Free Touching Evil by Kay Hooper

walkway leading to the building to find John standing beside her.
    "Are you all right?"
    She nodded quickly. "Yes, of course. Just. . . woolgathering. Where's your friend?"
    "Well, since there's a rental car parked across the street, I'd say he's already here." He studied her face, not quite frowning but clearly bothered by what he saw. "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
    "Want to? No. But I'm going in."
    He smiled faintly. "Determination, or just plain stubbornness?"
    "Is there a difference?" Maggie didn't wait for him to answer but walked steadily up the walkway to the building.
    John walked beside her. "I've always thought so. Do you have a set pattern for going over crime scenes, or is every one different?"
    "I suppose each is different. And this isn't really a crime scene, anyway. She was left here but not attacked here."
    He paused with her just a few feet from the doorway and looked down at her. "But her attacker was here, if only long enough to leave her inside. Is that what you hope to pick up on ... intuitively?"
    As tense as she was, Maggie had to smile. "You really are uncomfortable discussing intuition, aren't you?"
    "The way you and Quentin appear to use it—yes."
    "I'm not psychic."
    "Sure about that?"
    Before Maggie could answer, a tall blond man appeared suddenly in the doorway and offered a cheerful greeting.
    "I hope somebody brought a flashlight. Because unless we're damned quick in here, we're going to end up in the dark."
    "I thought they taught you to always be prepared," John said.
    "That's the Boy Scouts. I wasn't a Boy Scout. Wasn't a marine either."
    John didn't question the latter statement, just sighed and said he had several flashlights in his car.
    "I knew you would. That's why I didn't bring any."
    "Don't start with me. Maggie, this is Quentin Hayes, who claims to know things before they happen." There was no scorn in his voice, merely a sort of amused mockery, and he left her to make what she would of the introduction while he returned to his car for the flashlights.
    "So you're a seer?" she asked.
    "Not in the true sense of the word, meaning one who sees. I don't, actually. No visions." He shrugged. "I just know things. Sort of the way most people tune in to memory or bits of information they've learned. The difference is that when I tune in, it's often to the knowledge of something that hasn't happened yet."
    "That must be unsettling."
    "It took some getting used to." He eyed her thoughtfully. "I hear they call what you do nothing short of magical."
    "That's not what I call it."
    "Oh? What do you call it?"
    "An ability I've practiced nearly half my life to perfect. I happen to be able to draw. I also happen to be able to listen to people describe what they've seen and then draw it. Nothing magical about that." It was virtually automatic by now, this reasonable explanation of her abilities.
    "When you put it like that," Quentin said affably, "it does sound perfectly normal, doesn't it?"
    "Only because it is."
    John returned to them then, handing out flashlights. "Quentin, how long have you been here?"
    "Half an hour, maybe a little longer. I went upstairs for a bit, following the path she took when she dragged herself out of here."
    Maggie said, "It's still visible, isn't it? The blood." She gripped the flashlight tightly with one hand and held her sketch pad close with the other.
    Quentin looked at her, and for just an instant she felt as if he'd reached over and touched her physically with a warm hand—even though he hadn't moved. But the moment passed, and he nodded, sober now.
    "I'm afraid so, at least in places. Dried and brown now, but still there. Those of us with vivid imaginations—or something more—can even smell it. I'm sorry, Maggie."
    She wasn't certain if he was expressing sympathy or apologizing for something, and she decided not to ask. Instead, she said, "I want to see where he left her."
    "This way." Quentin turned, and they followed him into the building.
    Maggie