Dream Eyes

Twenty-two

“I’m telling you, somehow, somewhere, Hank Barrett is involved in this thing,” Elias said. “He sent his son to do his dirty work. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

From where he stood at the window of Judson’s room, he could see glimpses of the river through a thick stand of fir and pine. He had never been comfortable in heavily wooded terrain. Being surrounded by trees that blotted up the light and limited visibility made him uneasy. He had always preferred the wide open stretches of the desert where a man could see what was coming at him.

The four of them and the largest house cat Elias had ever seen were crowded into Gwen’s small sitting room. The cat was stretched out alongside Gwen in one of the old-fashioned reading chairs. Judson lounged against the mantel. Nick was draped in the other wingback chair, methodically emptying the tray of fancy little sandwiches that sat on the small table. It had been a long drive from Seattle, and Elias had forbidden any food-related stops on pain of being left at the side of the road.

“No, Dad,” Judson said. It was clear he was holding on to his patience with an effort of will. “It’s not the only answer that works. In fact, it’s not even the most likely answer.”

Damn it, none of his offspring understood, Elias thought. He gripped the window ledge very tightly. Sure, they got that Barrett’s Helicon Stone was serious competition. They had grown up in the hard rock business and they expected a degree of ruthlessness from a tough competitor. But they did not fully comprehend the depth of the personal hostility toward Coppersmith, Inc., that Barrett had been nursing for decades. They had not had to confront the man face-to-face and listen to him vow to destroy everything that Elias had built, everything he held dear. Nor did Judson, Sam and Emma entirely believe him when he warned them that Barrett had passed his grudge on down the line to his son, Gideon.

But, then, they did not know the whole story, Elias reminded himself. Only Willow did and she had kept his secrets.

“What makes you so sure Barrett is not involved?” he asked.

“I told you my logic,” Judson said evenly. “If Gideon had gone after the stone, he would have been a lot more subtle about it, and it’s a good bet that he would have been successful. But we’ve got the geode.”

Elias grunted.

Judson’s coldly determined expression was all too familiar, Elias thought. Every time he complained to Willow that none of his three offspring seemed interested in taking over the helm of Coppersmith, Inc., she reminded him that each of them had inherited not only his savvy intelligence and his feel for rocks and crystals but also his titanium-strong, mile-wide stubborn streak. None of them could work with you for more than five minutes, Willow always said. You will have to step down before one of them will step up to take your place.

But he couldn’t step down, Elias thought. Not yet, not until he had made certain that Coppersmith, Inc., and his family were safe from Hank Barrett. Should have gotten rid of him the old-fashioned way all those years ago and buried him out in the desert. No one would have found the body, and I wouldn’t be dealing with this problem today.

But a neat, tidy solution had been impossible. Willow had forbidden it. And when you got right down to it, how did you go about killing a man who had saved your ass more than once in the middle of a firefight and whose ass you had saved, in turn? Some lines could not be crossed. There was a rule about it somewhere.

“You can’t know for sure that Barrett’s not involved,” he insisted.

But his own logic was flawed and he knew it. Judson was right. Wilby was a small town. If Gideon Barrett had come here to get the stone, he would have found it and taken it.

Gwen spoke up from her chair.

“I don’t know anything more about the Barretts or Helicon Stone than what Judson has told me,” she said, “but I do know a considerable amount about Evelyn Ballinger and the circumstances here in Wilby. I agree with Judson. I very much doubt that Evelyn was murdered by outsiders. This was local and it was personal.”

“Yeah?” Elias rounded on her. He was aware that he was in what Willow called his bristling mode, but that was too damn bad. The situation was serious. “And just how would you know that, Ms. Frazier? Are you a trained investigator?”

“No, but I’m capable of applying common sense to a problem,” Gwen said coolly. “I find that approach so much more helpful than allowing an obsession with an old grudge to mess up my thinking.”

Elias raised his brows. Didn’t see that coming, he thought. He regarded Gwen with fresh interest and some curiosity. Very few people outside his family had the nerve to put him in his place. Willow told him that he intimidated most folks. That was fine with him. Intimidation was useful.

But Gwen Frazier looked anything but intimidated. She sat there in the big reading chair, one leg crossed over the other, radiating a calm poise that matched the You don’t scare me message in her eyes.

He caught the brief, amused smile that edged Judson’s mouth. That startled him even more than discovering that Gwen had claws. Everyone in the family knew that Judson hadn’t smiled much since he had returned from the island job. He had, in fact, been ducking them all, hiding out in a little town on the Oregon coast, licking his wounds.

Elias understood. A man needed time to recover from betrayal and a close brush with death. He was pretty sure that the explosion inside the cave had done some unseen damage, as well. The family had agreed to give Judson some space. But now it was starting to look like Gwen Frazier and a small-time murder investigation were exactly what the doctor should have ordered.

Nick let out a crack of laughter and reached for the last sandwich.

“Welcome to my world,” he said to Gwen. He popped the dainty sandwich into his mouth and brushed crumbs from his hands. “I had to listen to Wyatt Earp, here, carry on about those badass Barretts the whole trip down from Seattle. It gets old.”

