CHAPTER ONE
Isabelle had never seen Mac so angry and, of all people, with Ben.
“I have thought about it,” Mac seethed, glaring across the gleaming wood of Ben’s desk. “And I say no .”
The call from Benicio Olivos, Assistant Director of the FBI in charge of the Los Angeles Field Office, had come as a surprise to Mac, but it had shocked Isabelle. Despite the fact that both she and Mac had helped to rescue his daughter from the serial killer known as the Chameleon, Ben had made it clear what he thought of psychics.
“Maybe Isabelle has an opinion,” Ben retorted and swung his stare to her.
When Ben’s secretary had called and asked for an appointment with the two of them, Isabelle had assumed they’d be confronted about their relationship. Special Agent Gavin “Mac” MacMillan’s work as an FBI profiler and hers as a psychic had placed them in an odd working association. But it wasn’t the work that the FBI minded. It was their personal relationship.
Isabelle looked at Mac’s rugged profile, the jut of his strong jaw, the dark, thick, short-cropped hair. Even under the suit and long-sleeved shirt, she could see the outlines of his powerful body, now rigid and tense.
They had come ready to talk to Ben about their relationship but Mac’s mentor and friend didn’t want to talk about them , he wanted to talk about her .
Isabelle opened her mouth to reply but Mac interrupted.
“Ben, I’m telling you,” Mac said, his jaw clamped tight. “This isn’t going anywhere. Isabelle is not going to be used as bait for the Chameleon.”
Bait , thought Isabelle. It’d sounded so much more reasonable when Ben had used the word ‘decoy.’
“You’ve said it yourself,” Ben said, sitting back in his chair. “Isabelle is his IVT. From the very beginning, he’s been fascinated with her. First, he demands she be brought back to one case, then he demands she participate in the next. Now, at a crime scene, he leaves a piece of paper with her name written on it.”
Though Isabelle knew that Mac would have included her reading of the stethoscope in his report, Ben would put no stock in that. The Chameleon had left it with a message that only she could see. As his last victim had touched the stethoscope, the Chameleon had told the young woman that Isabelle would be next. He was coming for her .
“I’m sorry,” said Isabelle. “IVT?”
“Ideal victim type,” Ben answered. “A brunette, petite, pretty.” He paused. “Like Esme.”
The resemblance between all the victims, including Ben’s daughter, Esme, hadn’t escaped Isabelle.
Ideal victim type.
Isabelle nodded.
“I’m not saying there isn’t risk,” Ben said to her. “You have to go into this with that understanding.”
She had seen the last ideal victim–her bloodless face and staring eyes. Isabelle had felt her pain and utter terror in reading the stethoscope. If anyone knew there was risk, it was Isabelle. Even now she only had to cast her mind back to the grisly scene of a few days ago to feel a mixture of nausea and dread.
But she’d also seen how Ben and Anita had suffered over their daughter’s abduction. Isabelle knew that all the families of all the ideal victims were dealing with loss and grief, no matter how long ago their loved one had disappeared.
And the Chameleon knows my name. How long will it take for him to find me?
Mac abruptly stood up.
“Stop it, Ben,” Mac growled. “I’ve said no.”
“But I say yes,” Isabelle said, looking up at him. “I have to.”
• • • • •
Mac stared down at Isabelle, dumbfounded.
This is not happening.
His hands immediately balled into fists.
“ Isabelle ,” he ground out slowly, the warning tone in his voice one step below rage.
“Listen to her,” Ben said.
Mac spun on him. Of all the people in the world, Ben should know better! He had even met Lynn! Mac couldn’t believe Ben would ask this of him.
“Clear your head,” Ben said to him as
Isabelle had never seen Mac so angry and, of all people, with Ben.
“I have thought about it,” Mac seethed, glaring across the gleaming wood of Ben’s desk. “And I say no .”
The call from Benicio Olivos, Assistant Director of the FBI in charge of the Los Angeles Field Office, had come as a surprise to Mac, but it had shocked Isabelle. Despite the fact that both she and Mac had helped to rescue his daughter from the serial killer known as the Chameleon, Ben had made it clear what he thought of psychics.
“Maybe Isabelle has an opinion,” Ben retorted and swung his stare to her.
When Ben’s secretary had called and asked for an appointment with the two of them, Isabelle had assumed they’d be confronted about their relationship. Special Agent Gavin “Mac” MacMillan’s work as an FBI profiler and hers as a psychic had placed them in an odd working association. But it wasn’t the work that the FBI minded. It was their personal relationship.
Isabelle looked at Mac’s rugged profile, the jut of his strong jaw, the dark, thick, short-cropped hair. Even under the suit and long-sleeved shirt, she could see the outlines of his powerful body, now rigid and tense.
They had come ready to talk to Ben about their relationship but Mac’s mentor and friend didn’t want to talk about them , he wanted to talk about her .
Isabelle opened her mouth to reply but Mac interrupted.
“Ben, I’m telling you,” Mac said, his jaw clamped tight. “This isn’t going anywhere. Isabelle is not going to be used as bait for the Chameleon.”
Bait , thought Isabelle. It’d sounded so much more reasonable when Ben had used the word ‘decoy.’
“You’ve said it yourself,” Ben said, sitting back in his chair. “Isabelle is his IVT. From the very beginning, he’s been fascinated with her. First, he demands she be brought back to one case, then he demands she participate in the next. Now, at a crime scene, he leaves a piece of paper with her name written on it.”
Though Isabelle knew that Mac would have included her reading of the stethoscope in his report, Ben would put no stock in that. The Chameleon had left it with a message that only she could see. As his last victim had touched the stethoscope, the Chameleon had told the young woman that Isabelle would be next. He was coming for her .
“I’m sorry,” said Isabelle. “IVT?”
“Ideal victim type,” Ben answered. “A brunette, petite, pretty.” He paused. “Like Esme.”
The resemblance between all the victims, including Ben’s daughter, Esme, hadn’t escaped Isabelle.
Ideal victim type.
Isabelle nodded.
“I’m not saying there isn’t risk,” Ben said to her. “You have to go into this with that understanding.”
She had seen the last ideal victim–her bloodless face and staring eyes. Isabelle had felt her pain and utter terror in reading the stethoscope. If anyone knew there was risk, it was Isabelle. Even now she only had to cast her mind back to the grisly scene of a few days ago to feel a mixture of nausea and dread.
But she’d also seen how Ben and Anita had suffered over their daughter’s abduction. Isabelle knew that all the families of all the ideal victims were dealing with loss and grief, no matter how long ago their loved one had disappeared.
And the Chameleon knows my name. How long will it take for him to find me?
Mac abruptly stood up.
“Stop it, Ben,” Mac growled. “I’ve said no.”
“But I say yes,” Isabelle said, looking up at him. “I have to.”
• • • • •
Mac stared down at Isabelle, dumbfounded.
This is not happening.
His hands immediately balled into fists.
“ Isabelle ,” he ground out slowly, the warning tone in his voice one step below rage.
“Listen to her,” Ben said.
Mac spun on him. Of all the people in the world, Ben should know better! He had even met Lynn! Mac couldn’t believe Ben would ask this of him.
“Clear your head,” Ben said to him as
Similar Books
