The Missing

her with the impression of a deep rage and a conviction that could only come from the mind of the truly insane. Her mind tried to hold on to that little bit of knowledge. There was something important there—something very important. But she couldn’t focus.

    Couldn’t see. Smoke obscured her vision, and heat stung her skin. She tried to take a breath, and it choked her. The underlying stink of gasoline filled her nostrils, and she gagged.

    “Taige.”

    The sound of Cullen’s voice was the sweetest damn thing, and she turned toward it, tried to reach out. Reached out—and he touched her. She felt his hand land on her shoulder, and he shook her. Feeling a little bewildered, Taige opened her eyes and rubbed them. Still the smoke burned.

    Damn, am I still under? she thought. She breathed in and tasted the acrid bite of smoke in her throat.

    But it wasn’t the remnants of a vision. Smoke hung in the air, and the direction of the wind carried it to them as Cullen pulled to the side of the road. Off to the left was the pitted, sorry excuse for a road that led to the cabin. The road no longer looked abandoned, and Taige couldn’t even begin to guess how many agents had been out here, how many forensics teams had gone over every inch of land.

    Right now, though, it wasn’t the FBI trekking over the rough road. It was a line of fire trucks, ambulances, and several black and tan county sheriff cruisers. Up on the mountain, just barely visible above the tree line, was a flickering orange glow.

    Just as she’d seen in her vision, the bastard had set the cabin on fire.

    He’d been here not long ago.

    Part of her wanted to hope that maybe he’d been caught.

    But Taige was a realist. He wasn’t here.

    Her Bureau ID got her and Cullen past the line of officials. There weren’t a lot of gawkers, not this far out of the way. A few questions revealed that a father and son had been hunting and seen the flames. Dry as the summer had been, if they hadn’t called it in when they did, the fire would have presented a serious hazard. Even now, it looked like the firefighters were going to have one hell of battle keeping the fire from spreading.

    Sirens split the air again. As one, Taige and Cullen turned to watch another truck come screeching up. “We need to go,” she said softly. “We’re just in the way here.”

    “But . . .”

    Taige glanced at Cullen and shook her head. “There’s nothing here for me, Cullen. If there was, I’d know.”

    Somehow, her man had slid right past her, and just as before, he’d left behind nothing of himself.

    Eyes burning from the smoke, Taige turned away. Cullen fell into step beside her. They wound their way through the mass of rescue personnel and law enforcement. A few people tried to intercept them, but Taige flashed her ID from the Bureau, and they grudgingly stepped out of her way, usually with a muttered warning, “Stay out of the way.”

    After the fifth time, Taige swore. “Damn, it ain’t like I’m up here trying to throw a party.”

    And that earned her an irritated, territorial look. Get the hell out, was the general consensus. These people didn’t want her here, but Taige honestly didn’t give a damn. She wasn’t too thrilled to be there, either. And then it got worse. Somebody recognized her.

    Although she’d tried to avoid it, somebody had connected her to Jillian’s rescue. Old pictures of her had been dug up and plastered across several major papers, and she’d had to dodge a couple of reporters back home. Word spread as fast as the fire was spreading, and she felt the change in the air, going from disgruntled territorial macho crap as the firefighters and cops thought the FBI was intruding, to curiosity, mixed with a little bit of outright hostile disbelief.

    No thoughts were clear, but that wasn’t unusual for her. Awful of her, but at that moment, she was glad the fire raged on, because it kept most of the people too damn busy to come up and pester her. It also kept them from staring at her. For the most part. She could see or feel several different gazes on her, measuring, evaluating.

    It added to her already strained state of mind, and trying to block it out was getting harder and harder. Her control was always weaker when she was tired, and she had passed the point of tired a long way back.

    Halfway to the car, the exhaustion snuck up on her, and she tripped, stumbled. Cullen caught her right arm and steadied her. Another hand