilter around him.
    Shit. With my luck, this place is haunted .
    But he didn’t think that was it. He wasn’t particularly sensitive to spirits, for one thing, and for another this didn’t feel like a threat to himself but to someone or something