Dream Eyes

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.

Forty
    D on’t waste your time trying to convince me that Buddy Poole was going around the country murdering old people with some kind of paranormal weapon,” Oxley said. He closed the folder on his desk and cranked back in his chair. “No need to come up with crazy theories to explain this situation. The money trail and the calendar notes work just fine.”
    “Good to know,” Judson said.
    “You’ve convinced me that Poole was running a murder-for-hire operation. But I expect he was using the old-fashioned pillow-over-the-face method or maybe a little poison. Those techniques are very effective, especially when the victims are old and sick.”
    “You know what, you’re right, chief,” Judson said. “No need to come up with paranormal explanations. But there will never be any proof, either.”
    He was very aware of Gwen sitting tensely beside him. Together they faced Oxley across the desk. One of the officers had driven Nicole home after she had given her statement.
    “What about Evelyn’s and Louise’s deaths?” Gwen demanded. “Do you believe that Buddy murdered them, too?”
    “Yes,” Oxley said. He gave a world-weary sigh. “But I also know I’ll never be able to prove it, just like I’ll never be able to prove that he killed for money. No way I’m going to try to go after Buddy’s clients. Not my job, and I sure as hell haven’t got enough to take to the FBI.”
    “Some folks are going to get away with murder,” Judson pointed out. “Namely Buddy’s clients.”
    “Yep, that’s a fact.” Oxley rubbed the back of his neck. “And I’m real sorry about that, but it happens all the time. You can only do what you can do in situations like this. You know what’s important here?”
    “What?” Judson asked.
    “You saved Nicole Hudson’s life, and Buddy Poole is dead in what