Текст книги "Dream Eyes"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Why?” Gwen asked,

He started to key in Sawyer’s phone number. “They might give us a better handle on Taylor, for one thing. The school must have had some data on his past.”

“But Zander didn’t attend Summerlight.”

Judson stilled just as he was about to punch in Sawyer’s number. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I thought all of the subjects in the Ballinger Study were drawn from the Summerlight files.”

“Evelyn found most of us in her Summerlight records but not all of us,” Gwen said. “Back at the start, she also advertised briefly online. She gave up that approach after only a few days because she got flooded with replies from fantasy game players, fake psychics, and the alien-abduction and tinfoil-helmet crowd. She said there was no way to sort through all the wacky claims to try to find the one or two genuine talents who might have applied.”

“How did she find Taylor?”

“He told us that he saw one of those online ads that Evelyn ran at the start of the project. He contacted her online and charmed her by appealing to her academic pride. He posed as a serious researcher. Claimed he’d heard about her work in the field and that he had read some of the papers she had published in an online journal. When he offered to come to Wilby to meet with her at his own expense, she jumped at the chance. After she talked to him, she was convinced that he had some real talent.”

“That works.” Judson looked out at the thundering falls, the phone gripped in his hand. “It definitely works.”

“What are you talking about?” Gwen demanded. “Why is it important that Zander got involved in Evelyn’s study through an online ad?”

Judson turned back to her. “Think about it. Evelyn runs a short series of ads on the Internet and then cancels that recruitment approach in favor of relying on the Summerlight files. Yet in that brief span of time, she somehow attracts the attention of a psychic serial killer.”

Gwen nodded slowly. “There are a gazillion phony psychics advertising online. What are the odds that Taylor just happened to see Evelyn’s little ad? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re asking me, I have no idea what the odds are,” Gwen said. “I avoid math whenever possible.”

“This isn’t math—this is my intuition talking.”

Gwen smiled. “You mean your talent.”

“I think Zander Taylor found out about Evelyn and her study two years ago because he had a tripwire already in place.”

“Tripwire?”

“An alert system designed to make sure that any and all news out of Wilby, Oregon, popped up on his computer.”

“For heaven’s sake, why would he monitor news from this little dot on the map?”

“There’s only one reason that I can think of,” Judson said. “He kept track of Wilby because he had a personal connection here.”

“But no one here in town knew him—I’m sure of that. Someone would have said something at some point.”

“You told me that Louise Fuller wasn’t exactly the communicative type.”

“Louise.” Gwen’s eyes tightened a little at the corners. “Good heavens, you’re right. Nicole said that she tuned the crystal for him. That means he could have known about Louise before he came here to Wilby. Maybe he was using her all along to tune his camera. But none of his kills was in the vicinity of this town, at least none that we could identify.”

“A smart psychopath doesn’t foul his own nest, at least not unless he loses control or decides to get rid of witnesses. Why take the risk of killing locally?” Judson paused a beat. “Unless the challenge is downright irresistible.”

“Evelyn’s group of study subjects was an irresistible attraction,” Gwen whispered. “Zander’s addiction got the better of his control.”

“Taylor paid attention to events in Wilby because Louise Fuller, his tuner, was here. That leaves us with the question of how he found Louise in the first place.”

“And why no one in town knew him until he joined the study,” Gwen added.

Judson looked at the lab on the other side of the falls. “Just winging it here, but a couple of things I know for sure. Psychic talent seems to have a strong genetic component. If the Coppersmiths are any example, the ability to perceive and manipulate the paranormal can go down through the bloodline. The other thing I know is that family secrets are always the most tightly held.”

“Family secrets?” Gwen was dumbfounded.

“We need confirmation. I’ll call Sawyer.”

He keyed in the coded number.

Nick answered on the third ring. Judson could hear muffled voices in the background. One of them was his mother’s.

“This had better be important,” Nick said. “I’m a little busy at the moment, Coppersmith.”

“Doing what?” Judson asked.

“Getting fitted for my tux. By the way, your mother says that you had better show up for a fitting soon or you’re going to be in big trouble. You’re Sam’s best man, remember?”

“What I remember is that you’re supposed to be working on my case.”

“Some of us—those of us with true talent—are capable of multitasking. Your mother and me, for instance. By the way, Mrs. Coppersmith says to tell you that she hasn’t turned up any odd financial maneuvers on the part of anyone on the list of suspects you gave me.”

