Copper Beach: A Dark Legacy Novel

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Sam held up one hand, palm out. “No need to explain, Abby Radwell. You are my kind of client. I’ll take the job.”

  5

  NOT JUST MY KIND OF CLIENT SAM THOUGHT. MY KIND OF woman

  He watched from the dock until Dixon piloted the water taxi with Abby on board out of the harbor and out of sight beyond a cluster of small islets.

  He was still feeling the rush when he climbed back into the SUV and started along the narrow winding road to the Copper Beach house. He flexed his hands and took a tighter grip on the steering wheel. Stirred by the energy that was still splashing through him, the Phoenix stone in his ring burned with a low, deep fire. He could not remember the last time he had responded to a woman this way. Never, he concluded.

  Abby Radwell had hit his senses like sizzling, sparking, flashing heat lightning produced by some exotic, unknown crystal, one with incredible properties that he could not wait to investigate, that he was compelled to investigate. It was not curiosity or even just physical desire that energized him now, although desire was definitely a big factor in the mix. There was something else going on. Whatever it was, he had a hunch the prowling, hungry awareness was going to keep him awake tonight. Fine by him. It beat the hell out of the recurring dream that had plagued him for the past six months.

  When he walked back into the big house, he discovered that a strange silence, a sense of emptiness, had settled on the old place. It was not the kind of silence that was associated with the lack of sound. The stone walls echoed, as they always did, with his footsteps. The thick oak floors creaked in places. The refrigerator hummed faintly in the kitchen.

  But there was something different about the atmosphere now. It was as if an invisible hand had hit the paranormal mute button after Abby departed.

  He went downstairs into the lab, cranked back in the chair and stacked his heels on the corner of the desk. He steepled his fingers and thought about his new client.

  He summoned a mental image first, concentrating on what it was about her that had fascinated him. It was not any single aspect of her appearance, he decided. Warm copper and gold glowed in the depths of her auburn hair, which formed a vibrant cloud of curls around an animated, fascinating, intelligent but not classically beautiful face. Eyes the color of dark amber tilted slightly upward at the outer corners. There was a firmly etched nose and a soft, sensitive mouth to go with the eyes.

  She was not tall, no more than five-foot-four at most, but what there was of her was curvy and feminine and healthy-looking in all the right places. She carried herself with the self-confidence of a woman who was accustomed to dealing with her own problems, a woman who was capable of handling a lot of talent. An aura of energy and power brightened the atmosphere around her.

  After a while he took out his phone and hit a familiar code. His father picked up halfway through the first ring.

  “Did she show up?” Elias demanded.

  “She was here,” Sam said. “Just left. She’s on her way back to Seattle.”

  “Well? Were you right? Is she involved in this thing?”

  “I think so, but I’m not sure how, yet.”

  “Webber sent her to you. He wouldn’t have done that if there wasn’t some connection to the lab notebook.”

  “I agree, but all I’ve got for certain at the moment is that an anonymous person has sent Abby two notes that qualify as blackmail threats. The sender is trying to coerce her cooperation. He wants her to do something for him, but he hasn’t made any specific demands, just issued a few threats.”

  “What kind of threats?” Elias asked.

  “Nothing physical, at least not yet. Abby has some stuff in her private life that she would prefer to keep secret for the sake of the family image. Also, she definitely does not want the news of what happened in Vaughn’s library to become widespread gossip in the underground book market.”

  “So you were right? That intruder did not go down because of a drug overdose?”

  “Abby broke the psi-code on one of the books in Vaughn’s collection, and then she channeled the energy into the intruder’s aura. The currents knocked the guy unconscious.”

  Elias whistled softly. “Takes a lot of power to channel energy that hot.”

  “It does.”

  “And the blackmailer knows she did that?”

  “It’s not clear if he knows that she took down the intruder. The blackmail notes are a little vague. But I think we can assume he is aware that Abby can unlock psi-codes. My gut tells me that is what is important to him.”

  “Lander Knox,” Elias said urgently. “Got to be him. He needs someone like Abby to acquire the lab book and break the code.”

  “I’d say there’s a definite possibility that the guy who sent the notes is Lander Knox, but we’re still in the theory-and-speculation stage. The rumors that the lab book has surfaced have been circulating for months now, according to Webber. There are a few other folks who would like to get their hands on that book.”

  “Helicon Stone.” Elias’s voice hardened. “Yeah, we have to assume that if that SOB Hank Barrett has gotten wind of the lab book, he’ll be looking for it. Probably send his son out to do his dirty work.”

  Sam almost smiled. The feud between Elias and Hank Barrett, the owner of Coppersmith’s biggest competitor, was legendary. No one knew the origins of the quarrel, but over time the hostility between the two men had helped fuel two empires.

