Текст книги "In Too Deep"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

21

The following morning Isabella took a break at the Sunshine with Marge. As was the custom, Violet and Patty walked over from the inn to join them. Isabella sat at the counter and sipped tea from a heavy mug. The other three drank Marge’s high-test coffee and told tales about the brief heyday of the Seekers’ community.

The arrival of an overnight delivery van interrupted yet another denunciation of Gordon Lasher. They all watched the vehicle roll down the street and stop in front of Jones & Jones.

“They found me,” Isabella yelped. She set down her mug and jumped to her feet. “I was so afraid that there would be a screwup and they wouldn’t be able to find Scargill Cove.”

“I’m assuming that’s the dress and the shoes?” Marge asked.

“I sure hope so,” Isabella said. She headed for the door. “Otherwise, I’m in bad shape for that business conference in Sedona.”

“Bring the clothes back here,” Violet called after her. “We want to see them.”

“Especially the shoes,” Patty said.

Isabella paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Why the shoes?”

Patty grinned. “I want to see if they really are glass slippers.”

Isabella frowned. “I keep telling you, this visit to Sedona is a company business trip.”

“Sure,” Marge said. She chuckled. “A business trip that involves a corporate jet, a dressy reception and high-end fund-raiser auction. Woohoo! Go get the dress and the shoes and bring them back here so we can see them.”

Isabella hurried outside. The driver of the delivery van had the rear door of the vehicle open. He removed two boxes.

Isabella rushed across the street. “Are those for me?”

He glanced at the labels. “Address says Jones & Jones.”

“That’s me. I mean, I work for Jones & Jones. I’ll take the packages.”

“Sign here.”

She scrawled her signature, took the boxes and went back inside the Sunshine. Marge was waiting with scissors. She got the first box open in a flash.

Isabella parted the packing tissue and removed a long sweep of midnight blue. There were gasps all around.

“Oh, my,” Violet said in prayerful tones. “What a beautiful dress. You’re going to look gorgeous in it.”

Isabella touched the liquid fabric. “It is nice, isn’t it? Cost a fortune, but Fallon told me to bill it to the agency.”

“Of course,” Marge said. “He’s the one who told you this was a business trip.”

“The shoes,” Patty said impatiently.

Marge used the scissors to open the second package. There was a shoe box inside. Isabella opened it and took out the pair of black evening sandals. Jet crystals gleamed discreetly on the gleaming patent leather straps.

“Oooh, they’re so sexy,” Patty said.

“Very nice,” Marge agreed. “Not exactly glass slippers, though.”

Violet smiled and touched one of the delicate black crystals. “Close enough. You can always count on Zappos.”

Marge looked at Isabella. “Just think—you’re going to the ball, Cinderella.”

22

The glittering hotel ballroom was awash in power, both the kind that came with money and status and the psychic sort.

“Feels like the whole room is ever so slightly electrified,” Isabella said.

Raine smiled. “When you gather this many people of talent together in one space, the atmosphere does tend to get a little hot.”

“Yes, it does.”

Isabella looked across the room at Fallon, who stood with Zack and two other men. As she watched, a distinguished-looking woman with silver-gray hair joined the men.

“The man on Zack’s right is Hector Guerrero,” Raine said in low tones. “The other one is Paul Akashida. The woman is Marilyn Houston. All three are on the Council. Zack considers them to be allies. They understand the true danger of Nightshade and they will support measures to make sure J&J remains vigilant.”

“Fallon tells me some of the other Council members are wobbling because of some vicious rumors about him.”

“Which is why Zack insisted that Fallon come tonight.” Raine smiled. “I’ve got to tell you, though, I wasn’t sure he would show up.”

“Why not?”

“Fallon isn’t the kind of man who responds to social pressure. But I suppose a threat to cut off funding for his precious anti-Nightshade project did the trick.” Raine wrinkled her nose. “I’m afraid Zack is very good at figuring out exactly what it will take to get someone to do what he wants that person to do. It’s part of his talent. One of the two reasons they put him in charge of Arcane.”

“What’s the other reason?”

Raine raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. “He’s a Jones. There has always been a Jones in the Master’s Chair. Technically speaking, since the changes made by Gabriel Jones back in the Victorian era, the Council has the power to elect anyone it pleases to the Chair.”

“But somehow the result of every election has been a Jones?”

Raine raised her brows. “Yes. Coincidence?”

“I think not.” Isabella smiled. “Sounds like the Society operates more like a hereditary monarchy than a democracy.”

