love_contemporaryAnn KrentzToo Deep

Valdez is used to changing apartments, jobs, even names and Social Security numbers at the drop of a hat — but this is too much. She's been framed by some very dangerous men. They may be behind the disappearance of her grandmother. And now they've sent their thugs after Isabella. She would be dead if her gift of intuition hadn't told her to run. So she's fled to California — and found employment with Fallon Jones. It's been only a few days, but Fallon doesn't remember life before his new assistant. Isabella's already organized his pathologically chaotic office, and she doesn't bat an eye at the psychic aspect of his job. She's a kindred spirit, sanctuary from a world that considers his talents a form of madness. The surest sign that he's falling for her? He doesn't even mind her cheery personality. But after a routine case unearths an antique clock infused with dark energy, Fallon and Isabella are dragged into the secret history of Scargill Cove. Next thing they know, they're fighting for their lives in an abandoned underground lab — not exactly an ideal first date. Now their lives depend on the combined strength of their powers as they unravel a cutthroat conspiracy with roots in the Jones family business . . . and Isabella's family tree.Ann KrentzToo DeepFrank,all my love.IJones: three years earlier . . .fire burned in the darkness. Auroras of psi splashed across the ether. The night sky above San Francisco was ablaze with light from across the spectrum. Fallon Jones gripped the condo balcony railing with both hands, fighting to anchor himself to reality. There were spectacular patterns wherever he looked: wondrous, astonishingly intricate webs of connections and links that illuminated the path back to the heart of the universe.dazzling radiance of the midnight world was compelling beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was certain that if he only looked closely enough, he would be able to distinguish the light from the dawn of creation, perhaps even grasp a fistful of the raw power of chaos that fueled the forces of life and death.

“Good night for a walk, isn’t it?” Tucker Austin said.turned to look at the figure silhouetted in the opening of the sliding-glass doorway. There was something wrong. Tucker looked as if he stood on the other side of a waterfall. It was impossible to focus on him. He held something in his hand but Fallon could not make it out.

“What are you doing here?” Fallon asked. He was vaguely aware that he sounded drunk. But he was almost positive that he’d had only one glass of wine with dinner.

“We both know why I’m here.” Tucker moved out of the doorway and went to stand at the railing a short distance away. He kept the object in his hand out of sight against his left leg. “The magic lantern really slammed your senses, didn’t it? That’s one of the interesting side effects of the device. The higher the level of talent, the greater the impact. You are literally off the charts on the Jones Scale. That makes the lantern the ideal weapon to destroy you without arousing any suspicions. By now you’re lost out there on the paranormal plane. There’s no coming back from this trip.”

“You came here to kill me,” Fallon said. A simple statement of fact, nothing more or less. It was good to know he was still able to think logically.

“I did warn you that one day your talent would be the death of you.” Tucker sounded amused. “I’m not alone in that opinion, as I’m sure you’re aware. Fortunately, a lot of people are convinced that a chaos theory-talent as powerful as you is doomed. And there have always been those rumors about the men in your family who inherit that aspect of the founder’s talent. Everyone knows that Sylvester Jones was a paranoid whack-job at the end.”

“Sylvester died more than four hundred years ago,” Fallon said. “No one knows what really happened to him at the end. And rumors are, by definition, not facts.”

“But as you have often pointed out, an interesting rumor always has more influence than a boring fact.”shook his head once and blinked a couple of times, trying to bring Tucker into focus. The small motion caused the universe to shift around him. The disorientation was so fierce now that he had to clench his hand around the balcony railing to stay on his feet.

“Why?” he asked. It was a foolish question. He knew the answer. But for some reason he wanted to hear Tucker put it into words. Then again, that had been the problem all along. He had wanted to believe Tucker Austin.

“I’m afraid there’s no other way out.” Tucker rested both elbows on the railing and contemplated the night. “It’s either you or me this time. Survival of the fittest and all that. The magic lantern has certain hypnotic effects. In addition to creating those fascinating hallucinations you’re currently viewing, it makes you vulnerable to suggestion. For example, you feel like taking a walk off this balcony, don’t you?”

“No,” Fallon said again. He tried to move, but when he took a step he stumbled and went down to his knees.gestured toward the building across the street. “You know what you should do, Fallon? You should cross that crystal bridge. Halfway over, you’ll have a terrific view of the heart of the universe. How can you resist?”tightened his grip on the railing and hauled himself upright. He tried to focus, but the crashing waves of the auroras that lit up the night were too distracting.

“What bridge?” he asked.

“Right there.” Tucker pointed. “It leads from this balcony to the roof of the building across the street. Just step over the railing and you’ll be on your way.”looked down. Strange machines moved on the street below. Lights glowed and flashed. Cars, some part of his brain whispered. Get a grip. You’re fourteen floors above the street.

“Don’t you see the bridge?” Tucker asked. “It leads to all the answers, Fallon. You just follow the crystal brick road to find the wizard.”concentrated. A crystal bridge materialized in the night. The transparent steps were infused with an internal light. He pulled harder on his talent. The bridge brightened and beckoned. But a tiny sliver of awareness sliced through the wonder of the scene.

“Think I’ve seen that bridge before,” he said.

“Yeah?” For the first time Tucker sounded slightly disconcerted. “Where?”

