“Yes, I know him.”
Savich smiled down into her eyes, still vague with drugs, but she was finally awake. He nodded to Sherlock as he lightly squeezed Kathryn’s hand. “Hello. I’m Dillon Savich.”
“I would know you anywhere. Hello. I’m Kathryn.”
“Do you want me to fetch the doctor?”
“No, please, not yet. Let me get my wits about me.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. The doctor said you’ve got stitches in your leg, some bruises, and a concussion, but you’ll be okay. And that’s my wife Sherlock over by the window.”
Kathryn nodded to Sherlock, and turned back to him. “I’m glad I’m not going to leave this earth just yet. You asked me about Thomas Pallack. Yes, I know him.”
“Then you know his wife, Charlotte Pallack?”
“Charlotte Pallack—I’ve met her, but I really don’t know her well at all. All I do know is that I don’t like her. No, it’s more than that. Whenever I see her, I always see this strange aura about her, constantly shifting and changing. Sort of like a chameleon, like she’s someone, then she’s someone else. There’s something about her that leaves me with a nasty feeling. I can’t get a handle on it.”
“Did you know her brother plays the violin with the Atlanta Symphony?”
“I—well, maybe, that sounds familiar. Maybe I heard Thomas say something about him.”
“It seems he’s gone missing. No one’s seen him, including his girlfriend, for over two days now. Do you have any thoughts about that?”
Kathryn Golden focused her eyes on Savich’s face. Her eyes weren’t dark and intense like her colleagues’—like his—but a golden-green, a witch’s eyes, Savich thought, and had to smile at himself. She whispered, “I need to think about it.”
“You’re tired. I was really just talking to you to make sure you were all right.”
She clutched his fingers. “No, please don’t go.”
“All right, here, take a sip of water.”
She drank for a very long time.
“That’s good. Thank you.” She looked up at him, studied his face. “I tried to picture you in my mind by the sound of your voice, all deep and dark as a lava stone. I wasn’t that far off. I could see you, but you weren’t clear. Was I clear to you?”
He nodded.
She tried to raise her hand to touch him, but the IV lines didn’t allow it. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed them again.
“Do you need to rest?”
“No, no. Thank you for waking me up. I was busy scaring myself to death. That man—with the author’s name —Makepeace, you called him. He was very frightening.”
Savich felt her pulse speed up and backed off. “Yes, he is. Take a moment, Kathryn, relax, all right?”
She was silent a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. He felt her pulse slow. “How do you feel?”
“Sort of foggy, I guess, kind of dull and heavy-feeling. No pain to speak of.”
Savich looked up to see Dr. Saint come into the room. He blinked when he saw that Kathryn was awake, one of her hands in Savich’s.
“Well,” Dr. Saint said, leaning over Kathryn, checking her eyes and studying her face. He eased his stethoscope to her heart, listened. He slowly straightened. “How long have you been awake, Ms. Golden?”
“Five minutes, something like that,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re Dr. Saint, right?”
“Yes,” he said. He studied her another moment, then announced, “You’re awake and you appear to be fine, Ms. Golden. I’m thinking I should spend more time in the nurse’s lounge concentrating on stealing Fig Newtons out of Nurse Joliett’s locker without getting caught. It seems to work miracles.”
“Do you know, I think I’d like a Fig Newton,” Kathryn said. Dr. Saint didn’t have a problem with that either, and luckily, Nurse Joliett didn’t mind sharing. “You don’t need both those IV lines anymore. We’ll free you from the one in your left wrist. You might find it easier to chow down on those Newtons.” Dr. Saint stood by her bed, fiddling with his handheld, an eyebrow arched at the two of them. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me you’re surprised Ms. Golden here suddenly woke up and wants to munch?”
“I suppose it was simply time for her to rejoin us,” Savich said easily. “I think I’d like a Fig Newton too.”
Dr. Saint started to tell Savich they really should leave now so his patient could rest, but something told him maybe he shouldn’t meddle. Sounding a bit ruffled, he said, “I understand you’re a psychic, Ms. Golden.”
She was chewing happily on a Fig Newton, and nodded at him. “That’s how I met Agent Savich last night, at a seance, actually.”
“Oh? Last night? I thought you’d been kidnapped yesterday afternoon. How—”
Savich raised his hand. “Be satisfied with your miracle, Dr. Saint.”
Dr. Saint looked from one to the other of them, but he didn’t say anything more. “All right then, I’ll leave you to it. Please, Agent Savich, if she tires, let her rest.” Before he left, he gave Sherlock another long look. Sherlock smiled, and waved him away.
