Dream Eyes dl-2

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “You’re good at passing for normal,” Judson said. “Why didn’t you go into the mainstream professional world? With your talent you could have done brilliantly. I’ll bet you could easily be pulling in several hundred bucks an hour as a high-end shrink. No one would have to know that it was your psychic talent that made you so good at your work.”

  She smiled faintly. “In other words, you want to know why I bill myself as a low-rent psychic counselor when I could have a string of letters after my name?”

  “For the record, I never used the term low-rent.”

  “Right. Well, the answer is twofold. First, it’s hard to outrun your past when that past includes a place like Summerlight.”

  “All you needed was a new identity,” Judson said.

  “It’s true that Nick could have set me up with a false identity, complete with transcripts from some respectable school,” she agreed. “He’s offered to do it on several occasions.”

  “He’s versatile.”

  “Certainly.” She was aware of a flash of genuine pride. “Nick is very talented. And to tell you the truth, I have considered taking him up on his offer from time to time. But I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life pretending to be something or, rather, someone I’m not.”

  “It would have been hard work.”

  “In order to maintain the lie, I would have had to deceive everyone around me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, year in and year out. I think that would have become intolerable over time.”

  “Sort of like going into the witness protection program,” Judson said.

  “Just imagine not being able to confide the truth about your own past to a close friend or a lover without running the risk of losing the person’s friendship or love. Imagine not being able to trust anyone with the truth about yourself.”

  “My family has been keeping secrets for two generations,” he said. “We expect to have to keep them a while longer.”

  The quiet comment caught her by surprise.

  “Yes,” she said. “You and your family do know what it’s like to keep secrets, don’t you? Those crystals from the Phoenix Mine—”

  “It’s not just about the crystals. Sam is getting married. He and Abby will want children. Both of them have powerful paranormal profiles. We don’t know much about psychic genetics, but it’s a good bet their offspring will be talented, too. We’ll have to protect the kids and help them cope with their psychic sides.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose even a member of the wealthy and powerful Coppersmith family who possesses some talent has to learn to pass for normal.”

  “You do if you want to operate in the normal business world. And Coppersmith, Inc., is a very big business.”

  She smiled. “I’ve heard that.”

  “The bottom line for all of us is that we’re going to need to stay at least partly in the shadows all of our lives, and our descendants will, too. There’s no telling if or when the public will learn to treat the paranormal as normal.”

  “But at least you’ve got a family around you to help you guard those secrets.”

  “What do you know about your own family?” he asked.

  “My family by DNA? Not much. I was raised by my aunt who took me in after my parents were killed in a car crash. Aunt Beth was a very good person, but she was also very religious. When my talents started to emerge, she was . . . horrified. I think she truly believed that I was possessed. She took me to church a lot. I finally got the point and pretended to be cured. But I’m pretty sure she knew that I was still having visions. On her deathbed her last words to me were, Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Not bad advice, under the circumstances.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Gwen said. “And I tried to follow it. But I wound up in Summerlight, anyway.”

  Judson frowned, looking suddenly thoughtful. “How did that happen? It was an expensive boarding school, by all accounts. Abby told Sam that her family paid a fortune to send her there.”

  “I got in the same way Nick did. We were informed that our expenses were covered by a special charity fund. Lucky us. Evelyn told me the truth, though. She said that social workers and shrinks and others who dealt with troubled youth who displayed certain symptoms were encouraged to send the kids to Summerlight for evaluation. If they met the criteria for admission, they would be accepted, all expenses paid. Sam said at least one, maybe more, of the counselors at the school actively searched for students who displayed evidence of talent.”

  “When this job is over, I’m going to try to find out if there are other copies of those old school files floating around,” Judson said. “I don’t like the idea that someone can use them to go on a talent hunt.”

  The words acted like a dash of icy water on Gwen’s senses. She straightened in her chair and shoved her fingers through her hair.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a quick shower,” she said. “It’s been a long night. I’m ready for breakfast.”

  She pushed herself up out of the chair. But Judson was already on his feet, blocking her path. His jaw was steel-hard and his eyes burned.

  “What the hell did I say?” he asked.

  She held her ground. Show no weakness.

  She gave him a blandly polite smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t give me that.” Judson wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “I said something just now that sent you straight into deep freeze. What did I say?”

  “Sorry.” She kept her tone light and polite. “It was nothing. Just a reality check.”

  He tightened his grip and pulled her closer. “Talk to me, Gwendolyn Frazier. I may be psychic, but I can’t read your mind.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, softening her words because she could see that he had absolutely no idea why she was offended. The truth was that she had no reason to be hurt. “You reminded me that this is just a short-term job for you, that’s all. You’re here as a favor to Sam and Abby. That you’ll be moving on after you’ve closed the case.”

  Comprehension hit him with visible force. His eyes narrowed.

