Dream Eyes

Thirty-nine

The town of Wilby rolled up the streets at an early hour. The handful of restaurants were all closed by ten. The last pickup pulled out of the parking lot of the Wilby Tavern shortly before midnight. The staff left twenty minutes later.

Judson waited until the darkest part of the night, and then he went in through the rear door of Hudson Floral Design. He was partially jacked. To his psychic vision, the knives, shears, pruners, snips and thorn strippers arrayed on the workbench gleamed like so much medieval weaponry. The glass vases on the shelves glittered with an acid-green crystalline light.

He moved into the front area of the shop and made his way behind the counter. The door of the small office was closed, but it was unlocked. People who lived in small towns got into some very bad habits when it came to security.

The interior of the office looked much as it had when he and Gwen had talked to Nicole. The torn and mutilated photos were still tacked to the walls.

He crossed the small space and took down the large picture calendar. The first, second and third of August were all marked with the same note. Feed dogs.

He took out the list of dates he had brought with him. The Feed dogs notes appeared exactly where he expected to find them throughout the year.

The faint, muffled sound of a shoe on the rear steps of the shop sent his senses into full sail. The ring on his hand burned with the heat of a miniature paranormal sun. There was time to get out through the front door of the shop.

He left the office and went around the counter. He was reaching for the doorknob to let himself out into the street when he realized that there were two people on the back steps, not one.

He stopped and waited. The back door opened. The beam of a flashlight speared across the back room and into the front of the shop.

“Hello, Poole,” Judson said.

Buddy Poole moved into the room. Gone were the old-fashioned gold-framed reading glasses, the folksy plaid shirt and the red suspenders that he wore when he was behind the counter of the Wilby General Store. Tonight he was dressed head-to-toe in hit-man black.

Poole was not alone. He had Nicole with him. Her wrists were bound behind her back. Her mouth was taped shut. She stared at Judson with wide, terrified eyes. Buddy held a gun to her temple. With his other hand, he aimed the flashlight at Judson.

“Put the gun down, Coppersmith,” Buddy said. “Or I’ll kill her now.”

Judson set the weapon down very carefully on the floor and straightened slowly.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” Buddy said. “When you left the inn tonight, I figured you were up to something. I wondered if you were headed for my place. Thought it might be fun to see if you could handle the dogs. But when you didn’t drive out on Falls View Road, I realized you were probably on your way here instead. I picked up this bitch just in case I needed some leverage.”

Nicole whimpered.

Buddy gave her a violent shove that sent her crashing into the wall. She groaned and slumped to her knees.

Buddy ignored her. He watched Judson with psi-hot eyes. “How did you put it all together, Coppersmith?”

“The old-fashioned way,” Judson said. “I started connecting dots. You mentioned that Nicole fed your dogs while you were out of town attending the crafts fairs. When Gwen and I came here to talk to Nicole, I noticed the calendar over her desk. Three days in August were marked, Feed dogs. You were gone for those three days, supposedly attending a crafts fair. But one of those dates, the second, was the day you murdered an old lady. I just finished comparing the rest of the dates of the kills. They match up to the dates when you were out of town, the dates when Nicole was scheduled to feed your dogs.”

Buddy snorted in disgust. “Unfortunately, that’s how Evelyn put it together, too. I got that much out of her before she died.”

“You took her computer and cell phone.”

“I wanted to see if Evelyn had called or e-mailed anyone else about her suspicions. There was only the one e-mail sent earlier that night to Gwen Frazier. I knew she would probably arrive later and find the body, but I didn’t see any harm in that. I was sure that even if Oxley had his suspicions, he would focus on Gwen as a possible killer.”

“Then I showed up.”

“I knew you might be a problem, especially if you started asking questions. Louise has been a risk for years. Crazy and getting crazier by the day. By then I knew I no longer needed her, so I got rid of her, hoping that would be the end of the matter. I figured all I had to do after that was wait, because sooner or later you and Gwen would leave town and things would return to normal. But tonight I realized you weren’t going to give up and go away.”

“You’re the demon Louise Fuller feared,” Judson said. “The father of her only child.”

Buddy snorted. “She tried to use my own son to kill me.”

“Why not? Zander Taylor was a chip off the old block.”

“Except for the crazy gene,” Buddy said. “He got that from his mother.”

“Nah,” Judson said. “Like father, like son. Psychos, both of you.”

“Bullshit.” Fury flashed in Buddy’s eyes. “I’m a professional. I do it for the money. Zander was a gamer. I swear, he was obsessed. Once he got a taste of his kill-the-psychic game, he couldn’t control himself. Sooner or later, he would have been caught. I knew I’d have to get rid of him when he started killing right here in Wilby two years ago. But Gwen Frazier took care of the problem for me. Gotta tell you, that was convenient.”

“You went to the lab as soon as you heard that Taylor had gone over the falls. You found the camera. That must have been a big relief. You knew your secret was probably safe, but the incident left you with some unanswered questions, didn’t it?”

“I knew that Zander didn’t jump to his death, at least not intentionally. He lived for the game. All I could assume was that there was some kind of struggle and Gwen got lucky.” Buddy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you know how that happened, do you?”

