Dream Eyes (19 page)

Trisha sighed. “I’m afraid that won’t work. Sara says she will not go in there again as long there is a cat in the room. She’s allergic. You’ll have to take Max with you when you go out.”

Twenty-four

T
he eerie music of the wind chimes rattled Gwen’s senses and sent slivers of ice across the back of her neck. She stood beside the open door of the SUV and looked at Louise Fuller’s small house.

The wind was kicking up in advance of the incoming storm. The sharp breeze stirred the dozens of crystal-and-metal sculptures suspended from the porch roof. The ghostly notes echoed all the way across the spectrum. Gwen glanced at Judson, who had just gotten out from behind the wheel. She knew that he was picking up the same vibes.

In the rear seat of the SUV, Max crouched in his carrier and lashed his tail, making it clear that he was not a happy camper.

“I see what you mean about the wind chimes,” Judson said. He studied the weather-beaten old Victorian. “Weird.”

“I told you, Evelyn always said that Louise has a paranormal sensitivity for tuning crystal and glass.”

She started to close the door of the vehicle, but Max yowled and flattened his ears. Gwen looked at him through the space between the two front seats.

“It’s your own fault that you had to go into the carrier and come with us,” she reminded him. “You were scaring the housekeeper.”

Max bared his fangs.

“It’s okay, take it easy.” Gwen softened her tone. “We’re not going to abandon you. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The chimes clashed and tinkled on the rising currents of air. Max meowed, plaintively this time. He clawed at the mesh door of the carrier.

“I think I’d better bring him with us,” Gwen said. “He seems very agitated.”

“He doesn’t like being stuffed into that carrier,” Judson said. “I don’t blame him.”

She opened the rear door of the vehicle and hauled out the heavy carrier with both hands.

“I think he’s putting on weight,” she said.

Judson came around the front of the vehicle. “Here, I’ll take the carrier.”

He grasped the handle. Max did not look any happier, but he stopped complaining.

They started toward the front door.

“I’ll warn you before we go inside—assuming Louise invites us inside, which is not a sure thing—the indoor chimes are even stranger than the ones hanging from the porch roof,” Gwen said. “They pretty much guarantee that none of Louise’s visitors hangs around long.”

“Was Louise one of the subjects in Ballinger’s study?” Judson asked.

“No. Evelyn asked her to participate, but Louise refused. All she cares about are her chimes. Be prepared for her to refuse to talk to us.” Gwen paused. “Two years ago, she accused me of being a witch like her.”

Judson’s eyes went cold. “I’m assuming that wasn’t intended as a compliment?”

“I’m not sure what she meant, to be honest. That’s the thing about Louise. She lives in her own world and interprets reality through her own crystal ball, so to speak. I don’t think she intended to insult me. In her own way she was trying to warn me.”

“Did she say why you needed to be careful?”

Gwen hunched her shoulders a little against the wind and the unnerving music of the outdoor chimes.

“Something about the demon,” she said. “I asked her for an explanation, but she wouldn’t give me one.”

“Sounds like this is going to be a complicated interview.”

“It won’t be straightforward, that’s for sure.”

They went up the front steps. Judson stopped to examine one of the musical sculptures more closely. It was a large piece, consisting of several thin crystals of varying sizes and shapes. Each was wrapped in a strip of silvery metal.

“This is incredible,” he said. “At least some of the sound is coming from the paranormal end of the spectrum. I can hear it with all my senses.”

“Evelyn’s theory was that the wavelengths of music move through both the normal and the paranormal zones,” Gwen said. “That’s why it has the ability to affect us so profoundly on the emotional level. Most people, including those with no obvious paranormal ability, respond to music on the psychic level.”

“You know, I think one of these sculptures might make a great wedding gift for Sam and Abby.”

“If you want to give them one of Louise’s sculptures, you’ll have to buy it in a local shop. Louise makes her living creating and selling what she calls her tourist chimes. But her personal wind chimes are different. They’re not for sale. She calls them wards.”

Judson glanced at her, frowning. “As in magical wards? The kind used to ward off demons?”

