Dream Eyes dl-2

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  But the Zander Taylor shrine had been vandalized. Each of the pictures had been savagely sliced, not once but over and over again. A pair of sharp gardening shears lay on the desk. The only untouched image in the room was the calendar illustration.

  “People tell me I should move on,” Nicole said. “They say I need to get past losing Zander.” She studied one of the ripped photos. “But I can’t seem to do that. For two years, every time I walked into this room it was like I had just lost him yesterday. I was okay with that.”

  “You didn’t want to be free of him,” Gwen said gently.

  “No.” Nicole’s smile was bitter. “But now that I know the truth about him, I want to escape more than anything else in the world. That’s not going to be possible.”

  “Why did you leave the photo under Gwen’s door this morning?” Judson asked.

  “I wanted to warn her.” Nicole hugged herself and looked at Gwen. “Figured it was the least I could do after all the things I’ve said to you and about you, all the accusations I made. I felt bad about taking that shot at you, too.”

  “You’re the one?” Gwen asked.

  “I wasn’t trying to hit you. I just wanted to scare you, make you leave Wilby.”

  “What were you trying to warn me about when you left that picture under my door this morning?” Gwen asked.

  Nicole surveyed the pictures. “It’s Zander. He’s come back, you see. And now he’s going to kill all of us. But I’m pretty sure he’ll take you out first.”

  Judson watched her intently. “Zander Taylor is dead. They found his body in the river two years ago.”

  “You were one of the people who identified him,” Gwen said.

  Nicole shook her head. “He was a very powerful psychic. He could fool anyone. I wouldn’t put it past him to fake his own death. I’m telling you, he has come back to take his revenge and then he’ll complete his mission.”

  “What mission?” Judson asked.

  “Two years ago, he told me he was some kind of undercover investigator. He said that because he was the real deal—a genuine psychic—the FBI had hired him to hunt down and expose the frauds and fakes and scam artists who pretended to be psychic. He said criminals like that took advantage of the elderly and folks who were in mourning. He said every year the con artists stole millions and got away with it because there was no one who could stop them.”

  “Except him,” Judson said.

  Nicole sniffed and reached for a tissue. “He told me that he was like a modern-day Harry Houdini who traveled around the country, exposing the frauds. He claimed that he had joined Evelyn’s research study here in Wilby to gather evidence against her.”

  “Did he say why he wanted to expose Evelyn?” Gwen asked. “She never worked as a storefront psychic. She never told fortunes or pretended to contact the dead. All she ever did was study the paranormal.”

  “He claimed that Evelyn’s research study was just a cover,” Nicole said. “He told me that in reality she was operating a school to teach con artists how to pose as psychics. But he said that in the course of his investigation, he had discovered that there was a real psychic in the study group, a very dangerous killer who could commit murder without leaving any trace.”

  “He was describing himself,” Judson said.

  “Yes, I know that now.” Tears of pain and rage glittered in Nicole’s eyes. She blew into the tissue. “I was such a gullible fool.”

  “No,” Gwen said. “Taylor fooled all of us.”

  “But you and Evelyn Ballinger eventually realized what was going on,” Nicole whispered. “I didn’t. Not until yesterday.”

  “What did Zander tell you after the first two people in the study died?” Gwen asked.

  Nicole shivered and started to rock back and forth in the chair. “He said that he was in grave danger because he was closing in on the killer. He said he might have to disappear without warning, but if that happened, he would come back for me.”

  “He realized that Evelyn and I were on his trail,” Gwen said. “He knew that even though we could never come up with hard proof that he was the killer, we would know the truth about him. He couldn’t have that. He decided that he had to get rid of both of us. He intended to start with me.”

  “The day before he went over the falls, he said that you were the most dangerous person in the study group,” Nicole whispered. “He said he was positive that you were the murderer.”

  “So when they pulled his body out of the river, you assumed that he had confronted me and that I had killed him,” Gwen said.

  “It all seemed to fit.” Nicole unfolded her arms and scrubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand. “Chief Oxley said that you were the last one to see him alive. Oxley doesn’t believe in the paranormal, but I could tell he had his suspicions, too. When Evelyn shut down the study and you and most of the others left town, I was convinced that you were the killer that Zander had been hunting. I thought no one would ever catch you and that Zander would never be avenged.”

  “Then, two years later, Evelyn is found dead and I’m back in town,” Gwen concluded. “You and Oxley and a lot of other people are wondering if the killing has started again because I’m here.”

  “Yes. But it’s been two years and I’ve had some time to think.” Nicole stared at one of the pictures on the wall. “I’ve asked myself a lot of questions since Zander died. I haven’t been able to find many answers. That was why I went to see Louise yesterday.”

  Judson examined the photos. “What questions have you been asking yourself?”

  “Mostly about his precious camera,” Nicole said. “Zander never let it out of his sight. He said it was a special handmade camera that had come out of a secret government lab and that only someone like him—a real psychic—could operate it. He told me that the focus was paranormal in nature and had to be adjusted frequently. He called it a tune-up and said that Louise was one of the few people in the world who knew how to do it.”

