Copper Beach

8

SAM HEARD THE CLICKS OF DOG CLAWS ON A WOODEN FLOOR before Abby got her door unlocked.

“That’s Newton,” Abby explained. “He isn’t keen on strangers, especially strange men.”

“I’ll try to make a good impression,” Sam said.

She turned the key and pushed the door open. A scruffy gray dog of uncertain ancestry lunged forward to greet Abby as if she had been gone for a year.

“Sorry I’m late, Newton.” Abby leaned down to scratch the dog affectionately behind the ears. “We’ve got company.”

Newton regarded Sam with an expression of grave misgivings.

“I’m with her,” Sam said.

“Generally speaking, he doesn’t bite,” Abby said.

“You don’t have to make that sound like a character flaw,” Sam said.

Newton was on the small side, but that was about all he had in common with the typical condo dog, which, in Sam’s experience, tended to come in two versions: tiny, white and fluffy or chunky pug. Newton was a condo-sized version of a junkyard dog.

“Where did you get him?” Sam asked.

“The animal shelter.” Abby gave Newton an affectionate smile. “It was love at first sight, wasn’t it, Newton?”

Newton spared her a brief glance, acknowledging his name. Then he turned his attention back to Sam.

Sam set the leather duffel bag on the floor, crouched and extended his hand toward Newton. The dog tilted his head slightly to the side and pricked up his ears. He sniffed Sam’s hand and then condescended to allow himself to be patted a few times.

“Congratulations,” Abby said. She slipped out of her coat and turned to hang it on the red enamel coat tree. “Newton approves of you. He doesn’t take to everyone.”

Sam got to his feet. “I think it’s more a case of tolerating me.”

“Well, yes, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to go for your throat.”

“He’s a condo dog,” Sam said. “The most he could go for is my ankle.”

Abby glared. “Do not, under any circumstances, underestimate Newton. He picks up on vibes in the atmosphere. He knows when he’s being insulted.”

Sam looked at Newton. “Is that so?”

Newton gave a disdainful little snort and trotted off down the hall.

Sam looked at Abby. “Since your guard dog has decided to allow me over the threshold, is it okay if I take off my coat?”

Abby flushed. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

“I got that impression.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. When she took it from him, her fingers brushed against his, sending an intimate little thrill of awareness across his senses. He knew she felt the small flash because her brilliant eyes widened slightly in surprise. She gave him a startled look and then just as swiftly looked away.

She hung his jacket on the coat tree and led the way down the short hall to the living and dining area.

A few minutes ago, Gwen Frazier had discreetly vanished in a cab to her own apartment a couple of blocks away. Sam had felt the energy shiver in the atmosphere when Abby had introduced him to her friend. He was fairly certain that Gwen had used some talent to make a judgment call. She had evidently decided that Abby was safe with him, at least for now, because she had not tried to hang around.

Things were looking up, he decided. He had managed to get through two lines of defense tonight, the protective friend and the protective dog. He was on a roll.

“Your friend is also a talent, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Yes. Gwen is a psychic counselor. She does aura readings in a shop in the market.”

“Aura readings. Right.”

Abby gave him a severe look. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?”

“You think Gwen is using her talent to con people. For the record, she doesn’t do fortune-telling or palm-reading. And she certainly doesn’t pretend to talk to the dead. She really can read auras. Her clients come to her for advice and guidance. She analyzes their energy fields and tells them what she sees and makes recommendations. She’s a kind of therapist.”

“Got it.”

Abby sighed. “I’m probably overreacting here. It’s just that so many people think Gwen is a fraud. Storefront psychics aren’t exactly held in high esteem by psychologists and traditional counselors. Would you like some herbal tea? I’d offer coffee, but I don’t drink it at night, at least not lately.”

And that was all the information he was going to get on Gwen Frazier, he thought. “Tea will be fine. Thanks.”

“I’ll get the water started.” She hesitated, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. “Please, sit down.”

He studied his options. The condo was small, but it was a corner unit with an open, flowing floor plan. The walls were a sunny Mediterranean gold with dark brown accents. The floors were hardwood. There were two area rugs decorated with modernistic designs in deep red, teal, green and yellow. Newton was lounging on the one near the window. He watched Sam with deep suspicion, but he showed no signs of going for the jugular or the ankle.

There was a comfortable-looking L–shaped sofa, a reading chair, some bookshelves, a lot of healthy-looking plants and a glass-topped coffee table. There was a book on the table. He took a closer look. Families by Choice: A Guide to Creating the Modern Blended Family by Dr. Brandon C. Radwell.

“That’s my father’s new book,” Abby said.

He picked up Families by Choice and turned it over. The back-cover photo showed a smiling Brandon C. Radwell holding hands with an elegant-looking woman who had to be his wife. Behind the beaming couple stood Abby, a man about her age, and two very attractive women who appeared to be nineteen or twenty.

“This is your family?” Sam asked, holding up the book to show the photo.

“That’s the Radwells, the perfect modern blended family,” Abby said. She turned away and became very busy with the teakettle. “That’s my stepbrother, Dawson, and my half sisters standing with me behind Dad and Diana.”