“In the movies. Damn silly plot but the special effects were mildly entertaining.”chuckled. “Leave it to Fallon Jones to come up with a logical explanation for a perfectly good hallucination. Well, it was worth a shot. But if you won’t do this the easy way, I guess we’ll have to go with Plan B.”moved suddenly, bringing up the object in his hand. Fallon tried to raise one arm to block the blow, but his muscles would not obey. Instinctively he twisted aside, instead. He lost his balance and went down hard on the tiled floor.object Tucker wielded was a hammer. It struck inches away from Fallon’s head. He heard the crack of the tiles. The entire balcony shuddered with the force of the blow.in the night a woman started screaming.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” Tucker said. He raised the hammer for another blow. “You’re supposed to be out of your head by now.”rolled away and reached for more talent. The hammer struck the floor of the balcony again.managed to scramble to his feet. The sparkling, iridescent night spun wildly around him.charged him in a violent rush. The promise of imminent death sent another rush of adrenaline through Fallon, producing a few seconds of brilliant clarity.finally succeeded in getting a focus. For an instant the familiar features of the man he had considered a trusted friend were clearly visible in the light from the living room. Tucker’s face was twisted with a maddened rage. Fallon realized that he had never known the real Tucker until tonight.shock of being so terribly, horribly wrong brought another dose of clarity. People had died because of Tucker Austin, and Fallon knew that he was, in part, to blame. He summoned up the full, raging force of his talent, reached into the heart of chaos and seized a fistful of fire. He hurled the invisible currents of paranormal radiation into Tucker’s aura. Not exactly Zeus with the lightning bolts but good enough to get the job done.grunted once, clutched at his heart and instinctively reeled backward to escape the onslaught of energy. He fetched up hard against the balcony railing. He was a tall man. The barrier caught him at mid-thigh. The force of his momentum sent him over the edge.did not scream, because he was already dead. But Jenny’s scream went on forever. Fallon knew he would hear it for the rest of his life.II: one month ago . . .was not expecting the killers to come for her in the lingerie department.was always especially alert at night after work when she walked through the mall’s deserted parking garage. She never entered the cheap motel room that she rented by the week without checking for the telltale paranormal fog indicating an intruder. When she shopped for groceries, she was careful to keep an eye on strangers who invaded her personal space, and she never, ever ordered in. No one had an excuse to knock on her door.for some reason Isabella had felt reasonably safe selling women’s underwear in the discount department store for the past week. The sight of the two men loitering across the aisle in women’s sportswear sent a frisson of electricity across the nape of her neck. When you were psychic, you paid attention to your intuition.heightened her talent cautiously, bracing for the unpleasant chill of awareness. She possessed the ability to perceive the unique energy generated by those who kept secrets. Everyone harbored countless mysteries, small and large, however, so it was a given that if there were people in the vicinity, there would be a lot of fog.coworkers and the shoppers around her were abruptly surrounded by misty auras. She wrestled with her talent for a few seconds, concentrating on those two men. Although she was prepared, the sight of the hot, seething energy around the pair made her go cold to the bone. Definitely talents of some kind, probably hunters.’re the one they’re hunting, her intuition whispered. Run. Sure, like she could outrun two trained men who would be as quick and ruthless as a pair of wolves.struggled to maintain her outward composure. Panic would get her killed as surely as any gun or knife.middle-aged woman standing directly in front of her tossed three pairs of lacy thong panties onto the sales counter with a defiant air.

“I’ll take these,” she announced, daring Isabella to object.customer displayed all of the visible hallmarks of a woman who had just gone through a nasty divorce. Isabella did not need the psychic side of her nature to pick up on the cues: a pale white line where the wedding ring had been, eyes too wide and tight from a recent surgical lift, new haircut, fresh dye job, trendy, tight-fitting clothes. The woman’s life had recently crashed and burned.know the feeling, Isabella thought. Sort of. The truth was, she had never actually had a real life. Still, for a while during the past six months she had come close, so close, to feeling normal. Face it—you weren’t born to be normal.managed a polite smile and picked up the panties. “Great buy, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” The customer was somewhat mollified now that she was assured she wasn’t going to be mocked for buying the thongs. “That’s why I bought three pairs.”

“Good idea. The price will go back up next week after the sale,” Isabella said.watched the two men in women’s sportswear out of the corner of her eye while she rang up the panties. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. Goose bumps covered her upper arms. A cold sweat formed between her shoulder blades. Her senses were screaming. Her pulse was pounding. Get out of here. Now.in normal light there was nothing to mark the two hunters as anything other than what they appeared to be, bored shopping escorts waiting for their companions to come out of the dressing rooms. But Isabella noticed that customers in their vicinity edged away from them. The two were probably really cranked, preparing to close in on their prey. As a result they were giving off so much energy that even people without any measurable talent sensed the threat on a subliminal level.

“Excuse me, I’m in a hurry here,” the woman on the other side of the counter snapped.

“Sorry.” Isabella smiled apologetically. “Cash register is a little slow today.”pushed the credit card slip and a pen across the counter. The woman scrawled her name and grabbed the shopping bag containing the thongs.forced herself to smile at the next customer in line, a young mother with a baby in a stroller.

“Can I help you?” Isabella asked. Run.

“I want to buy this.” The customer put a pale blue nightgown on the counter and leaned down to pick up the small plush toy the baby had tossed out of the stroller.

“This is such a pretty color,” Isabella remarked, falling back on the one day of training the department store had given her at the start of her employment. Always compliment the customer’s good taste. She folded the nightgown in the precise way she had been instructed and reached for a sheet of tissue. “Such a beautiful shade of blue.”woman straightened, brightening immediately.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s my favorite. Good price, too.”

“You were smart to get here early for the sale.” Isabella started to wrap some tissue around the nightgown and paused, frowning. “Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a small spot on this gown,” Isabella said., the woman leaned over the counter. “Where?”

“Right here.” Isabella whisked up the nightgown, careful to hold it so that the customer could not see the mythical spot.

“It’s the last one in blue in my size,” the woman wailed.

“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got one more in the back room, same color and size. I’ll only be a moment.”in hand, Isabella turned and went quickly toward the discreet door directly behind the counter.knew the hunter-talents saw her go through the door into the stockroom, but with luck they would not realize that she had spotted them. Even if they were suspicious, they were unlikely to follow her. One of the clerks would be sure to call Security.dropped the nightgown onto a table and started toward the door that opened onto the emergency stairwell. Darlene, one of her coworkers, emerged from between two rows of floor-to-ceiling shelving crammed with boxes of undergarments. She had a stack of lacy bras in her hand.

“Annie, are you okay?” Darlene asked, frowning in concern. “You look like you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Isabella said.had used the name and ID of a nonexistent woman named Ann Carstairs to get the job in the department store. There was only one individual on the face of the earth who knew her real name. In the past week she’d been forced to face the possibility that that person, her grandmother, might be dead. If no one knows your real name do you even exist ?she wondered.’s it, she thought. Stop right there. Negative thinking will get you nowhere. Until it was proven otherwise, she was going to go with the assumption that her grandmother was alive. Meanwhile, her job was to keep herself breathing. That meant avoiding the two hunter-talents.

“You look a little shaky,” Darlene said.

“Low on caffeine,” Isabella replied. “I’m going on break. Thought I’d use the stairs to the coffee room. I need the exercise.”

“Huh.” Darlene hurried toward the door to the sales floor. “Seems to me we get plenty of exercise during a sale. My feet are killing me. I’m going to be exhausted by the time we get off work tonight.”