“I’ll add some more names to the list,” Judson said.

“Pink? ”Outrage vibrated in Nick’s voice. “I’m walking the bride down the aisle. I can’t wear a pink shirt. This is a classic wedding. I wear a white shirt.”

“Damn it, Sawyer,” Judson said. “Pay attention.”

“Turns out that a couple of other heirs also spent some time in Sundew’s online chat room,” Nick said. “Neither had ever indicated any previous interest in psychic counseling. No, not pleats. Think Armani, not your high school prom rental.”

“Forget the damn fitting, Sawyer,” Judson said. “I’m pulling you off the psychic chat room project for now. Something more urgent has come up.”

Nick uttered a long-suffering sigh. “What do you want now?”

“Deep background on a woman named Louise Fuller.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Family history. I’m looking for a bloodline link between Louise and Zander Taylor.”

“The psycho who tried to murder Gwen? Shit. Think that son of a bitch is still alive after all?”

“You tell me.”

“Give me everything you’ve got on her,” Nick said.

Judson rattled off the few facts they had.

“I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve got something,” Nick promised, cold and serious now.

Judson ended the call.

“Now what?” Gwen asked.

“Now we wait,” Judson said. He hated this part. “I don’t think it’s going to take Sawyer long to find the answers, because I doubt if Louise knew how to bury her own past.”

Gwen watched him. “You already know the answer, don’t you?”

Judson hesitated. “I’ve learned the hard way not to leap to conclusions.”

“But you know, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s the only answer that fits.”

* * *

NICK CALLED BACK fifteen minutes later. Judson could hear the energy in his voice. We’re more alike than you think, Sawyer,he thought. We both thrive on the hunt.

He put the call on speakerphone so that Gwen could hear the conversation.

“I may have something and it’s not good,” Nick said. “Thirty-four years ago, Louise Fuller was living in L.A. Got caught up in a cult that was heavily into psychoactive drugs. The cult was really a cover for a well-organized criminal gang. The leader controlled his followers with drugs and sex. He used his male followers to sell the drugs, and he pimped out his female followers. Louise was one of the prostitutes. She got pregnant. Gave the baby up for adoption.”

“Any leads on the father?”

“No. That’s a brick wall. Louise was living in a drug haze at the time. The cult leader was sending her out onto the streets every night to sleep with anyone who had the cash. According to the caseworker, Louise was delusional and incapable of handling motherhood due to addiction and mental health issues. The baby went to a childless couple who—”

“Were later murdered in the course of a home invasion,” Judson concluded.

“You’re thinking Louise’s baby was the future Zander Taylor, aren’t you?” Nick asked.

“It explains a lot. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who murdered his adoptive parents.”

“Yeah, struck me as a possibility, too,” Nick said. “At the time, young Zander was in therapy. Actually, he had been for years because he was exhibiting the usual warning signs—torturing small animals and setting fires—at an early age. He was thirteen when the so-called home invasion took place. He told police he came home from school and found the bodies. Afterward he went into foster care for a couple of years, bounced around in the system creating havoc wherever he landed and, eventually, to everyone’s great relief, disappeared.”

“What about Louise?”

“The cult eventually broke up,” Nick said. “The leader vanished. Louise moved to Wilby and started making her wind chimes for fun and profit.”

“Looks like Taylor tracked her down at some point. By then he had a handle on his own talent. By all accounts, he was an expert when it came to charming people. Louise would have been an especially easy target because she was psychologically fragile.”

Gwen spoke up from the other seat. “And because she was his mother, for heaven’s sake. Part of her would have wanted to be reunited with her only child.”

“You’re usually right when it comes to that kind of stuff, Gwen,” Nick said.

“I’m guessing that Louise gave the crystal that powered the camera to her son,” Gwen continued. “She was always worried about demons. Maybe she gave him the crystal as a sort of personal protection device.”

“Taylor came back to Wilby periodically to get his weapon refocused,” Judson said. “Louise probably never knew what he was doing with it.”

“The problem with that theory is that no one there in Wilby had even met Taylor until he showed up to take part in Evelyn’s study,” Gwen said. “If he was visiting Louise occasionally to get the camera crystal tuned, why didn’t someone notice?”

“Louise lived in the middle of the woods, a few miles outside of town,” Judson reminded her. “It would have been easy for Taylor to visit her without being seen by any of the locals. It wasn’t like he would have had to see her very often to get the camera retuned. His kills were probably months apart.”

