Текст книги "Dream Eyes"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Thirty-eight

She walked toward him through the seething fog of dreamlight.

“Don’t trip over the body,” he said.

“Where is it?” Gwen looked around.

“At your feet.”

She glanced down and then raised her fathomless eyes. “Yes, I see it now. That’s the trouble with entering someone else’s dream. I can usually grasp the big picture, but I have to depend on the dreamer for the little details.”

For some reason that amused him. “Little details like dead bodies?”

“Right. Okay, I’ve frozen the scene for us so that you can take your time examining events. Now, it would be very helpful if you gave me a tour.”

“Things don’t look quite the same as they do in the usual version of this dream,” he said. “I don’t feel the same, either.”

“That’s because this is a lucid version of the dream. You are aware that you’re dreaming. You can exert some control. Because of that perspective, the experience feels different than it would under normal dream conditions.”

“If you say so.”

“The tour, Judson,” she prompted quietly.

He looked around, getting his own bearings in the eerie dreamscape. The scene was frozen, just as Gwen said, but he knew exactly where he was. The timeline was clear. The explosion had not yet occurred. If it had not been for his para-vision, he would not have been able to see anything except the beams of light radiating from the two flashlights, his own and Spalding’s. The dead man’s flashlight had fallen from his hand. So had the crystal weapon.

The interior of the cavern was spacious. It stretched up into the darkness as far as twenty or thirty feet. But the entrance from the outside world was a tight, twisted passage barely large enough to allow a man to pass through.

With his senses heightened, he could see the pool that marked the entrance to the flooded portion of the cave. He was standing at the edge. The water was infused with a faint, acid-green radiance—the natural energy of the rocks made visible to his special sight. When he looked down, he could see the opening of the Monster’s throat below the surface.

“I’ve just used the ring to flatline Spalding’s aura,” he said. “The stone is still hot. The crystal gun went cold just before Spalding died. But it’s too late. The energy released by the gun and my ring has ignited the atmosphere. I can feel the growing heat and the instability. The aurora is forming.”

“Like the northern lights?”

“Yes. But this is composed of paranormal energy waves. I sense that an explosion will occur very soon. What I don’t know yet is if that explosion will be powerful enough to affect the normal wavelengths of the spectrum. But I do know that it might be strong enough to kill me or, at the very least, fry my para-senses. My intuition tells me that my only hope of riding out the blast is to go into the flooded portion of the cave. If I can get enough rock and water between me and the explosion, I might have a chance.”

“Where is the entrance to the flooded cave?” Gwen asked.

“I’d be standing on the rim of the pool.”

“Describe it to me,” Gwen said.

“They call it the Monster for a reason. The locals say it swallows divers whole. Some people say there is an exit to the sea, but no one has ever been able to explore it to the end. Only a handful of people have attempted to get through the cave system. Most were forced to turn back. Those that didn’t disappeared.”

“But at this point, you are not planning to swim out of here.”

“No. I just want to go deep enough to ride out the paranormal explosion I sense is coming. I’m already in my wetsuit because I was preparing to look for the dead analyst. I grab my gear and a flashlight and I go into the pool. I make it into the throat of the Monster. I can feel the explosion and hear it even though I’m underwater. There’s a shock wave from the blast, but the water and the rock protect me. When it’s over, I surface.”

“All right, we are now in that phase of your dream. You are surveying the dry portion of the cave. Tell me what you see.”

“Not a whole hell of a lot. Something about the aurora damaged my para-vision. I’m psi-blind.”

“Oh, my, I hadn’t realized you’d lost your other vision.”

“Took me damn near a month to recover. I wasn’t sure I would.”

“No wonder you retreated to that little town on the coast for a while,” she said. “And no wonder you’ve had a few bad dreams.”

“Speaking of which—”

“Right. Back to this dreamscape.”

“I’m psi-blind, but I’ve still got my normal vision and I’ve got the flashlight.”

“What does it show you?”

