Dream Eyes

a problem with that. She and her husband had been counting on her father-in-law’s money to finance their own retirement.
    It was all so unfair. Sundew understood that. And it wasn’t as if the old man enjoyed a good quality of life, after all. He had been forced to give up both driving and his beloved golf a few years ago. Now he spent his days playing cards and watching television with the other residents at his very expensive retirement community while he whined that no one ever came to visit him. Meanwhile his son and daughter-in-law were watching their inheritance go down the drain.
    The old man’s death would change everything.
    Back at the start, Sundew had been obliged to spend months drumming up business. The process involved hours of online research just to identify potential clients. Then followed the laborious task of introducing them to the notion that their inheritance problems could be made to go away as if by magic—for a price.
    The business was more streamlined these days, requiring less research and less risk. As always, word of mouth had proved to be the best form of advertising. The online whispers were so effective that Sundew had no shortage of potential clients dropping into the chat room.
    Money was no longer the object. Now Sundew worked to support a habit.
    Somewhere along the line, the murder-for-hire game had become a total rush.
    Until recently, Wilby, Oregon, had been the perfect lair in which to hide between hunts. True, the brouhaha two years ago had been a near disaster but things had settled down after Gwen Frazier left town. Then Sundew had discovered that Evelyn Ballinger had become suspicious. The problem had been resolved easily enough, but now the situation had begun to disintegrate.
    The bitch was back in town, and she was not alone.
    On her own, Frazier wouldn’t have been a problem. She was nobody, just a low-level talent who could view auras—not exactly a weapon of mass destruction. In spite of what had happened two years ago, it was hard to see her as a serious threat. One way or another, she could be dealt with.
    But Coppersmith’s presence complicated the situation. His family was powerful and would no doubt make a lot of waves if one of the sons and heirs to the business empire turned up dead in a small town like Wilby. Questions would be asked.
    The Coppersmiths also appeared to be a family with a lot of secrets. What’s more, they were very good at concealing those secrets.
    Secrets were always interesting. Sundew’s own family kept a lot of them. And they were just as good at hiding them as the Coppersmiths were.

Twenty-nine
    J udson awoke just before dawn to a sure and certain knowledge of the killer’s mind.
    I know what you are and why you’re killing, you bastard. I’m one step closer. Not much longer now
.
    He shoved aside the quilt and sat up on the edge of the bed. He was wearing only his briefs. Memories of the night slammed through him. He’d gone back into the damn dream—maybe too far into it this time—but Gwen had pulled him out. Like it or not, for a time he had become her client.
    He reached for the holster and gun. What mattered, he concluded, was that after she had yanked him out of the dream, they had gone back to being lovers.
    The door between the two rooms was open.
    He pulled on his trousers and went to the doorway. Gwen was still in her nightgown and robe, but she was not in bed. She was curled up in the chair, her head resting on a pillow. Her eyes were closed. Max was ensconced alongside her thigh. The cat glared at him through half-closed eyes.
    “Tough luck, pal,” Judson mouthed. “Just because you got to her first, don’t think you’ve got claiming rights.”
    Max did not look impressed. Judson was deliberating between scooping up Gwen and putting her on the bed or covering her with a blanket when she opened her eyes.
    “You’re awake,” she said.
    “So are you.”
    “How are you feeling?”
    “Good.” He paused and then did what had to be done. “Thanks to you. I’m not real sure we’d be having this conversation this morning if you hadn’t pulled me out of that dream last night. I owe you.”
    She raised her brows. “No, you don’t owe me any more than I owe you. We’re partners in this thing. Yesterday you saved me as well as Nicole and Max. Last night I was able to help you. That’s what partners do. You have my back; I have yours. Neither of us would leave the other behind. That’s how it