“Your half sisters look like twins.”

“They are. They’re in college.” Abby set the kettle on a burner. “I was twelve when they were born. Dawson was thirteen.”

He put the book down on the coffee table and finished his examination of the room. One corner had been turned into a home office outfitted with a desk, a computer and some storage cabinets.

The tiny balcony and wraparound floor–to–ceiling windows took full advantage of the cityscape view. The lights of the Space Needle glittered in the night.

The whole place glowed with a cozy, inviting warmth that suggested a very personal touch. A lot of time and attention had been lavished on the little condo to transform it from a living space into a home.

“Nice,” he said.

Abby smiled, the first genuine smile he had gotten from her. She was suddenly radiant. Deep satisfaction and delight lit her eyes. “It’s my first home. I’ve been renting forever. But I finally managed to save enough for a down payment. Moved in three months ago. Did the decorating myself. My friends helped me with the painting and built-ins.”

There was more than just pride of ownership in her voice. “It’s my first home” said a lot. The little condo was very important to Abby. Something else she had said struck him, too. Her friends had helped her paint and decorate. There was no mention of any assistance from her stepbrother and half sisters.

He walked to the granite counter that divided the living area from the kitchen and angled himself onto one of the bar stools.

Abby took a canister down out of the cupboard. “I assume you came to see me tonight because you’ve made some progress on the investigation?”

“Nope. I’ve got zip.”

For a heartbeat or two she did not move or even blink. Her stillness was absolute. She recovered quickly and frowned.

“Then what in the world are you doing here?” she asked.

He folded his arms on the counter. “My job. I told you I don’t have any startling revelations, but I do have a few questions.”

“You could have called.”

“I prefer to get my answers face–to–face.” He smiled. “Less chance of a misunderstanding that way.”

“Fine, whatever.” She removed the lid of the canister and started spooning loose tea into a pot. “Ask your questions.”

“You said you don’t know what the blackmailer wants.”

“I told you, he hasn’t made any specific demands.”

“Do you have any theories?”

“I assume he’s after some very hot, probably encrypted, book. He wants me to get it for him.”

“But you don’t know which book?”

“Not yet.” She put the lid back on the canister. “At any given time, there are always a few extremely rare volumes with a paranormal provenance floating around in the underground.”

“Did Thaddeus Webber give you any clue?”

“No.” She opened another cupboard and took down two mugs. “Our communication on the subject thus far has been via email. Thaddeus lives alone in the foothills of the Cascades. He’s very reclusive. Quite paranoid. He doesn’t have a phone. Says they’re too easy to tap. When he insisted that I contact you immediately, I emailed him a couple of questions, but the only response I got was ‘Talk to Sam Coppersmith. He’ll know what to do.’ ”

“I think he’s right. I have a better idea of what may be going down than you do.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’ve come to the same conclusion. Talk to me, Sam.”

“I’m pretty sure that Thaddeus Webber sent you to me because he thinks your blackmailer is after an old lab notebook that my father spent years trying to find.”

“For the record, whoever he is, he’s not my blackmailer, but go on.”

“Eventually, Dad concluded that both the notebook and the man who had recorded the results of his experiments in it had been buried in an explosion in an old mine called the Phoenix. But now there is reason to believe that the notebook has surfaced in the collectors’ market. We know of at least one very dangerous man who is after it.”

Abby raised her brows. “I assume that you are not referring to yourself ?”

For a second, he didn’t comprehend. Then it hit him that she had just let him know that she considered him dangerous.

“No need to insult me,” he said, going for offended. “I’m on your side in this thing, remember?”

“Actually, it’s starting to sound like you’ve got your own agenda, but I’m good with that. Everyone has an agenda, right?”

He did not dignify that with a response. “What I’m trying to explain here is that it’s reasonable to assume that Webber sent you to me because he thinks that you’re in danger from someone who is after that notebook. He understands that I’m the best-qualified person around to look after you until we find that damned book and get it off the market.”

“Okay, I get that, but remember that you’re supposed to be working for me.”

“Trust me, I am not going to let you out of my sight until we find the notebook and the person who is trying to blackmail you.”

“I’m not sure that translates into working for me.”

“You will have my full attention until this is over,” he assured her gravely.

For a long moment, she studied him with deeply shadowed, unreadable eyes. The shriek of the teakettle’s whistle broke the tense silence. She turned away to pour the hot water into the pot.

“All right,” she said. “I guess that’s the best deal I’m going to get. You find my blackmailer and make him go away. In exchange, I will find the lab notebook for you.”

Irritation sparked through him. “This isn’t a business arrangement.”

“Yes.” She set the kettle down.”That is exactly what it is. Never mind. I take it you think this lab book is locked in a psi-code?”

“According to the rumors, yes. We don’t know when it was locked or who did the encryption.”

