"Or a lie," Becca said, staring down at the final resting place of their mother. "All we know is what Catherine deigns to tell us and the haphazard ramblings in that book by someone named Smythe. Who's to say if it's accurate, or even partially true? All we really know is that we're related, that mostly only women survive, and that all of us now, if Catherine's correct, including Rachel, have some telepathic gift." She shook her head and sighed. "And then there's Justice Turnbull."

Laura glanced at Rachel, the girl's eyes round as she squirmed in her mother's arms. "And then there's Justice," she repeated.

"I wish there was some way to find him, to catch him . . . to . . ."

"Kill him?" Laura asked and felt a frisson of fear touch the back of her neck. She remembered how he'd chased her, how intent he'd been on destroying her, the feel of him so close. . . . The sound of the ocean's roar reached her ears.

"He's planning to kill us. All of us. Including . . ." She stopped herself and looked away. Laura understood that Becca was speaking about her child, and she thought of her own and how Justice wanted nothing more than to snuff out her own child's life before she was even born.

Becca's gaze was troubled, but she stated passionately, "I would do anything to save my child, Lorelei. Anything. And if it means going up against Justice and taking him down, then so be it." The set of her jaw was determined; her lips flattened fiercely. She meant it.

A squirrel chattered from somewhere in the higher branches, and at that moment, Laura heard Justice's voice. That horrid sibilant rasp seeming to slide like snakes through the surrounding trees and into her brain.

Ssssisstersss.

Plural.

Damn. He knew that Becca was near her, and though his voice was weaker than she remembered, she closed her eyes and pushed up the wall around her mind.

"Laura?" Becca's voice came to her as if from a long distance. "Hey! Laura!" Sharper now.

Laura blinked and found her sister staring at her. Becca's eyes were round with worry as she touched Laura's shoulder. "For a second, I thought . . ." She didn't finish the sentence.

"He just tried to contact me."

"What?"

"I think he knows that you and Rachel are here."

"Oh, God." Becca's face paled.

"You have to leave. Go far away." Laura was insistent. "Take Rachel back to Laurelton, somewhere safe. Somewhere Justice doesn't know about. He won't go there, at least not until he's dealt with me. He'll be looking for me first."

He smells them when they're pregnant.

"I can't just let you face him."

"I won't. The police will handle it. I'll be safe," she said firmly. "You have visions. I hear him. You can call me anytime, but really, it's best if you leave." She glanced around the cemetery and beyond. Even the walls of Siren Song weren't strong enough. "It would be best. For you and for Rachel."

Becca seemed about to argue, but her daughter started to squirm and fuss.

"Let me deal with him," Laura told her.

"I think it's better if we stand together," Becca said, but at that moment Rachel, tired of being hauled around, cried, "Down!" Laura's gaze skated to her niece, then returned to Becca. The unspoken question-how would you feel if something happened to her?-filled the silent space between them.

Laura said softly but strongly, "You know what he can do. You've seen it firsthand. So, please, leave. I'll keep in contact with you. Promise. But you have to go home. Or somewhere very far from here."

"Down, Mommy!" Rachel insisted.

"We're going back now, honey," Becca said and started walking swiftly out of the cemetery, Rachel squirming in her arms. Only when they were in the clearing again did she turn to Laura. "Okay," she said, "but you have to keep in contact with me. You've got my phone number."

"I will," Laura promised.

They saw Hudson and Harrison, both still waiting outside the gate. Becca headed that way, and Laura gave Harrison a high sign, signaling that she was going back inside to say good-bye to Catherine and her sisters but would be out soon.

She vowed inwardly that she would find a way to thwart Justice. That he wouldn't stop hunting them until they were all dead was a foregone conclusion, and it was a miracle that, so far, since his escape, no one associated with the Colony had been harmed.

But it was only a matter of time.

Unless she got the better of the bastard.

"I don't like us being separated," Harrison said as he pulled into the employee lot at Ocean Park Hospital. Laura's Outback was where she'd parked it the day before, and in broad daylight nothing appeared sinister.

