Free Touched (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter Page A

“Incest? Maybe something he’s experienced.” His gaze shifted to Sharon. “Do you see where this is headed?”
    “A serial killer,” she whispered.
    “A sexually-motivated serial killer. But what we don’t know is why he hasn’t killed Esme yet.” 
    At that moment, Isabelle and Anita came in from the kitchen. Anita took a tray of pastries to the sideboard near the stairs as Isabelle followed with another. Mac focused on her. The killer had wanted to speak with her. He’d been so nervous on the phone with her that he’d misquoted the Bible. Something about a psychic being part of the team had unnerved him.
    And that felt wrong in Mac’s gut. Again he got the feeling this man was simply not what he seemed. Serial killers didn’t get nervous on the phone or make Freudian slips while quoting Bible verses. But whatever he was after, Isabelle played into it and was likely the reason that Esme was still alive. 
    He clenched his jaw and shook his head. He needed more time and yet time was close to being gone. This was the third day, the third , virtually unprecedented. He had to have more time. Whatever the killer wanted, he had to be thwarted. He had to be stalled.
    An idea began to form in Mac’s mind as he watched Isabelle quickly smile at him and follow Anita back into the kitchen. The killer had to be lulled into a sense of security. They’d give him what he wants. What was it he said? ‘It’s a war between you and me.’ Fine. Make him believe that he had won.
    “What does DC say?” Ben asked.
    Sharon was gone and Mac was sitting alone on the couch, Ben standing next to him, waiting. Mac stood.
    “Exactly what you’d think,” Mac answered quickly. “But I’ve got a plan.”
    Ben smiled–not a smile of relief or even happiness. It was the smile of a man who wanted the tide to turn–the grim grin of someone who felt his time was coming.
    “Of course you do,” Ben said.
     
    • • • • •
     
    “I’m going to what?” Isabelle asked, not quite believing what she’d just heard.
    “Get on television and say you’re a fake,” Ben said, repeating what Mac had just said. 
    Ben, Mac, and Sharon stood across the center island of the kitchen. Anita stood at Isabelle’s side.
    “I don’t understand,” Anita said. “How is that going to help?”
    “We’re going to give him want he wants,” Mac said to Anita. “Lull him into thinking he’s got time. That he’s got the upper hand.”
    “He’ll get careless,” Ben said. 
    “He’s already making mistakes,” Sharon said.
    “At the very least, he’ll be off balance,” Mac said, still not looking at Isabelle. “That shoe will be on the other foot for a while.”
    Anita was silent, looking at the three of them and then she turned to Isabelle. Anita’s lips were pressed together in a slight grimace and she blinked once and then twice.
    This is so ironic , Isabelle thought. In all my life, being a psychic has never felt so good. Working with people, making a real difference . And now…she was supposed to deny it, just when she’d had her first, big break. Even if she got the chance to say that she’d lied about being a fake–what good would it do? You couldn’t unring the bell. All the years of trying to make people understand–gone.
    Anita swallowed and reached out to her but then hesitated, her hands wavering in the air.
    Isabelle took them in hers.
    “Let’s do it,” Isabelle said quietly.
    “Thank you,” Anita said, clutching Isabelle’s arm. 
    Isabelle patted Anita’s hand.
    “The important thing is Esme,” Isabelle said, mustering a smile. “Didn’t I say that we’re going to find her?”
    Anita hugged her tight. 
     
    • • • • •
     
    “It’s not what I want,” Mac said, when they were finally alone.
    Sharon had left to compose the statement that Isabelle would read, and Ben and Anita had followed her. Though her words were measured, Mac could see that Isabelle was deeply upset.
    “But