Текст книги "Copper Beach"
Автор книги: Jayne Krentz
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“Okay, I see the picture here,” Sam said. “If it gets out that the hot celebrity expert in family psychology has a daughter with a troubled past who thinks she has paranormal powers, it could kill book sales and the TV deal.”
“And it would be all my fault. On top of that, the whole family would be horribly embarrassed. I’m the crazy daughter they would have preferred to keep stashed in the attic. That sort of thing isn’t done much these days, though, so everyone, including me, goes out of their way to pretend that I’m normal. As far as the media is concerned, the Radwells are just one big happy family. Specifically, we are the perfect example of the modern blended family.”
“You sound like you’re quoting someone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Dad.”
“Your father and the rest of the family don’t realize that you actually do have some true talent?”
“No, of course not. How do you prove a paranormal talent like mine to someone who isn’t sensitive to that kind of energy?”
Amusement gleamed in Sam’s eyes. “Setting fires wasn’t proof ?”
“That is not funny. My family concluded that I was not only delusional but seriously deranged. Hence my time in the Summerlight Academy, where I learned how to pass for normal. They like to think the intensive counseling and therapy were effective. I prefer to let them believe that. It works better for all of us.”
“What do they think you do for a living?”
“As far as they’re concerned, I’m a small-time online bookseller. I’m the official underachiever in the family, but that’s better than having everyone think I’m still delusional.” Abby glanced at her watch again. “I don’t have any more time to waste, Mr. Coppersmith. Will you take the job?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Sam said. “You had a difficult childhood, you set a few fires, spent some time in a special school for troubled teens, and you currently live a double life that has a secret side involving the underground hot-books market. You have zapped at least one individual with your talent, and I’m betting there have been others.”
Alarm flashed through her. “What makes you say that?”
Sam gave her a wicked smile. “Because you admitted you knew you could take down the intruder before you confronted him. That implies some prior experience, or at least a little practice.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay, there may have been a couple of other similar incidents, but I can explain all of them, really. One involved the owner of the bookstore that I accidentally burned down, and there was this creepy assistant professor in college who wanted to run experiments on me and tried to rape me when I refused. And a couple of years ago, a client became obsessed with me, but…”
Sam held up one hand, palm out. “No need to explain, Abby Radwell. You are my kind of client. I’ll take the job.”
5
NOT JUST MY KIND OF CLIENT SAM THOUGHT. MY KIND OF woman
He watched from the dock until Dixon piloted the water taxi with Abby on board out of the harbor and out of sight beyond a cluster of small islets.
He was still feeling the rush when he climbed back into the SUV and started along the narrow winding road to the Copper Beach house. He flexed his hands and took a tighter grip on the steering wheel. Stirred by the energy that was still splashing through him, the Phoenix stone in his ring burned with a low, deep fire. He could not remember the last time he had responded to a woman this way. Never,he concluded.
Abby Radwell had hit his senses like sizzling, sparking, flashing heat lightning produced by some exotic, unknown crystal, one with incredible properties that he could not wait to investigate, that he was compelledto investigate. It was not curiosity or even just physical desire that energized him now, although desire was definitely a big factor in the mix. There was something else going on. Whatever it was, he had a hunch the prowling, hungry awareness was going to keep him awake tonight. Fine by him. It beat the hell out of the recurring dream that had plagued him for the past six months.
When he walked back into the big house, he discovered that a strange silence, a sense of emptiness, had settled on the old place. It was not the kind of silence that was associated with the lack of sound. The stone walls echoed, as they always did, with his footsteps. The thick oak floors creaked in places. The refrigerator hummed faintly in the kitchen.
But there was something different about the atmosphere now. It was as if an invisible hand had hit the paranormal mute button after Abby departed.
He went downstairs into the lab, cranked back in the chair and stacked his heels on the corner of the desk. He steepled his fingers and thought about his new client.
He summoned a mental image first, concentrating on what it was about her that had fascinated him. It was not any single aspect of her appearance, he decided. Warm copper and gold glowed in the depths of her auburn hair, which formed a vibrant cloud of curls around an animated, fascinating, intelligent but not classically beautiful face. Eyes the color of dark amber tilted slightly upward at the outer corners. There was a firmly etched nose and a soft, sensitive mouth to go with the eyes.
She was not tall, no more than five-foot-four at most, but what there was of her was curvy and feminine and healthy-looking in all the right places. She carried herself with the self-confidence of a woman who was accustomed to dealing with her own problems, a woman who was capable of handling a lot of talent. An aura of energy and power brightened the atmosphere around her.
