Canyons of Night

way. Since it invariably looks like the victim died from natural causes, the murder usually goes undetected.”

“You sound like an expert on the subject.”

“Detecting murder by paranormal means is what I do, Charlotte, remember? Or, rather, what I did when I worked for the Office.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m getting a little frazzled here. I can’t help but point out that if Jeremy was murdered, I’m the obvious suspect. He and I had a history and I don’t have an alibi for half of last night.”

“True, but what you do have is a talent for reading rainbows. Not exactly the kind of ability that your average rogue psychic uses to commit murder.”

She brightened. “And I certainly don’t possess any of those crystal guns you mentioned.”

He opened his senses a little higher and studied the darkly radiant pools of energy on the floor. “Someone does.”

“You’re sure?”

“Down in the tunnels it’s possible for a very powerful ghost hunter to commit murder from a distance by generating certain types of ghost light. But aboveground the killers who are strong enough to kill with their natural energy almost always have to have physical contact with the victim. Whoever killed Gaines did it from a distance of several feet.”

“You can tell that, as well?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What happens now?”

“Standard procedure. I’ll notify the authorities in Thursday Harbor and try to get in touch with Gaines’s family.”

“Are you going to tell them that you think Jeremy was murdered by paranormal means?”

“No. Like I said, the ME will call it death by natural causes.”

“Hang on. I admit, I was not a fan of Jeremy Gaines. Still, it doesn’t seem right to just ignore his murder. There’s a killer running around. For all we know he might still be on the island.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to investigate. I just said that it’s unlikely that I’ll find any usable evidence. It doesn’t mean I won’t find the killer.”

“But if you can’t arrest him, what will you do if you identify a suspect?”

“It depends.”

“It depends?” She unfolded her arms and waved her hands. “What kind of cop talk is that? There are rules about this sort of thing. At least there are supposed to be rules.”

“When it comes to crimes committed by paranormal means, the rules are a little vague.”

She gave him a speculative look. “In other words, if you decide that I murdered Jeremy, a lawyer wouldn’t do me much good.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you killed him,” he said.

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. It took her a second to get it closed.

“Good,” she said finally. “Great. I mean, that is a huge relief.”

“But if you did kill him, you probably had a real good reason.”

“Thanks. That’s supposed to reassure me?”

“It’s the best I can do at the moment.”

“And to think that I was worried about the two of us feeling a bit awkward the morning after.”

Chapter 8

FLETCHER KANE OPENED HIS SENSES AND STUDIED THE painting on the table. The image on the canvas was similar to the others that lined the walls of the gallery, a vision of a fantastical, otherworldly forest landscape lit by an eerie phosphorescence. The picture should have looked like an enchanted fairyland but the strange canyon just barely visible through a stand of trees gave it a hellish quality. The canyon was filled with a disturbing darkness that was slowly seeping out into a glowing forest world, threatening to consume the luminous scene.

Like the others, the painting would sell quickly enough, Fletcher thought. A day-tripper off the ferry or a visitor staying at a local bed-and-breakfast would respond to the intensity of the picture and snap it up. But it was doubtful that whoever bought it would see the deeper reality that he perceived. The painting seethed with ominous energy.

“The dreams are getting worse, aren’t they?” he said quietly. “I heard you get out of bed and take the meds again last night.”

Jasper Gilbert exhaled and walked to the window. He watched the small crowd of tourists prowl the boutiques and galleries on Waterfront Street.

“These aren’t the old dreams, Fletch,” he said. “These are different. Something bad is happening out there in the Preserve.”

“Take it easy. I don’t doubt your visions.”

Jasper snorted. “Even if the Guild shrinks think I’m a crazy thanks to that last trip into the Underworld?”

“You’re not crazy, and what the Guild doctors didn’t understand is that you’ve always had weird dreams.” Fletcher tapped the edge of the painting with his finger. “But it’s clear your dreams about the Preserve are getting darker and more intense.”

Jasper clasped his big hands behind his back and looked across the way at the entrance of Looking Glass. “Two people connected to the antique shop are dead. First Beatrix and now that stranger they say was stalking Charlotte Enright. What are the odds?”

“Beatrix was an elderly woman. She died of a heart attack.”

“Gaines was only about forty years of age.”

“It happens, Jasper.”

“Two deaths within the past six months and both linked to Looking Glass. And now the shop has a new owner.”

“I understand,” Fletcher said.

He and Jasper had been bonded both professionally and personally for a long time. They had met back when they had both been young Guild men. Like most of those who worked the Underworld, they had retired in their forties. Guarding the corporate and academic expeditions that explored the tunnels was hard, risky work. Burning ghosts in the catacombs took a lot out of a man, and Guild retirement benefits were very good.

They had married and moved to Rainshadow to pursue their dreams. Jasper had always longed to concentrate on his art. Fletcher had been surprised to discover that he had a knack for business. They made a good team in the art world just as they had in the Underworld. Years ago they had discovered that their ghost-hunter talents had given them the ability to penetrate partway into the Preserve where Jasper had taken inspiration from the eerie landscape inside the fence.

But things had started to change five years ago, Fletcher thought. Two strangers had managed to go deep into the Preserve. This time there were no survivors. The search-and-rescue team sent out by the Foundation had brought out the bodies.

Immediately afterward the mysterious people who ran the Foundation had intensified the force field that functioned as an invisible fence. Jasper and Fletcher could barely make it through now, and when they did they were no longer able to navigate the terrain. They dared not go more than a short distance inside, but that was far enough to tell them that something dark was stirring deep in the forbidden territory.

It wasn’t just the atmosphere inside the Preserve that had changed, Fletcher thought. Jasper’s dreams had begun to change, too.

Fletcher walked through the gallery to join Jasper at the window. Together they watched Slade Attridge leave Looking Glass and walk down Waterfront Street toward the police station.

“When do we tell him that we think there’s something dangerous going on inside the Preserve?” Jasper asked.