"Fortunately, I'm not in the habit of wearing silk shirts to FBI headquarters." His gaze narrowed on her face. "But how do you know I was ever an agent at all?"

"Even though you're not wearing an ankle holster now, you still walk as if you are. You make a slight sweeping motion so your pant leg doesn't press against your phantom holster. That's law enforcement all the way."

"Really?" He looked down at his feet. "Do all FBI guys walk like that?"

"More than you'd think. Police detectives, too. It's only slightly less obvious than a Haggar slacks pant leg pressed up against the side of a nine-millimeter automatic."

"I still wear it from time to time. And you were also right about the leg wound." His brow furrowed. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not walking with a limp."

"Not a visible limp."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"To look at you, one would think you move with nothing but the utmost authority and confidence."

"I think there's a 'but' coming."

"You still slightly favor your right leg. I can't see it, but I can hear it. But what I can see is a pretty nasty scuff on the sole of your left shoe. It's covered with shoe polish, but I can see it's been worn down quite a bit. That might have been prevented if you hadn't been so quick to ditch your crutches."

"How do you know I didn't slip in the bathtub or have a motorcycle accident?"

"I don't. But it stands to reason that a man who has a need to carry two guns might occasionally find himself on the receiving end of some gunfire." She stood, moved across the room, and picked up her guitar, which was leaning against the stone fireplace. She started tuning it. "And you don't impress me as someone who would slip in the bathtub. You're very sure on your feet."

"And where I've lived?" Lynch asked.

"Simple linguistics."

"I'd say not so simple."

She shrugged. "Simple for me. Vocal patterns and spoken language are like music. There are many people who know a Chopin melody a mile away. Some of us are just as good with the spoken word."

"You picked up on a blend of my Midwestern and Eastern accents?

"Not only that, but exactly how the vocal patterns interact. If you had grown up on the East Coast, then moved to the Midwest, you would sound much different today. It's like the difference between a soup with half an onion cut into it, or a plate of sauteed onions with a couple spoonfuls of soup ladled over them. Totally different flavor."

"And my car?"

She raised her phone and showed him the screen. There was a live video feed of the condo parking lot.

He held the phone and looked at the display. "What's this?"

"It's what it looks like. I have a Wi-Fi camera connected over the door. Here at home, it's a security measure. I also have another one connected over the door at the studio. I like to see when my clients are coming."

"Or men in Ferraris?"

"I glanced at it just after you came into the studio. I recognized the other four cars in the lot but not that one."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned." He smiled and shook his head. "I have to admit, I thought everybody was exaggerating about you and your-"

"Parlor tricks?"

"I was going to say 'perceptive abilities.' I can see it was no exaggeration."

"Glad you enjoyed the show." She adjusted the tuning pegs, then looked up. "Now you talk. Why did you think it worth your while to come to see me and have me perform for you? If you want my help in an investigation, you're going to be disappointed."

"You haven't even heard what it is."

"I don't need to. I don't do that kind of thing anymore. You should have done your homework on me."

"Believe me, I did. I may not be able to write your life story based on the cut of your sweater, but I know quite a bit about you."

"Obviously not enough. Otherwise, you would have known not to waste your time coming here."

"Trust me, I won't consider it a waste of time, no matter what your answer is." He added softly, "It's never a waste of time to meet fascinating people. And you're remarkable, Kendra."

"Flattery won't work with me. Cross it off your list."

"No flattery, just a statement of fact. You were blind since birth, but that didn't stop you from working your way through school and getting a Ph.D. in psychology and a masters in music theory. From a very early age, you used your remaining senses to gather amazing amounts of information about the world around you. Information that most people couldn't dream of perceiving."

She shrugged. "I used what I had."

"You used it in an extraordinary way. When you were twelve, a group of Fundamentalists accused you of being a witch, while another group in the same church said you were channeling the power of G.o.d."

She smiled. "Both explanations were much more interesting than the truth."

"Then, thanks to a stem-cell procedure in England, you got your sight at the age of twenty. Just seven years ago. I can't imagine what it's been like for you since."

"No, you can't." She set the guitar down. "So don't try. And I'm sure it's not important for your purpose to try to understand me."

"You're wrong; understanding is essential in what I do." He continued. "And your amazing gifts just multiplied exponentially. When you were finally able to see, you wanted to absorb everything and process every single detail. And so you do. You still see more than anyone else in the room, and you do it without even trying."

She shook her head. "Who says I don't have to try? It just so happens that I like trying. I'm greedy. I want to experience everything. I don't take anything for granted."

"If you like it so much, why don't you want to help me?"

"I've already had that experience. I'm done with it. As I'm sure you know, I've already a.s.sisted on four investigations."

"You did more than a.s.sist. You broke those cases."

"I only did it as a favor to Jeff Stedler. He was intrigued by what I could do and asked me to do it as a favor. I agreed because I thought of it as a challenge, and it amused me." Her lips tightened. "But then he got greedy and wanted me to keep on doing it. Suddenly, it didn't amuse me any longer."

"And suddenly he didn't amuse you any longer either."

"You could say that." She met his eyes. "I don't like being used, Lynch."

"Is that a warning?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"Accepted. But even if Stedler used you, evidently you haven't jettisoned him completely, or you wouldn't have let me into your house."