“Me, too,” Isabella said. “Would you mind taking the blue nightgown out to the counter? There’s a customer waiting for it. Tell her there was no spot, after all. Just a trick of the light.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”waited until Darlene disappeared out onto the sales floor, and then she opened the stairwell door.fog swirled on the concrete staircase, but unlike the energy that enveloped the hunter-talents, this stuff glowed with a cold fire. It was the kind of fog she had learned to associate with impending death.

“Oh, crap, not now,” she whispered.was running for her life. She did not need any distractions.started down the stairs, determined to ignore the atmosphere of the stairwell. But there was no ignoring the seething fog cascading down the steps. It was so very cold.stopped and looked up. The fog came from the rooftop of the three-story mall, one floor above. The part of her that had been dealing with her talent since her thirteenth year screamed at her to follow the luminous trail. There was something at the top of the emergency stairwell that needed to be found immediately. Time was of the essence.thought of getting cornered on the roof by the two hunters held no appeal. But the odds were good that the pair would assume that she would flee down into the mall garage or out onto the street. Going up might be an excellent strategy., she was rationalizing. Still, there was a slender thread of logic involved. The bottom line was that she had to find whatever was waiting to be discovered on the mall roof and she had to find it quickly.emergency stairwell was a highly efficient echo chamber. The sound of footsteps carried from top to bottom. If the hunters realized that she was not coming back out onto the sales floor, they would surely guess that she had escaped via the emergency stairs. If they decided to risk following her into the stairwell, they would hear her climbing up toward the roof.slipped out of her flats, clutched them in one hand, and went quickly up the stairs in her stocking feet. At least she was dressed for flight, she thought. She always wore trousers and flats or boots to work, always dressed to run for her life.had been living on the edge for ten days. Lately she had begun to wonder how much longer she could keep up the unrelenting vigilance. The fact that Julian Garrett’s men had found her so easily tonight was a sure sign that her life in hiding was taking a toll on her senses. She could not go on like this much longer.thinking like that and you might as well jump off the roof when you get there.least it would all be over. If her grandmother was dead, there was no one left who was linked to her by bonds of blood. Ten days ago, she had been forced to sever the workplace friendships she had forged at Lucan Protection Services. Now she was profoundly alone in a way that most people could never imagine. In a world where everyone possessed an identity, she was utterly anonymous. In a very real sense she did not exist.why go on?kicked in, generating heat and energy and another burst of adrenaline. She dashed up the stairwell. She did have something, she thought. She had an enemy. His name was Julian Garrett. She would not let the bastards win so easily.nice to have a goal.made it up the final flight of stairs, breathless now, and opened the door. Warily, she stepped outside into the balmy Arizona night. The lights of Phoenix, Scottsdale and the neighboring communities glittered and winked below. A nearly full moon bathed the scene in silver.vast expanse of the roof was dotted here and there by the looming shapes of several tons of HVAC equipment. It took a lot of air-conditioning for a mall to survive summer and winter in the desert.hesitated, trying to concentrate on the possibilities that might be available if the hunters followed her to the top of the mall. She could see at least three other stairwell entrances that opened onto the roof.the river of icy fog did not lead toward one of the potential escape routes. It illuminated a path to the edge of the roof. At the end of the trail of freezing mist a woman stood silhouetted against the city lights.slipped into her shoes and went slowly toward the woman.

“Hi,” she said. Her heart was pounding, but she managed to keep her voice calm and soothing. “Are you okay?”woman gasped and turned quickly. “Who are you?”

“This week I’m Annie. What’s your name?”

“Sandra. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sandra sounded angry now.

“You’re thinking of jumping off this roof, aren’t you?”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“Okay.” Isabella stopped. “I’d really like to help you, but we’re going to have to make this fast. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Got another appointment?” Sandra’s tone was utterly flat now. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“The thing is there are a couple of guys downstairs who want to kidnap me.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”inched closer. She was still too far away from Sandra to do what needed to be done.

“They’re hunting for me as we speak. It won’t take them long to realize that I’m not coming out of the stockroom. It would be good if I could get off this roof before they find me.”

“Two men are hunting you?” Sandra’s voice rose in disbelief. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I wish.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“You’re probably on drugs. Did you stiff your dealer? Look, I don’t want to get involved, okay? I’ve got my own problems.”

“No, honest,” Isabella said. “This has nothing to do with drugs. Ten days ago I stumbled into a very dangerous conspiracy. Someone set me up to take the fall. The real conspirators think I know too much. I’m afraid they may have murdered my grandmother because I told her about the scheme. And now they’re trying to kill me. Oh, damn, I really don’t have time for this conversation.”

“Are you some kind of nutcase? One of those conspiracy freaks?”

“That opinion has been floated occasionally.” Isabella edged closer. Almost there. Another couple of feet and she would be able to touch Sandra. All she needed was physical contact.

“Stop,” Sandra said. “Don’t come any closer. I mean it.”footsteps sounded inside the nearby stairwell.

“I think we just ran out of time,” Isabella said. “Here they come.”

“Who?” Bewildered and distracted, Sandra turned her head toward the stairwell.

“The killers,” Isabella replied.pounced. Seizing Sandra’s wrist, she found a focus and pulsed some energy.’s face became expressionless. She stared off into the distance.yanked her behind the massive metal housing that shrouded the HVAC equipment. She pushed her down onto the rooftop. “Stay here. Don’t move and don’t say a word until I tell you it’s safe to come out.”did not respond. Isabella pulsed a little more energy and then released Sandra’s arm. The woman sat very still, her back against the metal housing, and gazed out into the night.door of the stairwell slammed open. Isabella knew that there was no point trying to hide on the rooftop. The killers would conduct a thorough search.moved out from behind the HVAC tower and looked at the figure that had just emerged from the stairwell. The hunter-talent didn’t see her at first. Moonlight and neon glinted on the small pistol in his hand.

“Hi,” Isabella said. She waved.turned toward her with preternatural speed, gun elevated.

“Got her,” he called over his shoulder.companion emerged from the same opening. He, too, gripped a gun.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t find you?” the first man said. “You’re coming with us.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Isabella said.

“No shit,” the second man said. “So are we. Wasted over a week trying to find you. The boss is not happy.”moved forward and seized Isabella’s arm.contact acted like a psychic electrical contact, making it possible for her to pulse energy directly into his aura.got a focus and sent out a small blast of disruptive psi.

“Get lost,” she said softly.gunman went still for a few seconds. Then he turned and started to walk toward the edge of the roof.companion stared. “What the hell? Hey, Rawlins, where are you going?”took a step toward the stairwell doorway.

