Season of Strangers by Kat Martin Page A

guess if that’s the best you can do, it’ll have to be good enough. I’ve got a couple of properties to show on Saturday morning. If I’m not home when you get here, you know where to find the extra key.”
    They both said goodbye and Julie rang off thinking about Laura. She was worried about her, but then as Babs had said, she usually was. Walking into the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and searched the shelves, looking for the plastic bottle of painkillers Dr. Marsh had prescribed for her migraines. This one was shaping up to be a doozie.
    Her hand shook as she pried off the lid and dumped a couple of capsules into her palm. A third fell out. For a moment she was tempted, then she thought of Patrick’s drug abuse and where it had finally landed him, and slid the third pill back into the bottle.
    Thirty minutes later, the medicine had still not kicked in. Pain shot into her skull as the phone beside the bed began to ring. She reached over and lifted the receiver.
    â€œJulie? It’s Patrick.”
    The headache was getting so bad it was starting to upset her stomach. She dampened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, thinking she might throw up. “Hello, Patrick. How are you feeling?” It had been a week since Patrick’s release from the hospital. He had been taking it easy, as the doctors suggested, surprisingly circumspect for Patrick.
    â€œBetter than I have a right to. That’s why I’m calling. I’m down at the office. I thought you’d be in. I figured you might want to go over the Rabinoff file.”
    â€œI’m afraid I’m not feeling well, Patrick. But the escrow’s all set to close. I don’t think there’ll be any more unforeseen problems.”
    â€œYou’re sick?” He sounded suddenly worried. “What’s the matter with you?”
    â€œAnother one of my headaches. This one’s pretty bad and nothing seems to help. I took some of the pills Dr. Marsh prescribed, but—”
    â€œI’m coming over. I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Lie down and take it easy till I get there.”
    â€œPatrick—you can’t drive all the way out here. You probably shouldn’t be driving at all. Besides, there’s nothing you can do the doctor hasn’t already done.”
    â€œMaybe there is. I have hidden talents you wouldn’t believe. Besides, you helped me, didn’t you? I owe you one.” He hung up the receiver before Julie could say any more.
    Val knew what was wrong with Julie Ferris. Her resistance to their scanners had been painful and immediate. The brutal headaches that followed were not unexpected, since they had occurred in subjects like Julie before. But the vicious assaults had lasted far longer than they had predicted, perhaps because, unlike the others, she had been taken aboard a second time.
    Val felt a shot of guilt, a feeling he had never really known. When he’d made the difficult decision to bring the older sibling back aboard, he had known there might be complications. He wished he could explain, reassure her that the headaches would soon disappear. But he wasn’t exactly certain that would happen. It was one of the things he’d been sent here to observe. Grabbing his coat off the wooden valet in the corner of his office, he started for the door.
    In the meantime, he knew the cause and what to do to treat them. At least he could ease some of her pain.
    Shoving open the office door, he walked down the sidewalk toward the pudgy young man in front of Spago’s who parked Patrick’s car, and handed him a couple of dollar bills. He had driven the shiny black Porsche for the first time that morning—an antique mode of transportation he found fascinating. He was grateful Patrick knew how to handle the car and had enjoyed every second behind the wheel.
    Patrick was a very good driver, he had discovered, with what seemed a natural ability to