going to have to run through it.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Gwen looked down at Nicole. “I think we might lose consciousness like she did.”
“We’ve got a better chance of getting out of here if we maintain physical contact,” Judson said.
She wanted to ask him why he believed that to be true but concluded that it was not the best time to discuss his theory of para-physics. They had no choice but to run the experiment. Neither of them would be able to sustain much more of the assault on their senses.
“All right,” she said. “Plan B it is.”
She reached down to grasp one of Nicole’s wrists. Judson grabbed the other.
“Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Judson said.
Max hissed.
Judson scooped him up into the crook of his arm. To Gwen’s amazement the dazed cat did not attempt to scratch or claw his way to freedom.
The music rose and fell in nerve-shattering waves as if the sculptures were engaged in some demonic orchestral battle. The energy was growing hotter and more intense by the second.
But now there was another kind of fire igniting the atmosphere of the small space around the four of them. Gwen realized that the fresh tide of energy came from the stone in Judson’s ring. It glowed like a miniature sun.
The countercurrent of psi flooded the atmosphere. The chimes trembled and shook violently in response. Gwen heard glass and crystal fracture.
In the next instant, the terrible music was suddenly muted. Gwen could still hear the chimes, but it was as if the sound was coming from another room or even another dimension. The paranormal firewall blocking the path to the door receded. The relief was almost overwhelming.
“I can dampen the wavelengths in a narrow space around us,” Judson said. “But not for long. Let’s go.”
Together they hauled Nicole toward the front door. The amber ring burned with astonishing energy. Gwen sensed the raw power that Judson was controlling and knew that such an extraordinary expenditure of psychic power would exact a cost later. At the very least, Judson would be exhausted.
They made it through the door. Gwen grabbed the cat carrier when they dashed across the porch, and then they were out in the driving rainstorm. The explosion came seconds later. The currents of paranormal energy generated by the chimes swept outward like tentacles seeking to draw the intended prey back into the house.
There was a low, heavy
Judson turned his head to look. “Damn it to hell and back. There goes whatever evidence the killer might have left. Fire usually destroys most traces of psi.”
“I don’t understand.” Gwen stared at the blaze, her heart pounding. “There was no fire, just a lot of paranormal energy. How could it explode like that?”
“As Dad discovered one day forty years ago at the Phoenix Mine, if you get enough psi burning in a confined space, it can explode across the spectrum into the normal range.” Judson dropped Nicole’s wrist and unclipped his cell phone. “Oxley is not going to like this.”
“How are we going to explain it to him?”
“No problem,” Judson said.
Gwen blinked. “Really?”
Judson’s mouth twisted humorlessly. “The thing about paranormal events is that if you think about it, you can usually come up with a perfectly logical, perfectly normal explanation.”
“Is that so?”
“In my experience,” he said, punching in the emergency number, “no one ever wants the truth, anyway.”
Twenty-five
“A gas explosion,” Gwen said. She smiled, coolly appreciative. “You know, that actually sounded like a very plausible explanation.”
“Thanks,” Judson said. For some reason—probably because he was still in the post-burn buzz—he liked that she was impressed with how smoothly he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat for Oxley. “Got to admit, I’ve had practice.”
She glanced at him, curiosity shadowing her eyes. “In your consulting work for that government agency you mentioned?”
“Government agencies are really good when it comes to cover-ups. It’s an art form. I learned a lot working for Joe Spalding.”
“The director of the agency?”
“Yes.”
“Abby mentioned that the agency—your client, I believe—was closed down due to funding cuts?” Gwen said.
“Funding is always a problem with government agencies.”
“Did Spalding become a lobbyist? That’s what usually happens, isn’t it? Those guys always land on their feet.”
“Spalding did not land on his feet. Spalding is dead.”
“Ah.” Gwen fell silent.
He drank some wine and lowered the glass, aware of the exhaustion that was settling into his bones. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in Gwen’s little parlor, their feet propped on the needlepoint hassock. There was a bottle of generic red from the Wilby General Store and the remains of a takeout pizza on the table between them.
The bio-cocktail of adrenaline and psi that always followed a heavy drain on the psychic senses was still washing through him. He was edgy and restless. What he really needed was some fast, overheated sex with Gwen, but it wouldn’t be chivalrous to suggest it, given what she had been through today. Instead, he was using alcohol to bring himself down harder and faster. Soon he would crash. Maybe tonight he would not dream.
Max was crouched on the windowsill, staring out into the night. Gwen said he looked depressed, but in Judson’s opinion the cat looked ready for revenge.
“I wonder if Nicole will remember anything about what happened,” Gwen said.
Judson rested his head against the back of the chair. Nicole had regained consciousness just as the first fire truck arrived. The medics had treated her and concluded that she did not need to go to the emergency room. One of Oxley’s officers had driven her home.
“Probably not much,” he said. “Loss of consciousness, regardless of the reason, usually results in some memory loss. I doubt if she’ll ever recall exactly what happened in the minutes leading up to that explosion. But she should be able to tell us why she went to see Louise today. We need that information.”
Gwen turned her head to look at him “What the heck did happen at Louise’s house today? She’s had those chimes hanging inside and out on the porch for years. Why did they go crazy this afternoon?”
“I’m no para-physicist like Sam, but I’ve got a hunch that the explosion was the final event in a chain reaction that started a few hours earlier when the killer used some kind of paranormal crystal to murder Louise Fuller. Hell, maybe it started decades ago.”
“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.
“The energy must have been building inside Louise Fuller’s house for years, thanks to those sculptures. The situation was probably already very unstable. When the killer used his weapon to murder Fuller, there would have been a lot of hot psi involved. That added to the instability. The whole place was a smoldering fire waiting to go up in flames. Then along came the storm. That could have been the spark that ignited the blaze.”
Gwen looked at him. “There was more than just a storm involved. There was you and me, and we were both