“And the camera might have been good for two or three kills before it needed tuning,” Gwen said quietly.

“If that’s true, Taylor wouldn’t have had to visit good old Mom more than two or three times a year, at most,” Nick said. “So maybe he could keep his visits to her secret. But if you’re right, it means that she kept those visits secret, too. Why? What would be the point?”

“I don’t have all the answers yet,” Judson said.

“No kidding?” Nick snorted. “Sounds to me like you’ve got most of ’em. Why call me?”

“I had to get as much of the backstory as possible because someone else with Taylor’s talent is using his camera to murder people for profit. Whoever he is, he was using Louise to retune the camera. But Zander Taylor didn’t kill for the money. He did it for kicks.”

“Psychos like that don’t usually change their M.O., so we can forget the theory that Taylor is still alive,” Nick said.

“Yes,” Judson said. “We’re dealing with a different killer who happens to have the same kind of talent. And if you believe in genetics—”

Gwen went very still. “Family.”

“What did she say?” Nick asked.

“She’s thinking what I’m thinking,” Judson said. The deep thrill of intuition heated his blood. “Based on what little we know of psychic genetics, there is at least a possibility that the killer we’re hunting is related to Zander Taylor.”

“Louise Fuller might have given up more than one baby,” Gwen suggested.

“Ah, yes, the ever-popular twins, separated-at-birth scenario,” Nick intoned. He voice lightened. “Afraid that won’t fly in this case. According to the file, Louise had no other children. Her son was delivered by cesarean section. She had her tubes tied at that time. She told the caseworker that she couldn’t risk giving birth to another baby.”

Gwen leaned forward. “Did she tell the caseworker why she didn’t want another child?”

“According to the notes, Fuller explained that her baby was the offspring of a demon,” Nick said. “She didn’t want to take the chance of repeating that mistake.”

“Damn,” Judson felt his intuition crystallizing into certainty. “We need to find him.”

“Who?” Nick asked.

“The demon father,” Judson said. “He’s the key to this whole thing.”

“Not a chance in hell I could track down one of what was evidently a very large number of customers that Fuller slept with thirty-four years ago,” Nick said. “I’m good, but not that good. That kind of street prostitution is a cash business. There is no money trail. And after all this time, there won’t be anyone left who will remember names and faces. It’s a dead end.”

Gwen leaned forward to speak into the phone. “The demon wasn’t one of the customers,” she said. “The demon is the bastard who pimped her out. That’s why she feared him. He controlled her, body and soul.”

“We’re looking for the cult leader,” Judson said. “He made a career change at some time in the past. He became a freelance contract killer. Go back to your computer, Sawyer. Find Sundew.”

Thirty-five

Gwen waited impatiently until Judson ended the call. Energy, excitement and anticipation were sleeting through her.

“I know why Louise gave her son the crystal camera,” she said.

“Yeah?” Judson clipped his phone to his belt. “I’m assuming you don’t think it was because she planned to set him up in the serial killer business.”

“No, she gave it to him so that he could use it to protect himself from his father, the demon.”

“Huh.” Judson considered that with a coolly thoughtful air. “You know, that works in a twisted kind of way.”

“Maybe she even dared to hope that Zander would do what she could not do herself—destroy the man who had abused her for so long.”

“She wanted her son to be her avenger. Yes, that works, too. You know, talking to you is useful. It helps me clarify things. You’re good at this profiling stuff.”

She was surprised by how much his praise warmed her. “Thanks. Side effect of my talent, I guess. You can get into the heads of the bad guys. Me, I sort of get into the heads of the victims.”

“The talking-to-ghosts thing.”

“Right. That’s what it’s really all about, I think. I’m profiling the victims when I do that.”

“Yes,” Judson said. He looked intrigued by that notion. “You do seem to have a talent for that.”

“We make a good team.”

“Looks like it.”

“Well, whoever the demon is, the bastard has a lot to answer for.”

“He does,” Judson agreed. “One thing is certain, everything points to the demon being a resident of Wilby. He’s right here in town. He’s been here all along. But Louise would have known that he was here. If she was terrified of him, why did she move here in the first place?”

“She was a psychologically and psychically damaged woman,” Gwen said. “Any bastard who could run a cult would have found it a snap to control her. He would have wanted her here, not only because it was convenient but also so that he could keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t get any ideas about going to the cops.”

