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  The neighborhood was in the dark. Not a single light shone from inside the houses.

  Dr. Paul pulled up to the curb in front of Sean’s car. I pushed opened the door, took a deep breath to quell the queasiness and pulled my crutches out of the back seat. Sam was by my side in an instant. I made a quick introduction to Dr. Paul and explained about the vision he’d had.

  “Why is there only one police car?” I asked.

  “The department’s spread thin with the brownout. There’s looting going on downtown.”

  Who cared about a couple of stolen TVs when Sean was missing? “Are there any witnesses?”

  “Not that we’ve found.”

  I glanced at him. “Do the police even believe that Sean’s been kidnapped?”

  His face paled. “The note helped convince them.”

  “Note?” I asked, swallowing hard.

  He motioned with his head for us to follow. He walked along Sean’s car toward the back window. He took out a pen flashlight and shone it onto a message written in red on the glass.

  FIND ME IF YOU CAN

  I sucked in a breath. “Is that written in blood?”

  “Yes,” Sam said.

  My knees buckled and Sam and Dr. Paul each grabbed onto an arm. They helped me over to the sidewalk and sat me on the curb.

  Tears filled my eyes and spilled over as they sat next to me, one on each side. I glanced at Sam, “Why is someone doing this to him? Why?”

  Dr. Paul cleared his throat. “Lucy?”

  Tears dripped off my cheeks as I looked at him.

  “It’s my feeling,” he said, “that this isn’t about Sean.”

  “Then who?” I asked.

  His gaze bore into me. “This is about you.”

  ***

  After spending hours at the police station, Sam drove me home while Dr. Paul went to the hospital to check on Preston. The morning sun was glowing brightly in a clear blue sky when I opened my front door. Thoreau came bounding out, and Sam said, “I’ll take him for a quick walk.”

  I filled food bowls as Grendel and Ebbie circled my feet, washed out their water dish, and tried not to fall apart.

  I would find him. I’d seen the smoke.

  Sam came back inside, flanked by two men dressed all in black. “It’s okay,” I said to them, not even bothering to make them say “fuzzy navel.” “He’s with me.”

  They nodded and disappeared out the door.

  “Who are the commandos, Lucy?” Sam asked.

  “A gift from a friend. Remember? He was sending over security to watch the house?”

  “Wasn’t quite the rent-a-cops I was expecting, but it’s assuring to know you’re in good hands. I’m going to go now.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  There was no place to go. Nowhere to look.

  “Curt Meister and I are going to go back to the scene and scout for more clues, ask more questions.”

  Curt Meister. I hadn’t wanted to rule him out as a suspect until Sam confirmed that Curt had been at the firehouse all night long, in the company of at least ten people who could vouch for him.

  I’d finally accepted the fact that Dr. Paul might be right.

  These fires were about me.

  Hurting the people I loved.

  Especially Sean.

  “You’ll call?” I asked.

  He nodded and gave me a hug. “Try to get some rest.”

  He was kidding, right?

  I watched him go. As soon as he was out of the driveway, I hopped around the house, gathering anything I could find of Sean’s. By the time I was done, there was a mountain in the middle of the living room. Thoreau yapped and brought me over a ball to throw as I sat down on the floor. I tossed it behind me and he took off.

  Piece by piece, I picked up Sean’s things and held the item between my hands and tried to get a reading.

  One by one, my hopes were dashed.

  “Come on!” I cried, picking up one of his books. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on Sean. On everything I loved about him.

  I saw nothing.

  With a scream, I threw the book across the room.

  Who was doing this to us?

  To me?

  Thoreau pushed his nose into my arm. I picked him up and cuddled him close. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  My cell phone rang, and I hurried to answer it. It was Dovie.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  “None,” my voice cracked on the word.

  “My love,” Dovie said softly. “My heart is breaking for you. Where are you now?”

  “At home. I don’t know where to look for him. He could be anywhere.”

  “What do the police say?”

  “They’re patrolling, but they have nothing to go on. Plus, all these brownouts now. The looting...”

  “And the fires.”

  “What fires?” I asked, shooing Ebbie out of the laundry area. I closed the bi-fold doors.

  “It’s all over the news. Dozens have fires have broken out across the city, set by the looters, they’re saying.”

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. Set by the looters? Or an arsonist?

  “Come to the hospital, LucyD. It’s better than being home alone, waiting.”

  I swallowed hard. I’d never felt so helpless. I wasn’t a wait-around kind of girl. “Okay,” I said. “How’s she doing?”

  “It’s worse than we thought, Lucy. It’s all still very much touch and go. Right now, the baby’s still alive. Preston was so severely anemic she had to get blood transfusions. Cutter is downstairs right now donating a pint.”

  My heart felt like it was breaking into pieces. “He made it, then.”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  She paused. “Not well. I think he really loves her.”

  I knew he did. “I’ll be there soon.”

  I hung up and hopped back to my pile of Sean’s things. I belly flopped on top of it, tears spilling from my eyes.