“Spalding’s body. His flashlight is nearby but it’s dead. The explosion destroyed it. I see the crystal weapon, too. It rolled over there by that pile of rocks. But I’m not paying a lot of attention to the body or the weapon because I’ve just realized that I’m going to have to swim out through the underwater cave system.”

He stopped because there did not seem to be much point describing the endless nightmare that was the long swim out of the cave.

“How do you know which direction to swim?” Gwen asked.

“In the water I can feel the current. It’s slight but steady. I follow it.”

“Not knowing if you’re going to come to a narrow place in the cave that you won’t be able to get through,” Gwen whispered.

Even through the dreamtime atmosphere, he could hear the shiver in her voice.

“I didn’t have any choice,” he reminded her. “Let’s finish this dream therapy thing.”

“Sorry. Sometimes I get a little too caught up in a dreamscape. Okay, I think I’ve got the lay of the land, so to speak.”

“Context.”

“Exactly, context. You are about to go back into the water to make the long swim out to the sea but you are still at the surface, looking at the dry portion of the cave. Do you catch another glimpse of the object that you know is important?”

“Yes.” Excitement rushed through him. “Yes, now I see it. Something small and white that doesn’t look like it should be there.”

“Take a closer look at the object.”

The dream sequence shifted fluidly around him. He looked away from the frozen curtain of aurora energy and turned to focus on the shadows that shrouded the dreamscape.

“It’s over there on the other side of the pool,” he said. “It looks like the corner of a piece of paper. I can only see a small edge. The rest is hidden under a rock.”

“Hidden?” Gwen pounced on the word. “Are you sure?”

“There’s no way it could have landed where it did by accident. It’s near the spot where they murdered him.”

“Who?”

“The analyst.” Judson came out of the dream on a rush of adrenaline and psi. “He wasn’t dead yet, but he knew he was going to die. He tried to leave a message for whoever came looking for him. I have to get back into that cave.”

“You’re going to swim back through those flooded tunnels?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. In case you hadn’t heard, my father runs one of the biggest mining engineering companies in the world.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I keep forgetting you’re one of those Coppersmiths.”

“If there’s one thing Dad knows, it’s how to dig through hard rock. Opening up the entrance to the cavern will be a walk in the park for him. Probably won’t take him more than a few days to get a crew and equipment in place.”

“Gee, solve a couple of murders here in Wilby, and then it’s off to the Caribbean to solve a few more paranormal crimes involving strange pharmaceuticals and mysterious weapons.” Gwen sighed. “You live an interesting life, Judson Coppersmith.”

“Yeah, my calendar seems to be filling up lately.” The image flashed across his senses. And suddenly it was all there, each piece falling neatly into place. “Damn. Should have seen it earlier.”

“What?” Gwen asked.

“The answer is on the calendar.”

Thirty-nine

The town of Wilby rolled up the streets at an early hour. The handful of restaurants were all closed by ten. The last pickup pulled out of the parking lot of the Wilby Tavern shortly before midnight. The staff left twenty minutes later.

Judson waited until the darkest part of the night, and then he went in through the rear door of Hudson Floral Design. He was partially jacked. To his psychic vision, the knives, shears, pruners, snips and thorn strippers arrayed on the workbench gleamed like so much medieval weaponry. The glass vases on the shelves glittered with an acid-green crystalline light.

He moved into the front area of the shop and made his way behind the counter. The door of the small office was closed, but it was unlocked. People who lived in small towns got into some very bad habits when it came to security.

The interior of the office looked much as it had when he and Gwen had talked to Nicole. The torn and mutilated photos were still tacked to the walls.

He crossed the small space and took down the large picture calendar. The first, second and third of August were all marked with the same note. Feed dogs.

He took out the list of dates he had brought with him. The Feed dogsnotes appeared exactly where he expected to find them throughout the year.

The faint, muffled sound of a shoe on the rear steps of the shop sent his senses into full sail. The ring on his hand burned with the heat of a miniature paranormal sun. There was time to get out through the front door of the shop.

