The Lost Night (22 page)

“I don’t understand any of that para-psych babble,” Vince grumbled. “What does that mean?”

“If I’m right,” Rachel said, “someone did more than merely hypnotize you. Whoever put you under went straight to the dreamlight currents of your aura. That takes a very rare kind of talent.”

Vince trembled and started to stutter. “H-how do I know y-you’re telling me the truth?”

“You can let me try to restore the natural oscillation pattern of the wavelengths in the part of your aura that is now frozen.”

Vince
did not look convinced. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“All I’m going to do is touch you,” she said. “I promise that you will be awake the whole time. If at any point in the process you want me to stop, I will.”

Vince took a deep breath. “Okay. Just do it.”

Rachel looked at Harry. His jaw tightened. She knew he did not like the idea of her having physical contact with Vince. But Rachel had seen enough of Vince’s aura to know that he was no longer a threat. He was just plain scared.

“Trust me,” she said to Harry. “It will be okay. Vince isn’t going to hurt me. We need answers and this is the only way we’re going to get them.”

Reluctantly, Harry got to his feet and motioned her to take his place. Then he went to stand directly behind Vince.

“Hands on the table, Vince,” he said. “One false move and there will be dreams, all right, the kind of bad dreams you had last night at the cabin.”

Vince flinched but he placed his bound wrists on the table.

Rachel sat down across from him and put her fingertips lightly on one of his hands. He was shivering.

“Vince, do you feel ill?” she asked.

“No.”

“You’re terrified and not just because you’ve been arrested,” she said quietly. “I think that whoever hypnotized you implanted a command intended to keep you from talking about anything you might remember. The command triggers a panic response if someone asks you for the truth about what happened last night, maybe about other things as well.”

Vince
gritted his teeth. “Just do whatever it is you’re going to do and get it over with.”

“Right.”

She gathered herself, heightened her talent, and focused energy through one of the charms on her bracelet.

Vince’s aura was still fundamentally strong. He had the natural vitality of youth and good health on his side. But the ice in his dreamlight was deathly cold.

She studied the frozen wavelengths for a moment, trying to decide how to approach the task. Then she began to pulse gentle, stimulating currents of energy into the paralyzed sectors.

Vince was shaking with fear. There was a wild panic in his eyes. But he did not beg her to stop.

For a moment Rachel worried that nothing was happening and that she could not reset the natural wavelengths of Vince’s aura. But gradually the ice-cold hue of the frozen currents began to warm with the familiar colors of healthy dreamlight. The bands of energy started to pulse in what she sensed was Vince’s natural pattern.

Vince jerked his hands away from Rachel. He stared at her, shocked. She could almost see his lost memories slamming back into his conscious mind. His mouth dropped open. He sucked in air and tried to come up off the chair, but Harry’s hand clamped around his shoulder, forcing him back down.

“What did you do to me?” Horror flashed in his eyes. “It’s just a dream, a nightmare. Eric and I didn’t set fire to the old house.”

“We
were there,” Harry said. “We saw both of you.”

“We didn’t set that fire, didn’t try to kill you two.” Bewildered, Vince groaned. “Why would we do that? We don’t even know you guys.”

“Good question,” Harry said. “Why did you do it?”

Vince blinked several times as more memories returned. He sank wearily back into his chair. “Because he told us to do it.”

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Mr. Cosgrove.”

“Who is Mr. Cosgrove?” Harry asked.

Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. He just showed up at Second Chance House a couple of days ago and offered us a job.”

“What is Second Chance House?” Rachel asked.

“It’s this homeless shelter for street kids in Frequency City,” Vince said. “Eric and I hang out there.”

“Why did Cosgrove send you and Eric to kill Miss Blake and me?” Harry asked.

“Not Miss Blake,” Vince said. “Just you. Cosgrove said you were a real bad guy who had killed some people. He said you were going to kill more people if we didn’t stop you. He told us to take the ferry to Rainshadow Island and firebomb that old cabin while you were inside.”

“But I wasn’t the only one inside,” Harry said.

Vince gave Rachel a beseeching look. “I swear we didn’t know you were in there with him, Miss Blake.”

“I
understand,” Rachel said.

“Where did you get the incendiary device and the two pistols?” Harry asked.

Vince went blank-faced again. “Incendi-what?”

“The device you used to torch the house.”

“Oh, that. Mr. Cosgrove gave it to us and showed us how to work it. Then he gave us the pistols and showed us how to use them, too, although we didn’t get much practice in before we left Frequency City.”

Rachel leaned forward. “Now I have a question for you, Vince.”

“Yeah?”

“What is the significance of the tattoo on the back of your hand?”

“Huh? This?” Vince started to raise one hand to glance at it. He stopped when he realized that his wrists were secured together. “You get one when you’re accepted into the Circle at Second Chance House.”

“What does it take to be accepted?” Rachel asked.

Vince reddened. “I dunno. Mr. Kidwell makes the decision. When he decides you’ve got what he calls potential, he invites you to join the Circle. There’s like this cool ceremony, see? We went down into the catacombs with Mr. Kidwell and we took an oath and swore that we would never reveal the secrets of the Circle and stuff like that. Then we get the tat.”

Harry looked at Rachel over the top of Vince’s head. “Any ideas here?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, thinking about it. “We were right.

