Hemlock Bay

and we’re going to get her. We have the advantage here because we control the scene. We can act and plan, we can be ready for her, not just wait to react to something she does.”
    He held her tightly. He wondered if she could smell his fear, there was such a huge well of it. Savich kissed her and hugged her until she squeaked. “We’ve got to be ready for her, Sherlock, and I’ve got some ideas about that. I’ve been thinking about this for a good while now.”
    “Like what?” she asked, pulling back, looking up at him.
    “She has the power to create illusions, to make people see what she wants them to see. Whether it’s some kind of magician’s trick or a strange ability that’s inside her sick brain, the end result is the same.”
    He let her go and began pacing. He looked at his grandmother’s painting over the fireplace, then turned and said, “You believe that she can’t fool me if I’m close enough to her. If we can get her here in the house, I’ll be close enough.”
    He came back to her, smiled down at her while he ran his fingers through her curly hair.
    “Kiss me, Dillon.”
    “Can I do more than just kiss you?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “Good. Dinner can wait.”
    All the world can wait, Sherlock thought, as she held him to her. “After dinner, I want us to go to the gym. It’ll relieve all the stress.”
    “You got it. But if you have much stress after I’m through with you, I’ll have to reassess my program.”
    And he laughed, actually laughed.
    Gothenburg, Sweden

    Bloated clouds hung low, blotting out the moon and stars. They would bring rain, perhaps even snow, before the night was over.
    Simon was sitting low in a small boat, his hands tied behind him. Alpo was rowing and Nikki was beside him, the gun pressed against his side. In a boat trailing them were Ian Jorgenson and a small man Simon hadn’t seen before who was rowing.
    The canal was wide, the town of Gothenburg on either side casting ghostly shadows in the dark light. There was just the rippling of the oars going through the water, smooth and nearly soundless.
    The canal twisted to the right, and the buildings became fewer. There were no people that Simon could see.
    He very nearly had the knot on his hands pulled loose. Just a few more minutes and his hands would be free, and a little more time after that to get circulation back into his hands and fingers.
    If he had just a bit more time, he had a chance. But the buildings were thinning out too much. They could kill him at any time without worry.
    He worked the knot, rubbing his wrists raw, but that didn’t matter. His blood helped loosen the strands of hemp.
    “Stop!”
    It was Ian Jorgenson. His small boat pulled up beside theirs.
    “Here. This is fine. Give me the gun, Nikki, I want to put a bullet through this bastard. Then you can put him in that bag and sink him to the bottom.”
    Simon could feel Nikki leaning toward Ian to give him the gun. It was his last chance. Simon jumped up, slammed against Alpo, and dove at the small man in the other boat. Both boats careened wildly, the men shouting and cursing. As Simon hit the water, he heard a splash behind him, then another.
    God, there was nothing colder on earth than this damned water. What did he expect? He was in Sweden in November, for God’s sake. He wondered how long he had before hypothermia set in and he died. He didn’t fight it, just let himself sink, quickly, quietly, trying not to think of how cold he was, how numb his legs felt. He had to get free or he would die, from the frigid water or from a bullet, it didn’t matter. He worked his hands until he hit the bottom of the canal, twisted away from where he thought the other men were. He swam as best he could with only his feet in the opposite direction, back down the canal, veering toward the side, back to where there was more shelter and a way to climb out of the water.
    He was running out of breath and he was freezing. There wasn’t much more time. There was no hope for it. He kicked upward until his head broke the surface. He saw Nikki and Ian both in the water, speaking, but softly, listening for him. Damn, his hands weren’t free yet.
    He heard a shout. They’d spotted him. He saw Alpo rowing frantically toward him. He didn’t stop to get Ian or Nikki out of the water, just came straight toward Simon.
    At last his hands slipped free from the frayed hemp. He felt his blood slimy on his wrists, mixing with the water. It should have stung like