He left the office and went around the counter. He was reaching for the doorknob to let himself out into the street when he realized that there were two people on the back steps, not one.

He stopped and waited. The back door opened. The beam of a flashlight speared across the back room and into the front of the shop.

“Hello, Poole,” Judson said.

Buddy Poole moved into the room. Gone were the old-fashioned gold-framed reading glasses, the folksy plaid shirt and the red suspenders that he wore when he was behind the counter of the Wilby General Store. Tonight he was dressed head-to-toe in hit-man black.

Poole was not alone. He had Nicole with him. Her wrists were bound behind her back. Her mouth was taped shut. She stared at Judson with wide, terrified eyes. Buddy held a gun to her temple. With his other hand, he aimed the flashlight at Judson.

“Put the gun down, Coppersmith,” Buddy said. “Or I’ll kill her now.”

Judson set the weapon down very carefully on the floor and straightened slowly.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” Buddy said. “When you left the inn tonight, I figured you were up to something. I wondered if you were headed for my place. Thought it might be fun to see if you could handle the dogs. But when you didn’t drive out on Falls View Road, I realized you were probably on your way here instead. I picked up this bitch just in case I needed some leverage.”

Nicole whimpered.

Buddy gave her a violent shove that sent her crashing into the wall. She groaned and slumped to her knees.

Buddy ignored her. He watched Judson with psi-hot eyes. “How did you put it all together, Coppersmith?”

“The old-fashioned way,” Judson said. “I started connecting dots. You mentioned that Nicole fed your dogs while you were out of town attending the crafts fairs. When Gwen and I came here to talk to Nicole, I noticed the calendar over her desk. Three days in August were marked, Feed dogs. You were gone for those three days, supposedly attending a crafts fair. But one of those dates, the second, was the day you murdered an old lady. I just finished comparing the rest of the dates of the kills. They match up to the dates when you were out of town, the dates when Nicole was scheduled to feed your dogs.”

Buddy snorted in disgust. “Unfortunately, that’s how Evelyn put it together, too. I got that much out of her before she died.”

“You took her computer and cell phone.”

“I wanted to see if Evelyn had called or e-mailed anyone else about her suspicions. There was only the one e-mail sent earlier that night to Gwen Frazier. I knew she would probably arrive later and find the body, but I didn’t see any harm in that. I was sure that even if Oxley had his suspicions, he would focus on Gwen as a possible killer.”

“Then I showed up.”

“I knew you might be a problem, especially if you started asking questions. Louise has been a risk for years. Crazy and getting crazier by the day. By then I knew I no longer needed her, so I got rid of her, hoping that would be the end of the matter. I figured all I had to do after that was wait, because sooner or later you and Gwen would leave town and things would return to normal. But tonight I realized you weren’t going to give up and go away.”

“You’re the demon Louise Fuller feared,” Judson said. “The father of her only child.”

Buddy snorted. “She tried to use my own son to kill me.”

“Why not? Zander Taylor was a chip off the old block.”

“Except for the crazy gene,” Buddy said. “He got that from his mother.”

“Nah,” Judson said. “Like father, like son. Psychos, both of you.”

“Bullshit.” Fury flashed in Buddy’s eyes. “I’m a professional. I do it for the money. Zander was a gamer. I swear, he was obsessed. Once he got a taste of his kill-the-psychic game, he couldn’t control himself. Sooner or later, he would have been caught. I knew I’d have to get rid of him when he started killing right here in Wilby two years ago. But Gwen Frazier took care of the problem for me. Gotta tell you, that was convenient.”

“You went to the lab as soon as you heard that Taylor had gone over the falls. You found the camera. That must have been a big relief. You knew your secret was probably safe, but the incident left you with some unanswered questions, didn’t it?”

“I knew that Zander didn’t jump to his death, at least not intentionally. He lived for the game. All I could assume was that there was some kind of struggle and Gwen got lucky.” Buddy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you know how that happened, do you?”