“Power rules in this organization, just as it does in any group,” Raine said simply. “Within Arcane that means, among other things, a lot of raw talent. There happens to be a great deal of that in the Jones bloodline. In addition, the Joneses have been running Arcane a long time. They know where all the bodies are buried. In fact, they buried a few of them.”

“Hmm.”

Raine’s brows went up. “What?”

“I’m not so sure that Fallon is here just because he’s worried about the J&J budget. At least I don’t think that’s the only reason he agreed to show up tonight.”

“Really? What other reason might there be?”

“I don’t know,” Isabella admitted. “Fallon is not always entirely forthcoming.”

“You mean he’s devious.”

“No, he’s just a very private person, and he’s not accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others because most people don’t understand how he thinks.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Raine said. She gave Isabella a searching look. “I think you may understand him better than anyone ever has.”

Isabella took a sip of champagne and lowered the glass. “I expect that somewhere along the line he got tired of trying to explain himself and his talent.”

Raine switched her attention back to Fallon. “You may be right. I hadn’t thought about it quite like that.”

An attractive, expensively dressed woman in her late fifties approached the alcove.

“Good evening, Raine,” she said warmly. “You look lovely tonight, as always.”

Raine smiled. “So do you. Nice to see you, Maryann. Have you met Isabella Valdez, Fallon’s new assistant?”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” Maryann turned quickly to Isabella. “I’m Maryann Jones, one of Fallon’s many aunts. Ours is a somewhat extended family, to say the least.”

Raine grinned. “That tends to happen when one of your ancestors sires offspring by three different women.”

“Old Sylvester was a bit of a rogue,” Maryann sighed. “Then, again, he considered fathering a lot of children part of his research program. He was anxious to test his theories of the laws of psychic inheritance.”

“How do you do, Maryann,” Isabella said politely.

“It really is nice to meet you,” Maryann said. “All of us in the family are so relieved that Fallon finally hired an assistant. He has been trying to handle far too much alone for far too long.”

Isabella cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m an investigator at the agency now.”

Maryann looked intrigued. “Is that so?”

“In addition to being the office manager,” Isabella added hastily.

“Well, regardless of the title, I’m just grateful that Fallon found someone who could work with him day in and day out,” Maryann said. “I’m afraid most people find him rather difficult.”

“He needs his space,” Isabella said. “Given the nature of his talent, he has to spend a lot of time in his own head.”

Maryann’s expression sharpened. “Yes, he’s always been somewhat of a loner. Not everyone understands that. Oh, there goes Linda McDonald. I must speak to her. If you’ll both excuse me?”

“Of course,” Raine said.

Isabella waited until Maryann had been swept up in the crowd.

“A woman of strong talent,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” Raine said. “Like everyone else in the family.”

“Uh, mind if I ask what kind?”

Raine smiled. “Didn’t you know? Maryann Jones is one of the top matchmakers at arcanematch.com. In fact, she is considered to be the best. Runs the agency.”

“I see,” Isabella said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“No,” Raine said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re wondering if Maryann matched Fallon with his former fiancée, aren’t you?”

“The question did cross my mind.”

“I don’t know the whole story, mind you, but Zack told me that Fallon is convinced that with his talent he’s not a good candidate for arcanematch. He became even more convinced of that when Zack got a disastrous match through the agency.”

“Not you, I take it?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Zack’s fiancée tried to kill him.”

“I’d say that qualifies as a poor match.”

“Fallon’s case was a little different. Since he didn’t have any faith in arcanematch, he decided to find his own partner. Legend has it he went about it very methodically, using a computerized matrix, a detailed personality inventory and his own personal theory of para-compatibility. It didn’t go well.”

“I gathered that.”

“And, yes, she’s here tonight. That’s Jenny Austin over there near the terrace doors. The redhead. She’s talking to William Hughes.”

Isabella looked toward the doors and saw a strikingly attractive woman chatting to an older man. Jenny was dressed in a sleek black gown that, although elegantly cut, managed to convey a funereal air. Something in the atmosphere around her, Isabella thought, a faint, telltale disturbance.

She opened her talent very cautiously and immediately regretted it. Glacial mist filled the entire room. Everyone in Arcane had secrets, and a lot of them were the deep, dark kind. Hastily she shut down her other sight. From this distance she could not see the precise sort of energy that swirled around Jenny Austin, anyway.

“What kind of talent is she?” Isabella asked.

