Stealing Shadows

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"Talk to me, Cassie."

She was all but motionless in the straight-backed chair, head bowed so that her hair hid her face. Only her hands stirred, thin fingers lightly tracing and shaping the red tissue petals of the exquisitely handmade paper rose in her lap.

"I think… he's moving," she whispered.

"Where is he moving? What can you see, Cassie?" Detective Logan 's voice was even and infinitely patient, betraying none of the anxiety and urgency that beaded his face with sweat and haunted his eyes.

"I… I'm not sure."

From his position a few feet away, Logan 's partner spoke in a low voice. "Why's she so tentative with this one?"

"Because he scares the shit out of her," Logan responded, equally quietly. "Hell, he scares the shit out of me." He raised his voice. "Cassie? Concentrate, honey. What does he see?"

"Dark. It's just… it's dark."

"All right. What is he thinking?"

She drew a shaky little breath, and those thin fingers trembled as they held and traced the paper rose. "I – I don't want to… It's so cold in his mind. And there are so many… shadows. So many twisted shadows. Please don't make me go any deeper. Don't make me touch them."

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