“Sure,” Judson said. “I know exactly what happened. You’re right—your son was not a suicide. He attacked Gwen and she defended herself. Taylor lost the struggle and went over the falls.”

“Zander must have let the rush of the kill get to him at the critical moment.”

“Something like that,” Judson said.

“Like I said, it was only a matter of time before he screwed up, thanks to his mother. Louise had her uses, but she was not good genetic stock.”

“You brought her here to Wilby all those years ago because you wanted to keep her conveniently available. You needed her to tune the crystal weapon she made for you.”

“So you know about my own little gadget?” Buddy raised his brows. “I’ll admit I didn’t realize you’d gotten that far.”

“That gun sure as hell isn’t powered by a crystal.”

“No, the gun is standard issue,” Buddy said. “But it, too, has its uses. It tends to leave the kind of evidence that the police like. When this is finished, the scene will look like a drug deal gone bad. Who knew Nicole was dealing out of her back room and that you were here to buy some merchandise?”

“Why not use the crystal to kill both of us?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“You mean, you haven’t been able to get it retuned since you used it to murder Louise Fuller,” Judson said. “You want to preserve whatever energy is left in it because it may take quite a while to find a new crystal tuner. When did it occur to you that you might be able to use Ballinger’s records from her days at the Summerlight Academy to locate a replacement for Louise?”

“Son of a bitch.” Buddy whistled softly. “You really do know everything, don’t you?”

“I had a little help from my friends.”

“Sounds like I’ve got some more cleaning up to do after we’re finished here. I blame this mess on Zander. If he hadn’t come here to Wilby to find his dear old mom, none of this would have happened. I’ve been in this business for over a decade and no one has ever suspected me of anything more than selling wilted lettuce.”

“Was that when Louise made the first crystal weapon for you? A decade ago?”

“The witch was always fooling around with crystals. Thirty-four years ago, she created the first-generation stones. They weren’t nearly as powerful, but they could be used along with some psychoactive drugs to implant hypnotic suggestions.”

“You used them to run your profitable little cult in L.A.”

“Shit. You know that, too?” Buddy grunted. “What a mess. You’re right about the rocks. After I closed down the cult, I used them to make money in a variety of ways—blackmail, investment scams, that kind of thing. But ten years back, Louise came up with a version that could kill without a trace. I realized the possibilities immediately.”

“You moved here to Wilby and brought Louise here, as well,” Judson said. “You took on a new identity and went into the murder-for-hire business.”

“It all went well until Zander arrived looking for his mother. I wasn’t aware that he had found her at first. Didn’t know she gave him one of the crystals. He was operating on his own, playing his stupid game. Then he heard about the Ballinger Study. He just could not resist.”

“That’s when you found out that you had a son who had inherited some of your talent,” Judson said.

“Obviously, I’ll have to deal with Gwen Frazier,” Buddy said. “Who else knows what you do?”

“Seriously?” Judson smiled. “You think I’m going to give you a hit list?”

“Yes. Seriously. Because you’re wrong about my little gadget. Plenty of energy left in it. Let me show you.”

Buddy reached inside his shirt and took out the pendant he wore on the gold chain around his neck. The crystal was a teardrop shape. It was wrapped in a metal frame attached to the chain. The stone glittered darkly in the shadows.

“That answers one question,” Judson said. “It doesn’t need to be retuned after every kill. I did wonder about that.”

“It will work up to three times before it needs to be refocused. Louise retuned it just before I used it on her. I hate to waste a second firing on you, but you give me no choice. I warn you, you’re going to regret your decision. You see, this device can be used to kill very slowly when speed is not necessary. And the pain, I’m told, is excruciating—like being buried alive inside a glacier.”

The crystal flashed with dark ultraviolet radiation, but Judson was ready. He sent energy into his ring and got the response he was looking for. The amber stone burned with a searing radiance. The wavelengths collided with those of the dark pendant and sent them rebounding back toward the point of origin.

Buddy gasped when the paranormal radiation from his own weapon slammed into him. He reeled backward, but he did not go down.