“I think that’s what she means, yes. She worries a lot about demons. That’s why she surrounds the house with the wind chimes.”

Judson reached out to catch hold of one of the chimes. “I wonder what kind of alloy she used to wrap these crystals.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Gwen said quickly.

But it was too late. Judson had already snagged one of the metal strips between his fingers.

Max hissed.

“Damn.” Judson released the metal chime as if it were red-hot, wincing. “I see what you mean. That had a lot in common with touching a live electrical wire.” He surveyed the sculpture more closely, careful not to make physical contact. “But the shock was to my psychic senses.”

“The one time I tried it, I got a bit of a jolt, too.”

He looked down the long row of chime sculptures clashing and tinkling in the charged air of the fast-approaching storm. “Do they all have that effect on the senses?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “After the first go-round, I decided not to carry out any more experiments. But my guess would be that the chimes out here are all a little hot. And I’d advise you to be very, very careful inside because I’m pretty sure those are even hotter.”

“I wonder how she does it?”

“I asked her that once.” Gwen rapped on the front door. “She said something about tuning the frequencies of the stones and a lot of other stuff I didn’t quite understand.”

“Sam is very interested in techniques for tuning paranormal crystals. I wonder if Louise would be willing . . . Huh.”

She turned to look at Judson over her shoulder. “What?”

She realized he was looking down at his ring. The amber-gold crystal was glowing ever so faintly.

“My ring,” he said. He looked grim. “I think it’s responding to the chimes.”

“Or maybe it’s picking up on your psychic response to the music.”

“Maybe.”

Max pawed the door of the carrier, meowing softly.

Gwen turned back to the door and knocked again, more forcefully this time. No one responded.

Judson abruptly set the cat carrier down on the porch.

“Get away from the door, Gwen,” he ordered.

She did not argue. Now she, too, could sense the darker currents swirling beneath the exotic energy of the chimes. The music of the sculptures had initially masked some of the violent energy that was seeping out of the house.

“Oh, damn.” Her hand froze in mid-rap. She backed away. “Not again. This can’t be happening.”

Judson was already at the door. The gun had materialized in his hand as if by magic.

He opened the screen door and tried the doorknob. It turned easily. Gwen knew that was not right. Louise always kept her doors locked.

When he opened the door, the draft stirred the chimes in the hallway. The spectral music sounded like the wailing of doomed souls.

There was a sudden clattering somewhere deep inside the house. It was followed by the thud-thud-thud of running footsteps.

“That’s not Louise,” Gwen said. “She had severe arthritis. She could never move that fast.”

“Stay here,” Judson said.

He raced down the hall.

Max snarled and began attacking the door of the carrier with his claws and teeth. The spitting, hissing and scratching grew increasingly violent.

“Stop that, Max,” Gwen said. “Please.”

The door of the carrier flew open. Max shot out. He dashed across the porch and into the house.

Before Gwen could react, she heard a familiar voice screaming in panic somewhere inside the house.

“Let me go, let me go,” Nicole Hudson shouted. “Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone—”

“Take it easy.” Judson’s voice echoed along a hallway. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

To Gwen’s surprise, Nicole obeyed. At least she stopped the hysterical shrieking and subsided, instead, into jerky, frightened sobs.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I won’t tell Chief Oxley.”

“Tell him what?” Judson asked.

“About what I saw in the basement,” Nicole whispered. “Please.”

“Let’s go see what it is you’re not going to tell anyone about,” Judson said. He raised his voice. “Come on in, Gwen.”

Gwen moved through the doorway. She groped for the hall light switch and found it. But when she flipped it, nothing happened.

Judson appeared at the end of the hall. The gun was no longer in sight. He had a firm grip on Nicole’s arm.

“I just tried the switch at the other end of the hall,” Judson said. “The power is out. Looks like someone got to the electrical panel.”

“It wasn’t me,” Nicole whimpered.

“What’s going on?” Gwen said. But she knew.

“Where’s the body?” Judson asked Nicole.