“Don’t move,” the man snarled. He lunged forward, grabbed her wrist and turned back to his companion. “Rawlins, have you gone crazy? Come back here.”continued toward the edge of the roof as though captivated by the clusters of lights sprinkled across the desert.

“Rawlins,”the second man shouted. He sounded on the verge of panic. “You’re gonna go off the damn roof, man. Come back.” He put the barrel of the pistol against Isabella’s head. “What did you do to him, you little bitch?”

“I just told him to get lost,” she said. She got the fix and pulsed energy into his aura. “Same thing I’m telling you. Take a hike.”gunman froze for a beat or two and then he lowered the gun. She took the weapon from his unresisting hand. He turned and started to follow Rawlins toward the edge of the mall roof.

“Oh, good grief,” Isabella said. “I’ll admit, I’m tempted to let you both walk off this roof, but it would probably cause more trouble than it’s worth.”put down the gun, hurried forward and stepped in front of Rawlins. She touched him lightly. “Wrong way. Come with me.”stopped obediently, his face a complete blank. She took the gun from him and set it down. Then she took his wrist in one hand and grabbed the other man’s arm. She guided them both toward the stairwell. When they reached the doorway, she urged them inside.

“Go down the stairs, leave the building and keep walking,” she ordered. “Cross the streets only at the crosswalks. Wait for the green light.”the hypnotic suggestions worked; sometimes they didn’t.started down the stairs. The second man followed.was no way to know how long the trancelike state would last. She simply did not have enough practical experience. It was an aspect of her talent that did not allow for a great deal of experimentation. But with luck she would have time to get out of the mall and disappear. Again.went back to where Sandra sat, took hold of her wrist and pulsed a little energy.blinked and came back to her senses.

“I know you,” she said, frowning. “You’re the nutcase who thinks people are trying to kill her.”

“Right, let’s go.” Isabella guided her toward another stairwell. “I hate to rush you, but I’m in a hurry here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re crazy.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who was about to jump off the roof.”

“I’m not crazy,” Sandra said, annoyed. “I’m depressed.”

“Whatever, you’re coming with me.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the nearest hospital emergency room. You can explain everything to someone who will know what to do. I’m not a shrink.”paused at the doorway of the stairwell. She looked back out at the edge of the roof.

“I don’t want to jump anymore.”

“Glad to hear that.” Isabella drew her down into the stairwell.

“But if you hadn’t come along when you did, I wouldn’t have had a chance to change my mind.”

“Always a good idea to give yourself time to reconsider the really big decisions.”

“I’ve been planning to jump for weeks and suddenly I changed my mind.” Sandra frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re smart and stronger than you think.”

“No, it was something about you that made me decide not to jump. Something in the atmosphere around you.”

“You’re the one who made the call. Don’t ever forget that.”went down the stairs to the parking garage. Isabella stuffed Sandra into the beat-up junker she had bought for cash ten days earlier and drove to the hospital. She escorted Sandra into the emergency room and stayed with her until an orderly came to take her into a treatment room.paused in the doorway and looked back. “Will I see you again, Annie?”

“No,” Isabella said.

“Are you an angel?”

“Nope, just a garden-variety conspiracy theorist who thinks some people are out to silence her.”studied her intently. “I remember the footsteps on the emergency stairs. I remember you telling me to stay quiet and not move. And I saw a gun lying on the mall roof. Be careful, Annie.”

“Thanks,” Isabella said. She smiled. “I will. You do the same, okay?”

“Okay,” Sandra said.followed the orderly down a white corridor.went back outside to the hospital parking lot. She would have to leave the car behind. They had found her at the mall. She had to assume they had a description of the junker.opened the trunk, took out the small backpack she kept inside and closed the lid. She slung the strap of the pack over one shoulder and walked through the garage toward the street.knew where she was going now. The events of the evening had left her no choice. To get to her destination she would use the one form of transportation that did not leave a paper or computer trail.would hitchhike to Scargill Cove.

is the perfect case for me to cut my teeth on here at Jones & Jones,” Isabella said. “You know that as well as I do. You’re just being difficult, Mr. Jones.”

“I’m told that’s a good working description of what I do,” Fallon said. “Evidently I have some expertise in being difficult. And stop calling me Mr. Jones. The name is Fallon, damn it. You didn’t start with the Mr. Jones thing until you went to work here. When you were pouring coffee for me at the Sunshine, it was Fallon.”

“All right.” Isabella paused a beat and then she smiled. “Fallon. Now, about my new case.”always her smile and her energy seemed to light up the whole office. He had been struggling to comprehend the para-physics involved, but thus far he’d gotten nowhere. In theory, a smile was merely a facial expression, the result of small changes in the position of tiny little muscles and nerves. It should not have the kind of power that Isabella wielded with her smile.was no scientific way to explain how her personal aura could create a sense of well-being for others in her vicinity, either; no logical reason why her force field helped him clarify and organize his thoughts.

“Your so-called case,” he said deliberately, “falls into the category of Lost Dogs and Haunted Houses. We try not to encourage that sort of business here at Jones & Jones. This happens to be a real investigation agency.”

“Norma Spaulding just wants us to check out that old house she’s trying to sell and declare it ghost-free.”

“There are no such things as ghosts.”