"I'm just going inside and straightening things out with my supervisor," she insisted and placed a hand over his, and he remembered how close he'd come to making love to her. "I'll meet you back at my house and tell you all about my family."

"You better."

She glanced at her watch and frowned. He noticed then the dark circles under her eyes, how white her skin had become. "The glass guy is gonna be there in less than an hour."

"Fine." Harrison took the hint. "I'll meet him."

"I'll be there soon." She reached for the door handle, but he caught her wrist.

"You're okay?"

She laughed without humor, and her gaze, when it found his, was troubled. "What do you think?"

"We'll get through this," he promised.

"One way or another," she said, then leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips were warm and supple, and he drew her into his arms, sliding his tongue between her lips and feeling his blood temperature become elevated.

"Hurry back," he said and she actually smiled.

"I will."

Then she drew away and was out the door, hurrying toward the front doors of Ocean Park.

Once he saw that she was inside, Harrison drove out of the parking lot to the highway. He'd spent most of the morning pacing outside the gates of Siren Song, getting to know the rancher Hudson Walker, husband to one of Laura's half sisters, and certain that somehow, someway, Justice Turnbull would know that Laura was inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Turnbull would find her and harm her. Hudson Walker couldn't have agreed more. He'd expected the rancher from Laurelton to scoff at his anxiety, but that hadn't been the case. Hudson, too, was worried, had seen close hand what damage the maniac could wreak, and wanted no part of it.

Hudson had driven to Siren Song under protest; he wanted his wife and child as far from Justice Turnbull as possible. But Becca had been insistent, and Hudson had agreed, only if he came with her. He admitted that his wife could be "mule-headed" but didn't have to explain any further. Harrison knew firsthand how stubborn a woman from the Colony could be.

Which was odd, he thought as he drove through the S curves high above the Pacific. The ocean was calmer today, sunlight shimmering on the shifting water, but along the horizon he noticed a dark swelling, clouds rolling inland and promising another storm.

Harrison had known Laura-Lorelei-less than a week, and yet there was something about her that touched a part of him he hadn't known existed, something about it that seemed emotionally dangerous in its own right.

The house was just as they'd left it. Quiet. Secluded. Too secluded, he decided as he found his tool belt in the trunk and, using her key, began cleaning up, then working on the lock. The repairman for the glass window showed up about forty-five minutes later, surveyed the damage, and shook his head.

"It's gonna need a little more work than I thought," he said. "The sash is busted, so it'll cost ya about the same to fix as a new window." He pointed to the area that would have held the pane of glass in place, his finger running along the broken piece of wood.

"Just fix it so that it's secure," Harrison said, and the guy got to work. While the window was being replaced, Harrison finished with the lock on the back door and double-checked every window latch in the house. He figured the landlord wouldn't mind the changes, and it really was too damned bad if he did.

Laura straightened things out with the shift manager by promising to work a double tonight and tomorrow morning. The woman was still a little miffed but turned her attention to the coming week's schedule and made the necessary adjustments.

It hadn't been as rough a meeting as Laura had expected, yet she still felt a little off, not quite right. Just as she had all day. She blamed her malaise on the events of the last week, her brush with Justice, the emotional highs and lows of visiting Siren Song. Her pregnancy also was a factor, as were her conflicted feelings for Harrison.

She needed to tell him about the baby. Come clean. She remembered kissing him and wanting so much more.

"Laura!"

She was walking toward the lobby when she heard Byron's voice seeming to boom down the hallway.

Inwardly groaning, she turned and saw him, dressed not in scrubs, but slacks, jacket, and open-necked shirt, as he strode toward her. The expression on his face was accusatory, his jaw so hard, a muscle was working overtime beneath his chin.

"What happened?" he demanded almost angrily.

She thought of everything she'd been through in the past few days. Had he heard Justice had attacked her? That her home had been broken into? That she was spending a lot of time with Harrison?

"You didn't return for your shift last night, and the damned shift nurse called me. She wanted to know where you were, said you'd abandoned your patients-"

"She didn't say that," Laura cut in, too tired of his BS to listen to another word. "I had the shift covered and she knew it."

