Danger Signals

that Ms. Doyle is a civilian who has graciously volunteered her talents and time to help apprehend a killer? A killer who's killed six times. Anyone who wants to sit around here making cracks better hope there isn't a seventh.'

At that point Nola Hoffman stuck her head in to remind Wade about the news conference about to commence, and at which his presence was requested. Meaning required.

'Be right down, Boss.' Wade swore under his breath while Nola's high heels went tap-tapping off down the hallway, then turned back to his team. 'Okay, you've got your work cut out for you. Let's focus on getting this guy before he kills again. We're looking for a young male, late twenties, early thirties, single, a loner, probably works some kind of menial job. Most likely a rep for not playing well with others. That's all-unless you plan on sitting around here on your asses all day.'

Glowering, he headed off to join the mayor's news conference. Trying his best not to limp.

Wade's role in this as in all the other news conferences he'd been called upon to attend, was to stand at parade rest beside Nola. two steps behind and a little to one side of Chief Cutter and Alan Styles, and attempt to strike an attitude somewhere between alert and somber. The mayor would make his speech, then introduce Chief Cutter, who would bark out a quotable phrase or two, then waste no time in turning the microphone over to the chief of special cases. Styles would do most of the talking, including fielding questions from the news media.

Thus his mind was not exactly tuned in to the proceedings until he caught the end of a question from one of the network TV reporters that brought him back to front and center in a hurry.

'-true the department has been working with a psychic on this case?'

Chief Styles, naturally, declined to comment on 'the details of an ongoing investigation,' and pointed to a waving hand on the other side of the crowd.

The reporter, who hadn't earned her network stripes by being so easily brushed off, shouted over the babble, 'Chief, we have reports from a reliable source that the psychic credited with helping solve the Yreka kidnapping last year has been seen both here and at the last two crime scenes. Care to comment on that?'

Styles, who'd never gotten the hang of out-and-out lying to the press, covered the mic with one hand while he bent his head to confer with Chief Cutter. Then he turned and looked at Nola, who jabbed Wade in the ribs with her elbow and growled. 'Take it, Callahan.'

He uttered one short, sharp cussword under his breath, then stepped up to the mic. Cleared his throat. 'We always welcome any useful information from members of the community. Members of the media included.'

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Wade was about to step back when a voice he knew, belonging to the regular police reporter for the Portland Oregonian, sang out, 'Come on, Callahan, rumor says you've got your own personal crystal ball.'

Ducking his head to the mic once more, Wade scowled at the crowd and snapped. 'Wish I did. I'd sure as hell use it. We'll take help from anybody and anything if it'll help us catch this guy.'

On that note, Chief Cutter stepped in and ended the news conference, although the clamor continued for several more minutes. Under its cover, Nola said dryly. 'You shoulda been in politics, Callahan.'

He was trying to think of a response to that when he felt his cell phone vibrating in its holster against his hip. He pulled it out, scowled at a number he didn't recognize, thumbed it on and barked, 'Callahan.' And heard a voice he did recognize, hushed and breathless.

'Wade, he's there. Right now. Somewhere close. I-'

'Hold on-who's here? You mean, here here-at this news conference? The killer?'

'No! At least…I haven't picked anything up. But I'm getting that Watcher again. Only he's…different. I don't know how to explain it, he's just as intense as before, but it feels different, somehow. Like it's a different person. And…before there was this exultation, this elation. Now I'm getting sadness. Really terrible sadness-like grief…'

Wade was only half listening, eyes sweeping the slowly dispersing crowd. The sun was in his eyes, having just broken through the morning overcast with all the intensity of a Portland summer day. It was only May, but it was going to be a warm one-humid, too. But damn. Nobody stood out. Nobody caught his attention. Nobody stared at him. or even lingered behind the rest of the horde.

'Miss Tee,' he said, interrupting her, 'we need to talk. What are you doing for lunch?'

Chapter 5

'Well,' Tierney said, 'I, uh, nothing. I guess.'

Why had she lied?

She'd planned to go to the Rose Gardens. Damn it, she needed to go to the Rose Gardens. There'd been too much sadness in her mind these past few days. Too much ugliness. She craved the nurturing beauty of the flowers and the blissful waves of happy feelings she could always count on finding among the beds of blooming roses.

'Good.' Wade said. 'I'll pick you up. Fifteen minutes.'

An unaccustomed bolt of temper shot through her. 'Wait! Wade-'

It was too late; the phone clicked in her ear and he was gone. Angrily, she thumbed Redial.

'Yeah, what?' He sounded vexed, impatient.

'Actually,' she said sweetly. 'I'd planned to go to the Rose Gardens. I've made myself a sandwich to take along. If you want to talk to me. bring something for yourself and meet me there. Twenty minutes.' She clicked the phone off.

Almost immediately it rang in her hand. She thumbed it on and said. 'Yeah, what?' in a deliberate parody of his abrupt manner.

The chuckle in her ear was repentant. 'Okay, sorry. Where shall I meet you? Washington Park's a big place.'

'The gift shop's fine. It's-'

'I know where it is. Okay, see you there in twenty minutes.'

This time, holding the silent phone in her hand, she felt triumphant but giddy. No mystery why, she was meeting a man for lunch, which was enough of a rarity all by itself. Add to that the fact that he was attractive, sort of…in an odd, tough-guy kind of way…

No. None of that was relevant. Except for the fact that she was attracted to him.

Yes, that was what made it an occasion for giddiness and wonder. She was allowing herself to have lunch with a man to whom she very definitely felt attracted.

For most of her adult life she'd made it a practice to avoid close relationships of all kinds, even friendships with other women. With people who knew about her 'gift,' there was the inevitable awkwardness, and with those who didn't, the strain of trying to maintain her secret. It had seemed simpler to keep her distance, to keep relationships casual, except for Jeannette, of course, the only family she had.

And now Jeannette was slipping away from her. Soon she would be truly alone.

It came as something of a shock to her to realize she was lonely. Had she always been? Was she able to see it only now because there was this person in her life so vital, so dynamic, so complex that he took up a huge amount of space when he was with her. and left an equally huge emptiness when he wasn't? Or was it true-as she'd read somewhere-that loneliness had less to do with the number of people in your life than it did the absence of a particular one?

If either of those possibilities was true, Tierney realized, she was in big trouble. Because Detective Wade Callahan, no matter how stimulating his company or how attracted to him she felt, was in her life on a professional basis only, and a temporary one, at that. She'd take care, as she always had. that neither he nor anyone else would ever become anything more. So. she supposed she'd better get used to being lonely.

But for now, she was meeting a man for lunch at the Rose Gardens, and for that, she decided, she would allow herself the sweet effervescence of anticipation. She would put on lipstick and a bright spring sundress in a shade of blue that brought out the color of her eyes. She would wear sandals with a bit of a heel that made her legs look