  “How did he explain her knowledge of the workings of a paranormal camera?” Judson asked.

  Nicole shrugged. “Something to do with her ability to tune her wind chimes. He said she had the magic touch because she was a genuine witch. He laughed when he told me that. At the time, I thought he was teasing me. I knew he believed in the paranormal, but he had always made it clear that he didn’t believe in magic and witchcraft. I assumed he meant that Louise had some psychic talent that allowed her to adjust the focus of the camera.”

  “The camera disappeared after Zander died,” Gwen said. “Evelyn and I looked for it.”

  “So did I,” Nicole said. “In fact I went back to the falls to search for it. When I couldn’t find it there, I went to the house that Zander had rented to look for it. I even asked Louise if she knew what had happened to it.”

  “What did she say?” Judson asked.

  “Nothing helpful. Something about the demon taking it. She said it wouldn’t have done me any good because I didn’t have the kind of power it took to make the camera work. She was having one of her bad days that day. You know how it was with her. She was always walking a fine line between semi-crazy and real crazy. On that day she was definitely on the wrong side of the line.”

  “Why did you want the camera?” Gwen asked.

  “I just wanted a keepsake,” Nicole said. “Something that had been important to Zander. He had made it clear that the camera was his most valuable possession. When I couldn’t find it, I assumed you had stolen it or else it had gone into the river.”

  “Evelyn and I convinced ourselves that it had gone over the falls with Zander,” Gwen said. “But now that Evelyn and Louise are both dead by paranormal means, it’s looking like someone else found the camera that day, someone who has the talent to use it.”

  Nicole looked at her. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “It’s possible that there were two crystal-based weapons all along,” Judson said. “We don’t have all the answers yet. You
said that you went to Louise’s house to ask her a question.”

  “Yes.”

  “What was it you wanted to ask her?” Judson asked.

  “I remembered what Zander had said about Louise having the ability to adjust the camera focus. He called her a witch, but he told me that very few people had her kind of talent. It occurred to me that if Gwen was using the camera, she would need to get it refocused periodically and that maybe she knew that Louise could do that kind of magic.”

  “That was very good thinking,” Gwen said. “The same thing had occurred to me. Now that Louise is dead, Judson and I are going on the theory that whoever has the camera was using Louise to tune it but then decided that she had become a liability and killed her before we could talk to her.”

  “Yes, I think that is exactly what happened,” Nicole said. “When I found her body, I was terrified. Those damn chimes. I think I’ll hear them in my nightmares for the rest of my life.”

  “The chimes were sounding when you got there?” Judson asked.

  “Yes,” Nicole said. She unfolded her arms and massaged her temples. “It was like a ghost was causing them to make that terrible music. It seemed to be getting louder and louder. I wanted to run. But then I heard your car in the driveway. I thought maybe the two of you were working together. You had murdered Evelyn and Louise and now you were going to kill me, too. The chimes made it impossible to think clearly.” Nicole paused to take a deep breath. “But last night I realized I had been wrong about you, Gwen, and probably everything else, as well.”

  “What convinced you that I wasn’t the killer?” Gwen asked.

  Nicole moved one hand in a small gesture. “You and Mr. Coppersmith saved me from the fire.”

  “That’s it?” Gwen frowned. “You decided we were the good guys just because we didn’t leave you behind when the house went up in flames?”

  “The kind of monster Zander described to me would have left me in that house.” Nicole shook her head. “How could I have been so wrong about Zander?”

  “The ability to charm those around him was part of his talent,” Gwen said. “You know that he was psychic. Well, think of him as a kind of hypnotist. He could make people believe just about anything. Evelyn and I were fooled for a while, too. So was everyone else in town.”

  “I wonder if he fooled Louise,” Nicole said quietly. “That poor crazy old witch. Do you suppose she ever realized that she was aiding and abetting a serial killer?”

  Thirty-four

  “We need some deep background on Zander Taylor,” Judson said. “And we need it fast. How much did you and Evelyn find out about him when you realized that he might be the killer?”

  “Not much,” Gwen said. “All we had to go on were the forms that he filled out for Evelyn’s files when he joined the study. He claimed that his mother gave him up for adoption shortly after he was born. Evidently something terrible happened to his adoptive parents. Zander told us they were murdered in the course of a home invasion. Afterward he ended up in the foster care system. But who knows? With Zander, you could never be sure when you were getting the truth.”

  Judson thought about that while he pried off the lid of his coffee cup. Gwen’s cup of tea sat untouched in the console between the two front seats. They had picked up the coffee and tea at Wilby’s lone fast-food restaurant after leaving Nicole’s shop. At Gwen’s suggestion, he had driven out along a narrow road that dead-ended on a tree-studded bluff overlooking the falls.

  From where they were parked, they could see the old lodge that Evelyn had converted into a lab on the opposite side of the river. The windowless structure sat shrouded in gloom and shadow, another sad monument to the futility of pursuing paranormal research, Judson thought.

