“No.” Slade went back to his lasagna.
“So what really happened today and why do I think that you didn’t tell everyone the whole story?” she said.
Slade did not even blink at the question. It was as if he had been expecting it. He picked up his fork and cut off a large chunk of lasagna.
“The two gunmen who chased Devin and Nate into the Preserve may have been smugglers but if so, they were not standard issue,” he said.
She paused, her own fork hovering an inch above the lasagna on her plate. “What do you mean?”
“They were both talents of some kind. I could see it in their tracks. Devin says they moved very fast so I’m guessing they were hunters. But they didn’t want to risk going into the Preserve, not even to chase down a couple of witnesses, so I have a hunch they were only midlevel sensitives. Either that or their brand of the hunter-talent doesn’t allow them to navigate inside the fence.”
“A couple of hunter-talents turned smugglers wouldn’t be the biggest surprise in the world. When you think about it, hunters are ideally suited to one of two career paths: a life of crime or a life of crime-fighting.”
“True.” Slade ate some more lasagna. “But I’ve got a feeling about those two.”
“What are you thinking?”
“That a murder by paranormal means, combined with a hot artifact of unknown power and a couple of talents packing guns showing up in a small cove at the edge of the Preserve adds up to far too many coincidences.”
“Do you believe that the smugglers had something to do with Jeremy’s murder?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Are they the ones who killed him?”
“Maybe. Seems logical because he was also dealing in an illicit business. But Gaines was killed by paranormal means. The pair at Hidden Beach had a preference for guns.”
“So there may be another person involved?”
“Maybe.”
“A lot of maybes here.”
“There always are when the case starts coming together.” Slade looked at the pan of lasagna. “I wouldn’t mind another slice.”
She smiled and picked up the spatula. “How are Nate and Devin doing?”
“They’re both describing the experience as weird and freaky and they’re still a little shaken. But now that it’s over they are well on their way to becoming rock stars among their peers here on the island.”
“That status should help Devin make new friends when school starts.”
“Oh, yeah. What is surprising is that they came through it all with coherent memories. According to the old records, that is highly unusual.”
“You can go in and out of the Preserve without suffering any sense of disorientation. And you got me in and out. I recall every moment inside—” She broke off, aware that she was turning scarlet.
For the first time since he had returned to town, sexy amusement gleamed in Slade’s eyes.
“You recall every detail?” he said politely. “So do I.”
She beetled her brows. “You know what I meant. Obviously some people of talent can come and go through the fence without any problem.”
“Which explains why Devin is okay. I assume he was able to somehow shield Nate. But I’m not convinced that the fence or the energy inside the Preserve accounts for all the reports of disorientation and memory loss among the handful of people who have been rescued over the years.”
“You have another theory?”
“During the past fifty years the few people who have been rescued from the Preserve were all extracted by teams sent in by the Rainshadow Foundation or its predecessor, Amber Sea Trading.”
“The members of the rescue teams are probably sensitives who can track the way you do.”
“Sure,” Slade said. “But that doesn’t explain the survivors’ memory issues. What if the rescue teams go in not only with a hunter-talent of some kind but also with a para-hypnotist or maybe a dream-talent who could ensure that the folks who were rescued don’t have any clear memories of their time in the Preserve?”
She stilled. “That would be highly illegal. Why would the Foundation go to such lengths and take such a risk?”
Slade shrugged and forked up another bite of lasagna. “The obvious reason. To protect the secrets of the Preserve.”
An icy shiver swept across her senses. “What secrets?”
Slade looked at her. “I don’t know yet.”
A chortle from the front room made Charlotte glance up at the refrigerator. Rex was not in sight.
“What’s he up to?” she asked uneasily.
“I think he just wants out.”
She leaped to her feet and rushed into the other room. Rex was waiting in front of the door. She opened it for him. Rex chortled a cheery farewell and dashed off across the porch, clutch gripped tightly in one paw. He disappeared into the night.
Charlotte closed the door and walked back into the kitchen. “Rex is not a normal dust bunny.”
“Who knows what’s normal for a dust bunny?”
“Good point,” she admitted.
Slade met her eyes. “I’m not normal, either. I need to know what the hell is happening to my talent. I’ve decided to run some experiments tonight.”
“You can run them here, with me.”
“No,” he said. “Not a good idea. I don’t know what to expect.”
“There are only two plausible outcomes,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and reasonable as possible. “One is that the experts are right and you’ll take a heavy psi-burn from which you will not recover. The other is that I’m right, in which case, you’ll get a handle on whatever is going on with your para-senses. Either way there’s no reason to go through this alone.”
“That’s how I work, Charlotte. Alone.”
“Maybe that was the way you worked in the past but things are different here on Rainshadow,” she said.
“Yeah?” He smiled but there was no amusement in his eyes. “What’s different?”
“I’m here. Face it, Chief, you’re not alone tonight.”
He seemed to struggle with that concept for a moment, then he shook his head. “No.”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you do this on your own. Aside from your natural hardheaded stubbornness, that is.”
“You said there are two plausible outcomes but what if you’re wrong? What if there’s a third?”
“Such as?”
“What if it turns out I can access the stormlight at the far end of my talent but I’m not able to control it?”
She touched the pendant at her throat. “Whatever is waiting for you, I’m absolutely sure that you can control it. But if I’m wrong, I’ll know it before you do. I’ll stop you.”
She was not absolutely certain she would be able to do that but she had no intention of letting him know that she had a few tiny doubts. In any event, the possibility that he might not be able to control his talent was the least of her concerns. He was going to run his experiment tonight with or without her and she could not let him face his worst nightmare—permanent psiblindness—alone.
He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. He looked out into the night for a long time and then he turned back to her.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll do this together.”
Chapter 22