  There was a great fallacy taught in business schools. It held that successful multimillion-dollar companies were run by smart executives who based their decisions on hard data and logical marketing strategies.

  The truth, Sam thought, was that, as with all the other endeavors that human beings engaged in, business was conducted by people who let emotions, egos and personal agendas rule the decision-making process. Sometimes it worked.

  “I know how you feel about Hank Barrett, Dad,” he said. “But blackmail isn’t his style, and it’s not Gideon’s, either.”

  “Huh.” Elias was silent for a beat. “Wonder why the blackmailer didn’t just try to hire Abby Radwell outright?”

  “She only works by referral, and she vets all potential clients through Thaddeus Webber.”

  “Must make for a small client list,” Elias said.

  “But a relatively safe list. You know as well as I do that there are some dangerous people in the underground market. Abby described it as a very deep pool. She told me that she prefers to swim in the shallows.”

  “Looks like somebody just tossed her into the deep end. Too bad Judson isn’t available. You’re on your own with this.”

  A week ago, Judson had taken what had looked like a routine consulting assignment for a regular client. He had sent one brief message indicating that the situation had become complicated and that he would not be in touch for a while. There had been no further word from him. That was not unusual with consulting jobs for this particular client, a no–name government agency that paid well for talent and discretion.

  “Keep an eye on Radwell,” Elias ordered. “We need to locate that lab book. For now, she’s our best lead.”

  “Keeping an eye on Abby won’t be a problem,” Sam said. “She hired me to find the blackmailer.”

  “Hired you?” Sam was flabbergasted. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “I thought you’d be pleased that I have a new consulting job. I know you and Mom have been worrying about me lately.”

  “Now, just one damn minute. Your job is to find that old lab book before Lander Knox does.”

  “Got to go, Dad. I’m on my way to Seattle. I’ll update you later.”

  Sam ended the connection and went upstairs to pack an overnight bag. Anticipation crackled through him. He would be seeing Abby again soon.

  6

  ELIAS TOSSED THE PHONE ONTO HIS DESK AND WENT DOWN the glass-walled corridor that overlooked the patio, the pool and the great red rocks beyond.

  He paused at the door of his wife’s study. Willow was at
her computer. He knew she was working on foundation business. It had been her idea to set up the Coppersmith Foundation twenty years ago. Although she staunchly denied having any psychic talent, her intuition combined with her financial expertise ensured that the foundation was managed brilliantly. No one in the Coppersmith Inc. accounting department could follow the money the way Willow could. As a result, no one got far trying to scam the foundation.

  When he went through the doorway he felt the familiar sense of rightness that always thrilled him when he was in Willow’s presence. He’d experienced that same thrill the first time they met. Nothing had changed over the decades.

  He had fallen hard for Willow all those years ago, but he was pretty sure that he loved her more now than he had at the start, assuming such a thing was even possible. He had not had a dime to his name back in those days, just the land and mineral rights to a chunk of desert that everyone else thought was fit only for rattlesnakes and growing cactus. But Willow had believed in him. She had made a home for him in a secondhand trailer out there in the desert, never complaining about the lack of money, the blistering heat or the fact that the nearest mall was several hundred miles away. And Willow had kept his secrets. He counted himself the luckiest of men.

  Life was very different now. It had taken several years and a lot of sweat before the mining venture proved successful. But in the end, the rare earths that his small company had pulled out of the ground had formed the foundation of the family empire.

  He and Willow could afford anything they wanted these days. They enjoyed the money and lived well. But every time he looked at Willow, he knew an unshakable truth that warmed his soul. If he lost the company tomorrow and had to start over again, she would be by his side the whole way, even if it meant going back to that damned trailer.

  “He called her Abby,” Elias said.

  Willow looked up from the computer. She took off her reading glasses with a slow, thoughtful motion and contemplated him with her knowing eyes.

  “You’re talking about the young woman in Seattle who freelances in the book market? The one Thaddeus Webber sent to Sam?”

  “Abigail Radwell. Sam met with her today. Looks like someone is trying to blackmail her. I’m betting it’s Lander Knox. Somehow he found out she can break psi-codes. He thinks he can force her to help him find the lab book.”

  “There are other people who are after that book,” Willow said.

  “Yeah, Sam reminded me of that, too. But Quinn warned me that his son was sick in the head. Evil sick. Blackmail is the kind of shit an evil man would try.”

  “Maybe. How does the situation stand now? Did this Abby Radwell agree to help Sam find that notebook?”

  “Not exactly. As far as I can tell she hired him to find out who is blackmailing her.”