  All my anger, frustration, helplessness and desperation seeped out. I bunched up one of his shirts and put it under my head.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured his smile, his eyes when he laughed. The way he held me, touched me.

  The way he made me believe in love. In happily-ever-afters.

  I blinked and saw a baseboard running the length of a room. Wiggling, I rolled over, feeling the carpet beneath my arms, and realized I lying was on the floor.

  I sat up and looked around.

  What had just happened?

  I’d been seeing a scene through someone else’s eyes again. Sean’s?

  But how? I hadn’t been holding anything of his.

  I lay back down, closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus.

  I struggled to sit up, rolling this way and that, and I realized my hands and feet were tied. I lay back down and looked up at the ceiling, at the swirls. Then I looked left and right, at the bare walls painted a soft tangerine color.

  I sat up again, my heart pounding, and the vision was gone.

  How the hell was this working?

  I looked down at the pile I’d been laying on and picked up Sean’s shirt, which had been tucked under my head. I held it in my hands and concentrated as hard as I could.

  Nothing.

  Then I thought about the other visions I’d had... How there had been a matchstick on my pillow, and the bear next to my head.

  Slowly, I lifted Sean’s shirt to my face and breathed in the trace of his scent on the fabric.

  I rolled again, back and forth trying to get momentum. Finally, I was able to sit up. I looked around. At the walls, the desk, the chairs, the lamp.

  I drew the shirt away from my face. “Holy shit,” I cried. “He’s at the office!”

  I jumped up and held the shirt to my face again, breathing in, focusing.

  From the sitting position, I was able to stand up. I hopped over to the door, turned so that my hands tied behind my back could grab
the handle. It was locked. Using my shoulder, I rammed the door, but nothing happened.

  Throwing Sean’s shirt over my shoulder, I hopped over to the bassinet and picked up the pink bear. I held it to my face and breathed in, thinking about Bethany.

  I was on a swing, my feet kicked out in front of me as I glided through the air. “Higher!”

  Ohmygod, ohmygod.

  The visions were related to scents.

  I hopped back through the living room and into the kitchen for my cell phone.

  My heart sank at the scene before me. Ebbie had gotten back into the laundry area and dragged out several plastic grocery bags.

  They were shredded on the floor, and a piece hung out of her mouth.

  I dropped down next to her. “Tell me you didn’t eat the bags.”

  I quickly tried to put the bags back together, jigsaw-style, and it became obvious several chunks were missing.

  “Oh no. Oh no!”

  I tried to think fast. I had to get to Sean. But Ebbie... I dialed Marisol. She answered on the first ring. “Are you still at Dovie’s?”

  “Just getting ready to leave.”

  “Ebbie ate a plastic bag, can you come and get her? I have to go.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right there.”

  I hung up and looked at Ebbie. “Marisol will be right here. Don’t eat anything else.” I picked her up and placed her in the bassinet.

  I had to think quickly. What did I need to bring? In the vision, Sean’s feet had been bound with duct tape. I hobbled into the kitchen and rooted around until I found a small Swiss Army knife. I stuck it in my pocket.

  I wasn’t exactly schooled on what to bring when facing off with a potential arsonist, so I tried to think like Sean. What would he do?

  A gun.

  I knew he’d taken his with him last night, but he had a spare in a box under the bed. In my room, I dropped to my knees. My hand shook as I worked the combination dial lock and lifted the lid.

  I grabbed the small pistol, made sure it was loaded and stuck it in my purse.

  It had been a few months since I’d been to a firing range, but I had no doubt that I could handle the weapon. Especially if my and Sean’s lives were on the line.

  In the kitchen, I gathered up the shredded bags and stuffed them in the trash. I grabbed my car keys, my phone, my crutches, and made sure I had Sean’s shirt as I headed out the door.

  I’d call the police while on the road. Until then, I mentally prepared myself for the fight of my life. Because I knew that soon Sean and I would be together, surrounded by thick smoke.

  And where there was smoke, there was fire.

  And I was headed straight into it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Route 3 through the Weymouth and Braintree area wasn’t bad, but at the 93 North merge, it became bumper to bumper traffic. I’d tried calling the police several times but either my phone would lose its signal or the 911 number had a busy signal.

  As soon as I saw the Boston skyline, it was apparent why.

  Smoke plumed over the city, and it looked like something out of an end-of-the-world action movie. I half expected alien spacecrafts to swoop in and start firing.

  Unfortunately, with this scene there would be no director yelling “Cut!”

  The scent of the smoke drifted into my car even with the windows rolled up. Cars around me honked, and panic was quickly setting in. I turned on the radio and listened as broadcasters announced that the governor had declared a state of emergency. Millions were without power all across the state, cell phone towers were down, landline phones weren’t working, and looters had taken over many of the streets as dozens of fires burned out of control.

  This heat wave hadn’t only brought out the kooks, but every criminally minded resident of the city.

  Traffic inched forward. I tried to call Sam, but my cell phone showed no service. I tossed it on the passenger seat and beat my hand against the steering wheel. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

  Several T subway trains had stalled on the track, and I felt bad for those trapped within the cars. They couldn’t be let off—there wasn’t a safe place for them to disembark, and it had to be boiling hot on the train with no air conditioning.

