“When?” Ari choked out. “Where? Today?” Oh God, let it be today. Please today. She didn’t think she’d last even one more day without something—anything—to let her know her parents were alive.

Beau’s hand tightened around hers. “Yes, today. But first you have to do something for us.”

“Anything,” Ari instantly vowed.

“Ramie is usually able to establish a link to the victim by touching an item at the scene of the abduction. Even a small piece. Sometimes the seemingly obscurest of things. But if the killer touched what the victim had touched, or if he was even close enough to it, and if he gives off particularly strong imprints, Ramie can use that as a pathway.”

Ari frowned. “I sense a but coming.”

Beau nodded. “We’re in a bit of a quandary. The problem is we don’t know where your parents went missing. We know nothing at all, so we don’t even have a starting point. But Ramie seems to believe that if you can think of something that was a particular favorite of your parents, something they would have touched frequently and left strong mental impressions on as well as physical, that she may be able to open the pathway. But she wanted me to make it clear to you, that although she is going to try everything she can and exhaust all possibilities, she doesn’t want you to get your hopes up and set yourself up for horrific disappointment and despair if this doesn’t work.”

Ari’s mind was already working furiously, drifting momentarily away from Beau as she concentrated hard on possibilities. She ignored the last, because she wouldn’t allow herself to contemplate, even for a moment, that Ramie would fail. She had to succeed. Or Ari truly would shatter, and she may never recover or be whole again. The only thing that was holding her sanity by the thinnest of threads was the hope of getting her parents back. If that was taken away from her . . . She physically shuddered, knowing that she would simply fall apart.

Beau’s vehement swear filtered through her scattered thoughts and she glanced up, puzzled over what could be wrong. He got off the bed and stalked to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a soft, warm washcloth, and then carefully wiped at her nose and mouth.

When he pulled the washcloth away and she saw bright red blood, she frowned.

“But, Beau, I wasn’t using my powers. Honest. I was merely thinking—concentrating hard—and trying to focus.”

But guilt crept over her shoulders, gaining a tight hold on her throat because she’d left out the more frightening turn her thoughts had taken, which was very likely the cause of her bleed.

“Apparently that’s enough. You’re in a very weakened state, Ari. You incurred what I believe has to be a psychic overload yesterday. I’ve never seen you that wrecked after using your powers. I imagine this is simply residual damage, not yet fully healed areas of your brain, and any overexertion of your mind could trigger a bleed, even a small one.”

She shrugged as though she didn’t care. And she didn’t. She wanted to get back to her parents and the fact that Ramie had agreed to help.

But, in deference to Beau’s concern, she did at least attempt to calmly sort through memories, mementos and any object that her parents would have both loved enough to touch often frequently.

It seemed there were simply too many. Pictures, photo albums, but none that really stood out. And she wanted to provide Ramie with something that offered the best opportunity to pick up a thread to her parents.

And then it simply came to her, slipping in with little fanfare. But it was so obvious that she berated herself for not having thought of it first.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Of course!”

“What?” Beau asked urgently. “Did you think of something?”

“My lovies.”

He gave her a look of confusion. “Your lovies?”

She smiled, once again leaving the here and now as she relived all the moments over the years. The sacred place her lovies occupied, because it was through those adored stuffed animals that her parents had first discovered her powers.

She’d kept them with her, though when she’d still lived with her parents they had a place of honor on one of the shelves in the living room and both parents often picked them up, soft smiles appearing on their faces as they lost themselves momentarily in those memories of so long ago.

“They were my favorite stuffed animals in the world. Even at just nine months old I was cognizant of them. They were my comfort items but my mother would never leave them in the crib with me because she worried they were a choking hazard. Apparently I was not pleased with this and was able, even as a baby, to summon them from across the room so they floated to my crib and dropped within my reach.”

Beau shook his head. “That’s incredible.”

“Imagine my parents’ shock,” she said dryly. “They had to come to terms when I wasn’t even a year old yet that I was different, and as such, I wouldn’t be able to lead a ‘normal’ life. And it altered their lives as well. They made many sacrifices for me, adjusting their own lives to revolve around mine and my needs. I always came first with them, which is why I have to find them. I owe it to them. To myself. To do whatever is necessary, even if it means sacrificing my own life to get them back.”

His expression immediately blackened, his hold on her hand nearly crushing.

“You will not die,” he said harshly, but vulnerability had flashed in his eyes before he could call it back.