Dream Eyes (8 page)

J
UDSON CRACKED OPEN
the driver’s-side door and got out. Together they went up the steps, crossed the porch and stopped at the door.

He watched her take the key out of her tote. When she got the door open, he moved into the front hall ahead of her. Energy whispered in the atmosphere, cold and intense. She knew that he had heightened his talent.

“The electricity is still on,” she said. She stepped into the hall behind him and flipped a switch, illuminating the small space. “No need to work in the dark.”

“Which way?”

“Down the hall to your right.”

Judson moved along the hallway. “What happened to the Ballinger study?”

“Evelyn stopped it after the second member of the study group was found dead. She realized that something awful was happening, and she sensed that it was connected to her research.”

“I’m going to want to hear about the three people who died two years ago,” he said. “Especially how you came to find the bodies.”

She had known this was coming, she reminded herself. She was prepared.

“I assumed you would want the details,” she said.

He looked back over his shoulder. “Show me where you found Ballinger’s body.”

“All right, but I think I should show you this picture first.” She took a photo out of her tote and handed it to him. “I found this on the floor beside her this morning. I’m not sure what to make of it but I think it might be important.”

Judson studied the photo. “I recognize you. Who are the others?”

“It’s a group shot of the members of Evelyn’s research study. She kept it thumbtacked to her bulletin board. The fact that it had been ripped off the board and dropped on the floor bothered me for some reason.”

“Ballinger is not in the picture.”

“She was the one who took the photo. Three of the people in that picture are dead. Mary Henderson, the blonde on the left, Ben Schwartz, the man standing next to her, and Zander Taylor. Taylor is the good-looking dark-haired man in the first row.”

“You’re standing next to a serial killer.”

She shuddered. “Don’t remind me. His goal was to take us down in the order in which we were posed in the picture. It was all a game to him. He was annoyed because he had to make me his third target. He said I had interfered with the proper sequence of play.”

Judson’s eyes heated. So did his ring. “He told you that?”

“Shortly before he went over the falls. Yes.”

“All right, we’ll finish this conversation later. Let’s take a look at the scene.”

Gwen kept her talent tamped down so that she would not see the ghost in the mirror. She reached around the corner of the door frame, found the wall switch and flipped it.

Shock lanced through her when she registered the chaos inside the office. Desk drawers and cupboard doors stood open. Books had been swept off the shelves. Files had been pulled out of the metal cabinet and dumped on the floor.

“Good grief,” she whispered, stunned.

“I take it things didn’t look like this when you got here this morning?” Judson said.

“No,” she said. “Someone searched this room sometime after I left today.”

She was already tense and on edge. Her startled response to the scene in the office kicked up her talent. It was an intuitive reaction. Before she could suppress it, she was looking into the mirror.

The ghost appeared in the glass.

“Well, you knew that this was going to get a lot more complicated, didn’t you, dear?” the ghost said. “That’s why you brought along your very own psychic investigator. I must say, he looks interesting. Definitely a high-end talent. I do hope he’s competent.”

“You and me, both,” Gwen said under her breath.

“What did you say?” Judson asked.

“Nothing.” She dragged her attention away from the mirror, lowered her senses and looked at him. “Talking to myself. I do that sometimes. Bad habit.” She swept a hand out to indicate the overturned office. “What happened here?”

“I’ll go out on a limb here and say that it sure looks like someone was searching for something he expected to find in Evelyn’s office.”

“No kidding.” She paused, frowning. “Maybe the killer didn’t find whatever he was after on her computer so he came back to take another look.”

“I don’t think so.” Judson prowled deliberately through the office, stopping briefly to brush his fingertips across the top of the desk. “I think we’re dealing with someone else. Doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection between the second person and the killer, though.”

“What makes you think that there was a second person here?”

“There’s a lot of desperation and growing rage in this space. Whoever conducted the search started out with a high level of urgency and left in a frustrated fury.”

Gwen was fascinated. “You can sense all that?”

