Taige started to shake. Her entire body trembled like a leaf, and a soft, keening moan escaped her lips. "I don't know-d.a.m.n it, I don't know. Oh, s.h.i.t. He's hurting her. d.a.m.n it, he's hurting her, and he loves it."

Outside, they both heard the sound of a car approaching, moving fast down the gravel driveway. Taige flinched, jerked hard back into awareness, and she moved with Cullen to stare out the window as the beat-up, ancient station wagon came roaring up the lane.

Woodenly, she pul ed the phone from her belt and punched in a number. Jones answered, and Taige said, "I'm going to need a team down here, Jones." She didn't elaborate, and she didn't mess with giving directions or an address. Her phone was GPS enabled, and he'd track her via the phone. Details were a waste of time and energy at this point.

After that short, terse message, she disconnected and then tucked the phone back into the holder at her waist. "It's not Leon," she said softly, although she didn't recognize the car.

"Do we need to get the h.e.l.l out of here?"

Technically, they had no business being in this house. There was no physical proof inside these wal s, and there was no endangered child there, either. The answers that Taige had weren't the kind that could be presented to a jury or a judge. By all means, she was violating Leon Carson's rights, and if she had any sense, or a little less compa.s.sion, then they should definitely get the h.e.l.l out of Dodge.

But Taige didn't give a d.a.m.n about Leon's rights. She didn't give a d.a.m.n about technicalities, legalities, and the ins and outs of the justice system.

She cared about al the children who had died at her uncle's hands, and she cared about stopping him.

"No," she murmured in response to Cullen's question. Shivering, she folded her arms across her middle and then rubbed her palms up and down her upper arms, trying to warm herself. "We came for answers. We'll leave when we have them."

But it wouldn't take long.

Even from the distance, Taige could see the darkness that painted a dark, ugly void around the woman in the car. She stopped in front of the house and climbed out, paused to look at Cul en's big black truck, and then she looked back at the house. Taige felt the impact of her gaze from there, although a hundred feet easily separated them. Taige could feel him.

Leon had left a mark on this woman. She could feel it as clearly as she had when she looked into the paramedic's eyes earlier and realized who she was hunting. "It's Penny Harding," she said quietly. "My uncle's a.s.sistant."

Dragging in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and blocked the woman from her field of vision just long enough to ground herself. Leon had kept himself blocked from Taige, and she hadn't helped by keeping her own blocks in place, reinforcing them any time she came close to Leon. His hatred of her had been the initial reason she'd shielded against him, and over the years, her own dislike of him had added to the urge to keep him out.

But there had been no attempt on Leon's part to keep his emotions contained around Penny. And d.a.m.n, but he must spend a lot of time with this woman, because his psychic presence had al but eradicated Penny's personality. m.u.f.fled it, tamped it down, and kept it hidden under the force of his own.

It was a G.o.dsend.

Taige could follow a psychic imprint the same way a bloodhound could follow a scent.

If Leon kept his presence m.u.f.fled, there wouldn't be much of a trail for her to follow.

But Leon acted on instinct. His gift, strong as it probably was, was untrained. He probably didn't realize how much of himself he spilled into his home, onto people that spent a lot of time with him. He probably didn't realize that unless he kept himself shielded all the time, he was going to leak al over somebody like Penny, somebody who spent their days seeing to his needs and running his errands and buying his groceries.

Penny was like a homing beacon and a journal all wrapped into one.

At least for somebody like Taige, somebody who read a psychic imprint. When Penny entered the house, as she drew nearer to Taige, it was like she was working pieces of a puzzle into place, and by the time they met up in the hallway, Taige had the answers. It left a h.e.l.l of a lot more questions though.

Yes, Leon had another child.

Yes, he was someplace with the child right now.

But that was when the answers stopped and new questions began. Because it was a child Penny knew somehow, a child Penny had put into Leon's hands, knowing what he'd do.

She's got evil inside her, Leon. Bad, nasty evil. You need to purify her.

And as she said it, she'd stared at Leon with the blind devotion of a madwoman.

"Taige . . ." Penny gave Taige a puzzled look and glanced back the busted front door.

"Do you know what happened to the front door?"

"I did it. Where is my . . . uncle?" The word left a nasty taste in her mouth, just saying it. How could somebody that evil be her blood? It was sickening.

