“Most people at headquarters are careful not to voice that theory aloud,” North said. “But the assumption is that there was some sort of violent confrontation between Victor and Lucas and the Rancourts. Victor and Lucas survived. The Rancourts did not. No one seems to think that was a bad outcome.”

“Okay, I get that. But why would Loring care about the Rancourts?”

“Good question.” North looked at her. “Remember that one small, interesting detail about the explosion that I mentioned?”

“Only one body was recovered—Stenson Rancourt’s. Harlan’s body was never found.”

“If Harlan were alive he would be about Loring’s age. Let’s get out of here. We’ve got another stop to make tonight.”

“Where is that?”

“The Riverview Psychiatric Hospital.”

Sierra followed him to the door. “We’re going to break into the hospital? That sounds awfully risky.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I told you, the security there is decent but not exactly state of the art. It’s not like there are a lot of armed guards around the place.”

“Just some really big orderlies.”

“Who will probably be asleep.”

They moved outside and paused under the eaves. The storm was at full throttle. It charged the night with energy that spanned the spectrum from normal to paranormal. The wind-driven rain caused the limbs of the trees to creak and moan.

“We’ll stick to the center of the driveway,” North said. “We don’t want to risk getting struck by a falling branch. I’ll go first. Stay close.”

Sierra pulled up the hood of her parka. She had to hold it in place with one hand because the stiff wind threatened to blow it off. The rain lashed her face. North settled a baseball cap on his head and went down the steps. He headed off into the wet darkness, using the narrow beam of a penlight to navigate.

At least they didn’t have far to go, Sierra reflected. The SUV was parked in the trees a short distance down the road. North had chosen the location because the vehicle wouldn’t be seen by a passing motorist—not that there were many of those out at this hour.

The violent energy of the storm excited all of her senses but it also distracted them. She did not pick up the vibe of the man who leaped out from the cover of the side of the house until he wrapped an arm around her throat. He hauled her back against his big body.

“I got her,” he shouted.

Sierra fought a wave of nausea. The heavy jacket her captor wore offered a lot of protection but she could feel his unwholesome vibe all the way through the fabric.

“I really do not like to be touched by strangers,” she said.

“Tough, bitch,” the man growled.

She felt something sharp at her throat and realized he had a knife in one hand.

The beam of a flashlight suddenly speared the night.

“That’s far enough, Chastain,” Ralph said. “One more move and Joe will slit her throat.”