“This man you mentioned, the one who kept the records of his experiments in the notebook, you say he died in a mine explosion?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“About forty years ago. His name was Ray Willis. He and my father and another man named Quinn Knox were mining engineers who all had some intuitive sensitivity for the latent energy in rocks and crystals and ores. In addition, they had the vision to see that the future of technology was going to be dependent on the so–called rare earths. They formed a partnership and went into the exploration business. They hit pay dirt, literally, when they picked up the mineral rights to an old abandoned mine out in the Nevada desert. Whoever sank the shaft originally was probably looking for gold. There wasn’t any there. But Dad and his partners were after twenty-first-century gold.”

“The rare earths.”

“Right. They were all convinced that the Phoenix was the modern equivalent of a gold mine.”

“Did they find the minerals and elements they were looking for in the Phoenix Mine?”

“Yes, but they found something a lot more interesting and, according to Dad, a lot more dangerous. They discovered geodes filled with quartzlike crystals unlike anything they had seen before. There was no data on them in the research literature. But they eventually turned up a few old references to similar crystals in some ancient books on alchemy.”

Abby made a face and poured the tea into the mugs. “Alchemy. That figures. The old alchemists were always coming up with secret formulas and running experiments with para-crystals and amber and other stones in an effort to enhance their powers.”

“Dad, Willis and Knox could sense the energy locked in the rocks, but they had no idea how to access it, let alone figure out how to use it. They set up a small on–site lab and started conducting experiments.”

Abby set one of the mugs on the counter in front of him. At least she was no longer looking skeptical. Instead, she appeared to be reluctantly fascinated.

“They found out that the crystals had paranormal properties?” she asked.

“Yes. But they soon realized that they were playing with fire.” He was suddenly very conscious of his ring. “Maybe literally. All they could tell in the field lab was that the energy in the stones was volatile and unpredictable, and that it was paranormal in nature. Dad and Knox wanted to stop the experiments until they could get some of the specimens to a properly equipped facility. But Ray Willis was obsessed with the stones. He was convinced they had enormous value, and he decided that he didn’t want to share the potential profits.”

Abby picked up her own mug. “There was a falling-out among the partners?”

“You could say that. Ray Willis tried to murder Knox and my father. Dad never told us exactly what happened in the mine shaft that day, but in the end there was an explosion. Knox and my father escaped through an air shaft. Willis didn’t make it out.”

“What happened?”

“Afterward, Dad and Knox made a pact. They decided that for the foreseeable future, the crystals should stay in the ground. Those rocks were just too dangerous. There was no telling what would happen if they fell into the wrong hands. They agreed to keep the location of the mine a secret, and they tried to destroy all traces of its existence.”

“The foreseeable future has turned into forty years?”

“Yes, but Dad still hasn’t changed his mind about the Phoenix. He does not want it found, not yet at any rate. He says if the time comes to reopen that mine, Coppersmith Inc. will handle the job.”

“Meanwhile, your father is committed to keeping the secret.”

“His old partner, Quinn Knox, kept the secret, too. But he died a couple of weeks ago. Before he passed on, however, he warned us that his son, Lander Knox, who is evidently a full-blown bad guy with a lot of talent, is on the trail of the lab book.”

“You say your father and Knox searched for the book after the explosion?”

“Not just the notebook. Several of the crystals that Ray Willis was using in his experiments went missing, too. Dad and Knox couldn’t find the book or the stones. Eventually, they gave up and told themselves everything had been buried with Willis in the explosion. But over the years there have been occasional whispers that indicated that the book and at least some of the crystals survived. In the beginning, Dad chased down every lead. Now my brother, Judson, and I do it. But until now, nothing has ever come of any of the rumors.”

“What happened to your father’s partnership with Knox?”

“They worked together for a while. Found a new mine, one that produced copper. They sold out to a big mining company and split the profits. That was the end of their partnership. My father spent his share of the money on exploration and development of another rare-earths mine that became the foundation of Coppersmith Inc.”

“What happened to Quinn Knox?”

“He and Dad lost contact over the years. Knox evidently had a problem with gambling and a few other addictions. But Dad heard from him for the first time in decades when Knox called from his hospital bed to warn him about Lander Knox. Apparently, Lander found one of the crystals that Quinn had kept and learned about the existence of the Phoenix Mine. He has concluded that he was deprived of his rightful inheritance, and he’s determined to find it. To do that, he needs the lab book.”

“You really think this Lander Knox is the person who is trying to blackmail me?”

“I think there’s a very high probability that he’s the blackmailer, yes. But we have to assume that there may be others who will do whatever it takes to get that book.”

“Wow, a lost mine and a missing lab book.” Abby looked genuinely amused. “You know, if it weren’t for the blackmail part, this would actually be one of my cooler gigs.”

“I’m glad you can see the positive side of this situation.”

He studied the tea she had placed in front of him. Normally, he never drank tea, herbal or otherwise. But this tea was a mysterious golden green. He picked up the cup and swallowed cautiously. The brew tasted oddly soothing. He could feel the warmth flooding through him, and it felt good. It occurred to him that he had been cold for a while now. Strange that he had not been aware of it until tonight.

They drank the tea together in silence. Eventually, he put down the cup.

“By now you’ve probably heard the rumors about me,” he said.