Fired Up

papers.”
    “What was the cause of death?”
    “Overdose, according to the press. The authorities figured he’d jumped from one of the ferries.”
    “But you didn’t buy it,” Chloe said.
    He met her eyes. “It was a little tough to believe that version of events when I had a bunch of biker leathers and denims along with a pair of motorcycle boots sitting in my closet.”
    She pondered that for a moment. “You said the last thing you remembered before you woke up in that room was walking home after having a beer with a friend.”
    “Right.”
    “Well, that certainly explains the taint of the drugs that I saw in your dream psi. It wasn’t the sleeping meds—it was whatever they gave you to knock you out and keep you under in that room where they held you prisoner for twenty-four hours. Someone kidnapped you right off the street. You’re a wealthy man. I wonder if they planned to hold you for ransom.”
    “No,” he said, very certain now. “This was all about the lamp. There has to be a connection.”
    “Whoever grabbed you drugged you with something strong enough to give you amnesia for that twenty-four-hour period of time. There are several heavy-duty sedatives that could do that. Also a lot of illegal stuff. Whatever they used suppressed your memories for a while, but the effects of the drug were fading because your strong talent was reasserting itself. Sooner or later you would have remembered everything. Wonder if the kidnappers realize that?”
    He shoved himself up out of the chair and began to prowl the room, restless and edgy. “What about the blackouts that came afterward?”
    “More side effects of the drug they used to keep you under. Meds that strong have very unpredictable effects on a lot of people, not just strong talents like you. What do you remember about the sleepwalking episodes?”
    “Just that I left my condo on foot and walked all the way to a street on Capitol Hill and back each time.” He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “And there’s something else.”
    “What?”
    “I did not want to be seen. I deliberately left my condo building through the rear entrance in the garage, not the lobby. I remember being paranoid about it. I was convinced that someone was watching me. And sure enough, each time there was some guy out in the alley. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew that I didn’t want him to see me.”
    “What did you do?”
    “I used my talent to scare the daylights out of him. It worked. He got so frightened each time that he couldn’t take the shadows in the alley. He left but he was always back in position when I returned. I worked the same trick again and slipped inside the building while he was getting over his attack of nerves.”
    “Sounds like whoever drugged you was having you watched.”
    He examined the memories again, processing details and the time frame. “Why in hell would anyone drug me and hold me prisoner for twenty-four hours and then set up a surveillance operation?”
    “They didn’t set you free. You escaped. Maybe they intended to keep you longer than twenty-four hours, but you got away and upset their plans.”
    “And why was I so sick? Do you think the fever was the result of the amnesia drug?”
    “I don’t know, maybe.” She watched him for a moment. “You said that during the sleepwalking episodes you walked up to Capitol Hill from your condo on First Avenue.”
    “Right.”
    “Where did you go on Capitol Hill?”
    “The street where I ran into the killer who tried to murder the nurse.”
    “What do you remember about the neighborhood?”
    “It was quiet. There were a few small shops on the block, but they were all closed at night.” He stopped, adrenaline kicking in as another memory slid home. “Except for the gym. Damn, that’s it.”
    “What?”
    “The sounds I heard when I woke up in that little room. Gym machines.”

42
    “THE LAMP,” FALLON SAID. PHONE CLAMPED TO HIS EAR, HE stood looking down at the darkened windows of the Sunshine Café. “Somehow this has got to involve that damn artifact.”
    “How does that explain someone grabbing me off the street and drugging me?” Jack asked.
    “You said the room where you were held looked like a hospital room. The first thing that comes to mind is that you were targeted for an experiment of some kind.”
    “Why would Nightshade want to run an experiment on me?”
    “Because you’re a Winters,” Fallon said, impatient now. He could feel it coming