Sixteen
The storm hit just as they were finishing dinner. Gwen was very glad that Judson had insisted on driving the short distance to the restaurant. She knew that he was more concerned about security than the weather. It was easier to transport the strongbox—presently at his feet under the table—in the SUV. But when the weather turned bad in the Oregon mountains, it did so in a hurry. It would have been a very wet walk back to the inn.
“Gonna be a bad one,” the young waiter said when he returned with the bill. “They’re sayin’ there’s another one coming in tomorrow.”
Judson signed the credit card receipt, got to his feet and helped Gwen into her jacket. Then he picked up the strongbox.
She glanced at him as they walked toward the door.
“I still can’t believe your father thinks that geode is so important that he’s going to come here personally to collect it,” she said.
“Dad has spent a good part of his adult life tracking down any and all rumors linked to the stones from the Phoenix,” Judson said. “Under normal circumstances, he would have sent Sam or me to pick up the geode, but my brother and I are both otherwise occupied at the moment. So he’s going to take charge of the mission himself.”
“No offense, but your father sounds like a bit of a control freak.”
“Oh, yeah.” Judson smiled. “Mom says the trait runs in the family. Which is why Sam and I started our own business.”
“Neither of you could work for your father?”
“Right. We reached a compromise, though. Sam and I both consult for Coppersmith, Inc. Sam handles the R-and-D lab in Seattle. I deal with company security.”
“What about your sister, Emma?”
“My sister is what you might call a free spirit,” Judson said. “Translated, that means she can’t hold a job for long. Can’t settle on a career path, either. She claims she’s gaining life experience. Mom says she just needs time to find herself. Dad thinks it’s time Emma got a life.”
Outside in the wet night, Judson opened the passenger-side door of the SUV. Gwen bounced up onto the seat. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle, the collar of his jacket pulled up against the rain. The downfall plastered his dark hair to his head.
He opened the rear door, set the strongbox on the floor and then opened the driver’s-side door. When he got behind the wheel, he brought a rush of the wild energy of the storm with him. Gwen’s senses stirred in response.
It felt good to be here with him in the intimate confines of the darkened cab, she thought. Not just pleasant or comfortable. It was exciting, thrilling and, yes, a little dangerous.
The intense, intimate energy that had flared between them that first night in Seattle was getting more powerful and more unpredictable with every minute they spent together—at least it was on her side. She was walking an invisible psychic high wire without a net.
“Do you think there’s anything to your father’s theory that his competitor, Hank Barrett, might have murdered Evelyn for the rock?” she asked.
“I doubt it.” Judson fired up the engine and drove out of the parking lot. “Dad and Barrett have been fierce competitors for years, and there’s no question that Barrett can be ruthless when it comes to business. But I honestly don’t think he would murder a harmless, seventy-two-year-old woman to get a rock, even one as valuable as the geode.”
“In other words, he would draw the line at murder?”
“Can’t say for sure, but he and my father definitely have a few things in common. So, based on what I know of Dad, I think it’s safe to say that while Barrett is capable of going to great lengths to achieve an objective, in the case of something like the geode, he would have used more subtle tactics.”
“Such as?” she asked.
“Barrett probably would have sent his son, Gideon, to grab the rock. And if Gideon Barrett had come after the geode, he would have been successful. The fact that the stone is now sitting in that box in the back tells me that the Barretts aren’t involved in this thing.”
Gwen watched the rain beat a steady tattoo on the windshield. “What do you know about Gideon Barrett?”
“Not a whole lot aside from the fact that he’s some kind of talent. Sam had a close encounter with him a while back. According to Sam, the one thing he learned from the experience is that Gideon is brilliant with PEC technology.”
“What’s that?” Gwen asked.
“Stands for psi-emitting crystals, the paranormal equivalent of light-emitting diodes and liquid crystal displays—LEDs and LCDs.”
“Good grief, you mean there’s another company besides Coppersmith, Inc., fooling around with para-physics and psi-technology?” Gwen shuddered. “That’s a scary thought.”
“Here’s an even scarier thought,” Judson said. His hands tightened on the wheel. “There are other folks out there fooling around with psi-tech weapon design, and some of them have been successful. Don’t forget, someone made that camera that Zander Taylor used to kill all those psychics and your friends.”
“You’re right—that is a scarier thought. I suppose I was thinking of the camera as just a crazy one-off invention that Taylor had engineered in a basement.”
“I hope that’s true in this instance because it means that when we find the killer, the case will be closed. No loose ends.” Judson paused. “I don’t like loose ends.”
Gwen thought about all the ghosts she had seen in her life. “Neither do I. But I’ve got to tell you, this does make a person wonder how many psi-weapons are out there floating around the world.”
“The good news is that from everything we’ve been able to discover at Coppersmith, there are still a whole lot of serious limitations on PEC technology.”
“The distance problem you mentioned,” she said.
“Right. Even for a strong talent, it’s hard to focus paranormal radiation beyond twenty feet. Also any beam of psi-energy strong enough to kill has to be very narrow and intensely focused, which means that, pragmatically speaking, you can only take down one target at a time. And para-weapons tend to be fragile and unstable. Doesn’t take much to set up a self-destructing oscillation pattern.”
She raised her brows. “You’ve done a lot of thinking about crystal-based weapons, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. “The subject has been on my mind for a while now.”
“Ever since your last case?”
“Yes.”
“You encountered one on the island?” she asked, probing cautiously.
“It’s a long story.”
“Which is another way of saying you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Not tonight,” he said. “I’ve got other priorities.”
“Okay, I think I get the point. Can you tell me about the Phoenix Mine instead?”
Judson pulled into the inn parking lot and shut down the engine. He sat quietly for a while. Then he seemed to come to a decision.
“You’ve got a right to some answers,” he said. “You’re in this thing pretty deep already.”
“That’s certainly how it appears to me.”
“My father has been in mining all of his life. He’s got what you might call an affinity for crystals and ores.”
“Is he some kind of crystal talent like you and your brother and sister?”
“In a way, but he’s not nearly as strong as the three of us. He doesn’t think of himself as having any psychic ability. He calls his sensitivity old-fashioned miner’s intuition. Forty years ago, he realized that the rare earths were
