Dream Eyes dl-2

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Buddy snorted in disgust. “Unfortunately, that’s how Evelyn put it together, too. I got that much out of her before she died.”

  “You took her computer and cell phone.”

  “I wanted to see if Evelyn had called or e-mailed anyone else about her suspicions. There was only the one e-mail sent earlier that night to Gwen Frazier. I knew she would probably arrive later and find the body, but I didn’t see any harm in that. I was sure that even if Oxley had his suspicions, he would focus on Gwen as a possible killer.”

  “Then I showed up.”

  “I knew you might be a problem, especially if you started asking questions. Louise has been a risk for years. Crazy and getting crazier by the day. By then I knew I no longer needed her, so I got rid of her, hoping that would be the end of the matter. I figured all I had to do after that was wait, because sooner or later you and Gwen would leave town and things would return to normal. But tonight I realized you weren’t going to give up and go away.”

  “You’re the demon Louise Fuller feared,” Judson said. “The father of her only child.”

  Buddy snorted. “She tried to use my own son to kill me.”

  “Why not? Zander Taylor was a chip off the old block.”

  “Except for the crazy gene,” Buddy said. “He got that from his mother.”

  “Nah,” Judson said. “Like father, like son. Psychos, both of you.”

  “Bullshit.” Fury flashed in Buddy’s eyes. “I’m a professional. I do it for the money. Zander was a gamer. I swear, he was obsessed. Once he got a taste of his kill-the-psychic game, he couldn’t control himself. Sooner or later, he would have been caught. I knew I’d have to get rid of him when he started killing right here in Wilby two years ago. But Gwen Frazier took care of the problem for me. Gotta tell you, that was convenient.”

  “You went to the lab as soon as you heard that Taylor had gone over the falls. You found the camera. That must have been a big relief. You knew your secret was probably safe, but the incident left you with some unanswered questions, didn’t it?”

  “I knew that Zander didn’t jump to his death, at least not intentionally. He lived for the game. All I could assume was that there was some kind of struggle and Gwen got lucky.” Buddy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you know how that happened, do you?”

  “Sure,” Judson said. “I know exactly what happened. You’re right—your son was not a suicide. He attacked Gwen and she defended herself. Taylor lost the struggle and went over the falls.”

  “Zander must have let the rush of the kill get to him at the critical moment.”

  “Something like that,” Judson said.

  “Like I said, it was only a matter of time before he screwed up, thanks to his mother. Louise had her uses, but she was not good genetic stock.”

  “You brought her here to Wilby all those years ago because you wanted to keep her conveniently available. You needed her to tune the crystal weapon she made for you.”

  “So you know about my own little gadget?” Buddy raised his brows. “I’ll admit I didn’t realize you’d gotten that far.”

  “That gun sure as hell isn’t powered by a crystal.”

  “No, the gun is standard issue,” Buddy said. “But it, too, has its uses. It tends to leave the kind of evidence that the police like. When this is finished, the scene will look like a drug deal gone bad. Who knew Nicole was dealing out of her back room and that you were here to buy some merchandise?”

  “Why not use the crystal to kill both of us?”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “You mean, you haven’t been able to get it retuned since you used it to murder Louise Fuller,” Judson said. “You want to preserve whatever energy is left in it because it may take quite a while to find a new crystal tuner. When did it occur to you that you might be able to use Ballinger’s records from her days at the Summerlight Academy to locate a replacement for Louise?”

  “Son of a bitch.” Buddy whistled softly. “You really do know everything, don’t you?”

  “I had a little help from my friends.”

  “Sounds like I’ve got some more cleaning up to do after we’re finished here. I blame this mess on Zander. If he hadn’t come here to Wilby to find his dear old mom, none of this would have happened. I’ve been in this business for over a decade and no one has ever suspected me of anything more than selling wilted lettuce.”

  “Was that when Louise made the first crystal weapon for you? A decade ago?”

  “The witch was always fooling around with crystals. Thirty-four years ago, she created the first-generation stones. They weren’t nearly as powerful, but they could be used along with some psychoactive drugs to implant hypnotic suggestions.”

  “You used them to run your profitable little cult in L.A.”

  “Shit. You know that, too?” Buddy grunted. “What a mess. You’re right about the rocks. After I closed down the cult, I used them to make money in a variety of ways—blackmail, investment scams, that kind of thing. But ten years back, Louise came up with a version that could kill without a trace. I realized the possibilities immediately.”

  “You moved here to Wilby and brought Louise here, as well,” Judson said. “You took on a new identity and went into the murder-for-hire business.”

  “It all went well until Zander arrived looking for his mother. I wasn’t aware that he had found her at first. Didn’t know she gave him one of the crystals. He was operating on his own, playing his stupid game. Then he heard about the Ballinger Study. He just could not resist.”

  “That’s when you found out that you had a son who had inherited some of your talent,” Judson said.

  “Obviously, I’ll have to deal with Gwen Frazier,” Buddy said. “Who else knows what you do?”

  “Seriously?” Judson smiled. “You think I’m going to give you a hit list?”

