She landed in a crouch, muscles tensed and canines bared, glaring balefully at Henry Lightstone, her black pupils like small black dots in the center of those terrifying yellow eyes.
As Lightstone held his breath, the cat turned and padded out of the room, emitting an eerie sound somewhere between a purr and a high-pitched yowl.
For a long moment, he sat there, aware of the tingling in his arms and the cold chill running up his spine.
Then he slowly let out his breath and turned to the woman.
'What was all that about?' he whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
'She's agitated,' the woman replied, standing in one smooth, athletic motion that didn't completely mask her own considerable agitation.
If he'd done that to me… she thought, and then forced the disconcerting images out of her mind.
Later, when they stood on the patio squinting in the bright sunlight, Henry Lightstone suddenly became aware of how intensely good it felt to be alive.
Adrenaline response. Just like going in on an armed suspect, he tried to convince himself, but he knew there was more to it than that. Much more.
The woman studied him long and carefully enough to make him feel uneasy.
'She does that to you,' she finally remarked in that soft, husky voice Lightstone found increasingly appealing… but also threatening for some reason. 'And in case you were wondering, yes, the sensation is very addictive.'
'I can believe it,' he readily agreed, although he was very much aware that he couldn't tell her why he knew about adrenaline addiction. 'I know I have no right to ask, much less intrude on your privacy,' he ventured instead, 'but — '
'Can you see her — or perhaps us — again?' The woman smiled and nodded knowingly.
'It's been a long time since I was twelve,' Lightstone replied in what he hoped sounded like a lighthearted tone.
Fortunately, it turned out to be exactly the right thing to say. She smiled broadly for the first time, a smile that, unfortunately, tore right into Henry Lightstone's heart.
'Yes, I can tell.' Her sensuous lips pursed in amusement. She hesitated, and for the briefest of instants, her gold-flecked green eyes gleamed dangerously.
'Please do come back when you can.' She held his hand in a grip that was, somehow, soft and yielding but also firm and controlling, and accompanied him to the gate. 'I think both of us would like to see you again.'
'What about breakfast tomorrow? Would that be pushing my luck?'
The woman nodded slowly.
'Breakfast tomorrow would be fine.' She laughed lightly. 'We open at six. However, I should warn you: Before I let you interact with Sasha again' — she allowed her eyes to lock onto his for one more brief moment — 'I must read your fortune.'
'You really think that's a good idea?' Henry Lightstone purposefully lingered so he could maintain contact with her hand.
'Oh yes,' she announced firmly as she released his hand and stepped away from him. 'It's absolutely essential.'
Chapter Twenty-two
Awareness came to Wilbur Boggs in brief flashes.
First, a feeling of being trapped in the ropes and nets… struggling in the darkness, unable to move his arms to free himself of the obstructions covering his nose and mouth… then drifting away as soothing voices reassured him that everything was okay.
Then, some unknown time later, bright lights, and a horrible dryness in his mouth… then darkness again, and then a cold hand holding his wrist.
He blinked his eyes, trying to see who it was.
'Well now,' a cheerful voice greeted him, 'it's about time you started coming around. We were beginning to get worried about you.'
Boggs tried to say something, but his dry tongue and mouth refused to cooperate.
'Thirsty,' he rasped in a voice that he didn't recognize as his own.
'I'll bet you are, hon.' The nurse dipped a clean cloth into a water flask and wet his lips. 'How does that feel?'
'More?'
'Hold on just a minute, there's somebody here who wants to talk to you.'
Still lost in a foggy daze, Wilbur Boggs felt the cool hand pat his arm, heard footsteps hurrying away… and then a very different, masculine voice jarred him awake again.
'How are we doing?' the voice asked.
Boggs thought about that for a long moment while he tried to sort out all of the confusing images that tumbled through his head.
A boat accident… or was it a car accident? Some kind of accident, though, because he remembered being in a great deal of pain. But that didn't make any sense because he couldn't feel anything at all now. In fact, his entire body felt numb, so numb that whatever he tried to remember kept drifting…
The masculine voice again, asking something… name?
What name?
No matter how hard he tried, Boggs simply couldn't remember any names. Which was odd, he decided, because a federal agent ought to be able to…
'What did he say?' The resident physician looked up at the floor nurse.
'I think he said federal agent.'
The resident physician's eyebrows furrowed. Leaning down, he whispered into Boggs's ear: 'Do you want to talk to a federal agent?'
It took every bit of strength that Wilbur Boggs could summon to shake his head slightly.
Remembering the limited nature of the clothing the emergency room staff had removed from her patient, the nurse leaned forward and asked skeptically, 'Are you a federal agent?'
Boggs tried to nod, but he had no idea whether his head actually moved. So he tried to whisper the answer instead, but it came out a weak hiss.
'You are a federal agent?' Boggs heard the disbelief in her voice.
This time he managed to nod perceptibly.
'What's your name?' she pressed, taking his limp hand in hers. 'Can you tell us your name?'
The nurse put her ear right next to his mouth, but it still took Boggs three tries before she made any sense out of the sounds.
'Did you say Wilbur?'
He smiled weakly, but the sharp-eyed nurse caught it immediately.
'Okay, Wilbur it is. That's wonderful, Wilbur.' The nurse grinned cheerfully and the resident physician made a congratulatory thumbs-up sign, then leaned forward again. 'Now, just one more question and we'll let you rest. Can you tell me your last name?'
Boggs thought he could. But when he tried, everything started to drift away again, and he realized how tired he was, and how good it felt simply to lie back and… sleep.
'Well I'll be darned.' The floor nurse looked up at the attending physician. 'Do you believe that?'
'I'd sure like to,' he replied as he made a few notations in Boggs's chart. 'It'd be nice to have a patient with a real, honest-to-God medical coverage for a change.'
The duty agent took the call, listened politely, wrote down the caller's name and number in his official notebook, then walked into the back room of the Medford, Oregon, field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
'Just got an interesting call from Providence Hospital,' the young FBI agent reported to the two older agents.
