Dead By Morning

the tears from her cheeks, she had gazed at him with fear and wonder.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come out of this alive. Understand?”

She had nodded, but said nothing.

Using the GPS system provided with the rental vehicle, he had no trouble navigating through the city and after less than an hour, he drove through the thousand-year-old town of Harpenden, located in Hertfordshire. Tourists as well as London residents no doubt flocked here because of the town’s traditional English village atmosphere.

A few miles out of town, they arrived at their destination, a secluded house surrounded by trees and isolated from any prying neighbors. He parked the rental behind the house, opened the back door and lifted her into his arms. She would probably sleep for several more hours, possibly the rest of the day.

As he had been told, he found the back door unlocked and the key lying on the kitchen table. He carried her through the kitchen and down a narrow hall until he located a small bedroom with only one window. After laying her on the double bed, he covered her with a quilt. He checked the window and found that it was sealed shut with countless layers of paint that had been applied over the years. Leaving the door open behind him, he returned to the kitchen, pulled out a chair from the table and sat. Checking his mobile phone, he found there was decent coverage here in the country. He dialed the number that he had memorized and waited for his employer to answer.

“You’ve arrived safely with my guest?”

“We’re at the house. I didn’t encounter any problems.”

“How is my guest?”

“Right now, she’s sleeping.”

“Then now is the perfect time for you to make another phone call. Memorize the instructions I will give you and repeat them word for word.”

“Very well.”

He listened as his employer told him in quite succinct terms about his plan and the message he was to relay, word for word.

“Now, repeat it back to me.”

He did as he had been instructed.

“Yes, you have it precisely. As soon as we end our conversation, make the phone call. Be sure it is understood that you will call again for an update and to give further instructions.”

“I understand and I’ll stress the importance of following your instructions to the letter.”

“Yes, yes. And in the meanwhile, take good care of my guest. She’s very important, at least for the time being.”

“Yes, sir.”

His employer never bothered with pleasantries nor did he. Their association was strictly business.

He would enjoy a cup of tea, but first things first. He walked down the hall, checked to make sure she was still sleeping soundly and then returned to the kitchen. Standing by the windows overlooking the private garden in back, he dialed another memorized number.

“Hello.” Such a nervous, frightened voice.

“Listen very carefully,” he said. “I will not repeat these instructions. You are to do exactly as I tell you. If you do not—”

“Don’t hurt her. Please. I will do whatever you want me to do.”

“Good. If you cooperate fully, then she has a good chance of coming through this unharmed.”

Luke Sentell had spent the day waiting for Meredith Sinclair to recover from whatever kind of spell she’d had that morning. He didn’t pretend to understand what made the woman tick, any more than he could believe without question the validity of her psychic abilities. If he couldn’t see it, smell it, hear it, taste it, or feel it, it didn’t exist. Not in his world. Not for any normal, logical human being. And yet he had seen Meredith work her hoodoo on several occasions and without fail, her visions—or whatever the hell you wanted to call them—had proven to be accurate.

He sorely wished that his path had never crossed with Meredith’s, that Griffin Powell had not chosen him to accompany them on his initial European manhunt when rumors about Malcolm York had first begun circulating. His boss had brought Meredith along, using her as his bloodhound, hoping she could sniff out who had started the rumors. Griff had assigned him as Meredith’s personal bodyguard. The job had quickly become a combination of babysitter and nursemaid. Whenever Meredith had come out of one of her trances, she would sleep for hours, as if whatever she had experienced had zapped every ounce of her energy.

A really crazy thing had happened on that first partnership with Meredith, and every subsequent time they had been together. For some unknown reason, whenever he was around, his presence seemed to fine tune her sixth sense. He had no idea why. Considering he was a skeptic, you’d think having him around would have an adverse effect. Instead the opposite was true. He had to accept the truth—it was what it was. And that’s why he was here with her now, the two of them stuck with each other on another manhunt.

That morning, after she had fainted and fallen in a heap at his feet, he had lifted her and put her on the sofa. Trying to wake her had been pointless. He knew from past experience that the best thing to do was simply let her rest until she came out of it on her own. She had slept for hours and when she awoke, she had gone to her room after telling him that she needed to be alone for a while.

Here it was after three in the afternoon and she was just now emerging from her bedroom and gracing him with her presence. When he glanced up at her from the copy of the Daily Telegraph he’d been reading, he was surprised to see her looking so well. Her eyes were bright and clear, her cheeks had color, and her voice was quite strong when she said, “I’m ready now.”

“Do you want something to eat?” He folded the newspaper and laid it on the coffee table. “It’s nearly three- thirty and you skipped lunch.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. I just want to try again. I’ve spent time concentrating on what I saw and felt this morning, trying to make sense of it all.”

“And did you?”

“Only partly,” she admitted. “When I told you he was coming toward me, I wasn’t sure what I meant, but now I know. This man who calls himself Anthony Linden was in flight, coming here.”

“Here as in London or here as in this hotel?”

“Here as in London.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be,” she told him. “I’m never a hundred percent sure of what I see and feel. All I can do is let it happen and afterward try to figure it out.”

“So, you’re guessing about Linden being in London.”

“I suppose you could call it guessing.”

“What would you call it?”

“Sensing.”

“Humph.”

“I’m well aware of the fact that you consider me a freak of nature, Mr. Sentell. And you think I’m mentally disturbed, that anyone who claims to be gifted is actually crazy.”

“There you go again, putting words in my mouth.”

She glared at him, her hazel green eyes sparkling with anger. “We’re wasting time with this conversation. I’m ready to go to work. Where’s the gun?”

Where’s the gun? The first thought that went through his mind was that she wanted to shoot him. He barely managed not to smile.

“The gun isn’t going to help you,” Luke told her. “You’ve been there, done that. You probably got everything from handling the gun that you could. Right?”

“Possibly, but I need something to connect me to Anthony Linden if I’m going to find him.”

“Then let’s go where you think he’s been. If he flew into London, the odds are that he came through Heathrow.” Luke glanced at her wrinkled sweats and T-shirt. “Change clothes. We’re going out.”

“We’re going to the airport?” she asked.