“I know that, you know that and so does Norma,” Isabella said patiently. “She doesn’t actually believe the place is haunted. She just wants to put the rumors to rest. She says the gossip about weird stuff going on at the house is killing sales. She thinks that getting a clean bill of health from a genuine psychic detective agency will take care of the problem.”lounged back in his chair and stacked his booted feet on the corner of his desk. The desk, like the glass-fronted bookcases and the Egyptian-motif wall sconces, had been among the furnishings of the Los Angeles office of Jones & Jones when it opened for business back in the 1920s. Before that the West Coast office of J&J had been located in San Francisco. Unlike the London office, the West Coast office had been moved a number of times since it was established in the late 1800s. The directors tended to be a restless lot.the 1960s Cedric Jones, one in a long line of Joneses to inherit the business, had moved the headquarters to Scargill Cove for a time. The office had been moved yet again twenty-five years ago when Gresham Jones had taken charge. Gresham’s wife, Alice, had flatly refused to live in the remote little village on the Northern California coast. At that point, J&J had returned to Los Angeles, where it operated out of Arcane Society headquarters.when Fallon had inherited the business, he had found Cedric’s notes about the Cove and the unique energy in the area. Intrigued, he had come to the little community to check out the location and discovered that Cedric was right. Something about the energy of the Cove suited the business. It also suited him, Fallon thought.had unlocked the door of J&J and walked into a room that had been trapped in a time warp. Beneath three decades of dust, everything, right down to the desk and the wall sconces, was just as Gresham had left it when he had closed the office to move back to L.A.addition to the art deco furnishings, there was a scattering of other antiques reflecting the history of J&J. They included the Victorian-era clock on the desk, an old umbrella stand and a wrought iron coatrack. The only things Fallon had added were the computer and a new, industrial-sized coffee machine.contemplated his new assistant, trying for what had to be the millionth time to get a fix on the mystery that was Isabella Valdez.rain fell steadily. The Pacific Ocean was the color of tempered steel and the waves churned down in the Cove. But here in his small, second-floor office all was bright and relentlessly positive. Under other circumstances he would have found all the warm, cheerful energy irritating in the extreme, but for some reason things were different with Isabella.was sitting at the other desk, the new one that she had ordered from an online antiques reproduction store her first day on the job at J&J. It had taken two people—that would be the delivery guy and himself, he reflected—to muscle the heavy wooden Victorian-style desk and the chair that went with it up the narrow stairs to the second floor of the building. Isabella had supervised. He had to concede that she had a flair for organization.it wasn’t her office management skills that disturbed and intrigued him. It was the fact that she had no problems with his talent. She acted as if there were nothing unusual about his psychic nature. That made her unique in his considerable experience. The core of his talent involved an intuitive grasp of patterns within chaos. It was a messy, complicated ability that he himself did not understand. Others often found his ability unnerving.the Arcane Society there had always been rumors about powerful chaos theory-talents, especially those that popped up now and again in the Jones line. He was well aware that there were those who whispered that he was doomed to fall deeper and deeper into a web of dark conspiracy constructs of his own making. Some speculated that there would come a time when he would no longer be able to distinguish the boundary between fantasy and reality: the classic definition of madness.they knew the full extent of what he could do with his talent, the whisperers would be appalled, he thought. But he was a Jones. He knew how to keep secrets. He was pretty sure Isabella Valdez knew how to keep them, too. Always nice to have something in common with a woman who aroused all the basic instincts in a man. That, of course, was one of the big complications in his life these days. He had been fascinated with Isabella from the moment he had met her.other baffling aspect of Isabella’s personality was that she did not have a problem with his moods or a temperament that required a lot of time spent walking alone on the beach down in the Cove. She simply accepted him as he was.understood the physical attraction. Isabella lacked the generic perfection that made so many female movie stars and fashion models look as if they had popped out of the same mold. But her strong, striking features and mysterious golden brown eyes had riveted him from the start.wore her shoulder-length dark hair in a severe, no-nonsense twist that highlighted the sharply sculpted angles of her chin, nose and cheekbones. She was curvy in all the right places but he had yet to see her in a skirt or dress. Her daily uniform invariably consisted of jeans or dark trousers, a long-sleeved shirt that she wore with the sleeves rolled up, and low boots or flats. She carried a backpack instead of a purse. The backpack was not a fashion statement. It was sturdy and functional, and it was filled with stuff.was as if Isabella was always dressed to go for a hike. Or maybe dressed to run?The thought had floated through his head on more than one occasion during the past month.was quite certain that she was a strong intuitive talent of some kind, although she seemed reluctant to discuss the exact nature of her ability. Fair enough. She did not press him about his talent, either. In addition, she had no problem with the concept of working for an investigation agency that specialized in the paranormal. In fact, she acted as if she’d had some experience in that line. That was not a huge surprise. A lot of powerful intuitives found themselves in the investigation or security business. If they didn’t follow that career path, they sometimes wound up as shrinks or storefront psychics.he had pointed out that Jones & Jones was closely affiliated with an organization devoted to research into the paranormal, she had simply shrugged. She had then proceeded to inform him that every office, even one run by a psychic detective, required sound, efficient management.

“I realize that you are a bit obsessed with control,” she said. “But I believe we have established that the time has come for you to learn to prioritize and delegate. You should be devoting your talents to investigation, not to keeping your office organized.”had no clear recollection of having actually hired her. True, he had been toying with the notion of employing someone to help him get a handle on the heaps of papers, books and computer printouts that littered the small office. Even the thought of having someone around to make sure he did not run out of coffee had become an increasingly attractive notion. But he had not gotten to the point of advertising the position. For one thing, he had no idea how or where to go about the business of finding the kind of office assistant he needed.Isabella had taken the matter out of his hands. She had quit her job as a waitress at the Sunshine Café across the street, walked into J&J and announced that she was his new assistant.transformation of the headquarters of the West Coast office of Jones & Jones had happened within a matter of days. Where once controlled chaos had reigned, there was now efficiency and order. Isabella had even managed to unearth the small kitchen off the main room of the office.only problem in the arrangement as far as he could see was that, having accomplished her initial objectives, Isabella now wanted to do some real investigation work.

“Norma is willing to pay us for our time,” Isabella said. “The house is only a few miles from here. Why not let me check it out?”

“There’s nothing to check out,” Fallon said. “Norma is new to the local real estate scene. She’ll soon figure out that the reason she can’t sell the old Zander mansion isn’t because of the rumors. It’s because the place is more than a hundred years old. Every potential buyer who walks through the front door realizes immediately that it would be a nightmare to remodel the house and bring it up to code.”

“Norma thinks it’s the mansion’s reputation that is killing the deals. She’s convinced that if she can advertise that she had the place certified as ghost-free by a real psychic investigation agency she could sell it.”

“This is a joke, not a legitimate case. It’s bad for the image of J&J.”

“J&J is so low profile it doesn’t have an image,” Isabella said in a tone of sweet reason. “Why not take the easy money? I’ll spend an afternoon at the house and report to Norma that all the ghosts have been dispatched. She’ll write a check that will go straight to our bottom line.”

“Arcane keeps J&J on retainer,” Fallon pointed out. “We get plenty of other business from members of the Society. We don’t have to go after the Lost Dogs and Haunted Houses trade. And on the rare occasion when we do take on that kind of job, we hand it off to one of our contract agents who doesn’t mind the work.”

“Norma’s office is over in Willow Creek. She says the Zander house is about three miles from there somewhere out on the bluffs. There are no other J&J agents available for a radius of nearly a hundred miles. We’re all she’s got.”

“Forget it,” Fallon said. “I need you here.”

“This will only take an afternoon. I think we should develop new revenue streams.”wasn’t into the zone. Nevertheless, his intuition went ping, sounding a lot like his computer when a new bit of data arrived.

