Dream Eyes

“I’m listening.”

“I have had an absolute brainstorm. Wait until you hear my new concept for the show. It’s going to take Dead of Night into the big leagues.”

“Let’s hear it,” Gwen said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Up until now we’ve focused on old legends that involve haunted houses and reports of mysterious paranormal events.” Wesley was very intent now. “But that’s gone stale. What the show needs is a new edge.”

“How do you plan to get that?”

“We’re going to refocus the series. We’ll investigate cold cases, crimes that have never been solved.”

“I hate to break this to you, but that’s not a new concept.”

“No, no, no, we’ve been doing historical murders. I’m talking about recent murders that have gone cold due to lack of evidence. Maybe some missing-person’s stuff, too.”

“Wesley—”

“Here’s the twist.” Wesley leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We will solve the cold cases using real psychic investigators.”

He threw himself back in his chair and spread his hands wide apart in a Voilà gesture. He waited for a reaction, smiling in expectation.

Gwen tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“I see,” she said. “This is a fictional series, right?”

“No, no, no. Don’t you get it? We’ll work with genuine psychic investigators to reopen cold cases and solve real crimes.”

“Where do you plan to find these psychic investigators?” she asked. “It pains me to say it, but there are a lot of fakes and frauds in that line.”

He winked. “But you and I know where to find the real deal—genuine psychics—don’t we?”

She sat very still. “Evelyn’s records?”

“I envision a small team of investigators composed of people like you and some of the others who participated in the Ballinger Study.”

“As I recall, you were never convinced that there is such a thing as the paranormal, let alone that people could use that kind of talent to solve crimes.”

“Between you and me, I’m still not entirely convinced,” Wesley said. “But that isn’t important. This is television. This will work. I know it in my gut. With Evelyn gone, I’m going to need your help putting the show together. The first step is to track down the psychics who participated in Evelyn’s study two years ago.”

“That’s why you searched her house, isn’t it? You weren’t looking for her last ideas for a new Dead of Night episode. You wanted to find her records relating to the Ballinger Study.”

“You want the truth, Gwen? I’m desperate and I need your help. Ratings are in the toilet. They’re threatening to cancel Dead of Night. What’s more, this isn’t just about me. If I don’t come up with a new concept and fast, we’re both going to be out of a job.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is a good idea, Wesley. I was okay with writing up scripts based on Evelyn’s research of historical crimes, but you’re talking about taking the show in a whole different direction, one that could cause a lot of legal problems.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Stop and think about what might happen if you go around the country trying to reopen murder investigations in a reality TV format. Law enforcement isn’t going to be at all cooperative. The families of the deceased will be upset. And even if you did uncover a for-real case of murder using psychic investigation techniques, how on earth would you go about proving it?”

“This is television,” Wesley said. “We don’t have to prove anything. All we need to do is come up with a convincing theory of the crime that’s strong enough to cast doubt on the original findings. Hell, we’ll be doing a public service. At the very least, we can force regular law enforcement to take a closer look at some cold cases.”

“How do you intend to decide what cases warrant a Dead of Night investigation?”

“That’s where you come in. Your job will be to come up with the right cases. Shouldn’t be too hard. Once the word gets out online that I’m looking for reports of deaths that are unexplained or are in some way suspicious, we’ll be flooded with leads.”

“I can’t help you, Wesley.”

But he was not paying attention now. Dazzled by his own brilliance, he plowed forward.

“We’ll start right here in Wilby,” he announced. “We’ll investigate Evelyn’s death.”

Gwen stared at him. “What?”

“It’s perfect.” He flung up both hands, palms out. “Paranormal researcher slain by dark forces unleashed in her secret lab.”

“Forget it.” Evelyn’s ghost had been right, she thought. Wesley wanted to use her death as an episode on the show.

“After the first show, the lab will become the permanent set for Dead of Night,” he continued. “All of our future investigations will launch from there. I have to get back inside the lodge as soon as possible and take a closer look. Word in town is that you inherited that as well as her house. We could run over there right now.”

“No.”

That stopped Wesley. His face fell. “She didn’t leave the lab to you? But everyone is saying—”

Gwen got to her feet. “The lab is mine, but I won’t allow you turn Evelyn’s death into an episode for your series.”

Wesley stood. “You think she was murdered. This is your chance to prove it.”

“Law enforcement and courts require hard evidence. No one is going to pay any attention to an investigation run by a bunch of television psychics.”

She started toward the door.

Wesley lunged after her. He seized her upper arm, forcing her to stop.

“I need Evelyn’s list of psychics,” he said. “I’ll pay you for it. Name your price.”

She glanced down at his hand. “Let me go.”

“Listen to me, damn it, you can’t walk away. There’s too much at stake here.”

Gwen sensed the flood of icy energy an instant before she heard Judson’s cold voice.

“Take your hands off her,” he said.

Gwen felt the shock that snapped through Wesley. His hand dropped away. He stepped back so quickly he bumped into a nearby table. He glared at Judson.

“Don’t you dare threaten me, Coppersmith,” he said. “I’m trying to talk to Gwen. She works for me, damn it. I’ve got a right.”

Judson ignored him. He looked at Gwen.

“Finished in here?” he asked.

The banked embers of a glacial fire still burned in his eyes. Heads were turning in the lobby. At the front desk, Riley Duncan was frowning.

Trisha Montgomery appeared from the back office. “Is there a problem?” she asked. The question was coolly polite, but there was steel in her eyes. “Gwen?”

“It’s all right, Trisha,” Gwen said quickly.

The situation was deteriorating. She knew that she had to separate the two men as fast as possible.

“Wesley and I have finished our business discussion,” she said to Judson. “And the last thing we need is a scene,” she added in low tones as she whisked past him.

She held her breath, but in the end Judson reluctantly turned away from his prey and followed her. They climbed the stairs in silence. Wesley stalked out of the tearoom, crossed the lobby and went outside to get into his car. Trisha returned to her office. Riley went back to work. The guests picked up their books and magazines.

On the third floor, Judson unlocked Gwen’s door. She walked into the room. Max was ensconced in the center