Dream Eyes

“That’s Dad,” Judson said. “He’s early. Must have left Seattle at zero-dawn-thirty. Wonder who’s behind the wheel? He probably picked up someone from Coppersmith Security before he left.”

“Your father is so paranoid about that geode that he brought an armed escort?”

“Trust me, knowing Dad and his opinion of Hank Barrett, it’s not just the escort who will be armed,” Judson said.

She thought about the pistol strapped to Judson’s ankle and wondered if going about armed was another Coppersmith family trait.

“I’d better go out and let him know he’s got the right place,” Judson said. “I’ll be right back.”

He crossed the lobby with a few long, easy strides, pushed open the glass door and went outside.

Gwen studied the family greeting scene through the lobby windows, firmly suppressing the faint, wistful sensation that fluttered through her. There was no big male hug exchanged between Judson and Elias, she noticed. But the bond between father and son was so strong that she could sense it even from where she stood. The power of a close-knit family, she thought. There was nothing else like it.

At that moment, the driver’s-side door of the SUV opened. A lithe, elegantly slender, good-looking man with platinum-blond hair cut in a crisp, military style alighted from the cab with a dancer’s grace. He was dressed head- to-toe in fashionable and very expensive black—black turtleneck, black trousers, black loafers. Gwen knew that all of the attire came with designer labels.

Delight spilled through her. She had family, too. The only difference was that her brother wasn’t related by blood.

She rushed through the lobby, burst out of the doorway and flew across the parking lot.

“Nick,” she called. “What are you doing here?”

Nick Sawyer grinned, showing a lot of very white teeth, and opened his arms. She threw herself into his embrace. He caught her with deft ease and swung her around in a circle. When he set her on her feet, she hugged him fiercely.

“I came to check up on you,” he said. “The last time one of my sisters got mixed up with a Coppersmith, she nearly got killed. Are you okay?”

She laughed. “I’m fine.”

Judson materialized at her side. He gave Nick an assessing look.

“You must be the cat burglar.”

“That’s antiquarian book dealer to you,” Nick said, his eyes going cold.

“Right.” Judson looked amused. “That would be the antiquarian book dealer who keeps the climbing gear stashed in the trunk of his car.”

“Everyone should have a hobby,” Nick said. “By the way, there’s a suitcase in the back of the car. Abby packed some clothes for you, Gwen. She knew you hadn’t planned to stay long here in Wilby. She figured that by now you’d be needing a few things.”

Gwen smiled, aware of the warmth welling up inside. “That’s my sister, always looking out for me, even while she’s preparing for her own wedding.”

Twenty-two

“I’m telling you, somehow, somewhere, Hank Barrett is involved in this thing,” Elias said. “He sent his son to do his dirty work. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

From where he stood at the window of Judson’s room, he could see glimpses of the river through a thick stand of fir and pine. He had never been comfortable in heavily wooded terrain. Being surrounded by trees that blotted up the light and limited visibility made him uneasy. He had always preferred the wide open stretches of the desert where a man could see what was coming at him.

The four of them and the largest house cat Elias had ever seen were crowded into Gwen’s small sitting room. The cat was stretched out alongside Gwen in one of the old-fashioned reading chairs. Judson lounged against the mantel. Nick was draped in the other wingback chair, methodically emptying the tray of fancy little sandwiches that sat on the small table. It had been a long drive from Seattle, and Elias had forbidden any food-related stops on pain of being left at the side of the road.

“No, Dad,” Judson said. It was clear he was holding on to his patience with an effort of will. “It’s not the only answer that works. In fact, it’s not even the most likely answer.”

Damn it, none of his offspring understood, Elias thought. He gripped the window ledge very tightly. Sure, they got that Barrett’s Helicon Stone was serious competition. They had grown up in the hard rock business and they expected a degree of ruthlessness from a tough competitor. But they did not fully comprehend the depth of the personal hostility toward Coppersmith, Inc., that Barrett had been nursing for decades. They had not had to confront the man face-to-face and listen to him vow to destroy everything that Elias had built, everything he held dear. Nor did Judson, Sam and Emma entirely believe him when he warned them that Barrett had passed his grudge on down the line to his son, Gideon.

But, then, they did not know the whole story, Elias reminded himself. Only Willow did and she had kept his secrets.

“What makes you so sure Barrett is not involved?” he asked.

“I told you my logic,” Judson said evenly. “If Gideon had gone after the stone, he would have been a lot more subtle about it, and it’s a good bet that he would have been successful. But we’ve got the geode.”

Elias grunted.

Judson’s coldly determined expression was all too familiar, Elias thought. Every time he complained to Willow that none of his three offspring seemed interested in taking over the helm of Coppersmith, Inc., she reminded him that each of them had inherited not only his savvy intelligence and his feel for rocks and crystals but also his titanium-strong, mile-wide stubborn streak. None of them could work with you for more than five minutes, Willow always said. You will have to step down before one of them will step up to take your place.

But he couldn’t step down, Elias thought. Not yet, not until he had made certain that Coppersmith, Inc., and his family were safe from Hank Barrett. Should have gotten rid of him the old-fashioned way all those years ago and buried him out in the desert. No one would have found the body, and I wouldn’t be dealing with this problem today.

But a neat, tidy solution had been impossible. Willow had forbidden it. And when you got right down to it, how did you go about killing a man who had saved your ass more than once in the middle of a firefight and whose ass you had saved, in turn? Some lines could not be crossed. There was a rule about it somewhere.

“You can’t know for sure that Barrett’s not involved,” he insisted.

But his own logic was flawed and he knew it. Judson was right. Wilby was a small town. If Gideon Barrett had come here to get the stone, he would have found it and taken it.

Gwen spoke up from her chair.

“I don’t know anything more about the Barretts or Helicon Stone than what Judson has told me,” she said, “but I do know a considerable amount about Evelyn Ballinger and the circumstances here in Wilby. I agree with Judson. I very much doubt that Evelyn was murdered by outsiders. This was local and it was personal.”

“Yeah?” Elias rounded on her. He was aware that he was in what Willow called his bristling mode, but that was too damn bad. The situation was serious. “And just how would you know that, Ms. Frazier? Are you a trained investigator?”

“No, but I’m capable of applying common sense to a problem,” Gwen said coolly. “I find that approach so much more helpful than allowing an obsession with an old grudge to mess up my thinking.”

Elias raised his brows. Didn’t see that coming, he thought. He regarded Gwen with fresh interest and some curiosity. Very few people outside his family had the nerve to put him in his place. Willow told him that he intimidated most folks. That was fine with him. Intimidation was useful.

But Gwen Frazier looked anything but intimidated. She sat there in the big reading chair, one leg crossed over the other, radiating a calm poise that matched the You don’t scare me message in her eyes.