A touch of love (18 page)

"Yeah, it's never wise to attack an enemy on his own turf."

Aubrey opened the gate and held it for Jesse. "That wasn't what I meant," she told him. "His mistake was that he failed."

Shocked by the determined tilt to her chin, Jesse decided Helen Heffley had also made a grave tactical error. It was Aubrey, not he, who had the wild streak and needed to be reined in. Fortunately, he had already found an effective way to do it.

"What are you grinning about?" She paused beside his truck.

Jesse opened her door and waited for her to get in. "Nothing at all, sweetheart." Before he closed her door, he leaned in and kissed her soundly. "I should have done that earlier. You look awfully pretty this morning and I should have said so."

"Thank you. You look damn good yourself, but we're wasting time and if I end up sick again, I want to be able to get over it before tonight."

"Something good on TV?" Jesse asked as he slid into his place behind the steering wheel.

"Maybe, but I don't intend to watch it."

"Damn, but I love a woman who knows what she wants."

Aubrey responded with a knowing smile, but she wished he hadn't mentioned love. She refused to give what they shared such a tender name when it would be over as quickly as it began. Instead, for the present she would concentrate her energies on searching the Ferrells' house for clues, and pray she did not find anything too hideous to endure.

difference between having a suspect, and proving his guilt. I'm not sure this is the right approach, but it appears to be the only one we have, unless—"

Jesse noted Aubrey's pensive frown, and waited for her continue. When she didn't, he prodded her. "Unless what?"

"You mentioned you hadn't intended to use me as bait, but that's obviously what's happened, so maybe we ought to be playing that angle rather than searching for invisible clues at Pete's place."

"Oh no. Absolutely not." Jesse had to keep his eyes on the road sis he changed lanes to pass a crate-back truck, then shot Aubrey a glance laced with the same strident authority which rang in his voice. "I feel terrible about the danger I put you in unwittingly. To deliberately goad Harlan Caine is out of the question."

Aubrey adopted a forced calm. "You don't regard what we're doing as dangerous? After all, there have been people who've been so traumatized by witnessing the horror of death in an accident or wartime that they've never recovered. Now I'm willing to push whatever ability I might possess to the limit to pay Caine back for trying to kill us, but that doesn't mean I'm discounting the risk."

Ashamed that he had, Jesse apologized. "I'm sorry. You've gotten sick twice on my account and I'd not even considered that what you might find today could be a whole lot worse. I sure hope it isn't, but I should have considered it. You have every right to be nervous. I'm sorry I complained about the noise of your nails."

Aubrey reached over to grasp his thigh and felt his muscles tense beneath her touch. It quickly brought to mind how much she had enjoyed being with him last night. More than enjoyed, really, but she was at a loss for the correct superlative. "Hush. For all we know, I might not sense anything, and this trip will be a total waste of our time."

An Alan Jackson tune came on the radio and Jesse turned up the volume slightly. Women had told him that he resembled the tall, blond singer, but Jesse couldn't see it. 'Til stay with you," he promised. ''I should have thought to bring a tape recorder. Then even if the police won't accept your impressions as evidence, you wouldn't have to repeat them endlessly."

Aubrey leaned down and rummaged through the purse she'd set between her feet. In a moment, she withdrew a palm-sized tape recorder. "I grabbed this from my office on the way out. I don't use it anymore because Gardner is always there to record my sessions, but I thought using it would be easier than relying on memory."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I admire your intelligence?"

"I believe that was one of the few things you overlooked last night."

Jesse winked at her. "Then I'll be sure to mention it tonight."

Aubrey hoped she would feel up to making love again, then rushed to distract herself from the possibility that she might not. "When I was growing up, I'd often guess what a gift contained before I'd unwrapped it. It was merely a game, but I was usually right. Of course, the size of the box limited the possibilities and was in itself a strong clue. I got so good at it I finally had to stop announcing my guess because whoever had given me the present would be disappointed that it wasn't a surprise."

"If that's the case, then I was wrong aboutyour acquiring the ability to sense information. You've always possessed the talent."

"Yes, but without positive reinforcement, I didn't pursue it. Now it seems a shame. Then again, perhaps I'm making too much of it."

The wistful lilt to her voice stirred Jesse's conscience,

but they were in too deep to simply turn around and go home. He reminded himself that they weren't safe even there with Harlan Caine's sinister intentions—if it really was Harlan Caine who was the culprit. If he wasn't, then Jesse would be at a complete loss for what to do.