“Jenny’s a spectrum energy-talent. Quite brilliant. She’s a very respected researcher in the L.A. lab. Actually, I think that was part of her appeal for Fallon.”

Isabella could feel a small cloud of gloom gathering over her head. Of course Fallon would be intrigued by a woman who was not only beautiful but also a gifted researcher.

“I can see where he would have been attracted to her because she has a scientific mind,” Isabella said, trying not to let her glum mood show.

“That was no doubt part of it,” Raine said. “But according to Zack, there was an additional feature as far as Fallon was concerned.”

“Well, she is lovely.”

“It wasn’t just her looks,” Raine said. “It was the fact that one of Fallon’s several times great-grandmothers was also a scientist—a botanist, as a matter of fact. Lucinda Bromley Jones lived in the Victorian era and was married to Caleb Jones.”

“The other half of the original Jones & Jones?”

“Right. I’m afraid that Fallon went with the assumption that if the founder of J&J had good luck marrying a scientist, it made sense for his descendant to find himself a wife with scientific inclinations.”

“In other words, Fallon tried to apply logic to the problem of finding a wife.”

“Typical Fallon.”

Isabella stifled a small sigh and switched her attention to the other side of the room where Maryann Jones was chatting with a group of distinguished-looking people that included Fallon’s mother, Alexia Jones. Fallon had introduced his parents at the start of the reception. Alexia and Warner Jones had been very gracious but that was only to be expected, Isabella reminded herself. There was no way to be sure what they really thought of her. Fallon had made a point of presenting her as my new assistant.

“Fallon’s aunt was checking me out, wasn’t she?” Isabella asked.

Raine smiled. “She certainly was.”

“Think she knows that Fallon and I have a personal relationship as well as a business relationship?”

“I think everyone in the room is aware of that.”

“Good grief.” Isabella tried to squelch a tiny surge of panic. “How on earth could they possibly know? And don’t you dare tell me it’s because everyone in the room is psychic.”

“You don’t have to be clairvoyant to sense the energy in the atmosphere when the two of you are close together. The fact that you and Fallon are involved in a personal way was obvious the minute you walked into the room tonight.”

“Ack. I think I need another canapé and a second glass of champagne.”

“I’ll come with you to the buffet table. I need to fortify myself for another round of socializing.”

They made their way around the fringes of the crowd, pausing occasionally so that Raine could greet someone or introduce Isabella.

“I imagine being the wife of the Master of the Society can be somewhat demanding at times,” Isabella said as they neared the buffet table.

“You have no idea.”

Isabella fixed her attention on a platter of tasty-looking puff pastry canapés. “Those look good.”

“Go for it,” Raine said. “I’m off to check out the cheese tray.”

Isabella picked up a small dish and circled around the small group blocking the path to the puff pastries.

“From what I hear, Fallon Jones is getting worse,” a man said in low tones. “He’s become obsessed with that conspiracy he calls Nightshade.”

“Now, Hal, that’s just gossip,” a woman observed. “You have to agree that Nightshade represented a genuine threat.”

“Past tense,” Hal insisted. “That’s the point, Liz. Look, I give J&J credit for breaking the back of that organization, but with Craigmore gone, there’s no way Nightshade will ever recover. With its leader dead and five of the drug labs destroyed, the organization is finished. We should be directing our resources elsewhere.”

“Jones is convinced that Nightshade will reconstitute itself,” a younger man volunteered. “According to what I’ve heard, he believes that the scientist who recreated the formula is still out there somewhere, probably concocting another version of the drug for a new boss.”

“Doubtful,” Hal said. “But here’s the real issue, Adrian. There’s no way to know if Jones is right or if he’s simply sunk so deep into his own fantasies that he can’t find his way back to reality. We need someone in charge of J&J who can put things into perspective. The agency should refocus on handling routine investigations for members of the Society. That’s why it was founded in the first place.”

Adrian looked thoughtful. “I talked to Fallon earlier this evening. He’s not real great with the social chitchat thing but he didn’t strike me as a wacko.”

“It’s in the blood,” Liz said. “Everyone knows that the men in that line who inherit a high-level version of chaos theory-talent eventually become paranoid and get lost in their conspiracy fantasies.”

“Is that right?” Adrian asked.

“Well, there was that old story about one of Fallon’s multiple-greatgrandfathers, Erasmus Jones,” Hal said. “A mad-scientist type who eventually committed suicide. And there were tales of Caleb Jones, as well.”