He abandoned the crystal weapon, however, and struggled to level the barrel of the weapon.

Judson seized the nearest vase off the counter and sent the heavy glass container and the contents—a couple of quarts of water and a mass of yellow chrysanthemums—hurtling toward Buddy’s head.

Buddy ducked instinctively and flung himself through the doorway into the back room. The vase shattered against the wall.

Judson went through the doorway and kicked Buddy’s legs out from under him. The gun landed on the floor.

Buddy fell back against the workbench. He seized a floral knife and came up with it in his hand. He started to lunge toward Judson, but he was not fast enough. Judson used another slashing kick to take him down.

Buddy groaned and fell facedown on the floor.

There was a moment of terrible silence. Buddy started to make gurgling sounds. Judson picked up the gun and set it on the workbench. Then he crouched beside Buddy and turned him slowly onto his back.

The handle of the knife jutted from Buddy’s chest. He gazed up at Judson with eyes that were already filming over with shock and impending death. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“That’s the thing about women,” he rasped. “You can’t trust ’em.”

“The problem,” Judson said, “was that they couldn’t trust you.”

Blood and the psychic energy of violent death were already seeping into the floorboards. Judson knew the taint would be detectable as long as the building stood.

Some toxic spills could never be cleaned up.

Forty

“Don’t waste your time trying to convince me that Buddy Poole was going around the country murdering old people with some kind of paranormal weapon,” Oxley said. He closed the folder on his desk and cranked back in his chair. “No need to come up with crazy theories to explain this situation. The money trail and the calendar notes work just fine.”

“Good to know,” Judson said.

“You’ve convinced me that Poole was running a murder-for-hire operation. But I expect he was using the old-fashioned pillow-over-the-face method or maybe a little poison. Those techniques are very effective, especially when the victims are old and sick.”

“You know what, you’re right, chief,” Judson said. “No need to come up with paranormal explanations. But there will never be any proof, either.”

He was very aware of Gwen sitting tensely beside him. Together they faced Oxley across the desk. One of the officers had driven Nicole home after she had given her statement.

“What about Evelyn’s and Louise’s deaths?” Gwen demanded. “Do you believe that Buddy murdered them, too?”

“Yes,” Oxley said. He gave a world-weary sigh. “But I also know I’ll never be able to prove it, just like I’ll never be able to prove that he killed for money. No way I’m going to try to go after Buddy’s clients. Not my job, and I sure as hell haven’t got enough to take to the FBI.”

“Some folks are going to get away with murder,” Judson pointed out. “Namely Buddy’s clients.”

“Yep, that’s a fact.” Oxley rubbed the back of his neck. “And I’m real sorry about that, but it happens all the time. You can only do what you can do in situations like this. You know what’s important here?”

“What?” Judson asked.

“You saved Nicole Hudson’s life, and Buddy Poole is dead in what was a clear case of self-defense that wound up as a tragic accident. That’s as much justice as anyone can expect under the circumstances. As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed.”

“What about the deaths two years ago?” Gwen asked.

Oxley narrowed his eyes. “No point reopening those investigations because I don’t have a damn thing more in the way of evidence. But if it makes you feel any better, I will tell you that I believe Zander Taylor murdered those two people who participated in Evelyn’s research project. And I believe that his death out there at the falls was another tragic accident that, by an astonishing coincidence, resulted in rough justice for the victims. I’m okay with that.”

Gwen looked at Judson.

“The chief is right,” Judson said. “The bad guys are both dead. This is as good as it gets.”

“I know,” Gwen said.

Oxley cleared his throat. “There is one thing I’d like to know, Miss Frazier.”

She turned back to him. “Yes?”

“When, exactly, do you plan on leaving town? Not that I’m marking the days on my calendar, you understand.”

“Trust me, I am really looking forward to putting Wilby in my rearview mirror just as soon as I can,” Gwen said sweetly.

“Good,” Oxley said. “No offense, but I’m real glad to hear that.”