“Sure,” Judson said. “I know exactly what happened. You’re right—your son was not a suicide. He attacked Gwen and she defended herself. Taylor lost the struggle and went over the falls.”

“Zander must have let the rush of the kill get to him at the critical moment.”

“Something like that,” Judson said.

“Like I said, it was only a matter of time before he screwed up, thanks to his mother. Louise had her uses, but she was not good genetic stock.”

“You brought her here to Wilby all those years ago because you wanted to keep her conveniently available. You needed her to tune the crystal weapon she made for you.”

“So you know about my own little gadget?” Buddy raised his brows. “I’ll admit I didn’t realize you’d gotten that far.”

“That gun sure as hell isn’t powered by a crystal.”

“No, the gun is standard issue,” Buddy said. “But it, too, has its uses. It tends to leave the kind of evidence that the police like. When this is finished, the scene will look like a drug deal gone bad. Who knew Nicole was dealing out of her back room and that you were here to buy some merchandise?”

“Why not use the crystal to kill both of us?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“You mean, you haven’t been able to get it retuned since you used it to murder Louise Fuller,” Judson said. “You want to preserve whatever energy is left in it because it may take quite a while to find a new crystal tuner. When did it occur to you that you might be able to use Ballinger’s records from her days at the Summerlight Academy to locate a replacement for Louise?”

“Son of a bitch.” Buddy whistled softly. “You really do know everything, don’t you?”

“I had a little help from my friends.”

“Sounds like I’ve got some more cleaning up to do after we’re finished here. I blame this mess on Zander. If he hadn’t come here to Wilby to find his dear old mom, none of this would have happened. I’ve been in this business for over a decade and no one has ever suspected me of anything more than selling wilted lettuce.”

“Was that when Louise made the first crystal weapon for you? A decade ago?”

“The witch was always fooling around with crystals. Thirty-four years ago, she created the first-generation stones. They weren’t nearly as powerful, but they could be used along with some psychoactive drugs to implant hypnotic suggestions.”

“You used them to run your profitable little cult in L.A.”

“Shit. You know that, too?” Buddy grunted. “What a mess. You’re right about the rocks. After I closed down the cult, I used them to make money in a variety of ways—blackmail, investment scams, that kind of thing. But ten years back, Louise came up with a version that could kill without a trace. I realized the possibilities immediately.”

“You moved here to Wilby and brought Louise here, as well,” Judson said. “You took on a new identity and went into the murder-for-hire business.”

“It all went well until Zander arrived looking for his mother. I wasn’t aware that he had found her at first. Didn’t know she gave him one of the crystals. He was operating on his own, playing his stupid game. Then he heard about the Ballinger Study. He just could not resist.”

“That’s when you found out that you had a son who had inherited some of your talent,” Judson said.

“Obviously, I’ll have to deal with Gwen Frazier,” Buddy said. “Who else knows what you do?”

“Seriously?” Judson smiled. “You think I’m going to give you a hit list?”

“Yes. Seriously. Because you’re wrong about my little gadget. Plenty of energy left in it. Let me show you.”

Buddy reached inside his shirt and took out the pendant he wore on the gold chain around his neck. The crystal was a teardrop shape. It was wrapped in a metal frame attached to the chain. The stone glittered darkly in the shadows.

“That answers one question,” Judson said. “It doesn’t need to be retuned after every kill. I did wonder about that.”

“It will work up to three times before it needs to be refocused. Louise retuned it just before I used it on her. I hate to waste a second firing on you, but you give me no choice. I warn you, you’re going to regret your decision. You see, this device can be used to kill very slowly when speed is not necessary. And the pain, I’m told, is excruciating—like being buried alive inside a glacier.”

The crystal flashed with dark ultraviolet radiation, but Judson was ready. He sent energy into his ring and got the response he was looking for. The amber stone burned with a searing radiance. The wavelengths collided with those of the dark pendant and sent them rebounding back toward the point of origin.

Buddy gasped when the paranormal radiation from his own weapon slammed into him. He reeled backward, but he did not go down.

He abandoned the crystal weapon, however, and struggled to level the barrel of the weapon.

Judson seized the nearest vase off the counter and sent the heavy glass container and the contents—a couple of quarts of water and a mass of yellow chrysanthemums—hurtling toward Buddy’s head.

Buddy ducked instinctively and flung himself through the doorway into the back room. The vase shattered against the wall.

Judson went through the doorway and kicked Buddy’s legs out from under him. The gun landed on the floor.

Buddy fell back against the workbench. He seized a floral knife and came up with it in his hand. He started to lunge toward Judson, but he was not fast enough. Judson used another slashing kick to take him down.

Buddy groaned and fell facedown on the floor.

There was a moment of terrible silence. Buddy started to make gurgling sounds. Judson picked up the gun and set it on the workbench. Then he crouched beside Buddy and turned him slowly onto his back.

The handle of the knife jutted from Buddy’s chest. He gazed up at Judson with eyes that were already filming over with shock and impending death. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“That’s the thing about women,” he rasped. “You can’t trust ’em.”

“The problem,” Judson said, “was that they couldn’t trust you.”

Blood and the psychic energy of violent death were already seeping into the floorboards. Judson knew the taint would be detectable as long as the building stood.

Some toxic spills could never be cleaned up.