  “So that’s it,” he said. He moved his hands up to cup her face. “Let’s get something straight here. The job is supposed to be short-term. I hope to hell it is because there’s a killer running around. But I don’t want us to be short-term. As far as I’m concerned, this is not a weekend hookup.”

  The wave of relief that swept through her was so strong that she would have collapsed back into the chair if he had not been holding her. Don’t get too excited, she warned herself. Just take it one day at a time.

  She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t quite sure what you meant. Things have been a little intense lately. In situations like this, emotions can get overheated. Judgment can be impaired. Intuition is unreliable.”

  “Is that right? You’ve had a lot of experience in situations like this?”

  Her temper flared—much too quickly, she realized. Talk about overreacting.

  “You know what I’m trying to say,” she said. “For heaven’s sake, we’re practically strangers.”

  “You said we were partners.”

  “That, too,” she said quickly. “At least for now.”

  “Partners who sleep together. Do you know what that makes us?”

  “No,” she said.

  “It makes us lovers.”

  She caught her breath. “Lovers?”

  “Yes. Lovers.”

  He kissed her before she could say another word. It was a thoroughgoing kiss. He did not let up until she sighed and softened against him. By the time he freed her, they were both breathing hard.

  “Lovers,” he said again, making it a statement of fact.

  “Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath and then she took a step back. “Lovers.”

  He looked satisfied. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

  “You bet.” She headed for the bathroom. “Who says men don’t know how to communica
te?”

  She closed the door very firmly and locked it.

  Thirty-two

  Max’s soft meow alerted Judson when he emerged from the bathroom after his own morning shower. The cat was in Gwen’s room.

  A faint trickle of energy shifted in the atmosphere, reminding Judson of the light current of the underground river that had guided him out of the flooded cave. He heard soft footsteps out in the hall and checked the time. It was just going on seven.

  He heard the muffled sound of the stairwell door closing outside in the hall.

  Max meowed again, more urgently.

  Judson took a clean shirt out of the closet and went to the doorway between the two rooms. On the far side of the big bed he saw Max crouched in front of the hall door of Gwen’s room.

  Gwen came out of the dressing room area, fastening the waistband of her jeans.

  “What’s Max complaining about?” Judson asked.

  “I don’t know.” Gwen looked toward the door. “He just started making noise a couple of minutes ago while you were in the shower. He’s probably hungry. I’ll feed him before we go downstairs to breakfast.”

  Max abruptly lost interest in whatever had attracted him to the door. He rose and trotted across the room to greet Gwen with a demanding purr. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears.

  “He heard someone out in the hall a moment ago,” Judson said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I heard someone, too. Whoever it was went down the emergency stairs at the back of the inn.”

  Gwen straightened. “Probably a guest going out for an early morning run.”

  “Maybe. I’m going to take a look.”

  Judson turned, crossed his room, opened the door and went out into the hall. The wall sconces lit the scene in a warm, golden glow. He glanced at the muddy footprints on the floor and then he followed them to the stairwell door.

  He opened the emergency door just in time to hear the first floor door open and close at the bottom of the stairwell.

  He went back along the hall and let himself into his own room. Gwen was waiting.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Our visitor came from outside. She left a little mud on the carpet and the stairs.”

  Gwen was impressed. “Did your para-senses tell you that the person was a woman?”

  “No, I cheated and used my normal senses. The footprints belong to a woman. She came up the emergency stairwell, went to your door and then turned around and went back down the same stairs. Let’s take a look in your room.”

  He went through the connecting doorway and walked around the bed to take a closer look at the place where Max had been crouched earlier. From that angle, he could see what had not been visible from the other side of the room.

  An envelope lay on the floor.

  He picked it up.

  “Looks like she left a message,” he said.

  “Probably the bill for room charges here at the inn,” Gwen said. “I’ll take care of it at breakfast.”

  “It’s not the bill for the room.” There was no name or address on the outside of the envelope, but he could sense the anxiety that stained the paper.

  He slit the seal and took out the photograph.

  Gwen came to stand beside him.

  “It’s a copy of the same group shot that I found on the floor near Evelyn’s body,” she said. “The picture of the seven research study subjects.” She took a closer look. “Someone drew a circle around my face.”

  Judson turned the picture over and read the scrawled message on the back aloud. “You are next.”

  Thirty-three

  “You’re sure about this?” Gwen asked.

  “Almost positive,” Judson said.

  Gwen opened her senses a little and watched his aura as he shut down the SUV’s engine. He was definitely running hot with a mix of adrenaline and psi—he had been ever since he had opened the envelope that contained the unpleasantly marked-up photo. But, as usual, he was fully in control.

  He sat quietly for a moment studying the thick stand of mist-shrouded trees that stood between the vehicle and the rear door of Hudson Floral Design.

  In the backseat, Max glowered through the recently repaired door of his carrier.