"He's out attending to the needs of his congregation," Penny said. She frowned and c.o.c.ked her head, studying Taige's face. "You busted the door down?"

"Actually, that was me," Cullen said from over her shoulder. "Where exactly is he attending these needs at?"

"I'm afraid that's the business of Reverend Carson and his flock . . . Mr. . . . ?"

Cullen just grunted in response, giving her no answer. "Hmmm. You do know that you'll need to pay for the damage, Taige. Honestly, what would your mother think? A civilized person simply comes back when there is somebody home."

"It's important, Penny." Taige didn't bother arguing with Penny about her civility or lack thereof. The woman clearly considered Leon a saint, so her judgment was definitely skewed.

"I see. Well, no. Not exactly." Penny's frowned deepened, and if her face dropped any more, she was going start resembling a hound dog, all mournful-eyed and sad-faced. "I just don't understand what could be so important that you'd break down a door. Did he even know you were coming?" As she spoke, she headed down the hal into the kitchen, leaving Taige and Cul en to follow behind.

The kitchen was painted a cheerful yellow. The floor was bright blue, and the appliances so clean, they could have come straight off the showroom floor. Yet, like every other room in the house, it looked dark to Taige, like she was seeing it through a black veil.

Penny stood at a bright white breakfast bar, rifling through mail and sorting it. The woman was nervous; Taige could sense it, the acrid scent of fear and nerves. Even if she hadn't had the memory flash just a few minutes ago, she would have realized there was something weird going on with Penny.

"Where is he?" she asked quietly, moving up behind Penny.

Penny, in the process of shuffling through the mail, looked at Taige over her shoulder, a confused smile. "I don't know, Taige. I'm his a.s.sistant, but he doesn't always feel the need to keep me informed of his daily schedule. The reverend is an important man. He doesn't answer to the likes of me."

"Then he can answer to me," Taige said, her voice flat. "Where the h.e.l.l is he?"

Penny's mouth puckered up like Taige had just shoved a lemon into her face. "You really do need G.o.d's good grace in your life, Taige. Speaking so, swearing, displaying an utter lack of humility and compa.s.sion." She glanced at Cullen, and the look on her face probably wouldn't have been much different if she'd run into a john and his wh.o.r.e. "And the company you keep."

"Hmmm." Taige didn't bother asking again. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Penny's wrist. Pushing her way inside a person's mind left a bad taste in Taige's mouth.

She wasn't a mind reader, and she was d.a.m.n thankful of that. A person's thoughts were private, and they should remain that way.

Using her gift like this left her feeling dirty and upset, because it was wrong. It wasn't something she had to do much, thank G.o.d. Usually, she followed psychic imprints left in the environment. But while she couldn't read minds, she could read imprints; fresh imprints were even clearer than a person's thoughts, and what she picked up from Penny was as clear and detailed as a blueprint.

Narrowing her eyes, Taige stared at Penny's face.

"He's at your house."

Penny gasped and jerked against Taige's hold, struggling to break free. "At your house -with your granddaughter."

Behind her, Cullen snarled, "Son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Sick, Taige let go of Penny's hand, and the woman folded her hands at her waist and gave Taige a pious smile. "Really, Taige. What kind of a language is that? No good, G.o.d-fearing soul speaks that way."

"No good, G.o.d-fearing soul lets a man like my uncle put his hands on a child," Taige said, her gut churning.

But Penny just smiled. "The girl has the devil inside her. Just like her mama. Just like you. I failed with my daughter, just like Leon failed with you. We're both stronger now.

We'll save my grandchild."

There was another part of Taige's ability that really made her uncomfortable. Using it to cause physical harm left her riddled with guilt. But she doubted it would be much of an issue this time. She slammed into Penny's mind with al the strength she had in her, and when the woman collapsed to the ground, silent, Taige smiled in satisfaction.

She didn't have a chance too often to use her handcuffs, but she still carried them, just like she carried the Bureau ID and just like she carried the Glock. And she was just as competent with the cuffs as she was with the gun, crouching down beside Penny's unconscious body. "Help me sit her up," she said to Cullen. He braced Penny's body, while Taige cuffed her with her arms behind her back, looping them around the leg of the breakfast bar.

Taige didn't know how long Penny would be out. That little gift was unpredictable, and it wasn't one she practiced much. It wasn't one she could practice much, unless somebody volunteered to get psychically sucker punched. It could last a couple hours, a couple days, or, if Penny's will was really strong, a matter of minutes.

