Текст книги "Canyons of Night"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

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Chapter 8

FLETCHER KANE OPENED HIS SENSES AND STUDIED THE painting on the table. The image on the canvas was similar to the others that lined the walls of the gallery, a vision of a fantastical, otherworldly forest landscape lit by an eerie phosphorescence. The picture should have looked like an enchanted fairyland but the strange canyon just barely visible through a stand of trees gave it a hellish quality. The canyon was filled with a disturbing darkness that was slowly seeping out into a glowing forest world, threatening to consume the luminous scene.

Like the others, the painting would sell quickly enough, Fletcher thought. A day-tripper off the ferry or a visitor staying at a local bed-and-breakfast would respond to the intensity of the picture and snap it up. But it was doubtful that whoever bought it would see the deeper reality that he perceived. The painting seethed with ominous energy.

“The dreams are getting worse, aren’t they?” he said quietly. “I heard you get out of bed and take the meds again last night.”

Jasper Gilbert exhaled and walked to the window. He watched the small crowd of tourists prowl the boutiques and galleries on Waterfront Street.

“These aren’t the old dreams, Fletch,” he said. “These are different. Something bad is happening out there in the Preserve.”

“Take it easy. I don’t doubt your visions.”

Jasper snorted. “Even if the Guild shrinks think I’m a crazy thanks to that last trip into the Underworld?”

“You’re not crazy, and what the Guild doctors didn’t understand is that you’ve always had weird dreams.” Fletcher tapped the edge of the painting with his finger. “But it’s clear your dreams about the Preserve are getting darker and more intense.”

Jasper clasped his big hands behind his back and looked across the way at the entrance of Looking Glass. “Two people connected to the antique shop are dead. First Beatrix and now that stranger they say was stalking Charlotte Enright. What are the odds?”

“Beatrix was an elderly woman. She died of a heart attack.”

“Gaines was only about forty years of age.”

“It happens, Jasper.”

“Two deaths within the past six months and both linked to Looking Glass. And now the shop has a new owner.”

“I understand,” Fletcher said.

He and Jasper had been bonded both professionally and personally for a long time. They had met back when they had both been young Guild men. Like most of those who worked the Underworld, they had retired in their forties. Guarding the corporate and academic expeditions that explored the tunnels was hard, risky work. Burning ghosts in the catacombs took a lot out of a man, and Guild retirement benefits were very good.

They had married and moved to Rainshadow to pursue their dreams. Jasper had always longed to concentrate on his art. Fletcher had been surprised to discover that he had a knack for business. They made a good team in the art world just as they had in the Underworld. Years ago they had discovered that their ghost-hunter talents had given them the ability to penetrate partway into the Preserve where Jasper had taken inspiration from the eerie landscape inside the fence.

But things had started to change five years ago, Fletcher thought. Two strangers had managed to go deep into the Preserve. This time there were no survivors. The search-and-rescue team sent out by the Foundation had brought out the bodies.

Immediately afterward the mysterious people who ran the Foundation had intensified the force field that functioned as an invisible fence. Jasper and Fletcher could barely make it through now, and when they did they were no longer able to navigate the terrain. They dared not go more than a short distance inside, but that was far enough to tell them that something dark was stirring deep in the forbidden territory.

It wasn’t just the atmosphere inside the Preserve that had changed, Fletcher thought. Jasper’s dreams had begun to change, too.

Fletcher walked through the gallery to join Jasper at the window. Together they watched Slade Attridge leave Looking Glass and walk down Waterfront Street toward the police station.

“When do we tell him that we think there’s something dangerous going on inside the Preserve?” Jasper asked.

“When we know for sure that he’s the right man for the job. When we can be certain that he’ll stay on in Rainshadow.”

Chapter 9

“THEY TOOK THE BODY AWAY ON A POLICE BOAT OUT OF Thursday Harbor,” Charlotte said. “The chief says I can open the shop anytime I want but somehow I don’t feel in the mood to conduct business as usual.”

“I don’t blame you.” Rachel Blake came out from behind the counter, two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. She set both mugs down on the small round table. “Finding a dead body first thing in the morning is not a great way to start the day. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Charlotte picked up the mug of tea. “Well, I am now. I had a panic attack when I found the body but, hey, I think I deserved it under the circumstances.”