Liz’s expression tightened. “The speculation is that Fallon’s version of the talent came directly from his ancestor, Sylvester Jones.”

Adrian’s brows shot up. “He’s got the same talent that the founder had?”

“No two talents are ever exactly alike,” Hal said. “But it’s no secret that Sylvester was half mad and completely paranoid at the end. Liz is right, that kind of thing can come down through the bloodline.”

Adrian drank some wine and looked thoughtful. “What do you suggest?”

“A lot of people are saying that the Council should appoint a new director of Jones & Jones, someone known to be stable and level-headed,” Hal said. “A strong strat-talent, perhaps.”

“There has always been a Jones at the head of J&J,” Liz pointed out.

“Just as there has always been a Jones in the Master’s Chair,” Hal said grimly. “Doesn’t mean it has to be that way. Maybe it’s time for a change. Arcane should start by severing its connection with the agency.”

Isabella popped a stuffed pastry puff into her mouth. “Now that,” she said to Hal, “would be a real dumbass thing to do.”

Hal, Liz, Adrian and everyone else within earshot turned to look at her. There was a great hush around the buffet table.

“And you would be?” Adrian asked. Curiosity and a tinge of masculine interest lit his eyes.

“Isabella Valdez,” she said. “I’m an investigator with J&J. I work at headquarters. Also, I manage the office for Mr. Jones.”

“Ah, so you’re the new assistant. I’m Adrian Spangler.” Adrian stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Isabella brushed crumbs off her palms and shook his hand.

No one else moved. No one else said a word. It was as if everyone in the vicinity except Adrian and Isabella had been flash-frozen.

“So, why would firing Fallon Jones and dumping J&J be a dumbass thing to do?” Adrian asked. There was no challenge in his tone, just curiosity.

“Because with J&J and Fallon Jones, the Society has the best psychic investigation agency on the planet,” Isabella said briskly, “at least for the kind of investigative work that Arcane needs. The agency is uniquely qualified to handle Arcane business because it has a grasp of the history of the organization as well as access to all of the private files pertaining to the old cases.”

“Good point,” Adrian said. “It would be hard for another agency to step in and take over.”

Hal frowned. “It might take some time for a new agency to get up to speed, but the trade-off would be a higher level of professional stability at the top.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Isabella said. “Stop trying to imply that Fallon Jones is unstable and crazy. I doubt that you would know a real conspiracy nutcase if you tripped over one.”

Adrian grinned. “And you would?”

He was enjoying himself, Isabella realized. She noticed that Raine had quietly joined the small crowd at the buffet table. Raine, too, looked amused. But everyone else appeared to be teetering on the fine line between shock and fascination.

“Absolutely,” Isabella said. “I happen to be an expert on the subject of conspiracy theorists. I can spot ’em a mile away. That’s one of the assets I bring to the firm, by the way. Trust me, Fallon Jones is no conspiracy freak. Polar opposite, in fact.”

Hal scowled, but Liz and Adrian and several others were starting to look intrigued.

“All right,” Adrian said. “I give up. What is the polar opposite of a conspiracy freak?”

Isabella smiled. “A real detective, of course.”

This time a few whispers rippled across the gathering crowd.

Isabella reached for another canapé. “Don’t you get it? Fallon Jones thinks like a detective, not a conspiracy kook. He uses his talent to link facts and make connections, but he doesn’t invent those facts and connections and he doesn’t manipulate them the way true conspiracy nuts do. He’s a psychic Sherlock Holmes. Holmes and Jones would be the last people on earth to be sucked into a conspiracy fantasy.”

It dawned on her that the crowd was no longer staring at her. Everyone’s attention was focused on a point behind her.

She turned around and saw Fallon watching her with an inscrutable expression. There was a little heat in his eyes.

“What do you say we go outside and get some fresh air, Watson?” he said.

“Watson got to carry a gun.”

“Forget the gun.”

“You never let me have any fun on the job.”

“Not true. I let you find a serial killer and some dead bodies, didn’t I?”

“Well, there is that.” She plucked two more hors d’oeuvres off the tray. “You’ve got to try one of these little puff pastry thingies. They’re yummy.”

“Thanks,” Fallon said.

He took a canapé in one hand, nodded briefly at the small crowd watching the scene and wrapped his other hand around Isabella’s arm. He ate the puff pastry as he steered her toward the glass doors that opened onto the terrace.

“Good, aren’t they?” Isabella said.

“Not as good as Marge’s muffins.”