After a while he took out his phone and hit a familiar code. His father picked up halfway through the first ring.
“Did she show up?” Elias demanded.
“She was here,” Sam said. “Just left. She’s on her way back to Seattle.”
“Well? Were you right? Is she involved in this thing?”
“I think so, but I’m not sure how, yet.”
“Webber sent her to you. He wouldn’t have done that if there wasn’t some connection to the lab notebook.”
“I agree, but all I’ve got for certain at the moment is that an anonymous person has sent Abby two notes that qualify as blackmail threats. The sender is trying to coerce her cooperation. He wants her to do something for him, but he hasn’t made any specific demands, just issued a few threats.”
“What kind of threats?” Elias asked.
“Nothing physical, at least not yet. Abby has some stuff in her private life that she would prefer to keep secret for the sake of the family image. Also, she definitely does not want the news of what happened in Vaughn’s library to become widespread gossip in the underground book market.”
“So you were right? That intruder did not go down because of a drug overdose?”
“Abby broke the psi-code on one of the books in Vaughn’s collection, and then she channeled the energy into the intruder’s aura. The currents knocked the guy unconscious.”
Elias whistled softly. “Takes a lot of power to channel energy that hot.”
“It does.”
“And the blackmailer knowsshe did that?”
“It’s not clear if he knows that she took down the intruder. The blackmail notes are a little vague. But I think we can assume he is aware that Abby can unlock psi-codes. My gut tells me that is what is important to him.”
“Lander Knox,” Elias said urgently. “Got to be him. He needs someone like Abby to acquire the lab book and break the code.”
“I’d say there’s a definite possibility that the guy who sent the notes is Lander Knox, but we’re still in the theory-and-speculation stage. The rumors that the lab book has surfaced have been circulating for months now, according to Webber. There are a few other folks who would like to get their hands on that book.”
“Helicon Stone.” Elias’s voice hardened. “Yeah, we have to assume that if that SOB Hank Barrett has gotten wind of the lab book, he’ll be looking for it. Probably send his son out to do his dirty work.”
Sam almost smiled. The feud between Elias and Hank Barrett, the owner of Coppersmith’s biggest competitor, was legendary. No one knew the origins of the quarrel, but over time the hostility between the two men had helped fuel two empires.
There was a great fallacy taught in business schools. It held that successful multimillion-dollar companies were run by smart executives who based their decisions on hard data and logical marketing strategies.
The truth, Sam thought, was that, as with all the other endeavors that human beings engaged in, business was conducted by people who let emotions, egos and personal agendas rule the decision-making process. Sometimes it worked.
“I know how you feel about Hank Barrett, Dad,” he said. “But blackmail isn’t his style, and it’s not Gideon’s, either.”
“Huh.” Elias was silent for a beat. “Wonder why the blackmailer didn’t just try to hire Abby Radwell outright?”
“She only works by referral, and she vets all potential clients through Thaddeus Webber.”
“Must make for a small client list,” Elias said.
“But a relatively safe list. You know as well as I do that there are some dangerous people in the underground market. Abby described it as a very deep pool. She told me that she prefers to swim in the shallows.”
“Looks like somebody just tossed her into the deep end. Too bad Judson isn’t available. You’re on your own with this.”
A week ago, Judson had taken what had looked like a routine consulting assignment for a regular client. He had sent one brief message indicating that the situation had become complicated and that he would not be in touch for a while. There had been no further word from him. That was not unusual with consulting jobs for this particular client, a no–name government agency that paid well for talent and discretion.
“Keep an eye on Radwell,” Elias ordered. “We need to locate that lab book. For now, she’s our best lead.”
“Keeping an eye on Abby won’t be a problem,” Sam said. “She hired me to find the blackmailer.”
“ Hiredyou?” Sam was flabbergasted. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I thought you’d be pleased that I have a new consulting job. I know you and Mom have been worrying about me lately.”
“Now, just one damn minute. Your job is to find that old lab book before Lander Knox does.”
“Got to go, Dad. I’m on my way to Seattle. I’ll update you later.”
Sam ended the connection and went upstairs to pack an overnight bag. Anticipation crackled through him. He would be seeing Abby again soon.
6
ELIAS TOSSED THE PHONE ONTO HIS DESK AND WENT DOWN the glass-walled corridor that overlooked the patio, the pool and the great red rocks beyond.
He paused at the door of his wife’s study. Willow was at her computer. He knew she was working on foundation business. It had been her idea to set up the Coppersmith Foundation twenty years ago. Although she staunchly denied having any psychic talent, her intuition combined with her financial expertise ensured that the foundation was managed brilliantly. No one in the Coppersmith Inc. accounting department could follow the money the way Willow could. As a result, no one got far trying to scam the foundation.