“Absolutely. A dead body is enough to give anyone a panic attack.” Rachel paused, the mug halfway to her lips. Her dark eyes shadowed with concern. “You’re still having problems with panic attacks?”

“They aren’t nearly as frequent as they were when I was coming into my talent, thank heavens. But if I get too anxious or badly shaken, my talent automatically flares from zero to sixty. If that happens, it can set off an attack. I’ll concentrate on starting the inventory this afternoon. That will take my mind off what happened this morning.”

They were in the small coffee shop at the back of Shadow Bay Books. Like Charlotte, Rachel had spent many summers on Rainshadow. They were the same age and, in addition to sharing the normal trials and tribulations of the teenage years, they had shared the bond that came with the development of talents that neither of them had wanted or understood.

Rachel’s great-aunt and the aunt’s lifelong partner had owned the bookshop in those days. But a year ago the couple had retired unexpectedly and offered the business to Rachel. They had instructed her to do whatever she wanted with the shop and then they had moved to the sunnier climes of a desert retirement community.

Rachel had confided to Charlotte that at first she had been stunned because she had no idea the pair had the financial wherewithal to finance a high-end retirement community in the desert. I always thought they were just squeaking by on the income from the bookstore and a few investments they made over the years. Who knew the investments were in a couple of small start-ups that got bought out for a fortune?

Rachel had matured into an attractive young woman. There was a lively energy about her that was infectious. But Charlotte sensed shadows and mysteries in her friend’s amber brown eyes that had not been present all those years ago.

The summer friendship between the two women had gone into a long period of hibernation after they went off to college and started their separate adult lives. But when they had both found themselves back on Rainshadow it was as if they had never been apart. There was still a lot of history to catch up on but the old bond between them had snapped back into existence immediately. It was as if they had never been apart.

“So this Jeremy Gaines was a client of yours?” Rachel asked.

“Ex-client.” Charlotte sipped some tea. “Can’t imagine why he came here or why he was in my shop last night.”

“Got any ideas?”

Charlotte smiled wryly. “You sound like the chief. The answer is no idea whatsoever.”

“How did your association with Gaines end?”

“Badly. And from the way you phrased the question, I think you’ve been reading too much suspense and mystery fiction.”

“Not like there’s much else to do here on Rainshadow,” Rachel said.

“Which brings up the obvious question—why did we both come back?”

“Don’t know about you,” Rachel said, “but I needed a change and I’ve always had this fantasy of operating a bookstore. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I more or less fired Jeremy as a client. He got pissed. Made a pest of himself for a while.”

“Stalker?”

“My family was starting to think so,” Charlotte admitted.

“And then he shows up here inside your shop. You know what? I’ll bet he wasstalking you. Probably came here last night to do something very nasty inside Looking Glass. That’s the sort of thing stalkers start out with.”

“I suppose it’s a possibility,” Charlotte said.

“Lucky he dropped dead of a heart attack when he did. Guys like that, they just keep going and the violence tends to escalate. The only way to stop them is to kill them.”

A chill shivered through Charlotte. “You speak from experience, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “I do.”

Chapter 10

“WORD AROUND TOWN IS THAT THE GUY WHO DROPPED dead in Charlotte’s shop was stalking her,” Myrna said. “Probably came here to vandalize her store or leave a dead rat on the premises in order to frighten her. Good thing he dropped dead when he did.”

Slade stopped at the desk and scooped up a stack of printouts. “It was convenient.”

Myrna started to say something else but she got distracted by Rex, who came bouncing down the hall from the direction of the break room.

“Oh, good,” Myrna said. “Looks like he finished the rest of today’s loaf of Thelma’s zucchini bread.”

“You gave him some more?” Slade asked.

“It’s either that or I start dumping the bread off the cliff at Lighthouse Point. No human being could possibly eat as much zucchini bread as Thelma is making this year. She had a bumper crop of zucchini, enough to go into commercial production.”

Rex vaulted up onto Myrna’s desk and chortled a greeting. He clutched a black beaded object.

“What on earth does he have in his grubby little paws?” Myrna asked. “He’d better not be bringing a dead bird in here. Hmm. Looks like an old evening purse, one of those tiny little bags ladies use to hold a lipstick and a compact.”

Slade looked at the beaded purse.