  Willow blinked. “She hired Sam?”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “Hmm.” Willow pushed back her chair and got to her feet. She went to stand at the window. “Well, I suppose that might work. Sam will persuade her that locating the book and getting it off the underground market is the best way to neutralize the blackmailer.”

  Elias joined her at the window. “That must be the plan. He said he was on his way to Seattle right now.”

  “He’ll get the lab book, Elias.” Willow reached out and took his hand. “It will be all right.”

  “For the past couple of decades, I’ve been telling myself that the lab book must have been buried in the explosion along with Willis. But deep down I always knew that it was out there somewhere. And now it’s surfaced at last. If it falls into the wrong hands—”

  “Stop blaming yourself for what happened at that old mine all those years ago. It was not your fault. You and Quinn Knox were nearly killed that day.”

  “I’m the one who found that vein of crystals. I’m the one who insisted we run those first tests to see what we had.”

  Willow tightened her grip on his hand. “What’s done is done. You had no way of knowing how dangerous those rocks were.”

  Elias exhaled slowly. “I still don’t. That’s one of the things that makes that lab book so damn dangerous.”

  “Sam knows that. He’ll find the book. He’s smart, and his talent will be an asset in this thing. You’ll see.”

  Elias pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Together they watched the fading sunlight splash across the red rocks. He knew they were both thinking about the past and the deadly explosion at the mine.

  The repercussions of the paranormal energy that had been released that day had echoed down into the future, creating the greatest of all the Coppersmith family secrets, the one secret that he and Willow had never told Sam, Judson or Emma.

  After a while, Willow turned her head to look at him with a speculative expression.

  “He called her Abby?” she said.

  “Yeah. After meeting her for all of maybe one hour. And now he’s on his way to Seattle.” Elias paused, trying to find a way to explain what he had heard in Sam’s voice. “He sounded energized, Willow. As if he was looking forward to something.”

  Willow smiled. “In that case, regardless of how this turns out, I’m already grateful to Abby Radwell.”

  7

  “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, ABBY?” GWEN FRAZIER LEANED forward across the restaurant table and lowered her voice. “According to what I found online, Sam Coppersmith was implicated in the murder of his fiancée six months ago. You have no business hiring a man like that. He might be very, very dangerous.”

  “Relax, I’m employing him, I’m not sleeping with him. Big difference.”

  “That’s supposed to reassure me?”

  “Well, it certainly makes me feel better about the whole thing,” Abby said.

  They were in a booth in the bar section of the restaurant. It was seven-thirty. The after-work crowd that had drifted in earlier had come and gone. The place was now filling up with the locals from the nearby condos and apartment buildings. Several stylists from the hair salon on the corner, which closed at seven, were celebrating a birthday. The low rumble of conversation and the music playing over the sound system provided a layer of privacy.

  Gwen Frazier was the same age as Abby. Tall, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, she was an aura-reading talent who made her living as a psychic counselor. Her abilities allowed her to work with talents and non-talents alike. As she had explained to Abby, there was no real difference between the two groups of clients. Those with real psychical abilities of their own believed her when she explained that she worked by reading their auras. Those without talent wanted to believe that she could see their energy fields. It was a win-win situation for a woman in her line.

  “This isn’t a joke,” Gwen said.

  “I know. Sorry. It’s been a very long day. The drive back from Anacortes took longer than usual. Accident on the interstate.” Abby swallowed some of her wine and lowered the glass. “If it helps, I have been informed that there is no way Sam Coppersmith could have murdered his fiancée.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The water-taxi guy.”

  “He’s an authority?”

  “He certainly seemed to think so. Evidently, no one on that island thinks Sam did it.”

  “And what proof do they offer?” Gwen demanded.

  “They seem to feel that if Sam had murdered someone, he would have done a better job of it.”

  “I beg your pardon. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He would have made the victim disappear.” Abby waved one hand in a now-you-see–it–now-you-don’t motion. “And he would have taken care to make sure that there was nothing left behind that pointed back to him.”

  “And you believed this water-taxi guy’s theory?”

  Abby looked at Gwen over the top of her glass. “Having met Sam Coppersmith, yes, I believe that theory.”

  “You do realize that there’s a lot of money in the Coppersmith family,” Gwen said ominously. “With money comes the
kind of power it takes to make sure someone in the family does not go down for murder.”

  “Your cynical side is showing, Gwen.”

  “It’s my best side. Is this Sam Coppersmith a real private investigator?”

  “He described himself as a technical consultant.”

  “Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Gwen said.

  “But I do think he’s the best man for the job.”

  “Why, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Because this situation involves a very hot book, and I need an investigator who at least takes the paranormal seriously. Not a lot of those floating around, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides, you know as well as I do that Thaddeus Webber would never have sent me to Coppersmith if he had believed there was a better option.”