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abruptly, and she smiled. “Well, if you see blood on me, resist your instincts. Chances are, it’ll belong to somebody else.”
    “In Hastings, chances are it’ll be yours. Unless you want to color your hair for the duration.”
    “Wouldn’t help. He already knows.”
    “Knows what?”
    “He’s already seen me, Rafe. One of the clairvoyant bits I’ve picked up. I’m on his A-list.”

3
     
    G ODDAMMIT, YOU TOLD ME being bait for this bastard wasn’t the idea.”
    “It wasn’t the plan. It was always a possibility, of course, but it wasn’t the plan.”
    “Isabel—”
    “Besides, it isn’t that clear-cut. I said I was on his A-list, but I’m not next. He gets to know his victims before he kills them, Rafe. He doesn’t know me. Not yet. And he won’t come after me until he does. Or thinks he does.”
    “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
    She didn’t hesitate. “To catch this bastard? Yes.”
    Rafe took a step toward her. “Have you reported it to your boss? Does he know you’re on the A-list?”
    “Not yet. I’m scheduled to report in later today. I’ll tell him then.”
    “Will you?” His doubt was obvious.
    Isabel chuckled. “Rafe, our unit is made up of psychics. You don’t keep secrets, or withhold vital bits of information, when half the team can read your mind. Very few of us have been able to keep anything important from Bishop no matter how far away we were.”
    “Have you?”
    Isabel took a last look down at the ground where Tricia Kane had died, then started toward him with a slight gesture to indicate they might as well walk back to his Jeep. “I thought so once. Just after I first joined the unit. I thought I was being very clever. Turned out he’d known all along. He usually does.”
    Rafe didn’t say anything else until they were in the Jeep and he had turned the air-conditioning on full-blast. “The simplest thing to do,” he said, “is to have you recalled and somebody else sent down here. Somebody who won’t draw this bastard’s attention.”
    “The simplest thing,” Isabel said, “is not always the smartest thing.”
    “I am not going to stand by while you’re dangled on a goddamned hook.”
    “I told you, I’m not next on his hit parade. But somebody else is. Some woman is walking around in your town right now, Rafe, and a killer is stalking her. My partner and I are up to speed on this investigation. Bishop thought we were the best team to send down here, and his success rate,
our
success rate as a unit, is over ninety percent. We can help you catch him. Send me back, and the next team has to start from scratch. Do you really want to waste that time, especially when this killer is averaging a victim a week so far?”
    “Shit.” He stared at her grimly. “I’m taking a hell of a lot on faith here. This psychic stuff.”
    “At least you didn’t call it bullshit,” she murmured. “That’s usually the first reaction.”
    Ignoring that, he said, “I’m supposed to be okay with you being on our killer’s list because you assure me you aren’t
next
. That we have time while he stalks his next victim and, not incidentally, finds out enough about you to feel that he knows you. So he can kill you.”
    “That pretty much sums it up, yeah.”
    “Convince me. Convince me that this
clairvoyant
knowledge you have is genuine. That it’s something I can trust.”
    “Parlor tricks. It always comes down to parlor tricks.”
    “I’m serious, Isabel.”
    “I know you are.” She sighed. “You sure you want to do this?”
    Suddenly wary again, he asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Because the best way for me to convince you is to open up a connection between us and tell you things about yourself, your life, your past. Things I couldn’t possibly know any other way. You might not find that very comfortable. Most people don’t.”
    “Women are dying, Isabel. I think I can endure a little psychic reading.”
    “Okay. But when we speak of this