When he went through the doorway he felt the familiar sense of rightness that always thrilled him when he was in Willow’s presence. He’d experienced that same thrill the first time they met. Nothing had changed over the decades.
He had fallen hard for Willow all those years ago, but he was pretty sure that he loved her more now than he had at the start, assuming such a thing was even possible. He had not had a dime to his name back in those days, just the land and mineral rights to a chunk of desert that everyone else thought was fit only for rattlesnakes and growing cactus. But Willow had believed in him. She had made a home for him in a secondhand trailer out there in the desert, never complaining about the lack of money, the blistering heat or the fact that the nearest mall was several hundred miles away. And Willow had kept his secrets. He counted himself the luckiest of men.
Life was very different now. It had taken several years and a lot of sweat before the mining venture proved successful. But in the end, the rare earths that his small company had pulled out of the ground had formed the foundation of the family empire.
He and Willow could afford anything they wanted these days. They enjoyed the money and lived well. But every time he looked at Willow, he knew an unshakable truth that warmed his soul. If he lost the company tomorrow and had to start over again, she would be by his side the whole way, even if it meant going back to that damned trailer.
“He called her Abby,” Elias said.
Willow looked up from the computer. She took off her reading glasses with a slow, thoughtful motion and contemplated him with her knowing eyes.
“You’re talking about the young woman in Seattle who freelances in the book market? The one Thaddeus Webber sent to Sam?”
“Abigail Radwell. Sam met with her today. Looks like someone is trying to blackmail her. I’m betting it’s Lander Knox. Somehow he found out she can break psi-codes. He thinks he can force her to help him find the lab book.”
“There are other people who are after that book,” Willow said.
“Yeah, Sam reminded me of that, too. But Quinn warned me that his son was sick in the head. Evil sick. Blackmail is the kind of shit an evil man would try.”
“Maybe. How does the situation stand now? Did this Abby Radwell agree to help Sam find that notebook?”
“Not exactly. As far as I can tell she hired him to find out who is blackmailing her.”
Willow blinked. “She hiredSam?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Hmm.”Willow pushed back her chair and got to her feet. She went to stand at the window. “Well, I suppose that might work. Sam will persuade her that locating the book and getting it off the underground market is the best way to neutralize the blackmailer.”
Elias joined her at the window. “That must be the plan. He said he was on his way to Seattle right now.”
“He’ll get the lab book, Elias.” Willow reached out and took his hand. “It will be all right.”
“For the past couple of decades, I’ve been telling myself that the lab book must have been buried in the explosion along with Willis. But deep down I always knew that it was out there somewhere. And now it’s surfaced at last. If it falls into the wrong hands—”
“Stop blaming yourself for what happened at that old mine all those years ago. It was not your fault. You and Quinn Knox were nearly killed that day.”
“I’m the one who found that vein of crystals. I’m the one who insisted we run those first tests to see what we had.”
Willow tightened her grip on his hand. “What’s done is done. You had no way of knowing how dangerous those rocks were.”
Elias exhaled slowly. “I still don’t. That’s one of the things that makes that lab book so damn dangerous.”
“Sam knows that. He’ll find the book. He’s smart, and his talent will be an asset in this thing. You’ll see.”
Elias pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Together they watched the fading sunlight splash across the red rocks. He knew they were both thinking about the past and the deadly explosion at the mine.
The repercussions of the paranormal energy that had been released that day had echoed down into the future, creating the greatest of all the Coppersmith family secrets, the one secret that he and Willow had never told Sam, Judson or Emma.
After a while, Willow turned her head to look at him with a speculative expression.
“He called her Abby?” she said.
“Yeah. After meeting her for all of maybe one hour. And now he’s on his way to Seattle.” Elias paused, trying to find a way to explain what he had heard in Sam’s voice. “He sounded energized,Willow. As if he was looking forward to something.”
Willow smiled. “In that case, regardless of how this turns out, I’m already grateful to Abby Radwell.”
7
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, ABBY?” GWEN FRAZIER LEANED forward across the restaurant table and lowered her voice. “According to what I found online, Sam Coppersmith was implicated in the murder of his fiancée six months ago. You have no business hiring a man like that. He might be very, very dangerous.”
“Relax, I’m employing him, I’m not sleeping with him. Big difference.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me?”
“Well, it certainly makes me feel better about the whole thing,” Abby said.
