Dream Eyes

and psi—he had been ever since he had opened the envelope that contained the unpleasantly marked-up photo. But, as usual, he was fully in control.
    He sat quietly for a moment studying the thick stand of mist-shrouded trees that stood between the vehicle and the rear door of Hudson Floral Design.
    In the backseat, Max glowered through the recently repaired door of his carrier.
    It had stopped raining, but an early morning fog had rolled in off the river, muffling sound and limiting visibility. At least, Gwen thought, the fog had that effect on those like her who possessed merely normal hearing and vision.
    “What do you see?” she asked Judson.
    “What?” He glanced at her. His eyes glowed with a low level of psi.
    “Just wondered if you could see through the fog.”
    “Sometimes I forget that you see things differently than I do. Don’t worry, I won’t blunder into a tree and brain myself.”
    “That possibility never occurred to me.” She turned back around to study the scene. “I have to tell you that knowing that you’re
almost
positive you know what we’re doing here is not the most reassuring thing you could say under the circumstances. Remember, she’s got that old rifle.”
    “I gave you the option of staying behind at the inn,” Judson reminded her.
    She ignored that. “Maybe we should talk to Oxley first.”
    “That won’t do any good.”
    “Things could get awkward if you get caught.”
    “I won’t get caught. But if I do, get on the phone to Dad.”
    She almost smiled. “That sounds similar to the advice you gave Nick.”
    “Because it’s the best advice under the circumstances.”
    “Wow.” She snapped her fingers. “Must be nice to come from a family that can make every little problem go away.”
    “The Coppersmiths can’t make every problem go away, but we’re pretty good when it comes to the annoying legal stuff.” He unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. “I won’t be long.”
    “Forget it.” Gwen got out, too. “You’re not going in without backup, partner.”
    He gave that a few seconds of consideration. Then he nodded once. Decision made.
    “Okay,” he said.
    “Glad we got that settled,” she said. She told herself that she was pleased that he seemed to be treating her as an equal partner in the investigation.
    “All things considered, I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you,” Judson added.
    So much for the partnership,
she thought.
    “You do need me, Judson Coppersmith,” she said. “I’m the one who knows this town and the people in it. Without me, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start investigating. What’s more, I’m in charge here. I’m the one paying the bills, remember?”
    “Paying the bills doesn’t mean you’re in charge. It makes you the client.”
    “Semantics.”
    They wove a path through the trees to the narrow strip of paved parking area behind the shop. Gwen waited for Judson to crack the old lock. To her surprise, he knocked on the door instead. The sharp rap of his knuckles on wood gave her a start. But she was even more astonished when he wrapped his hand around the knob and opened the door.
    “We know you’re in there, Nicole,” he said calmly.
    Gwen glanced at him, startled. It was certainly news to her.
    “Uh, Judson, I’m not so sure a confrontation would be wise.”
    She stopped talking when she heard reluctant footsteps on the other side of the door.
    Nicole appeared in the opening. She was dressed in faded jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt and a light down vest. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.
    “I should have known you’d figure out that I was the one who left the photo under Gwen’s door,” Nicole said. Her mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “You’re both psychic, after all. Me, I’m just a fool who was dumb enough to fall for one of your kind. Don’t worry, I learned my lesson.”
    A chill whispered through Gwen. She remembered something Evelyn had said once, long ago.
The risk in proving to others that the paranormal is real is that there will be those who will view people of talent not only as different but also as dangerous. And what people fear, they try to control, isolate or even destroy
.
Remember the Salem witch trials
.
    “Zander Taylor was not one of our kind,” Gwen said quietly. “He was a monster.”
    “No shit,” Nicole said. “I finally figured that out for myself yesterday.”
    “It’s time to talk,” Judson said.
    “Yeah, sure.” Nicole