Keep Me Safe(22)
“Do you know his name? Any identifying information?”
She threw him an impatient look. “Don’t you think if I knew how to find him that I would have already done so? I’d kill him myself and damn the consequences if it meant eradicating his presence on earth. I’d willingly spend the rest of my life in prison if it meant no more women had to suffer the torture he so loves to heap on his victims.”
He frowned. Not only at the utter conviction in her voice, but because he didn’t understand.
“But you were so specific when you gave me the information on how to locate my sister even though he too slipped from our grasp. It was a case of misfortunate timing, because the police burst in when her kidnapper had left for a short period of time, and with so many police surrounding the house, he would have been alerted to their presence if he tried to return.”
“He’s not like the others,” she said wearily. “I told you earlier that I think he may have psychic abilities of his own, but you probably think I’m crazy.”
Caleb held up a hand. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I believed in your abilities before I ever met you.” He hesitated before saying the rest, because his sister’s own psychic ability was a very closely guarded secret within his family. But he also felt it would go a long way in helping Ramie trust him. If he first offered her his trust.
“Tori has psychic gifts. It’s why I had no problem believing in yours. Though, even if I hadn’t been a confirmed believer you’ve been one hundred percent accurate in all of the cases you’ve assisted on.”
Ramie’s eyebrow shot upward. “Your sister is psychic?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. But let’s go back to why you think the guy stalking you is psychic.”
Ramie rose from the bed as if she couldn’t remain still a second longer. She mimicked his earlier actions, pacing back and forth, concentration marring her features.
“There’s no other logical explanation.” She laughed a dry, brittle sound that in no way reflected amusement. “What you don’t understand about my abilities—one of the many things you didn’t or don’t understand—is that my connection to the victim and their attacker doesn’t go away immediately.”
Caleb felt himself pale as blood leached from his face. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means that I maintain a connection to both killer and victim. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days. Or in the case of the man stalking me, the connection has never truly been severed.”
“Dear God,” he whispered, “so your torment goes long beyond what you initially experience. How in God’s name do you survive it?”
She shrugged as though it was no big deal, but Caleb knew better. He knew how long it had taken Tori to regain a semblance of her old self and she was still dealing with the aftermath an entire year later. And Ramie didn’t endure it once, like the victims she helped did. She went through it time and time again and now she was telling him that her link wasn’t severed when she rid herself of whatever article she touched in order to pinpoint a victim’s location?
It didn’t bear thinking about. How the hell had she survived this long without having a complete breakdown? But by all appearances she’d done just that eighteen months ago. And then so close on the heels of that, Caleb had appeared, dragging her right back into the hell she was so desperately trying to escape.
And then he understood what she wasn’t telling him or perhaps what he hadn’t understood until now. His eyebrows lifted, registering his shock.
“You still have an established link to him.”
She closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “I should say he has the link since obviously I can’t get a bead on his location. God only knows I’ve tried. But he’s tapped into my mind somehow. It’s why I think he’s psychic or has some extrasensory abilities. How else can you explain his uncanny knack for tracking my every movement? And the dreams . . .”
She shook her head, her lips tightening as she went silent.
“What dreams?” he prompted.
“He’s there in my dreams. But I don’t think they’re actual dreams. I think they’re reality. His reality. It’s his way of taunting me. Of never making it possible for me to forget, heal and move on. I wake up at night sweating and my pulse racing well over a hundred beats per minute. It’s why I suffer frequent panic attacks. He’s doing it to me. I’m certain.”
She grimaced as she checked for his reaction. Did she think he was going to discount her intuition? Or that he had doubts about her sanity? Neither was true. He believed her absolutely.