“No,” she agreed. “Nothing else is that good.”

“Except your grandmother’s ginger soup.”

“Except for that.”

23

They stood at the terrace railing and looked out at the night. The towering red rocks that gave Sedona so much character were transformed into dark, looming monoliths beneath the crystal-sharp moon. Isabella shivered a little with a bone-deep awareness.

“It’s true what they say about this place,” she said. “You really can feel the energy.”

“It’s not a nexus because it lacks ocean currents, but it definitely has its own kind of power,” Fallon agreed. “There are several vortexes in the region.”

“I can see why the Society likes to hold some of its meetings here.”

“Trust me, Zack and the Council didn’t choose this location just because it sits on a vortex site.”

“No?” She glanced at him. “Why, then?”

“Because it’s got a certain reputation. Notice all those brochures in the lobby advertising vortex tours, crystal healing and spiritual guides?”

“I see what you mean. You can hold a convention of psychics here and no one will think it’s weird.”

“It’s called hiding in plain sight,” Fallon said.

She shivered again, this time because of the chill in the air. “It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be. This is supposed to be a desert.”

“It’s January and the altitude here is forty-five hundred feet,” Fallon said. “We’re lucky it’s not snowing.”

“Leave it to you to know exactly why I’m freezing my rear off out here.” She folded her arms around herself. “I should have thought to check the weather report when I packed for this trip. Guess I was a little too focused on the dress and shoes. I was so worried they wouldn’t arrive in time.”

Fallon looked at the dress. “The dress is nice.”

“Glad you approve, but don’t thank me until you get the bill.”

“No problem. It’s a business expense.”

“Right.”

Nothing personal, she thought. It wasn’t as if he had bought the dress for her as a gift. Just a business expense.

“The dress was pretty pricey,” she warned.

He shrugged.

“But not as expensive as using one of the Arcane corporate jets to get here,” she added.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I had to spend some bucks on the dress because it’s hard to fake quality in a fancy evening gown, you see. But the shoes are a knockoff.”

“Don’t worry about it, Isabella. Like you said, the jet cost a hell of a lot more.”

“Okay.”

He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. It carried the warmth and scent of his body. She suddenly felt much warmer.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded once, dismissing the small act of gallantry and propped one foot on the low rock barrier that rimmed the terrace. He leaned forward, one arm braced on his thigh.

She edged a little closer to him. He looked so sexy and so devastatingly masculine out here in the shadows, she thought. There was the distilled essence of the relentless avenger, the protector and the warrior in the energy that enveloped him. He was the kind of man you could always depend on, she thought. His word was his bond. Honor mattered to Fallon Jones.

He moved one hand, slightly revealing the face of his black watch and one of the old-fashioned gold-and-onyx cuff links that secured the cuff of his crisp white shirt.

“Did someone give you those cuff links?” she asked.

He glanced down at his left wrist. “Family heirlooms. Once upon a time they belonged to Caleb Jones. They’ve been passed down the line to me.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “Things like that help keep you in touch with the past. They remind you of who you are and where you came from and what you need to be.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Someday you can pass them down to your own son. Or daughter. No reason a woman couldn’t wear cuff links.”

Fallon frowned, as though the prospect of having offspring was a new concept.

“Hadn’t thought about that,” he said.

“Must be nice to have a big family like yours,” she said wistfully.

“It’s a pain in the ass most of the time.”

“But you know they’re there for you if you need them to be there.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Did you hear what those people were saying at the buffet table?” she asked after a while.

“About severing the connection between Arcane and J&J? Zack warned me there was talk.”

“If whoever is behind the talk succeeded in getting Arcane to dump the agency, it wouldn’t stop there, would it?”

“No,” he said. “If the coup is successful, it would result in the Joneses’ losing control of Arcane. In one sense it wouldn’t matter.”

She smiled. “Because the Joneses would take their secrets and fire up another version of Arcane?”

“We wouldn’t have any choice. Someone has to do what Arcane has been doing since the Victorian era.”

“Keep a lid on the damage done by the bad guys who happen to be psychic and hunt down the folks who try to re-create the formula.”

“The problem,” Fallon said, “is that it would take time to rebuild a new Arcane, and time is the one thing we don’t have a lot of right now. Meanwhile Nightshade would almost certainly use the lull to reposition itself within the heart of Arcane.”

“So that’s what we’re dealing with. A conspiracy to oust the Joneses from Arcane and take over the Society.”