Mr. Kidwell and his friend Mr. Cosgrove use Second Chance House to recruit their own private army of street kids.”

“An
expendable army,” Harry said. “Use and toss as needed. No one will notice a few kids who go missing off the street.”

Vince looked up at him, alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t want to know,” Harry said.

“One more question,” Rachel said. “Did Mr. Kidwell wear any jewelry?”

“Yeah, he’s got a ring with a griffin on it. Why?” “Any other jewelry?”

Vince shrugged. “I dunno. We never see his face. He wears a mask and this big old-fashioned cloak when we meet him down in the tunnels.”

“Mr. Kidwell is Marcus Lancaster,” Rachel said. “I’m sure of it.”

“We can’t be sure of anything yet,” Harry said, “but I agree that’s a likely possibility.”

He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out under the small café table, folded his arms, and watched Rachel pace the small space. It was not like her to pace, he thought. Her restlessness said a lot about her mood.

Darwina, perched on the far end of the counter, the Amberella doll clutched tightly in one paw, had picked up on Rachel’s tension. The dust bunny was partially sleeked out. Now and again she opened her second set of eyes as if watching for a threat.

Rachel glowered. “I thought we agreed that it is no coincidence that Vince and Eric are wearing griffin tattoos identical to the one on Lancaster’s ring.”

“I
agree the tats are a link between the three of them, but at the moment, that’s all we’ve got. Keep in mind that it wasn’t Kidwell who sent Vince and Eric after me, it was this other guy, Cosgrove. And remember that currently Kidwell is locked up in a para-psych ward at the Chapman Clinic.”

“They’re working together.”

“Sounds like it, yes. But why?”

She opened the glass case that held a selection of chocolate zingers and offered one to Darwina. “Here you go, pal. These cookies won’t last another day, and I don’t think we’re going to get any more from Jilly until the power comes back on.”

Darwina appeared to forget about any potential threat in the vicinity. She chortled, dropped Amberella on the counter, and bustled forward to seize the cookie. She settled down to polish off the treat with gusto.

Rachel watched her with affection. “Life is so uncomplicated for a dust bunny. Talk about the ultimate stage of Enlightenment. They truly do live in the now.”

“Maybe they have mastered the art of living in the present moment,” Harry said, “but I’ve got a hunch there is a dark side to dust bunny life.”

Rachel glanced at him, startled, “Why do you say that?”

“Because they are living creatures and that means they have to work to stay alive. Staying alive always has a dark side.”

Rachel
blinked “Okay, that’s a very yin-yang thing to say. Are you sure you never studied at an HE academy?”

“The HE community isn’t the first or the only crowd to seek enlightenment.” Harry got to his feet. “Let’s go talk to our witness.”

“Calvin Dillard? Okay.”

She went quickly about the business of closing up the bookshop. When she was finished, she gathered up her tote and Darwina and Amberella and put the Closed sign in the front window. Harry opened the back door, and they all went outside and got into the SUV. Darwina hopped up onto the back of the passenger seat and fluffed up with an air of great expectation, but Harry got the impression she was rather unimpressed when he drove slowly and cautiously through the fog.

“What do you know about Dillard?” he asked.

“Not much but, then, that’s not exactly unusual here on Rainshadow. Calvin has never talked about his past. About the only thing I can tell you is that he subscribes to some science journals and that he’s a musician.”

“Which journals?”

“I can’t remember the names. He comes into town to pick up his mail a few times a week and he often stops at my shop for a cup of tea and a package of the tisane I blend for him before he drives back out to his place. A couple of times I’ve noticed the journals among the items in his mail. I asked him about them once.”

“What did he say?”

“Just that they were left over from another life.”

“Are
they the sort of science magazines that are published for laypeople?” Harry asked.

“No, they were the serious sort that are read by academics and researchers.”

“What area of science?”

“Hmm? Oh, biology. I think that once upon a time he did some work in that field. He’s a very intelligent man. Brilliant, really.”

“You said he was a musician. What does he play?”

“Several instruments. I know for sure he’s got a violin and a guitar because he plays them occasionally at local celebrations and get-togethers.” She paused. “I think that he was playing a flute the morning I walked out of the Preserve. I remember following the sound of the music. The notes were crystal clear.”

“He was playing a flute at dawn?”

“A lot of the locals keep odd hours.”

He thought about that. It was true that the residents of Rainshadow were an odd bunch, but something told him that the business with the flute was important.

“One thing we’ve got in our favor,” he said aloud, “is that all forms of communication are down. There’s no way Lancaster can know what is going on here. He’s stuck in that locked ward at the Chapman Clinic. If he’s as deep in this thing as it looks, he must be frustrated and nervous as hell.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Yes. Frustrated people tend to get reckless and make mistakes.”

“What about this Cosgrove person?” Rachel asked.

“He
is now occupying the number-two position on my priority list, right below Calvin Dillard.”

“I thought I was Suspect Number One.”

His hands tightened on the wheel. “Rachel, I’ve tried to explain—”

“Never mind. That’s Calvin’s cottage up ahead.”

If the road hadn’t dead-ended at the cottage, it would have been easy to miss Calvin Dillard’s house in the thick fog. As it was, Harry caught only glimpses of the weather-beaten cabin floating in and out of the gray mist.