"Can we just get this over with? I've got a pile of work waiting for me."

"Agent Ronson's not here yet. She needs to observe."

Emilie shifted in her seat. Her stomach growled. She'd been too nervous to eat this morning. This was a colossal mistake. Kelsi would dig into her mind and snag something Emilie didn't want to talk about.

"This won't work if you're agitated."

"I'm not."

"Emilie, I'm just trying to help you." Kelsi was as pushy as her brother.

"I know." She stared back at the woman, trying to make her expression as benign as possible. Kelsi smiled and raised her eyebrow. Emilie could tell the therapist wasn't buying her act.

A knock on the door saved her.

"Come in," Kelsi called.

Agent Ronson hurried through the door. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic." She sat in the chair next to the couch. "You ready?"

"Yep." Emilie looked at Kelsi. "Go ahead."

"Why don't you lie down?" Kelsi suggested. "The more comfortable you are the better."

Emilie stretched out and made sure her dress hadn't hiked up her thighs. She didn't want to give the other women a panty show.

"Take a deep breath. As you let it out, close your eyes. Feel yourself relaxing."

Emilie glanced at Ronson, who nodded. She took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. She prayed Kelsi didn't get her talking about Claire. She'd left that in the past a long time ago.

"Become aware of your legs." Kelsi's voice softened. "Now let them grow more and more comfortable, loose and relaxed."

Emilie tried to do as she was told. Her left leg gave an involuntary jerk.

"Relax," Kelsi said. "Let your arms become loose and limp, comfortable. Deep breaths."

Inhale, exhale. Relax. She couldn't. Every muscle in her body felt tight.

"Emilie, you've got to let go. You can't be hypnotized if you don't trust me."

Why should she trust Kelsi? She didn't know her. But Nathan did. He wanted to help.

"Unclench your fingers," Kelsi said. "Let your arms fall to your sides. Breathe deeply."

Emilie became aware of the ticking of the wall clock as Kelsi spoke. She started counting the seconds as she tried to follow instructions. The same words over and over...deep breaths, relax, let the tension go...how many minutes had pa.s.sed?

A pleasant feeling washed over her. She knew she was awake but sleep felt near. Her mind was active. She could still hear the clock, the sounds of the traffic outside, the sound of Ronson shifting in her chair.

"Emilie, can you hear me?" Kelsi's tone matched the peaceful state Emilie was in.

"Yes."

"I want you to go back to the art gallery when you first met the man calling himself Jim. Can you do that?"

The Bellagio's large gallery rose in her mind. The light was modulated, the room full, as admirers moved from exhibit to exhibit.

"What are you doing?" Kelsi asked.

"Looking at Girl with a Straw Hat. It's even more beautiful than I expected." Meme's face had glowed every time she spoke of the painting. Then her expression would sag and sadness crept into her eyes. She missed Grand-pere.

"I wish Meme were here."

"Why?"

"She loved me. Claire didn't. My mother hated me."

A low voice muttered something. Ronson, Emilie thought.

"Look around the room. Do you see the Taker-the man who called himself Jim?"

"The room's pretty full."

"Just look."

"He's beside me now. Out of nowhere."

"Tell me about him. What does he smell like? Is he wearing cologne?"

"Yes. Musky. Nice. He's asking me about the painting. I don't want to answer, but I can't help it."

"Why?" Kelsi prodded.

"He seems so genuine. Compelling. And no one ever cared about my interest in art. Just Meme."

"You said he wore a ring. Can you see it?"

The man's hands flashed in front of Emilie. Slender fingers. "It's silver with a dark stone. An onyx, maybe. Something on the stone, but I can't see it. He put his hand in his pocket."

"Is he wearing any other jewelry?"

"A watch. Silver. Expensive."

"How's he dressed?"

"Dark gray suit. Blue shirt, blue and yellow striped tie. Leather shoes, nice ones. He's got money."

"I want you to think about leaving the gallery," Kelsi said. "What did you do?"

"I got a cab. It was cold, and I didn't drive."

"Where did you go next?"

"A bookstore. Not a big chain store. Bauman's."

"The rare books store at the Palazzo?"

"Yes. They're expensive, but I like to browse."

"You're in the bookstore. Where do you go?"

