Canyons of Night

Chapter 21

“YOU KNOW, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS job and off Rainshadow, you’re going to have to stop playing hero,” Charlotte said. She used hot pads to set the pan of hot, fragrant lasagna on the table. “Now that Myrna and Officer Willis as well as everyone else in town know that you can go into the Preserve to rescue lost kids, the locals are going to pull out all the stops to keep you from resigning in a few months.”

“I wasn’t the hero today.” Slade studied the lasagna with a sense of great anticipation. It occurred to him that he was hungry, especially for Charlotte’s home cooking. “The kids saved themselves. All I did was go into the Preserve to retrieve them.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, being able to go into the Preserve is considered an impressive feat in these parts. The ability to track a couple of people inside the grounds is held to be downright amazing. This is the first time anyone around here can recall that a rescue was carried out without having to call the Preserve authorities. And the first time in years when the folks who needed rescuing were found alive.”

“Probably the first time the local chief of police has had some psychic talent,” Slade allowed.

“Or at least your particular type of talent,” Charlotte said. “Clearly not every kind of ability works equally well inside the Preserve. I’ve got a fair amount of talent but I’m quite sure I could not have found my way back out, let alone track a couple of kids.”

She cut two large portions of lasagna and set them on plates. She set one of the plates on top of the refrigerator for Rex. He favored heights, she noticed. He chortled exuberantly and bounded up on top of the appliance. He set his clutch aside and settled down to dine with his customary enthusiasm.

She put the second plate of lasagna in front of Slade. She cut a smaller slice for herself and sat down at the kitchen table.

Inviting Slade to dinner tonight had been an impulse, Charlotte thought. She had not intended to do so because she had concluded that he needed some space. He was, after all, dealing with a lot of heavy stuff these days. She knew that he had not yet allowed himself to believe that he might recover his senses. He was not a man to be pushed or manipulated. He had to come to his own decisions. Hence her give-the-man-some-space strategy.

But when he had stopped by her shop shortly after returning to town with the boys, she had changed her mind. The shadows in his eyes and the hard, grim cast of his face had told her that, unlike everyone else in Shadow Bay, he was not in a celebratory mood.

“I take it this isn’t over?” she had asked.

“No, it’s not,” he’d said.

There had been no time to talk because Nate’s parents had arrived on the sidewalk out front, eager to thank him for bringing their son home safe and sound. But she’d gotten the distinct impression that Slade wanted to talk and he definitely needed to unwind. So she’d tossed aside her carefully orchestrated strategy and asked him to dinner. She wanted to hear every single detail of the big rescue, anyway.

Slade’s response had been so casual that she had known immediately that he had been planning to show up on her doorstep with or without the invitation.

“Right, see you sometime after six,” he’d said.

He had walked outside, Rex on his shoulder, to meet with Vern and Laurinda Murphy.

Charlotte had rested her elbows on the counter and watched through the window for a while, debating whether or not to get seriously ticked by Slade’s attitude. He was acting as if nothing had changed in their relationship because of last night.

In the end, she had decided to take a tolerant approach. After all, he’d had a hard day. And besides, to be fair, he had no way of knowing that she had made some crucial decisions regarding the future course of their relationship. She was no longer rezzing with the frequency. You couldn’t blame a man for assuming that nothing had changed when you hadn’t explained said changes to him, she told herself.

It wasn’t until Slade parted with the Murphys and walked off toward the station that she chanced to look across the street at the front window of the Kane Gallery. She saw the familiar figures behind the glass and realized that she was not the only one who had been watching Slade talk to the Murphys. Fletcher Kane and Jasper Gilbert had been watching, too.

Now, several hours later, she still wasn’t sure why the memory of Kane and Gilbert observing Slade through the window of the shop was still drifting, ghostlike, at the back of her mind. There had been nothing odd about it, she thought. Everyone in town had been talking about Slade and how he had tracked the boys into the Preserve and pulled them out.

“Something interesting about that old compass you gave Devin,” Slade said.

“What is that?”

“All four crystals in the compass rose were lit up when I found him. On the way in, I noticed that his footsteps glowed a lot hotter than Nate’s. At the time I assumed that was because Devin has some talent. But now I’m not so sure.”

“You think the compass generated some energy?”

“Maybe. You said you tuned it for him?”

“Right.”

“Those old compasses were made of amber and crystals. That’s always a powerful combination. I’ve got a feeling that when you tuned it to Devin’s rainbow frequencies you did something that helped him amplify his own natural energy, at least while he was cranked up. Maybe that’s how he was able to get Nate through the fence. Something else. Dev’s prints were so hot that I believe any strong hunter could have followed them.”

“You’re saying that the old compass worked as a tracking device?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, but if it works as a tracking device, it may be possible to transform it into a directional indicator like the ones ghost hunters use down in the Underworld. That, in turn, might make it possible for anyone with some talent to navigate inside the Preserve.”

“Maybe it only works with certain kinds of talent. Devin’s, for instance. But we don’t yet know what kind of ability he possesses.”

“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.”