Falling Awake

intimidating.”
    “Now that’s where you and I differ on the subject of Ellis Cutler,” Isabel replied. “I find him very interesting but not at all intimidating.”
    Tamsyn arched her brows. “Give me a break. You don’t think he’s just a little scary?”
    Isabel pondered that, lips pursed, for about three seconds. “In the right circumstances, I think Ellis could scare the daylights out of some people.”
    “But not you?”
    “Not me.”
    “I give up.” Tamsyn opened both hands in a what-can-I-do? gesture. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
    “Yes. Before I even met him, as a matter of fact. You could say he’s the man of my dreams.”
    Tamsyn nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that impression.What can I say, except good luck.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run. The caterers and the florist arrived a little while ago and no one knows where Leila and Farrell are. They’ve both disappeared. Someone’s got to take charge.”
    Isabel laughed. “I can’t think of anyone who can do that better than you.”
    Tamsyn hurried away, a bundle of sparkling energy and enthusiasm.
    Isabel watched her go and wondered if anything would come of the attraction between Tamsyn and Ron Chapman.
    Workplace romances are so highly volatile, she reflected, letting herself into her office. They are unpredictable, destabilizing and potentially painful. And here she was, breaking the rules, herself, by sleeping with her one and only client.
    She propped herself on the corner of her desk and thought about the problem of workplace romances for a while. They were always high-risk affairs. People got hurt. People got mad.
    Some people went looking for revenge.

37
    a n hour later Ellis thanked Dick Peterson for his assistance, climbed back into the Maserati and drove to a nearby park. Adrenaline snapped and crackled through him. He stopped, opened the door to get some fresh air and called Dave.
    “Anything yet?” he asked.
    “I finally found the information you wanted on that behavioral modification program at Brackleton,” Dave announced. Pride and excitement hummed in his voice. “You were right. Looks like someone tried to delete all the records but that’s pretty tough to do once the information goes online. The folks who ran this program did everything online for nearly a year until they shut down.”
    “Got a list of the names of the professionals involved?”

    “Sure. There were only three primary researchers. I tracked them down to see where they are now.”
    “All gainfully employed?”
    “Two of them are. They moved on to academic institutions. They’re teaching classes in criminal behavior and sociology. The third person seems to have disappeared. I’m working on it.”
    “Don’t waste any more time on the search,” Ellis said evenly. “The third person took a new identity and now works at the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research.”
    “I assume that was not just a lucky guess?”
    “No. It all fits together now. Took me this long to see it because I was a little obsessed, just like Lawson said. I focused on Scargill and figured he was using a few losers from that behavioral modification program when he needed muscle. Never occurred to me that he wasn’t the one running things.”
    “He’s still involved in this, though,” Dave pointed out.
    “Yes. But either way, he’s not working alone. He’s had a lot of help, right from the start.”
    i sabel turned away from the window of her small office, unable to shake off the certainty that had settled on her. She took out her phone and called Ellis’s number. He answered on the first ring.
    “I was just about to call you,” he said in a cold, dangerous voice. “Where are you?”
    “In my office.” She frowned. “Why?”

    “Get out of there. I don’t want you to be alone, not even in your office. Go hang out in the lobby or the café, someplace where there are a lot of people around. I’m just leaving LA now. I’ll be there in about two hours. A little less if the fog isn’t bad.”
    A chill slithered down her spine. “Did you find Scargill?”
    “No. I found out who’s working with him, though.”
    “That’s what I was calling about,” she said quickly. “Remember I told you that in my dream there was someone standing behind Randolph Belvedere but I couldn’t see a face? I think I know who the person is—”
    The door of the office opened, interrupting her.
    Amelia Netley walked into the room. She