“Damn,” he said. “Rex must have snuck into Charlotte’s shop while we were getting Gaines’s body ready to transport.”

“Uh-oh,” Myrna said. “If it came from Looking Glass, it’s probably not just some old evening bag. It’s probably a valuable antique.”

“Probably,” Slade said.

Rex put the purse on the desk. He selected a few shiny paperclips from Myrna’s stash and put them into the bag. When he was satisfied, he grabbed the purse and jumped back down to the floor. Then he dashed off in the direction of Slade’s office.

“Something tells me the purse may have lost some of its value,” Myrna said.

“I’ll put it down as an office expense,” Slade said.

“Speaking of Charlotte, how’s she doing? Must have been quite a shock for her, walking in on a dead body like that.”

“She said something about conducting an inventory, so I think she’s recovering.”

“Not to change the subject, but how was your date last night?”

“We both survived it,” Slade said.

The door of the station opened. Kirk Willis, Slade’s one and only officer, entered. He used both hands to remove his sunglasses in a practiced, deliberate gesture.

Myrna smiled but said nothing.

“Heard the dead guy was a stalker,” Kirk said.

Kirk was in his early twenties, a tall, still-gangly young man who didn’t look a day over nineteen. He had been with the department for less than a year when Slade had arrived to take over as head of the department. Kirk had made no secret that he was not enthralled with his job. He had entered the police academy only after he had been forced to accept that his dream of working as a ghost hunter down in the catacombs was not going to happen. Kirk could pull a little ghost light but not enough to make him a Guild man.

Police work was a fallback profession as far as Kirk was concerned. Winding up in a small department in a town that was nothing more than a dot on the map on an island that wasn’t even on a lot of maps had been a soul-crushing experience for him.

Kirk’s attitude had improved briefly after they had taken down the drug runners who had ducked into the harbor earlier that week, but Slade didn’t expect the newfound professional pride to last long. He empathized with the younger man. After all, he was planning to get the hell off the island, himself, as soon as possible. But being a short-timer was no excuse for an unprofessional attitude. He was going to have to have a chat with Kirk. There was a job to be done, and as long as Kirk was getting a paycheck from the town of Shadow Bay he was going to do that job right.

“The stalker theory makes sense,” Myrna said. “I heard that Gaines was a former client of Charlotte’s back in Frequency. Evidently he tried to date her and she declined.”

“Explains what he was doing on the island,” Kirk said. “Right, Chief?”

“It does,” Slade said. “And for the moment, that is the official theory of the death.”

Kirk and Myrna stared at him, eyes widening.

“Official theory?” Kirk repeated cautiously. “Are you saying it might not be the correct theory?”

“We are going to conduct an investigation to rule out homicide,” Slade said. “But this will be a very low-profile project. Neither one of you will say a word about it outside this office. Not to anyone. Is that understood?”

“You got it, Chief.” Kirk’s dark eyes brightened with enthusiasm. “You really think someone murdered Gaines?”

“Yes, and before you ask, it wasn’t Charlotte.”

Myrna cleared her throat. “And we know this, how?”

Slade raised his brows. “I used to work for the FBPI, remember? I’ve done a lot of crime-scene investigation. The psychic evidence at the scene of Gaines’s murder tells me that Charlotte was not the killer.”

Myrna nodded. “You’re the expert on paranormal forensics. But you’re sure this is murder, not a heart attack?”

“I’m positive,” Slade said.

“Poison, maybe?” Kirk offered. “They say some poisons don’t show up in autopsies.”

“That’s true,” Slade said. “But there’s another possibility. A severe shock from a power source can stop the heart. We’ll know more when we have the three basics.”

“Means, motive, and opportunity,” Kirk said. He was practically vibrating with enthusiasm now.

“Right.” Slade looked at him. “You’re good with a computer. I want you to do a background check on Gaines. There’s reason to believe that he was involved in black-market antiquities. He may have made some enemies.”

“I’ll start on it right away.”

Slade looked at Myrna. “Any luck locating Gaines’s relatives?”

“No, oddly enough. It’s as if he doesn’t have any family.”

“More likely he was living under a fake ID. Look deeper.”

“Will do,” Myrna said. Excitement lit up her face. She straightened her shoulders and swiveled her chair to face her computer.

“Remember,” Slade said. “No one in this office talks to anyone about the investigation. Clear?”

