Eye of the Beholder

Alexa's neck.
    No one came to answer the door.
    She exhaled slowly, aware of a curious sense of relief. She had not been all that enthusiastic about talking to Liz Guthrie anyway.
    She turned away from the door, intending to walk back down the steps to her car. But something made her glance to the side of the house. The door of the garage was closed. Liz's car might or might not be inside.
    It would be simple enough to check.
    And just what the heck was she going to do if the car was parked inside the garage? she wondered. The woman had a right not to answer her door.
    Nevertheless, she had driven several miles out of her way to talk to Liz. She had been invited, more or less. There was no harm in ascertaining whether or not her reluctant hostess was home.
    She went swiftly down the steps and around the corner of the house. There was a single, grimy window on the side of the garage wall.
    She peered through the darkened glass. There was no car inside.
    Maybe Liz had changed her mind.
    But she had been home little more than an hour ago and had planned to meditate with her personal guide until ten, Alexa reminded herself.
    She turned to retrace her steps and paused when she noticed that the blind in the kitchen window was raised. A deep, intuitive disquiet swept through her.
    She walked hesitantly up the rear steps of the deck and glanced into the kitchen. She was not spying, she told herself. It was a casual glance.
    Who was she kidding? She might as well admit that she was getting nervous. Something felt wrong.
    An empty cereal bowl and a mug sat on the tiled counter near the sink. And what can we deduce from that, Ms. Sleuth? That Liz was definitely home this morning? We already know that much.
    She walked around the side of the house. The drapes were pulled across a wide bank of windows. The living room, no doubt. She walked farther along the deck and turned a corner.
    Ahead of her a small sun room projected out from the wall of the house. It was windowed on two sides and the ceiling. A sliding glass door formed the third wall.
    The slider was open two or three inches. The edge of a long, cream-colored curtain fluttered in the breeze.
    Alexa walked along the deck to the glass door. "Is anyone home?" she called through the crack. "Liz? It's Alexa Chambers. If you're in there, I'd really like to talk to you." There was no response.
    The wind sighed eerily in the thick branches behind her. Shadow Canyon was really getting to her today.
    "Mrs. Guthrie? It's important." She gave up trying to shake off the sense of impending disaster. Opening the slider, she grasped a handful of curtain and lifted it out of the way.
    She found herself staring into a small, minimally furnished room done in neutral shades. There were no chairs, only a single pale pillow placed in the center of the milk-colored carpet. There was also a - bookcase and a low, wooden table. A large chunk of rose-pink crystal sat in the center of the table.
    A pair of shoji screens paneled with squares of a white, translucent fabric sealed the glass chamber from the rest of the house. The screens were closed, blocking the view of the room or hall beyond the chamber.
    Liz Guthrie's meditation room. Alexa knew that the Dimensions seminar program emphasized the necessity of creating a personal, private space in which to meditate. In terms of priorities, it was right up there with keeping one's personal meditation journal up to date. In the course of her short affiliation with the Institute, she had failed in both endeavors. Privately, she put the blame on the boredom that had overcome her every time she tried to get into meditation mode.
    She glanced at the low bookcase and was not surprised to see that the shelves were crammed with a variety of Dimensions Institute publications, including Liz's copy of Living the
Dimensions Way
    .
    A familiar volume sheathed in a turquoise and white dust jacket lay open on top of the bookcase. A Dimensions personal journal.
    Alexa thought about the one she had been given when she took the Beginning Guided Meditation Seminar. She had dutifully written in it for three whole days before concluding that her progress in the
Dimensions Way
    was not only going to be quite brief, it would also be extremely dull.
    She hesitated. She had no right to enter the house. But the feeling of wrongness was getting stronger by the minute.
    "Liz?"
    She drew a breath and stepped into the meditation retreat.
    A sudden shifting of the light on the