“Sure,” Judson said, “providing the emotions were laid down with a lot of intense energy as they were in this case. It’s what I do, Gwen.”

“All right, let’s think about this. If there was a second intruder, maybe he was searching for whatever was on the computer or the cell phone, in which case he didn’t find it because the killer got to the information first.”

“That’s a reasonable assumption.” Judson crouched on the floor and shuffled through the folders that had been dumped on the carpet. “Some of these files go back thirty years.”

“I told you, Evelyn devoted her life to the study of the paranormal. But in the end, she was never able to prove anything to mainstream science.”

Judson opened several folders and examined the contents. “Looks like most of her research was focused on dreams.”

“Much of it was, yes. That’s why she and I became so close. I met Evelyn when I was in high school at the Summerlight Academy. She was a counselor there, the only one who really understood my psychic side. My aura vision is linked to my lucid-dreaming ability.”

“Yeah?”

She flushed, remembering how bad things had gone that night in Seattle when she had made the mistake of offering to fix his dark dreams.

“Never mind,” she said quickly. “It’s complicated, believe me.”

“I believe you.” Judson got to his feet with the languid grace of a tiger. “You and Ballinger stayed in touch after you left Summerlight?”

“Yes.” She watched Judson move through the room. “Well? What do you think? Did Evelyn die of natural causes because of the shock of a random home invasion? Or was she murdered?”

Judson stopped in the vicinity of the space where Gwen had found Evelyn’s body. Energy heated the atmosphere.

“She was murdered,” he said quietly. “No question about it.”

Gwen thought she was prepared for that answer. It was the same conclusion that she had arrived at that morning. Nevertheless, Judson’s matter-of-fact certainty made her catch her breath.

“By paranormal means?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Damn, just like last time.” Gwen made fists with her hands. “I was hoping I was wrong.”

Judson did not respond to that. Instead, he did another short circuit of the room and stopped again near the desk.

“What?” she asked. “I can tell that something isn’t coming together for you.”

Judson met her eyes. “Ballinger died here, where I’m standing. But I’m almost positive that the killer was not physically close to her when she died. He was standing over there, near the door.”

“Oh, crap, are you sure?”

He gave her a politely patient look. “Analyzing crime scenes is what I do, Gwen.”

“Yes, I know. Sorry, it’s just that—never mind. I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“In my experience, it takes a very strong talent to overwhelm another person’s aura and stop the heart,” Judson said. “I’ve met very, very few psychics who can generate that much firepower and even fewer who can focus their talent so that it can be used as a lethal weapon. In those rare situations, the killer almost always needs to have physical contact with the victim. But there are exceptions.”

A chill feathered her senses. “Yes, I know. You think that whoever murdered Evelyn used a paranormal weapon of some kind, don’t you?”

“That’s the only explanation that works for this scenario. According to what Sam and his lab techs have discovered, psi-based weapons have to be used at fairly close range. They aren’t very powerful or accurate beyond a range of about twenty feet.”

Gwen took a long breath and let it out slowly, with control. “I’ve heard the Coppersmith R-and-D lab does research in that field.”

“Paranormal weapons have other limitations, as well. They can only be activated by someone who possesses some talent. And if they are crystal-based technology, they have to be tuned to the wavelengths of the individual who intends to use it. There are other issues, as well. Naturally occurring crystals that can be weaponized are extremely rare. Sam has tried growing them under lab conditions, but he’s had only limited success.”

Gwen wrapped her arms around herself. “Still, such weapons do exist.”

Judson met her eyes across the room. “You sound like you’ve had some personal experience.”

“Two years ago Zander Taylor used a paranormal weapon to murder Mary and Ben.”

Judson frowned. “Are you certain of that?”

“Yes,” she said. “Because he tried to use it on me, too. Now it looks like Evelyn has been killed in the same way. It’s as if Zander Taylor has come back from the grave and brought his damned camera with him.”

“What camera?”

“That’s what his dreadful device looked like, a small camera. Just point and shoot.”