“And if we’re right, this particular demon bastard has some serious talent,” Judson said. “That would make it even easier to manipulate a fragile woman like Fuller.”

“Poor Louise. No wonder she was such a basket case. The next question is, did father and son know each other?”

Judson tapped one finger on the steering wheel. “Maybe not back at the beginning when Taylor first tracked down his mother here in Wilby. But at some point along the way, yes, they discovered each other. Maybe Louise told Taylor about his father, or maybe the demon discovered there had been a mother-and-son reunion and introduced himself. The father now has the camera or at least he’s got the crystal inside it. He’s been using it for the past year and a half.”

“That confirms the motive for Evelyn’s murder. She stumbled onto the identity of the demon.”

“Yes.”

“We’re back to waiting again, aren’t we?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Thirty-six

Gwen suppressed a small groan when she saw Wesley Lancaster pacing in front of the entrance to the inn. His blond mane fluttered in the soft breeze. He glanced impatiently at the expensive black watch on his wrist. When he looked up, he spotted Judson’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. His relief and impatience were plain on his handsome face.

“I knew he wouldn’t give up easily,” Gwen said. “But I was hoping he would wait a while before he started pestering me again.”

Judson eased the SUV into one of the empty slots and shut down the engine. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’ll talk to him. It will take a while to get a psychic investigation agency up and running. In the meantime I need the income from those Dead of Nightscripts.” Gwen unbuckled the seat belt, opened the door and hopped out of the front seat. “It’s just that I’m a little busy at the moment. With luck I can convince him to be patient.”

“I don’t think so,” Judson said.

He was not looking at her. His attention was fixed on the entrance to the inn. She followed his gaze and saw Wesley striding toward the SUV.

“It’s about time you showed up, Gwen,” Wesley said. “I need to talk to you. “It’s important. I’ve come up with a dynamite concept for Dead. It will take the series in a new direction.”

“Okay, give me a minute,” she said.

She opened the rear-seat door and reached inside with both hands to haul the cat carrier out of the vehicle. Max grumbled and flattened his ears.

“It’s your own fault you didn’t get to stay here and enjoy room service while we went out,” Gwen reminded him. “This is what you get for frightening housekeepers.”

Judson came around the front of the SUV, somehow managing to make it appear that he was unaware of Wesley’s presence.

“I’ll take Max,” Judson said.

“Thanks.” Gwen gave him the heavy carrier. “I’ll talk to Wesley in the lobby.”

“I’ll escort Max upstairs,” Judson said. “Don’t leave the inn.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

Judson finally deigned to acknowledge Wesley’s existence with a fractional inclination of his head.

“Lancaster,” Judson said evenly.

Wesley frowned impatiently. “I see you’re still around, Coppersmith.”

Judson ignored him. Instead, he angled his head and gave Gwen a quick, possessive kiss that caught her by surprise. He didn’t bother to wait for a response. Instead, he straightened and gave her a narrow-eyed look.

“Don’t be long,” he said. “Got a lot to do this afternoon.”

He headed for the lobby entrance, gripping the cat carrier in one hand as though it was weightless. Gwen watched him with a mix of irritation and amusement.

Wesley watched Judson, too, his jaw very tight. “Someday you’ll have to tell me what you see in Coppersmith.” He paused deliberately. “Besides the Coppersmith family money, that is.”

“You know, insulting me and the man I’m currently dating is probably not the best way to start this conversation.”

Wesley grimaced. “I know. Sorry about that. It’s just that I really need your help at the moment, and I’m getting the feeling that Coppersmith is doing his best to stand in my way.”

“You and I have a business relationship,” she said. “Judson understands that. The tearoom is empty at this time of day. Why don’t we talk in there? I’m sure the staff won’t mind if we use one of the tables for a private conversation.”

“Fine.”

She led the way through the lobby and into the quiet tearoom. She took a seat at a table near the window. Wesley sat down across from her.

“Where have you been?” he asked. “I waited nearly an hour and a half for you to show up.”

“I had no idea that you were back in Wilby. Why didn’t you call to make an appointment?”

“I tried. Your phone was off.”

Belatedly she remembered she had turned off her phone when they went to Nicole’s shop.

“Sorry, my fault,” she said. “We’ve been busy. She dove into the tote, took out the phone and switched it back on. She glanced at the list of missed calls. “You called six times?”

“I was starting to get worried, if you want to know the truth.”