“Clear,” Kirk said.

“Clear,” Myrna said. “Nothing like this has happened around here since those two hikers got lost in the Preserve five years ago.”

The door opened. Devin charged into the office. In his excitement, he forgot to remove his sunglasses.

“What’s a stalker, Grandma?” he demanded.

They all looked at Myrna.

“A stalker is a very bad person,” Myrna said. She glanced at Slade. “Right, Chief?”

“Right,” Slade said. “Very bad.”

Devin frowned. “Do you think the dead guy came here to hurt Miss Enright?”

“It’s a possibility,” Slade said.

“In that case, I’m glad he croaked,” Devin said fiercely. He whirled and ran back toward the door. “I gotta go tell Nate.”

The door closed behind him.

Myrna sighed. “Some things seem so much simpler when you’re that age.”

“Yes,” Slade said. “They do. I’ll be in my office if you find anything.”

He went down the hall. Rex was napping on his back on top of the row of file cabinets that lined the wall. All six paws were in the air. The stolen purse was nearby.

“I hope you’re enjoying the hell out of that purse because you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with Charlotte when she discovers you ripped it off,” Slade warned. “Don’t expect me to pay for it.”

Rex’s blue eyes snapped open. He rolled to his hind legs, picked up the purse, and hopped down onto Slade’s desk.

Slade reached for the crystal-studded bag. “Let me see that thing.”

Rex chortled and graciously released the antique purse. When Slade took it he got a little jolt of energy. It was like inhaling a woman’s tantalizing perfume. Pleasant and ever-so-slightly exhilarating.

“You’re getting a rush out of the energy infused in this thing, aren’t you?” he said to Rex. “Must be a psychic version of dust bunny catnip.”

Rex chortled happily. He retrieved the purse and scampered up onto the wide windowsill. He started to bat the cord that controlled the slatted shades.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to try to take it away from you,” Slade said. “That purse is your problem. I’ve got enough of my own.”

He lowered himself into the ancient chair behind the big, battered desk. Both pieces of furniture looked as if they had served several generations of his predecessors. He was pretty sure that the desk, along with the vintage wooden chairs, slatted window blinds, and file cabinets filled with yellowed paperwork, qualified as antiques. Like the town, the police station looked as if it had been caught in a time warp.

The desk chair groaned when he turned to face the computer. He had thought about picking up a can of oil down at Herb’s Marine Supply but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He wouldn’t be hanging around long enough to bother with repairs and maintenance issues.

The one piece of equipment in the office that qualified as state-of-the-art was the computer. It was not department issue. It was his personal computer. He fired it up and settled in to do some serious research on Jeremy Gaines. Kirk could handle the routine background check. He would be able to access police department and business records but he did not have access to the FBPI files. If Gaines had been involved in the dangerous world of the para-weapons business, the information was more likely to be buried in the Office files.

Half an hour later he sat back and thought about what he had discovered. He contemplated possibilities for a while and then he picked up the phone and made a call.

When he finished the phone call, he got up and started for the door.

Rex grabbed the purse and leaped down to the floor to follow. Slade picked him up and plopped him on his shoulder.

“If I were you, I’d hide the purse,” he said.

Rex ignored him.

Chapter 11

“YES, DAD, I’M FINE, REALLY.” CHARLOTTE STOOD BEhind the sales counter, holding the phone to her ear with one hand while she studied the screen of her computer. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to be arrested for murder, at any rate.”

“Arrested. ”Daniel Enright was both stunned and outraged. “Are you telling me that there was ever the slightest possibility of your being charged with that bastard’s murder? You said the authorities called it a heart attack.”

“Right, right, a heart attack,” Charlotte said soothingly. “I was just trying to reassure you.”

“Using the words arrestedand murderin the same sentence is not a good way to reassure me.”

“I didn’t mean to alarm you, really. Everything is under control.”

“I was right about Gaines, wasn’t I?” Daniel said grimly. “He was stalking you.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe? Why else would he have followed you to Rainshadow?”

“I’m not sure, Dad, but it’s possible he came here to steal something from my shop.”

“And dropped dead at the scene?” Daniel did not try to hide his skepticism.

“I know, it doesn’t sound very likely, does it? But that’s how it looks.”