“You were a waitress before you took this job,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t tell me you picked up the term revenue streamin the food-and-beverage business?”ignored that. “You said yourself that the Governing Council or whatever it is that runs the Arcane Society is starting to whine about the costs of the recent operations against that Nightshade conspiracy you’re chasing. It would be sound policy for J&J to find other sources of income in case our budget gets cut by the Council.”

“The Council can grumble all it wants. Zack is the Master of the Society and he understands what’s at stake. He’ll see to it that I get the funding I need.”

“Fine.” Isabella gave him another radiant smile. “Then I’ll take Norma Spaulding’s payment as a commission for my work. I could use the money, given the lousy salary you’re paying me.”felt like a deer in the headlights when she used that smile on him. It was more dangerous than the crystal gun that had turned up in the Hawaii case. His finely tuned brain seemed to short-circuit when she glowed the way she was glowing now.

“You’re the one who told me how much to pay you,” he said, grasping at straws. “If you wanted more money, why didn’t you ask for it?”

“Because I needed the job,” she said smoothly. “I didn’t want to scare you by asking for what I’m really worth.”

“I don’t scare that easily.”

“Are you kidding?” She chuckled. “You should have seen the look on your face when the new desk and chair arrived.”

“If I flinched, it wasn’t because of the price of the damn furniture,” he said.

“I know.” Her tone gentled. “It was the shock of realizing that you were going to be sharing your working space with me. I understand.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re accustomed to being alone,” she said. “By now you’ve probably convinced yourself that you need solitude in order to do your work. And it’s true, up to a point. But you don’t require as much of it as you think you do. You’ve built a fortress around yourself. That’s not good.”

“Now you’re analyzing me? I sure as hell didn’t hire you to do that.”

“You’re right. You don’t pay me nearly enough for that kind of work. Do you have any idea how much a psychologist charges per hour these days? And good luck even finding one who understands those of us who are psychic. Most respectable shrinks would take one look at you and conclude that you’re crazy.”went cold and still.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Isabella said. She made a face. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not crazy. Not even close. I wouldn’t work for you if I thought you were. Now let’s get back to the Zander house case.”exhaled slowly. “Fine. Your case, your commission. But don’t spend too much time on it. Like I said, I’m not paying you to chase ghosts.”

“Right.” She got to her feet and plucked her yellow raincoat off the Victorian wrought iron coatrack. “Norma told me that there is a key box on the Zander house. She gave me the code to open it. I’ll drive out to the mansion now, check it out and pronounce it a ghost-free zone.”

“Have fun.”flew out the door, taking all the light and energy that had illuminated the office with her.contemplated the closed door for a long time.need you here at the office. I need you.listened to her light footsteps on the stairs. After a moment he got up and went to the window. Isabella appeared on the street. She paused long enough to hoist her umbrella against the rain and then hurried along Scargill Cove’s twisted little main street to Toomey’s Treasures. Toomey’s window was filled with a lot of New Agey, so-called metaphysical tools, chimes, tarot cards, crystals and exotic oils.of going up the outside stairs to the rooms she had rented above the shop, Isabella disappeared around back. A short time later she emerged behind the wheel of a little yellow and white Mini Cooper. She had bought the car from Bud Yeager, who operated the Cove’s sole gas station and garage. No one knew where Yeager had obtained the vehicle. In the Cove you did not ask those kinds of questions. Fallon braced one hand against the windowsill and watched Isabella drive out of town toward the road that would take her to the old highway.had not arrived in Scargill Cove in a car. She had appeared, as if by magic, late one night, carrying only the backpack. That was not so unusual in the Cove. The tiny community had always been a magnet for misfits, drifters and others who did not fit in with mainstream society. But most people moved on. The Cove was not for everyone. Something about the energy of the place, Fallon thought.aura of power that shimmered around Isabella Valdez had sent up a lot of red flags. He did not like coincidences. Having another strong talent move into town and take a job at the café directly across the street from J&J had struck him as highly suspicious. The fact that he had been blindsided by the sudden and acute physical attraction he had experienced had been even more disturbing. He had not been able to explain away the sensation by reminding himself that he had been living a celibate life far too long.first thought was that Isabella was a Nightshade spy. When he researched her online, he found a very neat, very tidy bio that, as far as he was concerned, only added to the mystery. Nobody had such a pristine personal history. According to what few records existed, she had been raised outside the Arcane community by a single mother who had died when Isabella was in her sophomore year in college. Her father had been killed in a traffic accident shortly before she was born. She had no siblings or close relatives. Until her arrival in the Cove, she had made her living in a series of low-level jobs, the kind that did not leave a lot of footprints in government databases or corporate personnel files.for answers and the need to make certain that Isabella was not a Nightshade operative, he had brought Grace and Luther, his best aura-talent agents, all the way from Hawaii, just to take a look. They had detected no signs of the formula in Isabella’s energy field. Grace’s verdict was that the town’s newest resident was just one more lost soul who had found her way to a community that specialized in lost souls.Fallon knew that there was more to Isabella’s story. Sooner or later he would get the answers. For now he was left with his questions.an inexplicable need to keep Isabella close and safe.

old Zander place definitely fit the classic image of a haunted house, Isabella thought. A three-story stone monstrosity from the early 1900s, it hunkered like some great, brooding gargoyle on the cliffs above a skeletal beach.brought the Mini Cooper to a halt in the drive and contemplated the weathered mansion. She was still not certain why she had felt compelled to take the case. Fallon was right. J&J was a for-real psychic investigation agency. The firm had enough to do handling the weird Nightshade conspiracy that obsessed Fallon, as well as the routine jobs commissioned by members of the Arcane Society. The agency did not need to take on Lost Dogs and Haunted Houses cases.her intuition had kicked in after talking to Norma Spaulding on the phone. The familiar shiver of awareness and the compulsion to find that which was hidden had only grown more fierce in the past twenty-four hours. Now, looking at the old house, she knew that there was something important inside, something that needed to be found.shiver of awareness ghosted her nerves. She slipped into her other senses. The house was enveloped in screaming cold fog. Ice crystals shimmered in the mist.paranormal light that swirled around the mansion was very different from the fog she had perceived in Scargill Cove a month ago when she had walked into town late on a rainy night. The driver of the truck who had picked her up outside Point Arena had driven her north on Highway One, past Mendocino, had let her out at a gas station. She had walked the rest of the way to the Cove, following the faint sheen of energy.had been a long hike, but the closer she got to the tiny town tucked away in the forgotten little cove, the brighter the eerie fog had become. It told her that she was going in the right direction. It was after midnight when she finally reached the heart of the community.town had been enveloped in the other kind of fog, the damp, gray stuff that rolled in off the ocean. Every window, save one, was dark. The single window that was illuminated was on the second floor of a building directly across from the café. The light in that window glowed with the luminous aura of a computer screen. The paranormal fog that wreathed the upper level of the building was infused with power and heat. It was a place filled with secrets.walked close and aimed her flashlight at the name on the front door. JONES & JONES.switched off the flashlight and stood there in the fogbound street for a long time wondering if she should knock. Before she could make up her mind, a thin, scraggly-looking man strode briskly toward her out of the shadows of a narrow alley. He did not have a flashlight, but he moved as if he had no difficulty seeing in the dark. His hair and beard were long and unkempt. He wore a heavy, black all-weather coat and a pair of hiking boots. Everything about him spelled homeless manbut the coat and the boots looked surprisingly new.senses were still heightened. She could see that the man was enveloped in a lot of fog but she did not sense any threat.