Thus the cuffs. It wouldn't do to have Penny wake up and cal Leon, alerting him to the fact that Taige and Cullen were coming for him. "Can you check her purse, see if she's got a license or something? We need to find her house."

ELEVEN.

IT was an older house, one that had withstood hurricanes, floods, and time. It sat by itself on a piece of land, and Taige's gut churned with nerves as they approached.

Training had kicked in, making her think. They had to approach on foot. If Leon heard them coming, he could do G.o.d only knew what to the poor kid he had with him.

There was a chance that he'd know they were coming anyway, and not because of some warning from his Looney Tunes a.s.sistant, but because he'd sense Taige, the same way she could sense him. Hopefully, all the years of training and honing her gift would give her the advantage. She concentrated on m.u.f.fling her presence, m.u.f.fling Cullen's. Cullen's natural resistance to psychic energy was once more going to work in her favor. The anger inside him would normally alert any and every psychic within a mile range or more that he was coming, but his resistance m.u.f.fled his emotions and his thoughts.

Combined with Taige's efforts, she thought they probably had him pretty much shut down.

Still, it was risky going in like this. The team was coming. On the drive over, Taige's phone had started to vibrate, and she read the message on the display. The team was en route with an ETA of thirty minutes. Jones must have had them on standby-h.e.l.l, he had probably been following her with the d.a.m.n GPS for days.

It wouldn't surprise her at all, and right now, she wasn't even that irritated by it.

The team would come in handy. Even if he managed to get past Taige and Cullen, there was no way Leon could evade some of Jones's psychic bloodhounds. He had a couple of psychics working for him who made Taige's abilities look like some hokey Gypsy fortune-tel er at a county fair.

They kept to the tree line, and Taige thanked G.o.d that it had been getting late when they got back to Gulf Sh.o.r.es. Now it was full night, and they had the cover of darkness to help conceal them as they crossed the empty, exposed field between the trees and the old farmhouse.

It was quiet.

She couldn't hear any sign of life, but she could sense him. Closing her eyes, she focused on the trail Leon hadn't bothered wiping clean. When she opened her eyes again, she started circling around the house, searching for . . .

There.

The doors to the storm cellar were closed but unlocked. The hinges squeaked, and in the silence of the night, they sounded terribly loud. Logically, she knew they weren't al that loud, but stil , she winced. Opening just one door, she ducked inside, and Cullen followed close on her heels.

At the bottom of the steps was a door. It looked out of place in the old storm cellar, clean, extremely modern, and very locked. Leaning against the door, she strained to hear something, but there was nothing. Either n.o.body was making any noise on the other side, or that door was d.a.m.n good at m.u.f.fling sound.

She had her lock picks on her this time, and she pulled them out and went to work, cursing the dim light that fell through the sole open door. Cullen had a flashlight, but she'd told him not to turn it on unless she said so, and she didn't want to use it now and risk alerting Leon to their presence.

Sweat dripped down her face as she worked. She'd done this in darker, worse conditions than this, and she could do it again.

There: a faint clicking sound. She turned the doork.n.o.b, and it moved, but stil , the door wouldn't open. d.a.m.n it. Obviously somebody really wanted the door to stay closed. She stood and gave Cullen a look. He didn't even have to ask. She stood by as he kicked the door. Wood groaned, but it didn't give. He swore and then struck again, harder this time.

Wood splintered, and the door flew open with a crash. Light spilled into the stairwell and they both stood, frozen with shock, for a brief second.

Leon was in there, all right, his face wet with sweat, his eyes bright and mad-with a whip in his hand that came screaming through the air to land on the slender, naked back of a girl who looked to be all of thirteen or fourteen.

Her uncle wasn't aware of them. It was like nothing in the world existed, save for the helpless girl lying facedown in front of him. Blood streaked down her back and sides in rivulets, pooling on the table where she lay restrained. Thick leather straps held her in place at her waist, her thighs, each of her hands, each of her feet. Her head was turned so that she faced them, but there was no sense in her eyes. Nothing but terror and pain. As the whip landed, she made no sound.

It would have been hard to, because Leon had effectively gagged her with a piece of silvery gray duct tape. Above the strip of tape, her face was bruised and battered. Taige could see the imprint of a hand on her cheek, and the telltale bruising around her throat where somebody had wrapped their hands around her neck and squeezed. Both of her eyes were bruised and so swollen, it was amazing she could even open them.