A dark shadow blocked the light that had been streaming through the glass door pane. Charlotte looked out toward the street and saw Slade. Rex was on his shoulder. Slade tried the door. When it did not open he looked at her through the window.

Phone clamped to her ear, she moved out from behind the counter and crossed the room to unlock the door.

“There’s really nothing to worry about, Dad,” she said. “The local chief of police happens to be a talent who used to work for the FBPI. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Since when does a former FBPI agent take over a small-town police department?”

“He’s making a career change. Hang on a second. He’s here now. His name is Slade Attridge.” She opened the door.

Slade walked into the shop. Rex made excited noises. He waved the beaded purse at Charlotte.

“So that’s where it went,” Charlotte said. “I had a feeling it had been stolen.”

“What’s going on?” Daniel demanded on the other end of the phone. “What was stolen?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Charlotte said. She pointed to the phone and mouthed the words my dadto Slade.

“Let me talk to him,” Slade said. He plucked the phone from her fingers before she could object. “This is Slade Attridge. Yes, Mr. Enright, I’m the chief of police here on Rainshadow. Right. Yes. I understand, sir. No, she’s not a suspect. Yes, believe it or not, I do know what I’m doing. I’ll give you the name and number of my former boss. You can call him to get some background on me if you’ve got questions. Got a pen?”

There was a pause. Charlotte heard her father’s muffled voice. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. Of course her father had questions. Daniel Enright was a strategy-talent. He hadn’t become the CEO of a successful corporation by taking others on faith. He always looked below the surface.

A few seconds later Slade spoke into the phone again. “His name is Special Agent Thomas West. He works out of the Resonance City office.” Slade rattled off a phone number. “Tell whoever answers the phone that I gave you that number. Yes, sir, I’ll keep an eye on Charlotte.”

Charlotte made a face. “This is so irritating.”

Slade met her eyes while he continued talking to her father. “Yes, sir, I am aware that there was some history between Charlotte and the victim.”

Charlotte winced.

“Yes, I agree. Gaines’s death was more than a little suspicious under the circumstances. If it was murder it was by paranormal means and there’s a special department within the FBPI that investigates those kinds of crimes. As it happens, that’s the department I worked for when I was with the Bureau. Yes, sir, I have investigated this kind of thing before.” Slade paused, listening. “Charlotte told you I was making a career change?”

Charlotte started to smile. Slade raised his brows but his tone remained respectful.

“Yes, sir, I’m planning to open a private security consulting firm,” Slade said. “I’ll be catering to Arcane-connected corporations like Enright, Inc., as a matter of fact. Yes, sir, I’m aware that there are very few security consultants who understand the problem of securing data and records against corporate espionage agents who possess paranormal powers. It’s a niche market but, I think, a potentially lucrative one.”

There was another pause.

“Yes, sir. Getting back to Jeremy Gaines, I did some research on him this morning. Looks like he probably had more than a few enemies. I have reason to believe that he was in the business of peddling stolen antiquities.”

Charlotte blinked. “Jeremy was in the black market?”

“Yes, sir, I’ll keep you informed,” Slade said into the phone. “Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do here.”

He ended the connection and handed the phone back to Charlotte. “Your father is calling my contact at the Bureau as we speak to make sure that I’m actually qualified to keep an eye on you.”

“Sorry about that,” she said ruefully. “My family has always been a little overprotective of me. You know how it is when you’re the youngest and the only girl.”

“No,” Slade said evenly. “I don’t know how it is to be the youngest and the only girl.”

She flushed. “Sorry. I guess you don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not just that I’m the only girl in the family, it’s the panic attack thing and the fact that it’s linked to my talent. Everyone has the impression that I’m delicate. Never mind, tell me what you discovered about Jeremy. Was he really dealing stolen goods?”

“Looks like it. I did some rough research using the Bureau’s files. I haven’t had time to check out the details but from what I could determine Gaines moved in murky circles. I don’t think he was actually a collector, just a broker.”

“That explains why he never offered to show me his private collection. He probably didn’t have one.”

“It gets more interesting. He wasn’t just dealing stolen antiquities. There are strong indications that he specialized in the really dangerous stuff.”

She frowned. “What do you mean by dangerous?”

“Weapons-grade para-antiques and antiquities. Objects that are powerful enough to kill.”

