Sandy drove straight to the site of the old well. It was in a huge empty field. She immediately called 911, and the boy was saved. Luckily, it turned out that the well was dry. But the child had been very close to death.
That case brought her face-to-face with gruff Detective Sam Kennedy for the first time. Sam did not believe in psychics. He did not believe in visions. And he certainly did not believe in “second sight.” But Sandy's abilities eventually won him over.
The thing that impressed Sam was that Sandy would take no money for her work. “It's a gift that's meant to be shared,” Sandy said. “I can't charge the people I help. Most of them are scared out of their wits, Sam. They've lost a loved one. I won't take advantage of desperate people.”
There were a lot of cases Sandy wouldn't touch. She wouldn't help anyone who wanted to win money or hurt other people. Sam respected that. Over time, he had grown to know and respect Sandy as a person. They had become good friends.
Thinking about Sam brought Sandy back to the present. While she dried her face with a paper towel, she thought about the stranger in the observation room. She needed to know just who was watching her. And even more than that, she needed to know why Sam hadn't told her about it. Why was he cooperating with the stranger?
“It doesn't make sense,” she thought, as she ran a comb through her short brown curls. “Sam really wanted me to find that little girl. He knows the way I work. Why would he hide someone in that observation room to spy on me?”
Maybe it was a cop from another precinct. But why wouldn't Sam have introduced them first? It couldn't be a reporter. Sam knew how much Sandy hated publicity.
“Something is going on,” Sandy thought. “Sam knows about it and he doesn't like it.”
Again, in a flash, the vision of the old barn came into Sandy's mind. It made her feel cold and scared. Then the vision disappeared. For a moment, feeling sick and weak, Sandy clung to the washbasin. Bit by bit, she forced herself to calm down, to focus on who she was and where.
When she felt stronger, Sandy left the restroom and headed down the hall. As she got closer to the door of the observation room, she couldn't shake the feeling of that dark presence. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She grabbed the doorknob. But when her fingers touched the metal, Sandy cried out. It felt like a jolt of electric current had passed through her body!
At that moment, the door to the interrogation room opened. Sam stepped into the hall and looked at her curiously. “Hey, Sandy, what are you doing?”
She gazed at him blankly. Should she tell him about the shock she'd had when she touched the doorknob? She decided not to. “Oh, wrong door,” she said. She tried to laugh, but the sound came out more like a gasp.
Sam frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked in a concerned voice.
“I—”
“Kennedy, phone call!” a young cop yelled from a doorway at the end of the hall.
Sam grabbed Sandy's hand and pulled her after him. “Come on. This may be it,” he said.
In the office, he took the phone. “Kennedy,” he snapped.
While he listened, Sandy held onto the doorframe. For some reason, she was numb! She had no feelings one way or another, and she didn't understand why.
Sam turned. There was a wide grin on his face as he put his hand over the receiver. “They found the kid. She was plenty scared, but she's going to be okay,” he said.
Sandy dropped into a chair. It was always a relief when the news was good.
Sam hung up. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Boy, that was a close call,” he said. “I always worry myself sick until we find out for sure.”
Sandy nodded. “Me, too,” she said. “You never know. What if I'm too late? Or what if— By the way, Sam, what was in the brown envelope?”
“I forgot about the—” Sam started to sweat again. “I'd better go get—” He bolted from the room.
Sandy tore down the hall after him. She had had enough of this. “Sam, what is up with you today?” she demanded.
He stopped so suddenly that Sandy almost ran into him. When he opened the door of the interrogation room, Sandy peered around him.
A stranger was standing by the table, holding the envelope. The man looked straight at Sandy. His gaze chilled her. She felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice into her face.
No, she thought a moment later, it was worse than that. There was a feeling of darkness about the stranger—but the darkness was inside him. It was the only kind of darkness that terrified Sandy.