  It had stopped raining, but an early morning fog had rolled in off the river, muffling sound and limiting visibility. At least, Gwen thought, the fog had that effect on those like her who possessed merely normal hearing and vision.

  “What do you see?” she asked Judson.

  “What?” He glanced at her. His eyes glowed with a low level of psi.

  “Just wondered if you could see through the fog.”

  “Sometimes I forget that you see things differently than I do. Don’t worry, I won’t blunder into a tree and brain myself.”

  “That possibility never occurred to me.” She turned back around to study the scene. “I have to tell you that knowing that you’re almost positive you know what we’re doing here is not the most reassuring thing you could say under the circumstances. Remember, she’s got that old rifle.”

  “I gave you the option of staying behind at the inn,” Judson reminded her.

  She ignored that. “Maybe we should talk to Oxley first.”

  “That won’t do any good.”

  “Things could get awkward if you get caught.”

  “I won’t get caught. But if I do, get on the phone to Dad.”

  She almost smiled. “That sounds similar to the advice you gave Nick.”

  “Because it’s the best advice under the circumstances.”

  “Wow.” She snapped her fingers. “Must be nice to come from a family that can make every little problem go away.”

  “The Coppersmiths can’t make every problem go away, but we’re pretty good when it comes to the annoying legal stuff.” He unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. “I won’t be long.”

  “Forget it.” Gwen got out, too. “You’re not going in without backup, partner.”

  He gave that a few seconds of consideration. Then he nodded once. Decision made.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Glad we got that settled,” she said. She told herself that she was pleased that he seemed to be treating her as an equal partner in the investigation.

  “All things considered, I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you,” Judson added.

  So much for the partnership, she thought.

  “You do need me, Judson Coppersmith,” she said. “I’m the one who knows this town and the people in it. Without me, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start investigating. What’s more, I’m in charge here. I’m the one paying the bills, remember?”

  “Paying the bills doesn’t mean you’re in charge. It makes you the client.”

  “Semantics.”

  They wove a path through the trees to the narrow strip of paved parking area behind the shop. Gwen waited for Judson to crack the old lock. To her surprise, he knocked on the door instead. The sharp rap of his knuckles on wood gave her a start. But she was even more astonished when he wrapped his hand around the knob and opened the door.

  “We know you’re in there, Nicole,” he said calmly.

  Gwen glanced at him, startled. It was certainly news to her.

  “Uh, Judson, I’m not so sure a confrontation would be wise.”

  She stopped talking when she heard reluctant footsteps on the other side of the door.

  Nicole appeared in the opening. She was dressed in faded jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt and a light down vest. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.

  “I should have known you’d figure out that I was the one who left the photo under Gwen’s door,” Nicole said. Her mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “You’re both psychic, after all. Me, I’m just a fool who was dumb enough to fall for one of your kind. Don’t worry, I learned my lesson.”

  A chill whispered through Gwen. She remembered something Evelyn had said once, long ago. The ri
sk in proving to others that the paranormal is real is that there will be those who will view people of talent not only as different but also as dangerous. And what people fear, they try to control, isolate or even destroy. Remember the Salem witch trials.

  “Zander Taylor was not one of our kind,” Gwen said quietly. “He was a monster.”

  “No shit,” Nicole said. “I finally figured that out for myself yesterday.”

  “It’s time to talk,” Judson said.

  “Yeah, sure.” Nicole turned on her heel and walked away into the shadows. “Guess it doesn’t matter much anymore.”

  Judson moved through the doorway. Gwen knew from the shiver of energy in the atmosphere that he had kicked up his talent. She followed him into the back room of the shop. A dark, earthy perfume of freshly cut flowers, potted plants and decaying foliage assailed her senses.

  Rows of decorative vases lined the shelves of the back room. Dried floral materials stood in large metal containers. A glass-fronted refrigerator hummed quietly in one corner. Several pairs of gardening shears and an assortment of other tools were neatly arranged on a nearby workbench.

  Nicole went into the front of the shop. Large pots filled with chrysanthemums, orchids, daisies and lilies loomed in the shadows. Baskets of herbs and flowering plants hung from the ceiling.

  Nicole moved behind the counter and opened the door of a small office. She flipped a light switch on the wall, illuminating the interior.

  Gwen looked at the photos that covered the walls and shuddered. Trisha Montgomery’s description was right. The small space was a shrine to Zander Taylor.

  There was a large floral calendar tacked over the desk. The month of August was illustrated with a scenic shot of Oregon wildflowers. There were neatly written notes in several of the squares around various dates. Carter wedding. Feed dogs. Order new vases for inn. But aside from that single, cheerful exception, every inch of wall space was covered with photographs of Zander Taylor.

  The pictures were various sizes. In most of the images, Taylor posed for the camera alone, smiling his charming psychopath’s smile. Nicole was with him in a few of the shots, leaning into him, her arm wrapped around his waist, looking happy and thrilled to be in love.