Emilie saw the store's mahogany shelves lined with careworn books. She could smell the scent of the old paper. She browsed through the sections on her way to her favorite-poetry.

"I was sad that day. Missing Meme. She used to read me poetry instead of nursery rhymes.William Blake was my favorite."

Ronson was muttering again, but there was excitement in her voice this time.

"Do you find any of Blake's work?"

"Yes. A second edition of Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience. I have a copy, but it's a reprint."

"Emilie, I want you to concentrate. Focus on your surroundings. Who else is in the store?"

Her mind's eye searched the aisles of Bauman's. "A couple-tourists. A woman and her daughter who kept complaining about the old book smell. And a man..."

"What does he look like?"

"I can't see him very well. He just walked by. His head was turned."

"Tell me what you saw," Kelsi urged.

"Cropped hair, dark suit-gray, I think. Leather shoes. Nice cologne. Musky smelling."

The man stood in her peripheral vision, his back to her. He was tall, lanky. The suit fit him well. His skin was olive-colored, a spattering of gray in his hair.

"Emilie, look closely. Is this the man from the art gallery? Is this the Taker?"

"Yes."

Emilie walked out of Kelsi's office twenty minutes later. She shaded her eyes and searched her bag for her sungla.s.ses.

"Now we know how he knew about Blake." Ronson walked beside her. "He followed you from the beginning."

"How do we know the art gallery was the beginning?"

"The Taker is smart. He needed to make sure you were worthy of his time. The man was evaluating you."

"How could he have followed me so easily? I took a cab."

"He's experienced. This kind of thing excites him, but he keeps his cool. He probably took a cab toofollowed you directly out of the museum. You wouldn't have been paying attention. Where are you parked?"

Emilie pointed to her car. "We still don't know what set him off. And how does the bookstore help us?"

"We're going through the security footage from the art gallery. Bauman's has cameras too. Hopefully both keep their footage. Maybe we can get a match, or maybe he came back. An employee might remember him."

A scorching wind blew through the parking lot. Emilie's skin burned and the back of her neck was damp.

"Did I say anything else?"

"About the Taker?"

"No. About...anyone else."

"Your grandmother." Ronson stopped at Emilie's car. "And your mother."

Emilie's stomach clenched. "What did I say?"

"That Claire never loved you."

"Is that it?" Emilie could see her tense reflection in Ronson's sungla.s.ses.

"That's it."

She sagged against the car. The knot between her shoulders loosened. "Thanks."

"You did well in there. I know it wasn't easy."

"I hope I never have to do it again, though."

"I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

Emilie turned on the engine and cranked on the air. She didn't feel any different. She'd hoped for a sense of empowerment, like she was doing something to combat the Taker. But nothing had changed. It wouldn't as long as she sat around playing the damsel in distress.

After a long day of heat and relentless ultra-violet rays, the sun was finally fading into the distance. Cirrus clouds streaked across the sky, their feathery tips stained pink.

Nathan stepped on to the walking path and scanned the area for a now-familiar head of auburn hair. Emilie had asked him to meet her at Allegro Park, a popular Henderson spot. He should have said no. SWAT had a raid scheduled for 4:00 a.m. But he wanted to help her.

Stragglers still inhabited the park. A woman played Frisbee with a large black lab, and somewhere on the park's five acres a barbeque was going. A jogger ran past, then another. Nathan stepped out of their way and continued down the path. He kept an eye out for anyone fitting the Taker's description. Most of the trees in the park were Palo Verde and the brush was relatively spa.r.s.e, but there were always places to hide. Nathan didn't like Emilie being so exposed and alone.

He rounded the bend and saw her waiting on a wooden bench near a large flowerbed of native orchids and primroses. Her back was to him as she watched a colony of b.u.t.terflies flit around the flowers. Her hair was down around her shoulders. The dark green tank top set off her fair skin.

"Hey," he called out.

Emilie turned and smiled. Nathan's heart fluttered unexpectedly. He couldn't allow himself to fall for this woman. The reputation of the department came first.

"You really shouldn't be out here alone," he chastised as he took a seat next to her. Whatever fragrance she wore smelled like the warm summer night: blooming flowers, fresh-cut gra.s.s, and a sweet scent he couldn't describe.