“Oh, man. I know there’s a market for that kind of thing but I’ve never gone anywhere near it. I told you, he came to me looking for an Old World snow globe, a pretty toy, not some kind of para-weapon.”

“And you did locate the snow globe.”

“Yes. But as I said, I never gave him Mrs. Lambert’s name.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t able to find out her identity. If I’m right about Gaines, he was a pro. He survived for quite a while in a very dangerous business. All he had to do was follow you around or bug your phone calls or download data from your computer in order to discover Lambert’s identity.”

She chilled. “Do you really think I led him to her? I have always tried to maintain good security for my clients.”

“If Gaines was working the para-weapons market, he would have had the skills and the talent to break through any security system you bought off the shelf.”

Charlotte felt utterly stricken. “If he managed to find Mrs. Lambert through me, then maybe her death wasn’t from natural causes. Maybe he killed her. Maybe I’m responsible.”

“Take it easy.” Slade frowned. “You’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe.”

“Right.” She forced herself to go into the breathing ritual. “Damn, I hate this.”

“You’re not responsible for Mrs. Lambert’s death. I checked that angle out, too. She died in the hospital of natural causes. She was there for several days. Her family was at her bedside.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“You said Lambert gave the bulk of her collection to one of the Arcane Society museums before she died?”

“Yes, the Frequency City branch. The museum got everything except for the few pieces that she bequeathed to me in her will.”

“Where are those objects?”

“Here.” Charlotte waved a hand toward the crowded back room. “In some of those crates that Jeremy pried open. But there was an inventory with the bequest and I can assure you that there was no Old World snow globe listed. Believe me, anything that valuable would have gone to the museum.”

“I checked,” Slade said. “The museum staff is still unpacking and cataloging the glassware they received from Lambert but they’ve got a detailed inventory. Someone is going through it now to see if there is an Old World snow globe on the list. I should have an answer tomorrow.”

She was impressed. “You did all of that research today?”

“It helps to have Bureau connections.”

“Sounds like it.”

Slade surveyed the shop. “Gaines thought there was something here that was of value to him, presumably that snow globe. He broke in to search for it. Someone else followed him here to kill him. Whoever it was must have been after the globe, too. The question is, did the killer find it?”

“If he did, it would have been by pure chance. The objects that Mrs. Lambert left me were packed in with a lot of other glassware from my shop.” She paused. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“All of the glassware I deal in is psi-infused.”

“Para-antiques are your specialty,” Slade said. “What about it?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that glass is tricky in general because it doesn’t conform to the standard laws of para-physics.”

“Something about it having the properties of both a solid and a liquid.”

“Right. And glass infused with paranormal energy is downright unpredictable. What’s more, a lot of psi-glass packed together in a crate would produce a tremendous amount of interference. Even a talent with a strong affinity for glass, like a glasslight reader, for instance, wouldn’t be able to identify the radiation given off by a particular item if it was surrounded by a lot of other hot objects.” Charlotte looked around at the crowded shop. “And the problem would increase exponentially if there was a lot of other energy in the vicinity.”

“Which would definitely be the case in here,” Slade concluded.

“So, it’s just barely possible that the killer found what he was looking for that night but the odds are against it.”

“Which means that he may come back to take another look,” Slade said.

Charlotte pursed her lips, thinking. “Seems like it would be a lot easier to just pop into the shop posing as a collector of old snow globes.”

“Good point,” Slade said. “Let me know if that happens.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know. I have to say, it has occurred to me that there’s an upside to this situation.”

“That would be?”

“You indicated that you were bored with your job here on Rainshadow. Now, at least, you have something to keep you occupied.”

The edge of his mouth kicked up a little at one corner. “I’ll try to remember to think positive. I’ve advised Willis and Myrna that we’ve got a murder case on our hands but I’ve ordered them not to talk about it to anyone. Meanwhile, we’re going to let the stalker-who-dropped-dead-from-a-heart-attack scenario stand as the official explanation of this situation.”

“Why?”

“Because, with luck, the killer will conclude that there is no active investigation and that you are not a threat to him.”

She took a sharp little breath. “Do you really think that whoever killed Gaines might come after me?”

“I think you’ll be safe as long as you and the local police appear to be satisfied that Gaines was a stalker.”

“ Youare the local police.”

Slade gave her his hunter’s smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What I just promised your father I would do. Keep an eye on you.”