  “Yes. Seriously. Because you’re wrong about my little gadget. Plenty of energy left in it. Let me show you.”

  Buddy reached inside his shirt and took out the pendant he wore on the gold chain around his neck. The crystal was a teardrop shape. It was wrapped in a metal frame attached to the chain. The stone glittered darkly in the shadows.

  “That answers one question,” Judson said. “It doesn’t need to be retuned after every kill. I did wonder about that.”

  “It will work up to three times before it needs to be refocused. Louise retuned it just before I used it on her. I hate to waste a second firing on you, but you give me no choice. I warn you, you’re going to regret your decision. You see, this device can be used to kill very slowly when speed is not necessary. And the pain, I’m told, is excruciating—like being buried alive inside a glacier.”

  The crystal flashed with dark ultraviolet radiation, but Judson was ready. He sent energy into his ring and got the response he was looking for. The amber stone burned with a searing radiance. The wavelengths collided with those of the dark pendant and sent them rebounding back toward the point of origin.

  Buddy gasped when the paranormal radiation from his own weapon slammed into him. He reeled backward, but he did not go down.

  He abandoned the crystal weapon, however, and struggled to level the barrel of the weapon.

  Judson seized the nearest vase off the counter and sent the heavy glass container and the contents—a couple of quarts of water and a mass of yellow chrysanthemums—hurtling toward Buddy’s head.

  Buddy ducked instinctively and flung himself through the doorway into the back room. The vase shattered against the wall.

  Judson went through the doorway and kicked Buddy’s legs out from under him. The gun landed on the floor.

  Buddy fell back against the workbench. He seized a floral knife and came up with it in his hand. He started to lunge toward Judson, but he was not fast enough. Judson used another slashing kick to take him down.

  Buddy groaned and fell facedown on the floor.

  There was a moment of terrible silence. Buddy started to make gurgling so
unds. Judson picked up the gun and set it on the workbench. Then he crouched beside Buddy and turned him slowly onto his back.

  The handle of the knife jutted from Buddy’s chest. He gazed up at Judson with eyes that were already filming over with shock and impending death. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s the thing about women,” he rasped. “You can’t trust ’em.”

  “The problem,” Judson said, “was that they couldn’t trust you.”

  Blood and the psychic energy of violent death were already seeping into the floorboards. Judson knew the taint would be detectable as long as the building stood.

  Some toxic spills could never be cleaned up.

  Forty

  “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me that Buddy Poole was going around the country murdering old people with some kind of paranormal weapon,” Oxley said. He closed the folder on his desk and cranked back in his chair. “No need to come up with crazy theories to explain this situation. The money trail and the calendar notes work just fine.”

  “Good to know,” Judson said.

  “You’ve convinced me that Poole was running a murder-for-hire operation. But I expect he was using the old-fashioned pillow-over-the-face method or maybe a little poison. Those techniques are very effective, especially when the victims are old and sick.”

  “You know what, you’re right, chief,” Judson said. “No need to come up with paranormal explanations. But there will never be any proof, either.”

  He was very aware of Gwen sitting tensely beside him. Together they faced Oxley across the desk. One of the officers had driven Nicole home after she had given her statement.

  “What about Evelyn’s and Louise’s deaths?” Gwen demanded. “Do you believe that Buddy murdered them, too?”

  “Yes,” Oxley said. He gave a world-weary sigh. “But I also know I’ll never be able to prove it, just like I’ll never be able to prove that he killed for money. No way I’m going to try to go after Buddy’s clients. Not my job, and I sure as hell haven’t got enough to take to the FBI.”

  “Some folks are going to get away with murder,” Judson pointed out. “Namely Buddy’s clients.”

  “Yep, that’s a fact.” Oxley rubbed the back of his neck. “And I’m real sorry about that, but it happens all the time. You can only do what you can do in situations like this. You know what’s important here?”

  “What?” Judson asked.

  “You saved Nicole Hudson’s life, and Buddy Poole is dead in what was a clear case of self-defense that wound up as a tragic accident. That’s as much justice as anyone can expect under the circumstances. As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed.”

  “What about the deaths two years ago?” Gwen asked.

  Oxley narrowed his eyes. “No point reopening those investigations because I don’t have a damn thing more in the way of evidence. But if it makes you feel any better, I will tell you that I believe Zander Taylor murdered those two people who participated in Evelyn’s research project. And I believe that his death out there at the falls was another tragic accident that, by an astonishing coincidence, resulted in rough justice for the victims. I’m okay with that.”

  Gwen looked at Judson.

  “The chief is right,” Judson said. “The bad guys are both dead. This is as good as it gets.”

  “I know,” Gwen said.

  Oxley cleared his throat. “There is one thing I’d like to know, Miss Frazier.”

  She turned back to him. “Yes?”

  “When, exactly, do you plan on leaving town? Not that I’m marking the days on my calendar, you understand.”

  “Trust me, I am really looking forward to putting Wilby in my rearview mirror just as soon as I can,” Gwen said sweetly.