"Maybe. You said he didn't send you here?"

"No, but we've met." He added deliberately, "And I think he's a good man."

"Yes, one of the good guys. I never said he wasn't. He wants to set the world right. That's why he joined the Bureau." She added wearily, "And he wanted me to help him do it. Batman and Superwoman fighting all the bad guys. He got the idea that I could be of some help to his investigations, and I guess I was. But I just can't do it anymore."

"Perhaps you should reconsider. You can save lives."

"Don't put that on me," she said fiercely. "Jeff tried to tell me that, and I told him to go to h.e.l.l. I won't be responsible for what he thinks is the right thing to do."

"It's true."

"I'm saving lives every day in that studio you visited today. It may not be as dramatic as what you and Jeff are doing, but for me, it's a h.e.l.l of a lot more worthwhile." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have decided to talk to you. Whatever your case is, I'm not interested."

"Six people, Dr. Michaels," he said quietly. "Six people have been killed in the last forty-five days."

"Starting with the man in Highland Park?"

He stiffened. "So you've been following it."

"Not really," she said. "Jeff asked for my help a couple of weeks ago, and he told me a few things. I was wondering if that was the case you were talking about. I guess that answers the question."

Lynch stared at her. "Stedler came to see you about this case?"

"I turned him down. I practically kicked him out. I told you, I'm not interested in doing this kind of thing anymore."

He muttered a curse, and his tone was suddenly urgent. "What did Stedler say to you?"

"Not much. I didn't let him get very far. About the same as you've said. Except it was five murders then, not six."

"An administrative a.s.sistant was killed in a downtown parking garage at Gold's Gym Monday night. We believe it's connected to the others. What else did he tell you?"

"Ask him yourself."

"I can't ask him myself, dammit. He's missing."

Shock rippled through her. She stared at him for a long moment. "Since when?"

"More than seventy-two hours. I think it might have something to do with this case."

She was trying to recover from the shock. "And why do you think that?"

"It's a little complex. Let's talk about it," he coaxed persuasively. "You once cared for him. You must have some lingering feeling. Help me figure this out."

"There's no evidence of foul play? He just disappeared?"

"No evidence."

"Then Jeff could be working on a case and gone undercover. He doesn't have to be in any danger."

"That's true. But a little unlikely since no one at the office knew about it. What would it hurt to a.s.sume the worst and try to make the attempt to find him? Then you could be pleasantly surprised if he showed up on his own safe and sound."

She stared at him in exasperation. This man was just like Jeff, subtly pushing her b.u.t.tons to get her to do what he wanted. Only Jeff had done it because he wanted to be Galahad, and she was the lance he could use to skewer the villains. She had an idea there was nothing of the white knight about this man.

Enough.

"No," she said. "I don't even know if you're telling me the truth. You're not..." She searched for words. "What I would call standard-issue FBI. And the FBI has a whole organization full of people who can track Jeff down. Why do they want me for this?"

"They don't want you."

Her brows rose. "This wasn't their idea?"

"No. They have a few problems with your ... att.i.tude. It's all mine. Will you help me?"

His urgency had given way to something else, she thought. Could it be ... desperation? Not likely. She'd judge it would take something almost catastrophic to cause Lynch to become desperate. Or perhaps he was just trying another b.u.t.ton on her.

"I'll have to think about it."

"Every minute counts."

"Don't push me. I'll think about it. If you want my final answer right now, I'm afraid it's going to be-"

"Okay, fine. Just think about it. Call me."

"Do you have a card?"

He shook his head and pointed to her phone. "My information is in there. I transmitted it to your address book about thirty seconds ago."

"I don't think so." She pulled up the phone's address book and scrolled through the entrees. "You'd need my permission, and I still haven't received any-" She froze as she spotted a new name in her list of contacts.

LYNCH, ADAM. The address and phone number fields were entirely filled in.

She looked up. "How did you do that?"

He smiled. "If it runs on electricity, I can make it do pretty much anything I want. I suppose we all have our special talents, Kendra." He strode out of the room as he called over his shoulder. "I can help you better secure that thing. Sorry if I've invaded your digital s.p.a.ce, but like I said, every minute counts."

She watched the door close behind him. He had invaded more than her digital s.p.a.ce. Because of the intensity of the problems she faced every day, she needed serenity and a sense of order in her life away from the studio. Adam Lynch had marched in and disturbed that serenity within minutes after he'd come into her studio.

Lord, she didn't want to dive into another ugly horror like the ones Jeff had dragged her through.

Yet if Jeff was missing, then he might be in trouble ...

And was she supposed to go to his rescue? Why, dammit? She had told him the last time he had called her that the split was permanent, and she didn't want to hear from him again. Jeff couldn't accept friendship with her without trying to bend it to suit himself, and she couldn't keep the hurt and anger from upsetting her when he did it. She had desperately wanted to keep him for a friend. She didn't let many people close to her, and there were moments when she had come close to loving Jeff Stedler. She did love his pa.s.sion for justice, his dedication. Even when she was furious with him for trying to use her, she could understand that he couldn't help himself.

Okay, so she would feel guilty as h.e.l.l if she didn't try to help Jeff if he was in trouble.

But how did she know that Lynch was telling the truth? What did she know about Adam Lynch?