"Right."
"Have you ever heard anything like that, Sam?"
"Not quite like that."
"What have you heard?"
"That some people act as donors."
"Willing donors?"
"Some of them," I said.
"And some not so willingly?"
"Would be my guess," I said.
Sherbet started shaking his head, and he didn't quit shaking it until he spoke again. Finally, he said, "So, what else do you know about our killer?"
"He's got blue eyes."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"No other psychic hits?"
"He hangs the bodies upside down to drain."
"Like a butcher."
"Yes," I said.
"Which makes sense if he's a blood supplier; after all, he wouldn't want to waste a single drop."
"Blood is money," I said.
"Jesus. Where did he kill his victims?"
I shook my head. "Hard to know. Brian Meeks regained consciousness while hanging upside down."
"Jesus," he said again. "And you saw this, what, through his eyes? From touching his stuff?"
"That's how it seems to work."
"Do you have any fucking idea how crazy we sound?"
"Some idea," I said.
Sherbet shook his head. "Did he - or you - see anything else while he was hanging upside down?"
"Yes."
"Don't say it, Sam," said Sherbet, and I think he caught a glimpse of my thoughts.
"More bodies," I said.
"I asked you not to say it."