“Like the pleasure didn’t come with the death, but with what lay before,” I said. “The pain was the attraction. And once they were all used up, and there wouldn’t be any more reaction from them, they were no good anymore.” But that wasn’t quite right. Stuart’s comment about it being an experiment was closer to the thought I was trying to express.

Tolliver looked nauseated.

“That’s not what we’re getting from the other psychic,” Klavin said in challenge. “She says that the killer sat and watched for the moment of death, taking an ‘orgasmic’ pleasure from it.”

“Then Xylda’s probably right,” I said instantly. “I’m not a psychic, and she is. Or maybe…” But then I stopped. Both the agents were looking at me with that expression I knew so well. It said, as clearly as if they’d spoken out loud: Watch her. She’s going to back and fill and try to dovetail her imaginings with the story the other freak told us.

“Did you ever think,” I said very slowly, very reluctantly, “that there might be two killers?”

They were both goggling at me. I can’t interpret the living nearly as well as I can the dead. I’d done well with the two state agents so far, but I had no idea what their faces were saying now.

“That’s all I can tell you,” I said, and I got up to leave. Tolliver hastily got to his feet, too. “Can we leave town?” I asked. “Whenever we choose?”

“As long as you let us know how to reach you, you and your brother can hit the road,” Stuart said, in a tone that implied he’d be glad to see the back of us.

“I’m not her brother,” Tolliver said. He sounded as angry as if they’d been arguing about it for the previous hour.

Stuart looked surprised. “All right, then. Whatever,” he said, shrugging. “You two can go.”

I was so astonished by Tolliver’s outburst that I had to fumble to gather up my purse and follow him out. He almost left me in his cloud of dust. He proceeded clear on out of the station, with me trailing behind. With a little awkwardness with the doors, I was slowed down enough that I just reached him when he got to our car. He was standing with his hands on the hood, glaring down at the gray paint. The remaining newspeople were shouting at us, but we completely ignored them.

I had no idea what to say. I just stood there and waited. I would have gotten in the car, but he had the keys in his hand. The mist in the air began to get heavier, become almost-rain. I was miserable.