He couldn't go through that again. Never again.

She was smart. She was resourceful. He knew that.

A commotion up the hallway drew his attention.

Detective Palacios, along with a man he'd learned was the Chief of Police here in Sedona walked into the holding area quickly with Sean and some suit he was talking to.

Rogan didn't bother to stand.

The chief strode up to his cell and unlocked it, the door sliding open. "We need to talk to you again."

"Oh the fun."

"Rogan," Sean said, cutting off his own sentence. He motioned to the man beside him. "The district attorney. Look, they were set to charge you when news came in."

The prickle turned to needle pricks along the back of his neck. He still didn't say a word.

No one said a word.

Finally, Palacios cleared his throat. "Did Cora mention going anywhere?"

Panic slammed into him. Rogan grabbed the detective by the shirt front and said very quietly. "I told you to watch her. I warned you what he was after. Where is she?"

"Rogan!" Sean yelled.

"Mr. Duran, set my officer down. Now," someone ordered in a deep voice.

Rogan assumed it was the chief. Taking a calming breath, he jerked his hands away from Palacios and pointed a finger at him. "I warned you. Did you listen? No. She warned you. Did you listen? No. Instead you were all in a hurry to pin it on me. I told you of the old case. Told you of the circumstances. I wasn't playing you then, I'm not playing you now. I tried to save you time. Time to find him so that we wouldn't be..." He trailed off, chills crawling down his back.

"He's got her doesn't he?" Rogan fisted his hands on his hips in an effort not to deck the smart, job-following detective. "Sedona's finest," he sneered. He looked up at his brother, who took a step back. "Am I free to go?"

At first no one spoke. Then the D.A. stepped forward. "Yes, Mr. Duran."

He saw then the chief held the clothing he'd been wearing. He jerked his clothes away from the man, stormed to the nearest bathroom and changed. Stupid pricks. Some rational part of his brain knew he shouldn't piss them off, shouldn't really blame then, but damn it all to hell and back. He couldn't think of them right now.

Now he had to focus on Cora, and where she might be.

He paused, in the middle of tucking his shirt in. Blue eyes. Pale blue eyes in glass jars. Her voice came back to him then. He keeps them...keeps them in glass jars so that his angels are always watching over him.

Not her. He braced his forearms on the sink. Never her.

Bile rose quick and hot in the back of his throat, but he closed his eyes and shut off his emotions. He'd done it enough.

Opening his eyes, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He'd find her. He'd find her before everything went to hell.

You're already there... the fear whispered.

A knock at the door made him finish dressing. He jerked the door open to his brother and the chief, who motioned for them to head up the stairs. They went past the interview room he'd been in before and into another larger room.

Inside were two people. Kyle and Lake, both had tear streaks on their faces. Kyle was pacing like a caged animal. He turned and said to no one in particular, "I need to leave. I need to get to the hospital."

Rogan raked a hand through his hair. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Lake shuddered and Kyle opened his mouth, but the cops both held up their hands. Palacios answered. "Mr. Duran, we're sorry for the confusion, but we need your help."

He didn't take his eyes off of Lake. "Does he have her?"

Lake jerked a shoulder, shrugged, then burst into tears. "I-I don't know. I don't know. I just went over because we were going to meet about closing time, to talk. Girl stuff and I wanted her advice, but then..." She shook her head. "Then I went, cause she didn't show and then the door was still locked, but I could see the computer on and then I saw the legs."

"Legs?"

"Hanson's," Kyle offered. "He's at the hospital. Fractured skull, but they think he'll make it."

"He was in Cora's shop?" Rogan asked. His brain flipping through possibilities.

"He went back with her. Wanted to explain the photos to her."

"What photos?" Palacios asked.

"The ones you were pissed about?" Rogan asked.

Kyle nodded. "A gallery show. Already galleries out of New York and L.A. are bidding to see who gets them." He waved it away. "He was going to explain them to her."

Rogan turned to the cops and asked, "What else have you got. You have to have more than that."

"We're hoping you'd be able to help us," the chief admitted.