"But why?"

"I was with the sheriff's department. Explaining that the house had been broken into, that Justice Turnbull had tried to kill me."

"What?" All the wind was suddenly out of his sails. "Turnbull's after you? Why?" he asked; then his expression darkened. "Because you're part of that Colony."

"You knew?"

"Suspected," Byron snapped. "My God, I can't believe this. You're a professional and I'm a doctor. I can't . . . defend . . . all of that."

"We're divorced, remember?"

His lips tightened. "You're still connected to me, Laura. And if you're carrying my child, then things are even stickier. And, for the record, you even still have my last name. So be careful. Some people think we're still married!"

"Then make sure you let them know we're divorced. Wouldn't want to tarnish your rep." She was shaking her head as his cell phone beeped and he glanced down at the number. "Me being from the cult and all."

CHAPTER 37.

Mike Ferguson wasn't about to wait around for his dickhead of a brother to grow a pair. Not when Justice friggin' Turnbull was on the loose. He lay on his bed and tossed a tennis ball upward, seeing how close he could come without actually hitting the ceiling and catching it, only to toss it again.

How cool would it be if he could get a picture of the psycho? Or grab some kind of memento from one of his lairs? Or even help bring the bastard down?

He snapped the ball from the air, then let it drop as he rolled over and hopped off the bed to look at the wall over his desk. He had cut out articles about Justice Turnbull and had pictures tacked to the wall. Justice Turnbull's mug shot, a picture of the shabby old motel where he'd nearly killed his mother, and the lighthouse perched on the island known as Serpent's Eye.

Man, would he love to go there. Just to look around. Maybe climb the steps to the top and look out to sea . . . and take some pictures, of course. He could do it easily on his iPhone.

He'd impress a lot of kids at school then.

Maybe even James.

The jerk.

Mike kinda knew that he was suffering from what James had called "nerdy delusions of grandeur," which said something as those were pretty big words for James's vocabulary. But Mike wasn't about to be thwarted. His parents would be returning home over the weekend, and then the opportunity to go to the coast would be over. No way would they let James drive over to Deception Bay for a day.

If only he had his license. He wouldn't wuss out like James.

He could steal the keys, he supposed, while James was sleeping, but he'd eventually be caught, and it wasn't like he had a driver's license or even a learner's permit. But really, how hard could it be to drive? Stick in the key, twist on the ignition, find the right radio station, and put the car into the gear. Then all you had to do was hit the gas, right?

His mother did it while on the phone and eating a snack bar, so Mikey figured he could handle it.

But he'd rather not add grand theft auto or anything near it to his growing list of sins. His mom would kill him.

No, the best thing to do would be to try and convince James that the trip was necessary, but James had been in a real bad mood the last few days. Still, Mike tried again, walking into his brother's bedroom and finding James lying on his bed, flipping through channels on the televison while playing a game on his iPhone.

"No!" James said before even looking up at Mike in the doorway.

"You don't know what I'm gonna ask."

"Sure I do. You wanna go to the coast and me to drive you. Well, forget it." He frowned as he stared at the phone in his hand.

"I already told you how cool it would be. And we have to go right away. In two days the tide is going to be the lowest of the year."

"So what?"

"So then it's easier to get to Justice Turnbull's lighthouse. We can walk across the rocks, maybe."

"How do you know all this crap?" James grumbled. "And why do you care? Oh, I forgot. Cuz you're an obsessed freak."

"I'm not-"

"Are you kiddin' me? Listen to yourself. You want to wade out in the ocean to go to an abandoned lighthouse where a serial killer used to live. Wait, no, make that a serial killer who's currently on the loose again and killing people." James rolled over onto his back. "Do you know how nuts that is?"

"He won't go there. The cops will be all over it."

"Then the cops'll catch you!"

"They won't be looking for me."

"You're a moron, you know that?" James threw his brother a look of pure disgust. "I said, No way,' so leave me the hell alone."

"But-"