She dropped the phone back into the bag. “About what?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, two women were recently found dead in this very small town within the past forty-eight hours. This morning you went missing.”

“I wasn’t missing.”

“No one here at the inn knew where you were. All anyone could say for sure was that you were last seen in the company of Judson Coppersmith.”

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry. It never dawned on me that anyone would be worried.”

“I don’t think anyone else except me was concerned,” Wesley said. “But I have to tell you Evelyn’s death shook me. And now the local witch is dead in a house fire. Maybe I’ve done one too many Dead of Nightepisodes, but the town of Wilby is starting to give me the creeps. When you didn’t answer your phone this morning, I guess I overreacted.”

“Louise,” Gwen said. She spoke quietly but firmly.

“What?”

“The dead woman’s name is Louise Fuller. And for the record, she was not into witchcraft. She was a troubled soul who was plagued with some serious mental health issues.”

Wesley reddened. “Sorry. I seem to be doing a great job of offending you today, and believe me, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Tell me why you tried to call me six times today and why you waited an hour and a half for me to show up here.”

Excitement transformed Wesley’s handsome face.

He leaned forward, braced his arms on the table and started talking in low, urgent tones.

“It’s the perfect way to revitalize the series,” he said. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it right away. It was the shock of hearing that Evelyn was dead, I guess. At first all I could think of was finding her files.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, I should have guessed. You were the one who searched Evelyn’s office after her body was removed, weren’t you?”

“Now, Gwen, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t take anything.”

“How could you do such a thing? Talk about invading the privacy of the dead. Talk about illegal as hell. It’s called breaking and entering, you know. People go to jail for stuff like that.”

Wesley’s eyes darkened with outrage. “You’re accusing me of breaking into Evelyn’s house?”

“It wasn’t an accusation,” Gwen said. “More like a statement of fact.”

“Based on what?”

“Intuition.”

“You can’t go around accusing people of illegal actions based on intuition.”

“It was you. Don’t bother to deny it.”

“All right, I dropped by her house that day, but I swear I didn’t take a damn thing. And I didn’t break in. The back door was unlocked when I got there. All I did was take a look through her files. I was her employer. I have a right to whatever she was working on at the time of her death.”

“That house belongs to me now. Don’t go near it again without my permission.”

“Calm down. I apologize.” Wesley slumped into his chair. “I’ve got no reason to go back there, anyway. And just to be absolutely clear, I repeat, I didn’t take anything.”

“Why did you make such a mess?”

“Because I was in a hurry,” Wesley said. “I was afraid someone might come along and find me inside the house and think I was one of those people who robs empty houses after the owner dies. I didn’t want to get caught, that’s all. But I didn’t steal anything.”

“I believe you,” she said. “Not that it makes any difference when it comes to the underlying ethical issues involved.”

Wesley watched her for a long moment. He drummed his fingers on the table. “You really think she was murdered, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Like the others two years ago?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it. It’s perfect.” Wesley used both hands to rake his blond hair back behind his ears. Excitement lit his eyes again. “If you’re right, this could be huge.”

“I doubt it. If I’m right, all the victims were killed by paranormal means and that will be impossible to prove.”

“But that’s exactly what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? Prove that Evelyn was murdered by paranormal means. That’s why you’re hanging around Wilby. This isn’t about taking care of Evelyn’s estate. It’s about trying to find out what really happened to her and to that witch.”

“Louise Fuller.”

“Louise Fuller,” Wesley repeated obediently.

Gwen exhaled slowly. “It’s true—I’d like to find some answers.”

“Where does Coppersmith fit into this?”

“He’s a friend.”

“You’re sleeping together—I know that much,” Wesley said. “Hell, everyone in town knows it. But that’s not the whole story. I’ve known you for two years. You haven’t had a serious relationship in all that time.”

“I didn’t realize you’d been paying such close attention to my personal life.”

“I admit that after my divorce last year, I asked Evelyn about you from time to time,” Wesley said. “She made it clear that you were not interested in an intimate relationship with a man. I got the message.”

“Did you?”

“Well, I thought I got it. I assumed that you just didn’t like men in that way, that you were more interested in women.” Wesley frowned. “But when you showed up here with Coppersmith, it was obvious that something had changed.”