  I glanced to my right and off in the distance, the water of Dorchester Sound glittered in the sunshine. With all my heart, I wished I had taken the ferry into the city. There would have been no traffic on the open water.

  Tears of frustration built in my eyes, and to keep myself sane, I pulled Sean’s t-shirt from my bag and held it to my nose.

  Through his eyes, I saw nothing at all.

  I tried to think what that meant and reasoned he was either sleeping or out cold or...

  No. I refused to go there. It was impossible, anyway. I’d seen us together in the smoke.

  I tucked the shirt back into my bag and angrily zipped my car into the breakdown lane. I’d gone about twenty feet before I realized everyone else and their brother had the same thought. This lane was just as jammed.

  Concentrating on taking deep breaths, I tried not to have a full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t very well walk into the city—not with my foot—but there had to be some way to get there.

  There was a marina in Dorchester that wasn’t too far away. I could probably limp my way there in an hour or so. Which was probably faster than I’d get there by car. Once there, I could offer to pay someone with a boat to take me to Rowe’s Wharf. From there it was a long walk to the office, but it was better than sitting in my car growing more and more frustrated.

  I gathered up my purse and pulled my car key off my keychain. I’d leave it in the ignition. If someone wanted to steal it, they had my blessing.

  I opened my car door and was just about to get out when in the rearview mirror I caught sight of a motorcyclist weaving in and out of the breakdown lane.

  A savior on a Harley.

  I jumped out. I glanced at my crutches in the backseat. There was no way they’d fit on a motorcycle. I left them where they were and started waving my hands in the Harley’s direction. When he didn’t look like he was going to stop, I jumped in front of his bike. Tires squealed as he braked.

  Lifting his visor, he scowled at me. “Jesus, lady! You have a death wish?”

  “A thousand dollars if you can get me to the Public Garden in the next half hour.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Show me the money.”

  I fished around in my bag for the envelope Dovie had given me. I flashed the cash.

  “Hop on,” he said.

  I crisscrossed my bag over my body, and slung a leg over his seat. The man in the car behind me started yelling that I couldn’t leave my car in the middle of the highway. I wanted to argue that the car was in the breakdown lane where it was perfectly reasonable for a car to sit unattended, but instead, I yelled, “The key is in the ignition!”

  The man’s wife, in the passenger seat, could take it. Keep it for all I cared.

  “Hang on!” my knight on shining Harley said, revving the engine.

  I latched on to his jacket and he zoomed off, toward the clouds of smoke hovering ominously above the city.

  ***

  The man dropped me right in front of the Porcupine. There were cars tipped upside down in the middle of the street, and several fires burned nearby.

  Miraculously, this neighborhood hadn’t lost its power, for which I was extremely grateful since my keycard to get into the building wouldn’t work without electricity.

  I handed over the envelope containing the money. “Can you do me one more favor?” I asked.

  Grizzled eyebrows slashed downward. “What’s that?”

  “Find the closest police department and report an abduction. Give them this address. Tell them the Beantown Burner is inside.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  He studied me.

  I said, “There’s another thousand dollars in it for you if you
do. I don’t have the cash on me now, but I’m good for it. I work here,” I said, pointing to the building. “Second floor. My name is Lucy Valentine.”

  Recognition flashed across his eyes. “The psychic?”

  I nodded.

  “My wife loves those articles about you written by...” He snapped his fingers.

  “Preston Bailey.”

  “Right. Can you do a reading on me? I lost my watch a while back...”

  “If you go to the police, I’ll find anything you lost. I promise. Just go. Please.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He took off.

  Now that I was here, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. What if the arsonist was inside, lying in wait for me?

  I could wait for the police, but I didn’t have the patience. Despite what Orlinda advised, I was going to have to leap before looking.

  I slid my keycard into through the reader and took a second to prop open the door. Everything inside looked the same as always. The cherry wood steps gleamed, and it was hotter than hell. I glanced up three flights of stairs. Nothing seemed amiss.

  My foot ached as I took the first step. I debated about taking the elevator, but with the brownouts, I didn’t want to risk getting caught inside. I’d deal with the pain.

  Slowly, I climbed the steps, my pulse pounding in my throat.

  I took one step at a time, trying to be as quiet as I could in case Sean and I weren’t the only ones in the building.

  When I finally reached the third floor landing, I nearly cried in relief. My foot throbbed and my nerves made me feel like I could jump right out of my skin.

  I pushed open the door to SDI and scooted inside, keeping my back flat against the walls. The reception area was empty except for a filing cabinet, a sofa and some chairs.

  In the hallway, I stopped to listen. I couldn’t hear much other than the beating of my heart. I hoped and prayed that the police were on their way. That my Harley rider had convinced someone to at least check out the building.

  Sam’s office door was wide open, but Sean’s was closed tight with a chair wedged under the door handle. I quickly removed it and turned the handle.