Dream Eyes

At Gwen’s suggestion, he had driven out along a narrow road that dead-ended on a tree-studded bluff overlooking the falls.
    From where they were parked, they could see the old lodge that Evelyn had converted into a lab on the opposite side of the river. The windowless structure sat shrouded in gloom and shadow, another sad monument to the futility of pursuing paranormal research, Judson thought.
    Gwen contemplated the dark lodge through the windshield. “Every dime Evelyn ever got went into that lab. I asked her once why she had wasted so much of her life trying to prove the paranormal was normal.”
    “Did she give you an answer?”
    “She said she had been saddled with the ability to perceive just far enough beyond the normal to know that the paranormal existed. She said that a little knowledge was always a dangerous thing because it made you want more. She yearned for answers.”
    “So does my brother, Sam. He says he can’t abandon the research when the reality of the paranormal confronts him every time he looks into a mirror. And now he’s talking about doing the research for the sake of his future children.”
    “I’ve met Sam, and it’s obvious that he’s fascinated with crystals and para-physics,” Gwen said. “But that’s not what compels you, is it?”
    “No. Don’t get me wrong. I’m always interested in what comes out of the lab—everyone in the Coppersmith family is curious about the research—but I’m not obsessed with the latest crystal theories or the results of some new experiment.” He shrugged, drank some of the coffee and lowered the cup. “Not unless I can figure out how to use it.”
    Gwen smiled her knowing smile. “In the course of one of your investigations.”
    “Sam is my partner in Coppersmith Consulting because he likes the scientific and technical end of the security business—the forensics. But me, I like the hunt.”
    “Yes, I know.” She picked up her tea and removed the lid. “I also get the feeling that you like to work alone.”
    “I can work with Sam,” he said, feeling oddly defensive.
    “Sure,” she said. “Because he’s family. You can trust him.”
    He breathed deep and exhaled slowly. “I trust you, Gwen.”
    She looked startled. Then she positively glowed.
    “Why, thank you,” she said. “I’m honored. As it happens, I trust you, too.”
    “Good. That’s good.” He shifted slightly, searching for a path into the difficult conversation he wanted to have. “There’s something else I want to say. I respect what you do with your talent.”
    Her eyes widened. “Really? I’m thrilled. I have to tell you there’s just not a lot of respect out there for those of us in the psychic counseling profession.”
    “Okay, maybe I need to qualify my statement. I respect you. Not sure about the other psychic counselors. Lot of phonies out there.”
    “Sadly, that is all too true.” She took a cautious sip of the tea. “Which is why I’m thinking of changing careers.”
    “What?”
    “I like this detecting business.”
    “I can tell,” he growled.
    “All modesty aside, I feel I have a certain flair for it.”
    “You do,” he agreed. “But where, exactly, are you going with this?”
    “I’ve been solving historical murder cases in a fictional sense for the past two years for
Dead of Night
. In the process, I’ve learned a lot about researching cold cases from Evelyn. I’ve learned a lot from you, too. In fact, I’ve picked up several very helpful pointers in the course of our partnership.”
    “Gwen, if this is going where I think it’s going—”
    “And then there’s my dream therapy work.” Gwen’s enthusiasm was growing stronger by the second. Her eyes sparkled. “When you think about it, that has a lot in common with what you do—searching for clues, understanding motives. It’s like I’ve been serving an apprenticeship all these years. Now I’m ready to come out of the shadows.”
    He was getting a bad feeling, a real deer-in-the-headlights kind of feeling.
    “What are you planning to do when this case is over?” he asked.
    “I’m going to open a psychic detective agency,” Gwen announced.
    She was damn near incandescent now, he thought.
    “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He set his cup down in the holder. “Gwen, listen to me, this business isn’t what you think it is.”
    “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to compete with Coppersmith Consulting,” she said quickly. “I’m not interested in