Judson watched her for a long moment.

“How did you escape?”

“We were in the lab. There’s a great deal of energy in that place. Something went very wrong when Zander tried to use his camera. The device sort of exploded, I think.”

Judson gave her a politely skeptical look. “Sort of exploded?”

“It’s hard to explain. All I know is that he suddenly started screaming. He ran for the falls and jumped.”

“That’s all there was to it?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re a damn good liar,” he said. He smiled. “I like that in a woman.”

Eight

W
hen did you start talking to yourself?” Judson asked.

He’d held the question back until after the waiter had brought two glasses of wine to the table. The name of the restaurant was the Wilby Café. It featured a typical Pacific Northwest menu that ran the usual gamut from salmon and Dungeness crab cakes to steak. The establishment’s most outstanding virtue in his opinion was its convenient location. The café was located within walking distance of the Riverview Inn.

He could tell his question caught Gwen off guard. That had been his intention. She was expecting to be interrogated on the subject of Zander Taylor and the camera weapon. He’d get around to that eventually but he preferred the indirect route. It was usually easier to get straight answers out of people if they didn’t see the questions coming. He’d spent enough time in Gwen’s company now to know that she had long ago learned to keep secrets.

When it came to keeping secrets, he thought, they had a lot in common.

Gwen paused, her wineglass halfway to her lips, and looked at him for a long, considering moment. He didn’t care about the delay. He could sit here and look into her eyes forever. He realized that he was still a little jacked. Not like he could shut down completely around her, he thought. Something about Gwen kept him on edge and heated his blood as well as his senses.

For a while he wondered if she was going to answer the question. She had a right to her privacy, but, damn, he wanted to know more about her. And he knew that the talking-to-herself thing was not just an old habit.

She reflected a moment longer. In the end she took a sip of wine and set the glass down very precisely on the table.

“I wasn’t talking to myself today,” she said. “I was in a waking dream, talking to Evelyn’s ghost in the mirror.”

She watched him, waiting for his reaction.

“Huh.” He ran through the possible scenarios. “The ghost is some sort of dreamstate image manifested by your intuition?”

Gwen relaxed visibly. Her eyes cleared and she smiled. “Yes. That’s exactly what happens when I see the ghosts. But it’s almost impossible to explain that to people because it sounds like I’m claiming to have visions.”

“Which is exactly what is going on, when you get right down to it.”

“Sort of, yes.” She eyed him, once again wary. “You don’t appear too freaked. Most people look at me funny when I tell them about the ghosts. My aunt said I mustn’t ever tell anyone about the visions. She said I should learn to ignore them. But after she died, I went into the foster care system. Eventually I made the mistake of confiding in a counselor. Everyone concluded that I was seriously disturbed. The next thing I knew, I landed in the Summerlight Academy. By the time I graduated, I had learned to keep my secrets, believe me.”

“When did the ghost visions start?”

“When I was about twelve. They got stronger as I went through my teens.”

“That’s about the age when Emma, Sam and I came into our talents,” he said.

“I’d see the ghosts in unexpected places, almost always on some reflective surface,” Gwen said. “The first time it was a mirror in an old antique shop. I was terrified. Somehow I knew that it was not a real ghost, but in a way, that just made the experience more unnerving.”

“Because you wondered if you were crazy.”

“For a time, yes,” she said. “So did everyone else around me. But it was Evelyn who helped me to understand that the visions are actually lucid dreams that occur when I’m awake. I can go into a lucid dream on purpose. But the energy laid down at the scenes of violence seems to trigger the ghost dreams.”

“A lucid dreamer is someone who knows when he or she is dreaming, right? The dreamer can take control of the dream.”

“Yes.” Gwen took another sip of wine. “It’s not an uncommon experience. A lot of people occasionally have lucid dreams. But in my case, the talent is linked to my psychic intuition and my ability to see auras. I’ve come to the conclusion that seeing ghosts at old murder scenes is actually just a side effect of my type of paranormal sensitivity.”