“Who knows?”
Hank snorted. “Good point. That place is crammed with junk. Beatrix Enright was a very strange woman and she got more eccentric toward the end. She was obsessed with those antiques of hers.”
Slade remembered the talk he had overheard that long-ago summer when he had worked at the marina. “I remember. Everyone thought she was a little weird fifteen years ago.”
“She got even more odd as time went by, and that’s saying something around here. Rainshadow attracts a lot of eccentrics. We know the type well. The thing about Beatrix was that she was always buying antiques from estate sales and the like but she never seemed to worry much about selling the stuff, leastways not as far as I could tell.”
“She managed to keep the business going,” Slade pointed out.
“That’s a fact. Sometimes I got the feeling that she was searching for some particular object but whatever it was, I don’t think she ever found it. What happened to make Charlotte think that she’d had an intruder?”
“She found the back door of the shop unlocked this morning. It made her nervous. But as far as she can tell, nothing is missing.”
“City girl.” Hank nodded in a knowing way. “Glad it was nothing serious. But then, we don’t have a lot of trouble around here.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Slade said.
“Once in a while we have a few problems with some of the boating crowd on the long summer weekends. A little local drunk and disorderly stuff. And there are always a few hot-weed dealers operating in the islands, as you discovered this week.”
“Right.” Slade glanced at his watch.
“The Amber Sea Islands have always been popular with smugglers, drug runners, and pirates.” There was a note of pride in Hank’s voice. “Long history of that sort of thing around here. Fifty years ago, Captain Harry Sebastian himself sailed these waters. Legend has it he buried his treasure somewhere on Rainshadow.”
“And then disappeared, presumably murdered by his former business partner who felt he had a claim to the treasure. I know the story. Heard it fifteen years ago.”
Hank winked. “They say Sebastian’s ghost walks the Preserve at night.”
“If I see him, I’ll arrest him.”
Hank laughed. “You do that.”
Slade took another look at the portion of the tattoo that was visible on Hank’s arm. He’d seen similar tats, mostly on old smugglers.
“But generally speaking, the Bay is a real quiet place,” Hank continued with satisfaction. “Yes, sir, I’d say it’s the perfect little town for a man in your profession.”
“So people keep telling me.” Slade reached for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“Nineteen ninety-five. I gave you the local rate.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Hank handed over the package of fish and lounged against the counter. “No, sir, don’t have any of the usual big-city-crime problems here on Rainshadow.”
“I’ve noticed.”
No rogue psychics to profile, Slade thought. No serial killers. No investigations of murder by paranormal means. And it was just as well because he was no longer able to handle that kind of work.
“Got to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when that Reflections business opened up at the old lake lodge a few months back,” Hank continued. “But so far the folks coming in for the retreats seem like a quiet, well-behaved bunch. They spend money in the shops. The chef at the lodge buys his fish from me, so I’m not complaining.”
“Given what it costs to attend one of those flaky weekend meditation seminars, I doubt that Reflections will attract the kind of crowd that is prone to break into the local shops and businesses,” Slade said.
Hank chuckled. “You’re right about that.” He glanced through the front window of the shop at Rex, who was perched on the railing outside, graciously accepting pats and coos from passersby.
“Where’d you pick up the dust bunny?” Hank asked.
“He showed up a while back,” Slade said.
“Didn’t know they made good pets.”
“They don’t,” Slade said. “Thanks for the fish. See you later.”
“You bet.” Hank beamed. “Have a good time tonight now, you hear?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Outside on the front porch, Rex examined the package of salmon with great interest.
“Forget it,” Slade said. “This is dinner, not an afternoon snack. It’s going into the refrigerator at the station and then it’s going back to the cabin after work.”
Rex appeared to lose interest in the salmon. Slade was not deceived. He went down the steps.
Cautiously he jacked up his other senses a couple of degrees. He knew better. The doctors at the clinic had warned him against pushing his talent beyond a very minimal range. But he was unable to resist. He had to know how much worse the damage was getting, had to know how much time he had left before his senses shut down altogether and he went psiblind.
His other vision kicked in for a few seconds. Waterfront Street—with its weathered, wooden storefronts—the ferry landing, and the marina began to glow in eerie shades of ultralight. The footprints of the people strolling on the sidewalks heated with iridescent energy. But when he inched a little higher and tried to work his way into the zone, he sensed the seething storm of energy that was out there waiting to envelop him. The good news was that it did not seem to have grown any darker since he had last checked.
He still had some time left before his talent failed completely, but the psychic powers that had shaped his life and made him so good at what he did for the past fifteen years were slowly but surely being consumed by the storm at the end of the spectrum.
He clamped down on the useless tide of rage that threatened to well up inside. There was no point giving in to the anger. He had to keep moving forward because there was no alternative.
At least he was going to have dinner with an attractive, interesting woman tonight. It had been a long time since he’d had a date. Susan had left after the verdict had come down from the doctors and parapsychs. He didn’t blame her. For a time it had looked like he was probably going to self-destruct. They had both known that there was nothing she could do to stop the slide. Even if he did not put a mag-rez pistol to his head or get permanently lost in a haze of drugs and alcohol as some expected, he would never again be the man she had planned to marry.
Susan had cut her losses and he had been relieved when she did. At least he no longer had to pretend that some day he might recover his talent; that some day he might be able to return to the Bureau.
But Charlotte Enright had never known him in what he now thought of as his other life. To her he was a clean slate. No baggage. And he would not be hanging around Shadow Bay long enough for her to get the wrong impression. He’d been straight up about that. She now knew that he planned to leave within six months. He was pleased that he’d gotten that issue out of the way before he’d asked her to dinner.
They were just two semi-strangers passing in the night, he thought. No reason they couldn’t spend some time together. She wasn’t a kid anymore. They were both adults.
He had been literally stunned to see her when he’d walked off the ferry five days ago. Most of the town had turned out to greet the new chief of police, but it had been the sight of Charlotte in the crowd that had sent the jolt of lightning across his senses and awakened sensations he could not identify.
The first thought that had slammed through him that day was completely irrational.
It made no sense but for the past five days he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he had spent the last fifteen years trying to get back to Rainshadow to see if she was still here.
She had definitely grown up in the years they had been apart, but he would have recognized her anywhere. The elements of the woman she was meant to become had all been in place that summer, waiting to bloom. And the final result was everything he had sensed it would be. Intelligence, energy, and the promise of a passionate nature had illuminated her brilliant hazel eyes that year and those qualities were more luminous than ever now.
Some things had certainly changed, he thought. Gone was the awkward, shy, painfully vulnerable fifteen- year-old girl. In her place was a sleek, savvy, sophisticated woman. Her hair was cut in a shoulder-length style that
