Conn nodded in apparent approval. “Take as long as you need. There is magic on this island, in the place and in the people.
You should get to know them, Morgan. As much as you dismiss them, our future is linked with theirs.”
“Yes,” Morgan said slowly. He thought again of the boy on the sidewalk. He remembered the woman in the car with the
pale face and fierce voice.
I know you, he thought.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said.
4
MORGAN SLIPPED FROM THE SUN-DAPPLED ROAD into the parking lot, avoiding the clinic‟s front entrance. The
morning mist had burned away, leaving the air as bright and cool as crystal. Here he could not rely on vibrations in the water
or the plumes of scent that trailed his prey. But his hunting instincts were the same on land or in the sea.
Find a base of operations.
Focus on a single target.
Observe from a distance.
And when the victim was vulnerable, strike.
The dark blue vehicle sat in the shade behind the building. Locked. Morgan considered the sealed windows, the crumpled
yellow box with its protruding plastic straw on the floor of the back seat. He glanced toward the quiet street.
He might have enlisted Dylan in his search. But he disdained to ask the younger warden‟s help, especially for what might
be a fool‟s errand.
Besides, he hunted alone.
He had located her vehicle. Now he must find her.
He selected a heavy rock from the line edging the parking lot and smashed it into the left rear window. Glass cracked and
gave, a white spiderweb fracture spreading from the point of impact. A horn blared. Blared. Again.
Carefully, Morgan replaced the rock in the stone border. Dusting his hands, he walked around the building and through the
steel and glass doors.
A human stench compounded of age and disease, blood and antiseptic, rose from the carpet and slapped him like a rogue
wave. He froze. He had not considered his quarry could be sick. The thought caused an unexpected quiver in his belly.
His gaze passed over the rows of chairs, an old man with wrinkled hands and thick spectacles, a young woman with a child
on the floor and another in her lap.
His mouth compressed. He did not see her . The woman in the car. The one he was searching for.
He approached the counter, where a female in soft, pink, shapeless clothes with a soft, pink, shapeless face peered at a
screen. “Pardon me.”
She glanced up, her eyes widening. Her color deepened. He stood patiently, well aware of his effect on her sex and willing
to let it work for him.
“I, um. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I am looking for the owner of a dark blue vehicle parked behind this building.”
Her face creased. “A dark blue . . . The Honda? Why?”
“The window is broken,” he explained smoothly. “I noticed it as I walked by.”
“Oh, dear.” The faint suspicion vanished. Her frown cleared. “I‟ll let Liz know.”
“Liz,” he repeated, not quite making it a question.
“Dr. Rodriguez.”
Not sick, Morgan thought. Muscles he was not aware of tensing suddenly relaxed. She was a doctor.
“ I start med school in the fall, ” he thought he heard or remembered. “ Part of the plan. ”
“I would like to tell her myself,” he said.
“We-ll, I don‟t know . . .”
He held her gaze, granted her a smile. “Please.”
She looked away, flustered. “I‟ll, um, see if she has a minute.”
Picking up a folder marked with brightly colored stickers—HOP, he read—she bustled past a bank of metal cabinets into