They were in a booth in the bar section of the restaurant. It was seven-thirty. The after-work crowd that had drifted in earlier had come and gone. The place was now filling up with the locals from the nearby condos and apartment buildings. Several stylists from the hair salon on the corner, which closed at seven, were celebrating a birthday. The low rumble of conversation and the music playing over the sound system provided a layer of privacy.
Gwen Frazier was the same age as Abby. Tall, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, she was an aura-reading talent who made her living as a psychic counselor. Her abilities allowed her to work with talents and non-talents alike. As she had explained to Abby, there was no real difference between the two groups of clients. Those with real psychical abilities of their own believed her when she explained that she worked by reading their auras. Those without talent wanted to believe that she could see their energy fields. It was a win-win situation for a woman in her line.
“This isn’t a joke,” Gwen said.
“I know. Sorry. It’s been a very long day. The drive back from Anacortes took longer than usual. Accident on the interstate.” Abby swallowed some of her wine and lowered the glass. “If it helps, I have been informed that there is no way Sam Coppersmith could have murdered his fiancée.”
“Who told you that?”
“The water-taxi guy.”
“He’s an authority?”
“He certainly seemed to think so. Evidently, no one on that island thinks Sam did it.”
“And what proof do they offer?” Gwen demanded.
“They seem to feel that if Sam had murdered someone, he would have done a better job of it.”
“I beg your pardon. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He would have made the victim disappear.” Abby waved one hand in a now-you-see–it–now-you-don’t motion. “And he would have taken care to make sure that there was nothing left behind that pointed back to him.”
“And you believed this water-taxi guy’s theory?”
Abby looked at Gwen over the top of her glass. “Having met Sam Coppersmith, yes, I believe that theory.”
“You do realize that there’s a lot of money in the Coppersmith family,” Gwen said ominously. “With money comes the kind of power it takes to make sure someone in the family does not go down for murder.”
“Your cynical side is showing, Gwen.”
“It’s my best side. Is this Sam Coppersmith a real private investigator?”
“He described himself as a technical consultant.”
“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Gwen said.
“But I do think he’s the best man for the job.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Because this situation involves a very hot book, and I need an investigator who at least takes the paranormal seriously. Not a lot of those floating around, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides, you know as well as I do that Thaddeus Webber would never have sent me to Coppersmith if he had believed there was a better option.”
“Point taken.” Gwen sat back. “Have you received any more email from the blackmailer?”
“No, thank goodness. But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“I’ve had a really weird dream two nights in a row. They both featured Grady Hastings.”
Gwen frowned. “The crazy guy who staged that home invasion in your client’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not surprising that you would have some bad dreams for a while. That was a very frightening situation.”
“True, but what is freaking me out about the dreams is that I’ve started sleepwalking. I’ve never done that in my life.”
“There is nothing unstable about your talent,” Gwen said, “if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“You’re the one who told me that a disturbance in the dreamstate can be an early indication of serious problems with the para-senses.”
“It’s true, but that kind of disturbance is visible in the aura. You’re fine.”
Abby framed the base of her glass in a triangle formed by her thumbs and forefingers. “Take a look. Please.”
“Okay, okay.”
Gwen heightened her talent. Abby felt energy shiver gently in the atmosphere. A few feet away, a middle-aged businessman who was slouched on a bar stool suddenly turned his head and looked around, as though searching for someone or something. Abby knew that he had felt the tingle of psi in the vicinity but probably did not know what it was that had lifted the hairs on the nape of his neck. Over in the corner, a redheaded stylist drinking a cosmopolitan glanced uneasily around the room before turning back to her colleagues.
Abby waited while Gwen did her thing. After a couple of minutes, the energy level in the atmosphere receded.
“I’m not picking up any bad vibes,” Gwen said. “Just the indications of stress that I’ve mentioned before. There is some deepening in the intensity of ultralight coming from the hot end of the spectrum, but nothing alarming. I didn’t see anything that I associate with instability of the para-senses. Also, for the record, I didn’t see the kind of dreamlight that is associated with regular sleepwalking.”
“Then what in the world is going on?”
“I’ve tried to explain to you that what happened to you in the Vaughn library was the equivalent of a category-five hurricane, as far as your para-senses are concerned. You channeled an enormous amount of volatile energy. For heaven’s sake, you managed to render a man unconscious. There was bound to be some blowback, to say nothing of the fact that you could have been killed that day. You need to give yourself time to recover from the shock.”
“I can’t continue sleepwalking,” Abby said. “What if I open the sliding glass doors and decide to take a walk off the balcony?”
