The Scargill Cove Case Files

to keep her voice calm and soothing. “Are you okay?”
    The woman gasped and turned quickly. “Who are you?”
    “This week I’m Annie. What’s your name?”
    “Sandra. What are you doing here?”
    “I don’t know. You tell me.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sandra sounded angry now.
    “You’re thinking of jumping off this roof, aren’t you?”
    “Don’t come any closer.”
    “Okay.” Isabella stopped. “I’d really like to help you, but we’re going to have to make this fast. I don’t have a lot of time.”
    “Got another appointment?” Sandra’s tone was utterly flat now. “Don’t let me keep you.”
    “The thing is there are a couple of guys downstairs who want to kidnap me.”
    “What on earth are you talking about?”
    Isabella inched closer. She was still too far away from Sandra to do what needed to be done.
    “They’re hunting for me as we speak. It won’t take them long to realize that I’m not coming out of the stockroom. It would be good if I could get off this roof before they find me.”
    “Two men are hunting you?” Sandra’s voice rose in disbelief. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
    “I wish.”
    “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    “Very.”
    “You’re probably on drugs. Did you stiff your dealer? Look, I don’t want to get involved, okay? I’ve got my own problems.”
    “No, honest,” Isabella said. “This has nothing to do with drugs. Ten days ago I stumbled into a very dangerous conspiracy. Someone set me up to take the fall. The real conspirators think I know too much. I’m afraid they may have murdered my grandmother because I told her about the scheme. And now they’re trying to kill me. Oh, damn, I really don’t have time for this conversation.”
    “Are you some kind of nutcase? One of those conspiracy freaks?”
    “That opinion has been floated occasionally.” Isabella edged closer. Almost there. Another couple of feet and she would be able to touch Sandra. All she needed was physical contact.
    “Stop,” Sandra said. “Don’t come any closer. I mean it.”
    Muffled footsteps sounded inside the nearby stairwell.
    “I think we just ran out of time,” Isabella said. “Here they come.”
    “Who?” Bewildered and distracted, Sandra turned her head toward the stairwell.
    “The killers,” Isabella replied.
    She pounced. Seizing Sandra’s wrist, she found a focus and pulsed some energy.
    Sandra’s face became expressionless. She stared off into the distance.
    Isabella yanked her behind the massive metal housing that shrouded the HVAC equipment. She pushed her down onto the rooftop. “Stay here. Don’t move and don’t say a word until I tell you it’s safe to come out.”
    Sandra did not respond. Isabella pulsed a little more energy and then released Sandra’s arm. The woman sat very still, her back against the metal housing, and gazed out into the night.
    The door of the stairwell slammed open. Isabella knew that there was no point trying to hide on the rooftop. The killers would conduct a thorough search.
    She moved out from behind the HVAC tower and looked at the figure that had just emerged from the stairwell. The hunter-talent didn’t see her at first. Moonlight and neon glinted on the small pistol in his hand.
    “Hi,” Isabella said. She waved.
    He turned toward her with preternatural speed, gun elevated.
    “Got her,” he called over his shoulder.
    His companion emerged from the same opening. He, too, gripped a gun.
    “Did you really think we wouldn’t find you?” the first man said. “You’re coming with us.”
    “I’m a little busy at the moment,” Isabella said.
    “No shit,” the second man said. “So are we. Wasted over a week trying to find you. The boss is not happy.”
    He moved forward and seized Isabella’s arm.
    The contact acted like a psychic electrical contact, making it possible for her to pulse energy directly into his aura.
    She got a focus and sent out a small blast of disruptive psi.
    “Get lost,” she said softly.
    The gunman went still for a few seconds. Then he turned and started to walk toward the edge of the roof.
    His companion stared. “What the hell? Hey, Rawlins, where are you going?”
    Isabella took a step toward the stairwell doorway.
    “Don’t move,” the man snarled. He lunged forward, grabbed her wrist and turned back to his companion. “Rawlins, have you gone crazy? Come back here.”
    Rawlins continued toward the edge of the roof as though captivated by