Blood Dreams by Kay Hooper

somehow. They communicate. They seem to think, to feel, just as they did when they were alive. Personality intact, as far as I can tell.”
    “And they stay like that?”
    “You mean indefinitely?” Hollis shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can tell you is that once we’ve closed a case, murderer caught or killed, I don’t see or hear the victims anymore. Another SCU member, a much stronger medium than I am, says some spirits choose to remain in that state to serve as guides, but not many of them. No idea why.”
    Before Jordan could do more than open his mouth to ask another question, the sheriff interrupted.
    “Jordan, I know you’re curious. Hell, I’m curious. But let’s get our priorities straight. If this is the same son of a bitch who tore through Boston last summer, we’re looking at more victims, and probably sooner rather than later.”
    “It’s the same killer,” Hollis said.
    “Okay, it’s the same killer,” the sheriff said. “So, why here? Why pick Venture as his hunting ground? This is a long way from Boston, and a small town makes it far less likely he can disappear into the crowd.”
    Dani shook her head. “He has to have some connection here, with someone or someplace. Something that drew him here. Isn’t that the only reason that makes sense?” There was an itch at the back of her mind that told her she had forgotten or overlooked something important, probably in her vision dream.
    Hardly surprising, that. But damned frustrating.
    “It’s certainly one of the few reasons,” Hollis said. “To ditch the anonymity of a big city for a small town, where strangers very likely get noticed, and quickly, is not exactly a smart move, especially if you plan to remain an active serial killer.”
    “Maybe he panicked,” Jordan suggested. “If you guys were getting close—”
    It was Hollis’s turn to shake her head. “No, the task force wasn’t closing in on him. But the media spotlight got awfully bright when Annie LeMott went missing, and brighter still when her body was found. Bishop believes that’s what drove the killer from Boston.”
    “It makes sense,” Marc agreed. “But Dani’s right. I doubt this bastard picked Venture by sticking a pin in a map.”
    Jordan said, “So I guess we’re looking for a connection.”
    “Which,” Paris said, “is not going to be easy when we have no concrete facts on this man.”
    “Not going to be easy.” Dani sighed. “Masterly understatement, I’d say, at least unless we’re able to pick up the right signs and follow this trail supposedly being left for us.”
    “That’s assuming there is a trail,” Jordan said, adding to Hollis, “No offense.”
    “None taken. I’ll be very surprised myself if we do find a trail. The universe is usually not so helpful.”
    “And why would a killer be?” Dani said to the room at large.

    M arie Goode, in addition to not being an especially fanciful woman, was also not a stupid woman. So finding a necklace that was not hers very late on Wednesday night in her supposedly safely locked-up apartment had sent her internal alarm bells jangling.
Especially
after the walk home and the creepy sensation of being watched and followed.
    So she had done what any rational woman would, under the circumstances, and called the police. And uniformed sheriff’s deputies came, and took her statement, and checked all her doors and windows for her, and carried away the necklace, saying they’d look into it and promising that a patrol car would cruise past her complex every hour for the rest of the night, just to make sure there was nobody lurking out there.
    That should have been the end of things.
    Marie had tossed and turned fitfully nevertheless, leaving lamps on in her living room
and
her second bedroom, plus the outside lights, and getting up at least three times to check the doors and windows again.
    By the time morning finally came, she was hardly rested, but it was a workday for her. She dragged herself