“It depends on your definition of conspiracy,” Fallon said. “Zack thinks of it as hostile a takeover.”

“Nope, I know conspiracies when I see them, and this is the real deal.”

His mouth twitched. “What did I ever do without you to help me see things clearly, Isabella Valdez?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said. “I’m laughing at myself.” He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close. “I didn’t do that a whole lot before I met you, at least not in a very long time.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

“I was slipping into the darkness before you came along, Isabella.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I think you were just physically and psychically exhausted and maybe a little depressed because the job was overwhelming you.”

“All I know is that with you I feel centered again.”

It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, she thought, but at least Fallon was aware of the bond between them. That would do for now.

She reached up and touched his hard jaw. “When I’m with you, I feel as if I’ve found something I’ve been looking for a very long time.”

His eyes burned. He lowered his head and kissed her, slowly at first, letting the hunger grow between them. The heady psi of the Sedona night closed around them, enhancing sensation across the spectrum. Isabella opened her senses to savor the invisible fire.

“Excuse me if I’m interrupting anything.”

The voice, iced with rage and pain, came out of the darkness behind Isabella. Jolted, she gasped, took a step back out of Fallon’s arms and turned quickly, nearly toppling in her stiletto-heeled shoes. Fallon caught her easily, steadying her.

They both looked at Jenny Austin, who stood in the shadows. Searing fog flared around her.

“Hello, Jenny,” Fallon said quietly.

Jenny walked closer. Her hands were clenched in small fists at her sides. Dressed in black and bathed in moonlight she looked like the doomed heroine of an opera that was destined to end in tragedy. She seemed oblivious to Isabella’s presence.

“I can’t believe you had the gall to show up here tonight, Fallon,” Jenny said. Her voice was tight as though she was struggling to breathe or to restrain tears. “How could you do this to my family?”

“I’m sorry,” Fallon said. “But we both know it was inevitable that sooner or later we would come face-to-face at some Arcane event. The Society is a small world at the top.”

“And your family controls that world,” Jenny said bitterly.

Fallon did not react.

Jenny abruptly turned to Isabella.

“You must be the new office manager everyone is talking about. The one who thinks Fallon is some kind of modern Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, in addition to managing the office, I’m an investigator in the firm,” Isabella said.

“The way I hear it, you’re providing some additional services on the side,” Jenny said coldly.

At that, Fallon stirred. Ominous energy shivered in the atmosphere. “That’s enough, Jenny. Isabella has nothing to do with you and me.”

“Does she know why we broke up?” Jenny whispered. “Does she know that you killed my brother?”

Isabella studied the fog that threatened to consume Jenny. “I know what really happened the night your brother died,” she said gently. “I can also see that the secrets you are keeping are slowly but surely destroying you. You know the old saying, the truth will set you free.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jenny said. “Fallon Jones killed my brother.”

“You were the one who exposed Fallon to the magic-lantern lights that night, weren’t you?” Isabella said gently. “Tucker didn’t use his talent to slip into your condo to set up the lantern. You did it so that Fallon would be disoriented when your brother came to murder him.”

Fallon was suddenly very still. But his reaction was nothing compared with Jenny’s. She looked stricken.

“You’re crazy,” Jenny whispered.

“I’m sure Fallon knows the truth. He has probably known it all along.”

“That’s not true.” Jenny’s voice rose. She turned to Fallon. “Make her stop talking.”

“That’s not so easy to do,” Fallon said.

Isabella took a step toward Jenny and stopped. “Don’t mean to scare you, but I really don’t think you’re going to be able to keep the secret much longer. I’ve seen this kind of hot fog before. If you were a sociopath, it wouldn’t be a problem. They feed on the flames. But you are a decent person and you once cared about Fallon so you feel the heat, don’t you? You know what it’s doing to you.”

“Shut up,” Jenny pleaded. “Just shut up. Please.”

Isabella said nothing. Fallon did not move.

Jenny started to cry. Everything about her seemed to crumple beneath the crushing weight of the secrets she had been holding.

Isabella went to her and put her arms around her. Jenny resisted for a few seconds and then the last of the dam gave way. Jenny sobbed against Isabella’s shoulder.

After a while Fallon offered a pristine square of white linen. Isabella smiled a little. How many modern men carried a crisp white handkerchief on the off chance that they might need to produce it for a distraught woman, she wondered. Then, again, the small gesture suited Fallon. In many ways he was a man from another era, some mythical time and place where honor and chivalry were important concepts.