Free Touched (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter

pulsed a few more times but eventually they grew still.
    Mindless oblivion began to take over as a rush of relief washed through her. Mac’s warm body lay on hers now, his breathing harsh behind her ear, their bodies slick with sweat. She felt him slowly withdraw and his hands release hers but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes or even move her arms. Deep peace settled on her and she gave herself to it completely, lulled by the rhythm of Mac’s breaths.
    Eventually, she felt him move to the bed beside her and gently guide her arms down to her sides. She wanted to turn to him, say something, see his face, but as he put a pillow under her head, she realized she was utterly exhausted. He draped his giant arm over her midriff and nuzzled behind her ear. Though she had no idea if he saw, she smiled. Then, as a deep sigh of male satisfaction washed down her skin, she drifted into blackness.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    “Nothing useful,” Sharon confirmed, holding out the report to him as Mac entered the living room. “As you suspected.” 
    “Okay,” he said, taking it from her as well as the offered cup of coffee.
    Isabelle left his side, headed to the kitchen, and glanced back at him with a little smile just before she disappeared behind the swinging door.
    The morning had been a strange series of little rituals. Though they’d slept late and needed to get going quickly, she’d unwrapped a new bar of soap for him. She’d made breakfast while he was in the shower and, while she was showering, he realized that she used paper plates, styrofoam cups, and plastic utensils. Everything was disposable. He’d had a few minutes to look around her apartment as well. Though he’d tried to turn off his profiler’s brain, that wasn’t really possible. Despite the rundown neighborhood and the lack of a car, the furniture all looked new. Nor were there any knick-knacks. Or photos. When she’d finished and entered the living room, she’d been dressed in a particularly form fitting dress of dark green, a neckline that dipped a little deeper, and delicate light green gloves to match. She’d actually blushed when she realized he was staring.
    “So,” said Sharon. “No news is good news?”
    Mac realized he’d been grinning and abruptly stopped.
    “No,” he said. “Not in this case.”
    “Oh,” Sharon said, looking toward the kitchen. She’d been about to go back to her computer when she stopped, apparently remembering something. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to look at the transcript I texted everyone but the abductor misquoted the Bible.”
    Mac scowled.
    “Did he?” he said, before he took a sip of coffee.
    “Yes,” she said nodding. “I compared it to several versions online.” She sat on the couch and brought up the transcript. “The King James, the New International Version, the New American Bible, and others,” she said pointing at the screen. “He says ‘With whom the kings of the earth had committed incest’ but the correct quote is actually ‘With whom the kings of the earth had committed fornication.’ He did the same one more time. ‘Drunk with the wine of her incest’ ought to be ‘Drunk with the wine of her fornication.’”
    Mac sat down next to her. 
    “That’s an interesting slip,” he said. “One might even say Freudian.” He paused. “The killer was nervous.”
    “Killer?” Sharon asked.
    “He’s not a kidnapper, not in the conventional sense,” Mac said. He leaned toward her. “He intends to kill Esme,” he said very quietly. “That’s clear. No ransom request, claimed not to have known her name. She’s little more than a means to an end for him. With the raving phone call and the incest slip, he’s starting to come into focus.” Mac paused and then thought out loud. “Good verbal skills, aggressive behavior, dares to call when he knows the call will be traced. Arrogant, probably intelligent.” He looked at the computer screen.