“Had to get away from Salem? But it’s what she needed, Danny. Because people were . . . were talking and pointing—”

“She lied at first. Said she just had an appointment in town. But she was all packed. She was all packed, and she knew I knew what she was doing. She was leaving me. I tried to get her to stay, but . . . She wouldn’t listen to me. And—and I got mad. But I would’ve listened if she’d said anything else. If she’d told me. I would’ve!”

“I know that, Danny. I know you would have cared. That you wouldn’t have hurt her if you’d known about the baby.”

“She never said. Not anything about a baby.” His voice suddenly rose higher. “But—I would’ve—I would’ve—”

They were just outside the door.

Now.

Bishop’s voice was clear in Nellie’s head. She instantly sent the signal to Tia, and in seconds heard a sudden, surprisingly loud roar of wings from the window.

Daniel made a startled, choked sound and was still turning toward the window, away from them, when the door of the bedroom slammed open. He couldn’t get turned back around before Bishop and DeMarco were on him.

He was quickly disarmed by DeMarco, but he was strong. Luckily, not strong enough.

Hollis stood by the bed, her gun held ready just in case, but turned her head slightly to look down as Finn and Nellie untied the cord cutting sharply into Aylia Blackwood’s wrists and ankles. She winced as circulation began returning to her hands and feet but kept her gaze on Hollis.

“Thanks,” she said in a voice that shook only a bit. “Thanks for telling me what to say to him.”

Hollis smiled suddenly, and it lit her face with warmth. “No problem,” she said. “Study enough of these guys and you learn what pushes their buttons. And what keeps them from totally losing it. I’m just glad to know that sometimes broadcasting comes in handy.”

EPILOGUE

The forecast storm finally hit Salem that evening, and though it was relatively quiet, snow fell heavily, large wet flakes that very quickly covered everything.

“You’ll all be snowed in for a couple of days,” Finn told Bishop. They were gathered in the large sitting room downstairs at Hales. There was a brisk fire in the fireplace, and they had the space to themselves.

“There are worse places to be snowed in,” Bishop told him. “And while we’re here we can help build the case against Daniel Dryden.”

Finn eyed him. “Appreciate that. But you know whatever defense attorney he gets is going to raise hell about that drug you’ve got him on.”

“Well, even though he clearly lacks the experience to be able to control his abilities with all the energy in the valley interfering, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t figure it out, given time. The drug will keep him from using his telekinesis to tamper with anything important,” Bishop said. “Like the lock on his cell door.”