It took less than a few seconds to take all of that in, but it seemed forever. Like a movie trapped in slow motion, Taige could see herself turn to look at Leon, each movement painstakingly slow. She was aware of each breath, each heartbeat. Fury knotted her muscles.

Still unaware of Taige, Leon lifted the whip, screaming out, "Will you repent?"

His own fury had blinded and deafened him, because he remained unaware of them until Taige pounced. Time sped back up as she leaped for him, using her weight to ride him to the floor, and there, she started to hit him.

Over and over. Pain shot up her arm, hands grabbed her and tried to pul her away, and stil , she pummeled Leon. He screamed and swore, words that no decent preacher would ever speak. He struggled underneath her, and without thinking twice, Taige used her mind, blasting through his shields to hold him immobile with her gift. "You sick son of a b.i.t.c.h. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she screamed at him, seeking some outlet for the fury inside her.

But nothing helped. The anger grew, threatened to overwhelm her. Hands once more grabbed her arms, and Taige struggled against Cul en as he pulled her off and hauled her away from Leon, kicking and screaming.

Part of him wanted to turn around and finish the job as Cul en struggled to control Taige. She fought against him with the strength and fury of a tiger, snarling, practically growling. "Taige." He called her name over and over, but there was no response. Finally, he dragged her over to the table where the girl was still lying, breathing shallowly and staring into s.p.a.ce with the blank gaze of a doll. "Taige, d.a.m.n it, she needs your help. She needs us."

Leon lay in a pummeled, bloodied mess behind them. Taige fought a little more, squirming, but Cullen used his body to block Taige's view of her uncle, and that seemed to break through the rage, reaching the woman inside. Her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. Slowly, cautiously, he reached up and cupped her face, forced her to look at the girl. "She needs us, Taige."

The girl. Taige blinked and stared at the girl. Yeah, focus on the girl. The girl's eyes stared at her, but Taige knew the girl saw nothing. She'd retreated into the safety of her mind. Whether or not she'd ever come out was something that only time would tel . At least she's alive . . . But Taige knew there could easily come a time when the girl didn't share that sentiment.

Taige had experienced brutality at the hands of her uncle before, but never anything like this. Not in her worst nightmares. "We need to get her up," she said, her voice hoa.r.s.e.

It hurt to speak, h.e.l.l, it hurt to even breathe. She pul ed the phone from her belt and punched in 911. After calling for an ambulance and the police, she disconnected and then cal ed Jones.

The team would be there in another fifteen minutes, and after he told her that, Jones laid into her for going in alone. Just as before, she glanced at Cullen and told her boss, "I'm not alone."

"One of these days, you'll find yourself in a mess that we can't get you out of," Jones said. He had the same tone that a princ.i.p.al would have used on a recalcitrant student, and Taige cared for it about as much as that student would have.

"Kiss a.s.s, Jones," she said sourly, and then she disconnected before he could start demanding some kind of status report.

The status is that my sorry, son-of-a-b.i.t.c.hing uncle is still breathing. Fighting to control her rage, she glanced back at Leon again. He still lay on the ground, moaning, his breath whistling through his busted nose.

At the moment, he was unconscious. More than anything, she wanted to pul the Glock at her side, level it at his head, and pump him ful of lead. She wanted it with an intensity that scared her.

Hatred-finally, Taige understood the hatred that had driven him, and it was that knowledge alone that kept her from pul ing her gun. She wanted him dead too much to do it herself.

"Watch him."

Cullen smirked. "Great idea, baby. Like I don't want to finish him off myself."

Despite herself, she laughed. "Kind of like asking the wolf to guard the sheep," she murmured as she approached the girl, staying where she could see the girl's face. That way, the girl could see her-in theory. But she was lying there, stil , motionless, her eyes not even tracking Taige's movements. "G.o.d help her," she whispered softly. "It's okay, sweetheart. He can't hurt you again. He can't hurt you . . ."

Nothing Taige did or said had any effect. The girl didn't so much as blink when Taige touched her, and if it wasn't for the warmth of her flesh and the blood still trickling from the open wounds on her back, Taige would have been checking for a pulse. Her pupils were mere pinp.r.i.c.ks, and her breathing came in short, shallow pants. "She's in shock," she muttered grimly.