Judson looked at him. “You’re bored after a few hours of listening to him obsess about Hank Barrett and son? Try listening to him harp on the subject your entire life. When we were growing up, Mom had to institute a No Barrett rule at the dinner table and on family vacations.”

“No kidding?” Nick said with what appeared to be an utter lack of interest. “I can sure see how having your old man lecture you about your future business competition might ruin a trip to Disneyland, all right. Bummer.”

But his air of monumental unconcern was belied by the look that he exchanged with Gwen. Their eyes met for no more than an instant, but Elias was pretty sure he could read the message that had passed between them. If these two had any memories of conversations around the family dinner table or vacations to Disneyland, they were not good ones.

“Speaking of business,” Elias said, “let’s get back to it.” He beetled his brows at Judson. “Tell me what you found in Ballinger’s house.”

“It had the feel of a planned hit,” Judson said. “I think the murder was done to silence a potential witness, someone who had discovered something the killer did not want her to know.”

“Huh.” Elias turned back to the window. “Got to admit killing an unarmed woman doesn’t sound like Barrett. But I’m telling you that geode is a damn good motive for murder.”

“I know,” Judson said. “But there are others. Gwen and I are looking into the possibility that Ballinger’s death is linked to something that happened here in Wilby a couple of years ago.”

Gwen and I are looking.

Elias studied his son intently for a few beats. What was going on here? If there was a term that could be used to describe Judson’s working style, that term was lone wolf. The trait had manifested itself early on. It had been clear from the start that of his three children Judson was the least likely to take over the family empire. Judson almost always worked alone.

Now it was Gwen and I are looking into the possibility.

It dawned on Elias that he had been so obsessed with the theory that Hank Barrett was involved in whatever was going down in Wilby that he hadn’t been paying nearly as much attention as he should have to the energy that was crackling in the air between Judson and Gwen Frazier.

He glanced toward the open door that connected the two rooms. The sense of intimacy in the space was unmistakable.

Well, well, well, so that’s how it is, he thought. Nothing like a woman to take a man’s mind off a few bad memories. But he’d never been aware of this kind of intimate heat between Judson and any of his other lady friends. Gwen was different from the other women who had come and gone in Judson’s life. It was as if she not only understood the dark side of Judson’s moody, driven nature but also was okay with it.

“Maybe I am a little too fixated on the Barretts,” he conceded. He looked at the strongbox. “We’ve got the geode. That’s the important thing.”

“It may be the most important thing to you,” Gwen said very politely. “Personally, I’ve got other priorities. I hired Judson to find out who murdered my friend, not to recover some dumb rock.”

Elias gave her what he thought of as his most winning smile, the one he used to close multimillion-dollar deals around the world. “Tell you what, ma’am, I’ll take my dumb rock and go back to Copper Beach with the cat burglar.”

“Antiquarian book dealer,” Nick said without inflection.

Elias ignored him to focus on Gwen, who did not seem overly impressed with his smile. “You and Judson can poke around here in Wilby and see what answers you turn up. How’s that?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Gwen said. “When, exactly, do you intend to leave?”

Her smile was as sweet as a caramel-covered apple—the poisoned variety. Elias could tell that Judson was having trouble suppressing a laugh. It had been a while since Judson had laughed.

“We’re leaving now,” Elias said. He looked at the steel strongbox. “The sooner that stone gets into the vault at Copper Beach, the better.”

Judson straightened away from the mantel. “One more thing before you two take off.” He looked at Nick. “Sawyer, are you as good at the urban rock climbing business as Gwen says you are?”

Elias snorted. “Urban rock climbing? That’s a nice name for his line of work.”

“I’m good,” Nick said. There was no hint of false modesty in the words, just a statement of fact. He was starting to look intrigued. “Gwen and Abby tell me I’ve got a talent for it. Why?”

“I’ve got a job for you,” Judson said. “It involves some computer work, some travel and probably a little climbing and a few locks.”

“That pretty much describes my skill set,” Nick said.

Gwen’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “That’s a brilliant idea, Judson.”

Elias scowled, aware that he was losing the thread of the conversation. “What’s this so-called brilliant idea?”

Judson looked at him. “Gwen and I need information concerning the circumstances surrounding the deaths of half a dozen people who died in various towns in the past eighteen months. We need to know how they’re connected. That kind of research takes time, and we don’t have a lot to spare. We can use some assistance.”

“What’s important about the dead people?” Nick asked.

“If we’re right, they were all murdered by paranormal means,” Gwen said. “We want to find out if there is a pattern, something that would make it clear that they were all killed by the same person.”

Nick was definitely intrigued now. “You think there might be a connection between the dead people and what happened here in Wilby?”

“What we think,” Gwen said deliberately, “is that when Zander Taylor went over the falls, he did not take the camera with him. In the past year and a half, at least six more people have died in a way that is strikingly similar to the way in which Taylor’s victims were murdered.”

“What do you want me to do?” Nick said.

“At the moment, all we have are names of six people who are dead,” Judson said. “I want you to start looking into the deaths. Check out the scenes; talk to neighbors; go online. Whatever it takes. Like Gwen said, we’re looking for a pattern.”

“Give me what you’ve got,” Nick said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He looked around. “Are there any more sandwiches?”