“Calm down. You’re not going to do that. Your para-senses would kick in fast if you tried to do anything that might put your life in danger.”
“You have more faith in my senses than I do.”
Gwen grew thoughtful. “In this dream, do you have any sense of where you’re going or what you want to accomplish?”
“I see Grady Hastings. He’s reaching out to me, begging me to help him. He tells me I’m the only one who can.”
“Is that all?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay, I’m sticking to my theory that the fugue states you’re experiencing are being triggered by stress you experienced the other day. But there is another possibility that you should not overlook.”
“What?”
“Your intuition may be trying to tell you something important.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “But you’re too smart to ignore the implications. Try turning the dream into a lucid dream, and then take control of it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Well, it’s certainly easier for a strong talent than it would be for someone who doesn’t have much psychic sensitivity,” Gwen said. “Before you go to sleep tonight, set your psychic alarm clock to alert you when you start dreaming. Then take control of the dream.”
“That will work?”
“Yes, if you do a good job of setting the alarm. The trick works on the same principle that makes it possible for you to tell yourself that you have to wake up at a certain time in order to catch an early plane. Lots of people, even people with very little talent, do that all the time.”
Abby took a slow breath and reminded herself that this was Gwen’s area of expertise. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”
Gwen aimed a finger at her. “You know what you really need?”
“Please don’t say a new boyfriend.”
“You need a vacation. You should come with me to Hawaii tomorrow. It’s not too late. I’ll bet we can find you a seat on my flight. There are always last-minute cancellations.”
“Sure, at full fare. You know I can’t afford that. Besides, leaving town now is out of the question. How can I enjoy a vacation if I know there’s a blackmailer waiting for me when I get back?”
“I guess that would put a damper on things,” Gwen conceded. “But you’ve hired Coppersmith to take care of the extortionist for you. Let him do his job while you relax on a beach.”
“I don’t think you can just hire an investigator and then go merrily off on vacation while he cleans things up for you.”
“Why not? You’re finished with the Vaughn job, and speaking as your friend and psychic counselor, I’m telling you that you need some time off to let your senses recover. Put the ticket to Hawaii on your charge card and tell your investigator to file reports of his progress by email.”
“I don’t like the idea of turning Sam Coppersmith loose, unsupervised, on what is essentially my very personal and private business.”
Gwen smiled knowingly. “You like to be in control.”
“Who doesn’t? But trust me, if you ever meet Sam Coppersmith, you’ll know why staying in charge is a very sensible idea.”
“What’s he like?”
“Think mad scientist with a basement lab.”
“Doesn’t sound like the typical profile of a private investigator.”
Abby picked up her glass again. “There’s nothing typical about Sam Coppersmith.”
When they emerged from the restaurant, a light misty rain veiled the Belltown neighborhood. The wet pavement glowed with the reflected light of the streetlamps. Neon signs illuminated the windows of the innumerable restaurants, pubs and clubs that lined both sides of First Avenue.
Gwen shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her trench coat. “I’m thinking that maybe I should cancel Hawaii tomorrow. I don’t like leaving you here alone to deal with Coppersmith and a blackmailer.”
“You are not going to cancel. Your new client is paying you a huge fee and all expenses just to have you go there to do a reading. You can’t turn your back on that kind of money.”
“Screw the money. I’m worried about you, Abby.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Promise me that if you start to feel like you’re in more trouble than you can handle you’ll call Nick, first, because he’ll be the closest. And right after you call him, you’ll call me. I’ll be on the next plane back to Seattle.”
“I promise,” Abby said.
Neither of them mentioned the possibility of her going to her family for help. It was not an option, and they both knew it. Gwen and Nick Sawyer constituted her real family, Abby thought. The bond among the three of them had been forged in the fires of their years together in the Summerlight Academy. Nothing could sever it.
She was about to add more reassurance, but a flash of intense awareness stopped her cold in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Abby?” Gwen stopped, too, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“He’s here,” Abby said quietly.
“Who?” Gwen asked.
Abby watched a shadowy figure detach itself from a darkened doorway and walk forward into the light. The man wore a black leather jacket open over a dark crewneck pullover and dark trousers. The collar of the jacket was pulled up against the chill and the rain, shadowing his features.
He carried a black leather gym bag in one hand. With her senses on alert, she had no difficulty at all perceiving the faint heat in his eyes. A thrill of excitement fizzed through her veins.
Sam looked at her, eyes heating a little. “I’ve been waiting for you. You know the old saying.”
“What old saying?” Abby asked.
“You can run, but you can’t hide.”
Abby looked at Gwen. “Meet Sam Coppersmith.”