“You’re n-new here,” he said. His voice was hoarse and he stammered a little as if he was not in the habit of speech. “You’ll be w-wanting the inn. They’ll have a room for you. C-come with me. I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you,” she said.allowed him to lead her to the darkened inn. She rang the bell. A light went on in the hall, and a short time later two women in their midfifties, dressed in robes and slippers, opened the door. They smiled when they saw Isabella standing on the porch.

“Yes, of course, we’ve got a room,” one of them said.

“It’s January,” the second one explained. “We rarely have any guests at this time of year. Come on in.”turned to thank the stranger in the long black coat, but he was gone.

“Something wrong?” the first woman asked, stepping back to let Isabella into the hall.

“There was a man,” Isabella said. “He brought me here.”

“Oh, that must have been Walker,” the woman said. “He’s what you might call our night watchman here in the Cove. My name is Violet, by the way. This is Patty. Come on upstairs and I’ll show you to your room. You must be exhausted.”

“Shouldn’t I register?” Isabella asked.

“We’re not real big on the formalities here in the Cove,” Patty explained. “You can register in the morning.”an hour later, Isabella had crawled into a cozy bed and pulled a down quilt up over her shoulders. For the first time in weeks she slept through the night.following day no one remembered to ask her to register as a guest at the inn. She handed over enough cash to cover the first week and then, on Patty’s advice, went down the street to see about the gig at the Sunshine. Marge Fuller, the proprietor of the small café, immediately put her to work waiting tables and helping out in the kitchen. There were no pesky applications or tax forms to fill out. Isabella knew then that Scargill Cove was her kind of town.Jones had walked through the front door of the café that same morning and sat down at the counter to order coffee. When she emerged from the kitchen, she had seen him talking to Marge Fuller. A thrill swept through her, igniting all of her senses.about Fallon Jones whispered of power. He wore the fierce energy like a dark cloak but something in the atmosphere around him told her that he was living on the edge of exhaustion.dark, ice-cold fever burned in Fallon Jones. With her senses cranked up, she could see the glacial heat in his eyes. The para-fog swirled around him, indicating deep secrets and mysteries.had the hard, unyielding face of a man who lived life on his own terms. He was big, too, tall, broad-shouldered and solid as a boulder. She had never been attracted to physically overpowering men. She stood five-foot-three and three-quarters in her bare feet and she had always preferred males who did not tower over her. Usually when she was around men Fallon’s size, her instinct was to put some distance between herself and a creature who could pin her down with one hand.with Fallon she felt none of the usual wariness. Instead, she was amazed to discover that when she was near him, she experienced an oddly sensual feminine recklessness. A part of her wanted to challenge him, probably because of the self-discipline that emanated from him in waves. She sensed that his formidable control was his way of handling his equally formidable talent.the evidence indicated that he lived an austere, almost ascetic existence, but she was quite certain that he was no monk. There was an inferno burning just beneath the surface. In spite of the way Fallon aroused both her normal and paranormal senses, old habits prevailed. She needed to know what it was that fueled the volcano before she leaped into the fires.pushed the thoughts of Fallon Jones aside and sat quietly behind the wheel, studying the Zander mansion through the rain-glazed windshield. If there had ever been any gardens around the big house, they had long ago disintegrated under more than a century’s worth of Pacific storms. The grime-darkened windows would surely limit light inside even on a sunny day.had a point. Pronouncing the Zander mansion specter-free was probably not going to be enough to convince anyone in his or her right mind to buy such an enormous money pit. But she was committed now. She had assured Norma Spaulding that J&J would take the job.closed down her other senses, opened the car door, slung her pack over one shoulder and raised her umbrella. A blast of wind-driven rain caught her squarely in the face.fought her way across the drive and up the cracked stone steps. When she reached the shelter of the wide front porch, she collapsed the umbrella and punched the code into the key box. The key tumbled into her gloved hand.door opened with a suitably ominous squeak of rusty hinges. She stepped into the shadowy foyer and took the small flashlight out of her pack. Norma had warned that the electricity had been turned off eons ago.stood the dripping umbrella in a corner and heightened her talent again. Given the amount of energy that enveloped the old house, she had been expecting to find something of interest inside: an old will, perhaps, or an envelope filled with long-forgotten stock certificates. Maybe even a few pieces of valuable jewelry. But the sight of the glowing river of obsidian-dark mist that roared through the house caught her completely off guard. Shards of black ice fluoresced in the vapor.pulled herself together, took a deep breath and followed the terrible luminescence down a shadowy hall. The mist disappeared under a door. She opened the door and looked down a flight of stone steps. A terrible sea of energy flooded the basement.hurried back to the foyer, grabbed her umbrella and went outside. She opened the phone that Fallon had given her the first day on the job. The list of contacts was quite short. There was only one number.picked up midway through the first ring.

“What the hell is wrong?” he asked. “Flat tire? Out of gas? I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive out there in this weather.”

“I need backup.”

“Huh. Don’t tell me you found a ghost.”