  “Good,” Oxley said. “No offense, but I’m real glad to hear that.”

  Forty-one

  “Your mom and I have some good news and some interesting news for you regarding the money that Buddy Poole stashed in that offshore account,” Nick Sawyer said.

  Judson, phone clamped to his ear, reached the far end of his room. Confronted with a wall, he turned and paced back toward the opposite wall. He did not like the restless, edgy sensation that was feathering the fine hair on the back of his neck. Max watched him from the center of the bed.

  “I assume that interesting is your way of describing bad news?” Judson said.

  “I’ll get to that,” Nick said. “Before I deliver our report, however, Mrs. Coppersmith and I would like to stress that this follow-the-money thing would have gone much faster if you had remembered to put Poole’s name on your list of suspects.”

  Judson rubbed the back of his neck. The edgy feeling was growing stronger. He knew it meant that he had overlooked something important.

  “Poole wasn’t connected to the study group,” he said.

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a critique of my investigative skills. I’m well aware that things have not gone smoothly here in Wilby, but I would like to remind you and Mom that I came into this case cold just a few days ago and it turned out that the situation was a bit more complicated than I had been led to believe.”

  “No shit,” Nick said. “On a personal note, I’d love to know how you got your hands on that offshore account number and Poole’s password.”

  “I used to do some work for a federal agency,” Judson said.

  “Oh, yeah, right, the Post Office. I keep forgetting.”

  “Finding that account info wasn’t easy, let me tell you. There were dogs. Big dogs.”

  “Chained?”

  “Nope, loose inside the house.”

  “How’d you get past ’em?” There was professional interest in Nick’s voice now. “Dogs can be a real problem.”

  “I had help,” Judson admitted. “I went over to Poole’s place with a bag of kibble and Nicole Hudson. She’s the one who fed the dogs whenever Poole went out of town on one of his contract jobs. The mutts know her, and they love her. In fact, she’s going to adopt them now that Poole is no longer around.”

  “Did this Nicole know what Poole was doing when he went out of town?”

  “No. Tell me about the account.”

  “We found it right quick after you gave us the number and the password,” Nick said.

  “But?”

  “But it was closed.”

  Judson stopped in the middle of the room. “Are you sure?”

  “When it comes to large sums of anonymous cash, I pay close attention,” Nick said. “So does your mother.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Go on.”

  “Poole’s offshore account was emptied quite recently.”

  “He must have known we were onto him,” Judson said. “Maybe he moved the money as a precaution.”

  “Not unless he did it from beyond the grave.”

  “Don’t tell me—”

  “That account was closed about forty minutes after Poole had his unfortunate encounter with a sharp object this morning.”

  “Shit.”

  “Whatever. According to the timeline that you gave me, Poole suffered his lethal accident in the floral shop at approximately two a.m. The account was closed shortly thereafter. So, it looks to us like maybe—”

  “Like maybe there’s someone else involved in this thing.” Judson headed for the door. “Someone who not only knew about the offshore account but also knew that it was time to move on.”

  “Whoever he is, in addition to being very, very good on a computer, he must have his finger on the pulse of what’s happening there in Wilby,” Nick said.

  “He sure as hell does. The bastard has a front-row seat.”

  Judson yanked open the door and went swiftly out into the hall. Max vaulted from the bed to the floor and dashed after him.

  “You’re on your own, cat,” Judson said.

  Max stuck like glue.

  Judson opened the stairwell door and started down. Max followed on his heels.
>
  “Are you in a stairwell?” Nick asked. “There’s this hollow sound.”

  “I’m using the emergency stairs. This explains why I didn’t find Evelyn’s computer or that damn camera at Poole’s house this morning.” Judson gripped the railing and leaped down the next flight of steps. Max bounded after him. “I’ll talk to you later. Call the Wilby 911 number and tell the operator to get someone out to the old lodge immediately. Tell her there’s another murder about to take place.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Gwen left a few minutes ago. She’s on her way to meet Sundew. And she’s alone.”

  Forty-two

  Gwen pulled into the driveway of the old lodge. It was not raining, but the gray skies were growing darker and more ominous by the minute. Wesley Lancaster’s rental car was parked under the shelter of the peaked roof at the front entrance. She stopped directly behind him.

  His extraordinarily generous offer to buy the lodge to use as a set for his new series had come as a surprise that morning, but the more she thought about it, the more interesting the idea became. The large sum of money would do wonders for her precarious finances while she set up her psychic investigation business.

  Wesley was not waiting for her inside his car as she had expected. There was no sign of him lounging impatiently in the entryway, either. It occurred to her that to kill time he had walked around the lodge building to get a closer look at the falls.

  She took the code out of her tote and started to key it into the high-tech lock. Belatedly, she realized that the door was unlocked.

  She pushed open the heavy steel door.

  “Wesley? How in the world did you get the code for the door?”

  There was no response from the heavily shadowed interior of the lab. She walked into the energy-infused darkness. The familiar buzz stirred her senses.

  The low floor lights came up, illuminating a section around her feet.