My staff, driven by tightly controlled channels of air moving in response to my evocation, leapt across the room and slammed the door shut in front of Donny Wise's nose. He went stiff as a board. He turned to face me, his eyes wide.
"My God. You're one of them. Don't kill me," he said.
"Oh, God. You've got the pictures. I don't know anything. Nothing. I'm no danger to you."
He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was shaking.
I saw him tilt his eyes at the glass sliding doors to the little patio, as though calculating his chances of making it there before I could stop him.
"Relax, Mr. Wise," I told him.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm after the man who killed Linda. Help me. Tell me what you know. I'll take care of the rest."
He let out a harsh little laugh, and eased a half step toward the glass windows.
"And get myself killed? Like Linda, like those other people? No way."