  Gwen contemplated the dark lodge through the windshield. “Every dime Evelyn ever got went into that lab. I asked her once why she had wasted so much of her life trying to prove the paranormal was normal.”

  “Did she give you an answer?”

  “She said she had been saddled with the ability to perceive just far enough beyond the normal to know that the paranormal existed. She said that a little knowledge was always a dangerous thing because it made you want more. She yearned for answers.”

  “So does my brother, Sam. He says he can’t abandon the research when the reality of the paranormal confronts him every time he looks into a mirror. And now he’s talking about doing the research for the sake of his future children.”

  “I’ve met Sam, and it’s obvious that he’s fascinated with crystals and para-physics,” Gwen said. “But that’s not what compels you, is it?”

  “No. Don’t get me wrong. I’m always interested in what comes out of the lab—everyone in the Coppersmith family is curious about the research—but I’m not obsessed with the latest crystal theories or the results of some new experiment.” He shrugged, drank some of the coffee and lowered the cup. “Not unless I can figure out how to use it.”

  Gwen smiled her knowing smile. “In the course of one of your investigations.”

  “Sam is my partner in Coppersmith Consulting because he likes the scientific and technical end of the security business—the forensics. But me, I like the hunt.”

  “Yes, I know.” She picked up her tea and removed the lid. “I also get the feeling that you like to work alone.”

  “I can work with Sam,” he said, feeling oddly defensive.

  “Sure,” she said. “Because he’s family. You can trust him.”

  He breathed deep and exhaled slowly. “I trust you, Gwen.”

  She looked startled. Then she positively glowed.

  “Why, thank you,” she said. “I’m honored. As it happens, I trust you, too.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He shifted slightly, searching for a path into the difficult conversation he wanted to have. “There’s something else I want to say. I respect what you do with your talent.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? I’m thrilled. I have to tell you there’s just not a lot of respect out there for those of us in the psychic counseling profession.”

  “Okay, maybe I need to qualify my statement. I respect you. Not sure about the other psychic counselors. Lot of phonies out there.”

  “Sadly, that is all too true.” She took a cautious sip of the tea. “Which is why I’m thinking of changing careers.”

  “What?”

  “I like this detecting business.”

  “I can tell,” he growled.

  “All modesty aside, I feel I have a certain flair for it.”

  “You do,” he agreed. “But where, exactly, are you going with this?”

  “I’ve been solving historical murder cases in a fictional sense for the past two years for Dead of Night. In the process, I’ve learned a lot about researching cold cases from Evelyn. I’ve learned a lot from you, too. In fact, I’ve picked up several very helpful pointers in the course of our partnership.”

  “Gwen, if this is going where I think it’s going—”

  “And then there’s my dream therapy work.” Gwen’s enthusiasm was growing stronger by the second. Her eyes sparkled. “When you think about it, that has a lot in common with what you do—searching for clues, understanding motives. It’s like I’ve been serving an apprenticeship all these years. Now I’m ready to come out of the shadows.”

  He was getting a bad feeling, a real deer-in-the-headlights kind of feeling.

  “What are you planning to do when this case is over?” he asked.

  “I’m going to open a psychic detective agency,” Gwen announced.

  She was damn near incandescent now, he thought.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He set his cup down in the holder. “Gwen, listen to me, this business isn’t what you think it is.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to compete with Coppersmith Consulting,” she said quickly. “I’m not interested in industrial espionage or secret agent work.”

  “Okay, that’s a good thing because—”

&
nbsp; “I’m thinking more along the lines of small, quiet murder cases and missing persons work.”

  “There are no quiet cases of murder, and when people go missing it’s usually for a reason—often a dangerous reason.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  “That’s supposed to reassure me? Gwen, you read auras for a living. You fix bad dreams, remember?”

  “I just explained that background will be very helpful in my investigations.” Excitement and energy heated her eyes. “This feels right, Judson. It’s like I’ve been floundering around all my life trying to find myself and figure out what I ought to be doing.”

  “You sound like my sister, Emma.”

  “I’ve found my passion, Judson, just as you have. I’m sure your sister will find hers, too, eventually.”

  For a nightmarish instant, he was back in the flooded caves, sucking up the last of the air in the tank. It took him a couple of seconds to breathe again.

  He wanted her to feel passion for him, he realized, not for the investigation business. But she had a point. He did have a passion for the work that he did. How could he argue that she shouldn’t feel something similar? Because it could be dangerous. That was the reason. The thought of Gwen going off on her own to investigate small, quiet murder cases scared the living daylights out of him. But he also had to admit that he understood.

  They sat quietly for a time, the rain drizzling steadily on the windshield. The surging energy of the falls was a palpable force that penetrated the SUV. Something deep inside Judson responded to the wild currents. The steady, unrelenting roar was muffled by the closed windows, but it was always there in the background. He wondered absently how many eons the water had been cascading over the cliff. You didn’t have to be psychic to know that there was such a thing as the paranormal. You only had to look at the forces of nature to realize that energy existed across a vast—perhaps an endless—spectrum that extended far beyond what people, with their limited senses and puny machines, could measure.