Have more? Had he just said that? How stupid could he be? They'd arrested him.

He raked his hand back through his hair.

"Look, Mr. Duran, I don't blame you for being pissed at us. Point is, this is all new to us. State boys are on their way because apparently there are two other cases in the state that match this profile." He sighed. "And from the looks of your files and notes there are many more."

Rogan nodded. "He's been all over the U.S. I wouldn't be surprised if the Feds don't come in."

The chief held out his hand. "We could use your help."

"You mean I'm off the list? You no longer think I'm your bad guy or Cora is an accomplice?"

The police just looked at him. Sean squeezed his shoulder.

"What the hell else would I be doing?" Rogan asked, and stood staring at photos of missing women that were taped to a dry erase board.

He couldn't go through all this again.

"There has to be something. Something," he muttered.

"I think I better put an order in for food," Palacios mentioned.

Lake sniffed, but Rogan only looked at the board, his hands shoved in his pockets. If ever he believed, it was now. He wanted, and needed something more. Something.

Anything.

Cora.

"Angel eyes. They all have angel eyes," he muttered.

Cora groaned. Pain slithered through her head, like the slow glide of the tide. Ebb and flow.

She tried to grab the thought, but it fled away.

Cora licked her lips and realized her mouth was dry. She took a breath and the pain in her head returned, cloudy but there.

What happened?

She tried to open her eyes, but they too were dry and felt like sandpaper. A light above her seemed to blur around the edges, to grow and shrink. Focusing her attention on it did little good.

Dream. It was a dream.

Wake up. She drew a breath and realized her arms were sore. And above her head. Cora tried to lower them. They wouldn't move. Something held them...something...

Why couldn't she think?

Pain from her head was pushed back with panic that fluttered inside her, turning her stomach.

A mumble rolled through the haze of her mind and she tried to focus on that. Focus on the sound...the words...

A man's voice...

"Angel Eyes." The light brightened, sharpened and she tried to blink.

"No. No. I hate that. I like to see those pretty, pretty eyes," the voice said.

She blinked again, or tried to, but something held the lid of her left eye. "Angel eyes should never be hidden."

The words shivered through her, tumbling, then sliding and locking into place.

Angel Eyes.

Cora's heart slammed against her ribs and the blood iced in her veins.

Angel Eyes.

No. No.

A chuckle from him. "Yes. Yes."

She tried to focus, but couldn't.

That voice. She knew that voice...

"I know this is strange, but it's a pet peeve of mine and since I know the drug," he said, holding her other eye open. She moved her head, tried to dislodge it. Something sticky pressed against her eyelid, then pressed up her eye past her brow.

He continued, "Since I know the drug is still swimming through your system, I know you'd try to close your eyes. Dry mouth, dry eyes, it's a side effect of the sedative." He ran his hand over her arm that was secured above her. Or was it?

She tried to move her hand again, tried to blink but couldn't.

Tape. Images, disjointed and jagged from memories or dreams, bounced in her mind.

Taped the eyes.

Angel eyes.

Eyes in jars. Women on the bed. Screaming. Screaming.

Hands around the neck. Squeezing. Gasping.

No breath. No life...

Eyes in jars.

Her breath hitched, and trembles started deep in her.

"Awww, don't be frightened."

She knew that voice. Knew it.

"Nothing to say? Would you like some water?"

She thought about the question and finally nodded. Water. Her tongue felt twice its normal size.

A straw touched her lips and she opened, then sipped. Water dribbled down her chin, but it wet and soaked into her dry mouth, a cool slide down the back of her throat.

"I would love to enjoy you, like I did the others," he said, running his hand from her face, down over her throat, over her breast.

She shuddered. "Please."

Again he chuckled, the harsh bright light glaring into her eyes. "They all say that."

The trembles wracked her body. Think. She had to think.

The drug swam through her brain, threatened to pull her back. Had he drugged the water?

The light dipped and seemed to swirl. A dark form leaned over her. "Yes, I think you'll be feeling it about now..."