But that wasn’t going to happen, and I wouldn’t wish telepathy on my worst enemy. If I’d been psychic…well, after seeing the havoc even a mild gift had wreaked in Xylda’s life, and seeing how isolated Manfred felt, I didn’t want that, either. My own talent was so focused, so specific, that its use was very limited. And I’d passed the limit here in this little foothill town.

When we were through, we left out of the same door we’d entered, but in the meantime the newspeople had spotted our car and camped around it. Tolliver put his arm around me and we bulldozed through them. Even though my arm was in a cast and there was a bandage on my head, it was hard to get them to move aside. Maybe we’d been dodging them too much, and it had made them more determined to “get” us.

I could swear I recognized one newscaster. Then I realized I had seen him on a national news network. “Have you ever found that many bodies in one place before?” he asked. It was such a pertinent question, and exactly what I’d been thinking about, that I said, “No, never. I never want to again.”

The others started screaming louder. If I’d answered one question, I might answer more.

But then he made a huge mistake—he asked a “How did it feel?” question.

Those I won’t answer. My feelings are my own.

After a few seconds of struggle to get the door open, of falling inside the car, buckling my seat belt, and locking the door, I was safe from more questions, and then Tolliver tumbled in the driver’s door and got himself ready to drive. He put the car in gear and the knot of newspeople relaxed and spread apart to allow us to leave.

It was lucky for us they all stayed close to the police station, hoping for more tidbits from the police or the SBI agents. We were able to get to Twyla’s house by ourselves. Twyla’s car was the only one in the garage. I wondered how long it would be before she got to bury her grandson. And then there’d be the trial and all the surrounding publicity. Jeff McGraw wouldn’t get to rest in peace for years, at least in the minds of his family.

Tolliver pulled in behind Twyla’s car, left ours in park with the engine on, and scrambled out with the key to the cabin. He didn’t say a word. Maybe he was afraid that if he said something, I would, too; I’d change my mind about leaving.

A car pulled in behind us as I waited. After a second, someone knocked on the window. I pressed the button to roll it down. Pastor Doak Garland stood there, as pink and innocent a man as I’d ever seen.