“Downstairs in the basement,” Nicole said. She gave him a pleading look. “Someone killed Louise.”

“What makes you think she was murdered?” Gwen asked quietly. “Was there blood?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go down there.”

“But you’re sure she’s dead?” Gwen asked.

“I think so. She died the way the others did.” Nicole looked at Gwen with an expression of veiled horror and then looked away very quickly. “Just like the others. Everyone will think it was a heart attack or that she tripped on the basement stairs. Or something. No one will be able to prove that it was murder.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Judson said.

“Please, I don’t want to go down there,” Nicole whispered.

“Where are the basement stairs?” Judson asked.

“That way,” Nicole muttered. She gestured toward a hall.

Judson steered her in the direction that she had indicated. Gwen followed. Max appeared at her feet, crowding close. His ears were flat and his tail was high.

“There you are,” Gwen said quietly. “I wondered where you went.”

They halted in front of an open door midway along the hall. Concrete steps descended into an inky darkness split by a sharp beam of bright light that angled across the concrete floor.

“A flashlight,” Judson said. “She took it with her when she went downstairs to check the electrical panel.”

Max wove a restless path between Gwen’s legs and muttered urgently in the mysterious language of felines. The sepulchral music of the sculptures that hung from the ceiling seemed to grow louder.
Should have closed the front door,
Gwen thought. The draft was getting stronger.

Nicole froze at the top of the steps. “I don’t want to go down.”

“We’re all going down together,” Judson said. “And remind me to ask you later what the hell you were doing here in the first place.”

Nicole started reluctantly down the steps. “I just wanted to talk to her.”

“Did you bring your father’s old hunting rifle along for the chat?” Judson asked.”

“No, I swear, I didn’t bring it.” Nicole stopped, gripped the railing and stared back at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Oxley came by the shop. He said you thought I took a shot at you out at the old lodge yesterday, but that wasn’t me. He asked me to show him Dad’s old rifle but I couldn’t find it. Someone stole it.”

“Yeah?” Judson made it clear he didn’t believe a word Nicole was saying. “When did that happen?”

“How should I know?” Nicole wailed. “I keep it in my grandmother’s cedar chest. I haven’t had any reason to open that chest in months.”

“You’re lying,” Judson said. “We can go over the details later.”

Halfway down the steps, another unsettling shiver of awareness stirred Gwen’s senses. She realized that Max was no longer talking to her. She glanced back and saw that the cat was not following her down into the basement. She could see him silhouetted in the doorway. He had gone very still, very alert, at the top of the steps. But he was not watching her and the others. His attention was fixed on something only he could see.

The dark music of the chimes was growing more intense, almost painful. The wind keened through the old house. The shadows in the hallway lengthened as the storm gathered outside.

The light shifted abruptly down below in the basement. Startled, Gwen turned quickly and saw that Judson had picked up the flashlight. She made herself take a deep, steadying breath.

Judson played the light beam across the body. Louise was sprawled faceup on the cold concrete. The ropes of her long gray braids were tumbled around her head. She had always been thin, but in death she appeared gaunt, almost skeletal. Her sharp features were so starkly etched that it was as if her skin had been drawn tight over her skull.

The violent energy pooling in the room left no doubt as to the cause of death. She knew from the way Judson was studying the body that he was picking up the same vibes and probably a lot more information than she could.

“Poor Louise,” Gwen whispered.

“This was murder,” Judson said.

Nicole cringed and turned away from the body. “You can’t blame this on me.”

Judson ignored her to sweep the beam of the flashlight around the small space. The light raked across crates and boxes filled with crystals, mirrors, and the metals that Louise used in her sculptures.

Judson shifted the light again, aiming in another direction. “The electrical panel is over there on that wall. But she was here, near this crate when she died. If she came downstairs to check the panel, why did she end up over here?”

The light danced across a handful of palm-sized crystals in the shape of teardrops that lay on the floor near the body. Gwen followed the ray of light and was not surprised when a ghost appeared in one of the crystals.

“I knew you would get here sooner or later,” the specter said. “Took you long enough.”