Before he could argue, she slid her fingers into his and squeezed, for the first time offering him the comfort she’d been provided time and time again. She marveled at the fact she could touch him when she was unable to touch anyone else without enduring unspeakable pain. She had to be strong and grow a spine instead of being a pathetic excuse for DNA. For whatever reason, God had given her a special . . . ​gift? She wouldn’t go that far, but she’d been given this ability and it was time to use it to her advantage.

“He said too late when earlier today Dane made the comment, a few more minutes won’t make a difference if he’s already moved on to his next victim.”

Caleb’s eyes widened in shock and then they darkened as he glanced between Dane and Eliza.

“He’s already found his next victim,” Ramie said softly. “Or at least he’s actively acquired a new target. I suspect he’s out there right now, stalking an unsuspecting woman; perhaps he’s already put his plan into motion. If he holds true to his pattern then he’ll call it in. He’ll want me to know. And he’s going to continue to punish me by accumulating victim after victim until I finally break.”

Caleb shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You won’t break,” he said with conviction. “That’s where he’s mistaken and hopefully that’s where he’ll make his mistake by coming after you.”

A halfhearted smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I wish I was as confident as you are about me not breaking.”

“I won’t let you break,” he said softly, his hand clenching around hers with a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll never have to worry that no one loves you. You’ll never be alone again if I have anything to say about it.”

The utter conviction in his tone, the love, warmth and worry in his eyes gave her a surge of confidence.

He fused his mouth to hers, utterly ignoring the other occupants of the room. It was exquisitely tender. So very precious and sweet as though she were utterly treasured. She sighed into his mouth and he swallowed her breath before she took it back. A discreet cough sounded and Caleb stiffened. He turned and slashed a withering stare in the artist’s direction.

“You can leave now,” Caleb said tersely. “If the sketch is done, Dane will show you out. We’ll handle the rest.”

The artist rose as if he couldn’t wait to be out of Caleb’s house. He shoved his sketchpad and pencils into his bag and then hurried for the door, not waiting for Dane to lead the way.

Caleb turned his attention back to her. He slid his thumb over her cheekbone, his touch warm, a balm to her frayed nerves.

“He’ll call it in like he did the last one,” Ramie said. “This time we’re expecting it so our reaction time should be faster. Maybe that will give us an advantage in locating him before it’s too late.”

Caleb swore and her hand fell away from his as he paced the living room floor between her and where Eliza sat.

“He can’t touch her here,” Eliza said. “Here is the very best place for her to be if she’s going to trace a link back to the killer.” She hesitated a moment and then rested her gaze on Ramie. “I’ve been doing some research on psychic abilities. Most of it hypothesized, mind you, since there aren’t any documented cases of mental telepathy or pathos, but one researcher theorized that it was possible for someone who taps into the mind of another to then establish a more permanent link. Which is, as I think you’ll both agree, precisely what our killer has done with Ramie.”

“What are you getting at?” Caleb asked.

Ramie remained silent, mulling over Eliza’s words. She had a good idea where the other woman was going with this and it infuriated her that she herself had never thought of the possibility before. But to analyze her abilities meant embracing them in some small measure, and Ramie had never even come close to acceptance. She’d spent her life fighting the very demons that may well save her now.

“I’m suggesting that since he and Ramie share a mental pathway and that he’s able to project inside her mind to glean information . . . ​that she can do the same to him.” Eliza watched Caleb closely, no doubt concerned about his reaction. But instead of a volatile outburst, he turned, looking inquisitively at Ramie.

“Can you do that?” he asked, skepticism written all over his face.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve never tried. I’ve never wanted to try. I’m able to establish a mental pathway to the victim by touching something that belonged to her so it stands to reason that I’d be able to tap into him doing the same.”

Caleb blew out his breath and shook his head. “And that’s the catch. You can’t very well track him when you have nothing he’s touched.”

“Not so fast,” Eliza murmured.

Caleb’s head shot up and his brow wrinkled as he stared back at Eliza.

Eliza fiddled with a pencil the artist had left and then she slid the drawing closer to her, studying it intently.

“I don’t know how it would affect her,” Eliza said after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s not like we have case histories or actual research to back us up. The conversations and speculation center on a what-if scenario and pose the question what if a person had a specific psychic gift, which of course we all know to be factual even in the absence of actual proof. But what if she visited the crime scene? If he keeps the same MO then he will have left an item belonging to the victim at the scene of the crime, his invitation or perhaps challenge to Ramie to come after him. Which also means he was there and touched something in the vicinity. No one can be that careful not to leave a single trace behind. And Ramie doesn’t need a tangible object. She’s able to collect information when she touches someone or touches something another person came in contact with.”