By the time they reached the Ferrells' home, Aubrey was eager to get the ordeal over with. She bounded out of the truck without waiting for Jesse to help her and then remembered the woman who lived next door. "Roberta Smaus called the newspaper the last time we were here and that visit was more innocent than this. Do we dare alert her to our presence again?"

Jesse took hold of Aubrey's arm as they moved through the gate. "No. There's nothing illegal about our being here and I don't want to provide anyone with more photo opportunities. Let's hope we can come and go today without causing a ripple of notice."

"Stay with me," Aubrey urged.

"Don't worry. I won't stray." Jesse had the key ready when they reached the front door.

They had come through the service porch on their first visit, and Aubrey paused in the entryway. The house was chilly despite the warmth of the day, and the air uncomfortably still. She swallowed hard, and pressed the button to start the tape recorder. "The house seems undisturbed since we were here on Sunday. Because Marlene meant to boil water for spaghetti, I'd like to begin in the kitchen."

The family room was on the left, but Aubrey walked right through it to reach the kitchen. Only a cooking island separated the two rooms, and while the family room's furnishings were draped with sheets, she could easily envision Marlene working in the kitchen and talking with her sons while they were doing their homework in the adjoining room. "Let's uncover everything, so we can see it exactly as it was the last time the Ferrells were here."

"Makes sense to me," Jesse agreed, and he began pulling the sheets from the comfortably worn maple sofa, chairs, and low coffee table. The television set was recessed into a wall unit, but it had also been covered, and he pulled away the sheet. Not really knowing what to do with the bundle of linens, he carried them out into the entryway and dropped them on the glossy tile.

Aubrey stood at the stove, set down the tape recorder, and then gingerly rested her hands on the counter. "I don't feel anything yet," she revealed sofdy. "Give me a minute or two."

"Take all the time you need."

Aubrey closed her eyes. On Sunday, she had not merely been apprehensive about the wisdom of their mission, but angry with Jesse for kissing her. She had been horribly uncomfortable, but now she wondered if she hadn't been reacting to her own foul mood rather than responding to any possible distress the Ferrells might have suffered.

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Perfecdy relaxed, she welcomed whatever sensation might come, but when the wait grew tiresome, she looked up at Jesse. "I don't feel anything, but let's tour the whole house, and maybe something will strike me." She picked up the tape recorder.

Jesse preceded her into the dining area at the end of the formal living room and again whisked the sheets from the furniture. The house was decorated throughout in a cozy Early American style with braided rugs and a liberal use of maple and tiny prints in shades of wine and blue. Marlene had loved to needlepoint, and there were attractive examples of her work on decorative pillows heaped on the sofa. Currier and Ives prints were featured on the walls, along with Aububon's magnificent birds.

"It looks as though there was a great deal of love here." Audrey picked up a handcrafted pillow from the sofa and

pressed it to her chest. "Perhaps that's what's lingered here, Jesse, rather than the frightful evening they all disappeared."

Jesse felt only the chill, and wished he had worn his jacket. "Are you cold?"

"A little, but it's all right." Aubrey replaced the pillow with a gentle pat, then turned toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. She spoke clearly into the small tape recorder. "I'm facing the wing with the bedrooms. This is as far as I went the last time."

"I remember." Jesse kept his distance so as not to difr-tract her. "Marlene's and Pete's room is to the left. The boys' rooms are on your right."

Aubrey entered the master bedroom and helped Jesse remove the sheets covering the bed and dresser. Photographs of the family had been displayed on the dresser, but were now turned face down. She set the tape recorder down again and reached for the first frame. When she turned it over, she found two giggling infants in sailor suits. Her eyes flooded with tears, and she quickly replaced the photo on the dresser.

"I'm sorry, but I can't look at the other photographs. It's simply too sad." She crossed to the bed and sat down on the quilted spread. "There are people who die in natural disasters, or plane crashes, and random accidents wipe out entire families in an instant, but this crime is almost beyond imagining."

Seated with her shoulders slumped, Aubrey projected such an anguished mood Jesse couldn't bear it. "Come on. Let's get out of here. I can see what this is doing to you, and it just isn't worth it." He unfurled the sheet he had pulled from the dresser and hastily recovered it.

"What's a few minutes of discomfort compared to what the Ferrells suffered, or what Caine tried to do to us?"

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