“And you’re wondering why him and not you? For heaven’s sake, Wesley, you’ve never had any deep feelings for me. We both know that. Two years ago I was a curiosity to you—a woman who claimed to have some paranormal talent. You wonder what it would be like to go to bed with me, that’s all. You’re looking at this through the lens of your ego. Give it a rest. Sometimes two people just don’t click.”

“But you and Coppersmith have clicked, is that it?”

“I think we’re getting a little off topic here.”

Wesley grunted. “Yeah, you’re right. Believe it or not, I’m here to offer you a business proposition.”

“I’m listening.”

“I have had an absolute brainstorm. Wait until you hear my new concept for the show. It’s going to take Dead of Nightinto the big leagues.”

“Let’s hear it,” Gwen said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Up until now we’ve focused on old legends that involve haunted houses and reports of mysterious paranormal events.” Wesley was very intent now. “But that’s gone stale. What the show needs is a new edge.”

“How do you plan to get that?”

“We’re going to refocus the series. We’ll investigate cold cases, crimes that have never been solved.”

“I hate to break this to you, but that’s not a new concept.”

“No, no, no, we’ve been doing historical murders. I’m talking about recent murders that have gone cold due to lack of evidence. Maybe some missing-person’s stuff, too.”

“Wesley—”

“Here’s the twist.” Wesley leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We will solve the cold cases using real psychic investigators.”

He threw himself back in his chair and spread his hands wide apart in a Voilàgesture. He waited for a reaction, smiling in expectation.

Gwen tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“I see,” she said. “This is a fictional series, right?”

“No, no, no. Don’t you get it? We’ll work with genuine psychic investigators to reopen cold cases and solve real crimes.”

“Where do you plan to find these psychic investigators?” she asked. “It pains me to say it, but there are a lot of fakes and frauds in that line.”

He winked. “But you and I know where to find the real deal—genuine psychics—don’t we?”

She sat very still. “Evelyn’s records?”

“I envision a small team of investigators composed of people like you and some of the others who participated in the Ballinger Study.”

“As I recall, you were never convinced that there is such a thing as the paranormal, let alone that people could use that kind of talent to solve crimes.”

“Between you and me, I’m still not entirely convinced,” Wesley said. “But that isn’t important. This is television. This will work. I know it in my gut. With Evelyn gone, I’m going to need your help putting the show together. The first step is to track down the psychics who participated in Evelyn’s study two years ago.”

“That’s why you searched her house, isn’t it? You weren’t looking for her last ideas for a new Dead of Nightepisode. You wanted to find her records relating to the Ballinger Study.”

“You want the truth, Gwen? I’m desperate and I need your help. Ratings are in the toilet. They’re threatening to cancel Dead of Night. What’s more, this isn’t just about me. If I don’t come up with a new concept and fast, we’re both going to be out of a job.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is a good idea, Wesley. I was okay with writing up scripts based on Evelyn’s research of historical crimes, but you’re talking about taking the show in a whole different direction, one that could cause a lot of legal problems.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Stop and think about what might happen if you go around the country trying to reopen murder investigations in a reality TV format. Law enforcement isn’t going to be at all cooperative. The families of the deceased will be upset. And even if you did uncover a for-real case of murder using psychic investigation techniques, how on earth would you go about proving it?”

“This is television,” Wesley said. “We don’t have to prove anything. All we need to do is come up with a convincing theory of the crime that’s strong enough to cast doubt on the original findings. Hell, we’ll be doing a public service. At the very least, we can force regular law enforcement to take a closer look at some cold cases.”

“How do you intend to decide what cases warrant a Dead of Nightinvestigation?”

“That’s where you come in. Your job will be to come up with the right cases. Shouldn’t be too hard. Once the word gets out online that I’m looking for reports of deaths that are unexplained or are in some way suspicious, we’ll be flooded with leads.”

“I can’t help you, Wesley.”

But he was not paying attention now. Dazzled by his own brilliance, he plowed forward.

“We’ll start right here in Wilby,” he announced. “We’ll investigate Evelyn’s death.”

Gwen stared at him. “What?”

“It’s perfect.” He flung up both hands, palms out. “Paranormal researcher slain by dark forces unleashed in her secret lab.”

“Forget it.” Evelyn’s ghost had been right, she thought. Wesley wanted to use her death as an episode on the show.

“After the first show, the lab will become the permanent set for Dead of Night,” he continued. “All of our future investigations will launch from there. I have to get back inside the lodge as soon as possible and take a closer look. Word in town is that you inherited that as well as her house. We could run over there right now.”