“There’s something here to find,” she said. “Not sure what yet, but I don’t think it’s going to be anything good.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s a basement involved.”

waited for him in the car, doors locked, key in the ignition. She was ready to speed off to safety if necessary. But no one burst out of the house wielding a meat cleaver. The mansion loomed, bleak and dripping with ominous energy.pulse was still beating too fast and the hair on the nape of her neck hadn’t settled down by the time the black SUV pulled into the drive. She glanced at her watch. It had taken Fallon less than ten minutes to reach her, driving through pouring rain on a narrow, winding road.got out of the big vehicle and walked toward her. The hood of his black rain jacket was pulled up over his face partially concealing his features, but she could tell that he looked even more grim than usual, and when she revved up her senses, she saw a little heat in his eyes.opened the driver’s-side door and extricated herself from behind the wheel, fumbling again with the umbrella and her pack. Fallon took the umbrella from her, snapped it open and held it up to shield her from the elements while she got herself organized.

“You do realize that agents who get spooked by a haunted house don’t make J&J look good,” he said.

“You ever see one of those slasher horror films?” she asked. “The kind in which the too-stupid-to-live perky blond teenager goes down into the dark basement and gets hacked to pieces by a serial killer in a mask?”

“Can’t say that I have.”started toward the stone steps. Getting to the front porch was much easier with Fallon holding the umbrella and using his big frame to protect her from the worst of the squall. There were some advantages to size, she reflected.

“Let’s just say I didn’t want to star in the role of the perky blond teen,” she said.

“You’re not blond,” he pointed out. “And you’re not a teenager.”

“But at least I’m perky, right?”gave that some thought. “I don’t think that’s the right word.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to be extremely literal, boss?”

“Yes,” he said. “Usually at the same time that I’m being told I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Nonsense. Of course you have a sense of humor.”

“I do?” He seemed genuinely surprised to hear that.

“It’s just a little offbeat, that’s all.”

“Like my talent?” His voice went flat.

“Like your talent,” she agreed. “It’s not as if I’m exactly normal, myself. Which is probably why I’m working for J&J.”opened the door. Fallon collapsed the umbrella and stood quietly for a moment, contemplating the darkened foyer. She sensed energy shiver in the atmosphere around him and knew that he had heightened his talent. She did the same. Once again, icy mists pulsed and seethed in the entry hall.

“What do you see?” Fallon asked.

“A lot of energy that is infused with some really dark ultralight. Looks like fog.”

“Huh.”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said. “All I can tell you is that when I’m in my zone, I see the residue of energy laid down by people with something to hide. Most of the time I ignore it because everyone has secrets. But occasionally I detect the sort of currents that tell me there is a secret that needs to be found. And before you ask, I can’t explain that part, either. As the old saying goes, I know it when I see it.”nodded once, satisfied. “You’re a kind of finder-talent.”

“Yes.”

“Any idea what the fog in here is telling you?”

“No.” Another frisson of awareness chilled her. “But like I said, the answer is in the basement, and I don’t think that it’s going to be good.”

“The house feels empty.”

“I agree.” You could always tell, she thought. Empty houses gave off their own unique vibes. “But something feels wrong.”

“Let’s take a look at the basement,” Fallon suggested.

“Okay.” She took out her flashlight and switched it on again. “Electricity is off.”

“No surprise there.”moved into the foyer and reached inside his jacket. She was startled when she saw the gun appear in his hand.

“Wow,” she said. “You brought your gun.”

“You made me nervous when you called and said you needed backup.”

“Oh. Sorry. I really don’t think there’s an immediate threat. As you said, the house feels empty. But I hate finding dead bodies by myself.”

“And that’s what you’re expecting?”

“I’ve seen this kind of fog before.”followed him into the foyer, her senses wide open.took a flashlight out of the pocket of his coat and switched it on. “Which way?”

“I forgot you can’t see the energy.” She aimed the beam of the flashlight directly in front of him. “Turn left. The basement door is halfway down that hall.”glanced at the floorboards. “Lot of footprints in the dust.”

“Don’t forget, Norma Spaulding has been in here. She also said that there were indications that transients had camped out in the house from time to time.”

“Probably the source of the rumors about the place being haunted.” He stopped in front of the basement door. “Is this the right door?”

“Yes.”opened the door. They both looked down the concrete steps.

“Still feels empty,” Fallon said.moved closer to the opening and studied the cold light roiling and surging below. The sense of urgency that had set her nerves on edge climbed higher.

“We need to find whatever it is down there that needs finding,” she said, resigned. “Crap. I hate this part.”studied the scene below. “Interesting.”glanced sharply at him. “What?”

“A wooden floor.”

“What about it?”

“Looks new.”

“Maybe one of the previous owners finished off the basement,” she suggested.

“I did a quick search of the property records after you left the office today. No one has lived in this house for over forty years. That floor was put in recently.”

“Okay, I’m not arguing the point.” She tried to ignore the fact that she was shivering. “The good news is that I don’t see any bodies down there.”

“Wait here. I’m going to take a closer look.”

“No, I’ll come with you.”looked at her. “Are you sure you want to do that?”wouldn’t be the first time she had followed the currents of fog to a bad end.

“When I get this far, I need to find the answer,” she said.surprised her with one of his rare smiles. “Same here.”

“Two of a kind,” she said, keeping her voice light.seemed briefly startled by the comment, as if it had never occurred to him that he might have something in common with another human being. But he did not say anything.followed him down the steps. When they reached the bottom, they stood knee-deep in the sea of fog. The paranormal cold was so bone-chilling now that even Fallon sensed it.

“You’re right,” he said. “Lots of bad energy down here.”studied the glacial whirlpool in the center of the room. “I think most of the really terrible stuff is coming from under the floorboards.”raked the windowless room with the beam of his flashlight. “What about the armoire in the corner?”studied the old-fashioned wooden wardrobe. The doors were closed but a lot of fog shivered around it.

“Definitely something in there,” she said. “But it’s different from the stuff that’s coming up from under the floor.”started to prowl the room with the flashlight. “No dust down here. Someone keeps this room clean.”sniffed the air. “I can smell some kind of strong detergent or disinfectant. Damn, I knew it. This is going to be one of those body-in-the-basement scenarios.”

“Starting to feel that way.” He looked at her. “Not your first, I take it?”

“No. Unfortunately, with my kind of talent I get this kind of thing occasionally. Goes with the territory. When do we call the local cops?”

“As soon as we know for sure that we’ve got something to show them,” Fallon said. “Without hard evidence, we’d just be asking for trouble.”

“I guess J&J can’t just pick up the phone and tell the local authorities that one of the firm’s agents has had a psychic vision telling her that there’s a body in the old Zander house.”

“Regular law enforcement tends to take a dim view of people who claim to have paranormal powers. Can’t blame the cops. Lot of fake mediums and phony psychics out there. They’ve given our end of the investigation profession a bad name.”

“I know.”

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 889