Crystal Vision

by Patricia Rice

  “If they only used it on the eyes, maybe,” Sam suggested.

  “I don’t think magnetite on its own actually rusts,” Keegan argued. But he knew nothing of what went into paint.

  Aaron removed a painting from the wall depicting a number of people in what appeared to be a costume drama. The eyes of some of them seemed red in the low gleam of the flashlight. “Let’s take one of these to be analyzed.”

  Mariah increased her grip on Keegan’s arm. She halted before they climbed the stairs. “Maybe we shouldn’t be too quick to unleash these things on the world. We should probably ask Cass and Val first.”

  “What if someone steals in and sets the place on fire?” Sam demanded. “There’s a killer out there, and he’s after something! We could be sitting on evidence of what the killer wanted.”

  Walker cursed aloud. Keegan did so mentally. Aaron set the painting down.

  Mariah returned to the bench and crossed her arms belligerently. “Bring me a shotgun. I’ll take first watch.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Like a red-headed fairy, Teddy flitted toward the stairs. “I’ll have Kurt position resort security people here—if we can keep them from shooting Val and her cronies. No one is getting close to this place without our knowing it.”

  Mariah looked truculent. “I don’t trust the Nulls not to strip the place bare while they’re pretending to guard it.”

  Keegan knew Mariah thought he fell on the Null spectrum, but he wasn’t leaving her down here alone with a killer on the loose.

  “If you stay, I stay,” he stated without inflection.

  “Fine, we’ll all have campfires and pow-wows all night, but I want a beer.” Walker stamped toward the stairs.

  Keegan wanted one too, but instinct wouldn’t allow him to leave Mariah alone, shotgun or not. “We could start a bar down here,” he jestingly suggested. “Call it the Bunker.”

  “I like that idea, but only if you make the drunks sleep it off before they go outside and fall off the bluff.” Walker shoved open the outside door. “Until you have cots, I suggest we have Kurt’s security pace the perimeter and let Daisy’s guardians do their thing.”

  “I have paperwork to do and need to get home,” Aaron admitted grudgingly. “These paintings appear to be exactly what they’re said to be—bad examples of old art. All the pieces they couldn’t sell, for good reason.”

  Keegan held out his hand to Mariah. “You don’t have a shotgun, and you can’t tackle a thief with a battered knee. I’ll tell you my story if you’ll tell me yours, but let’s do it somewhere more comfortable.”

  He really wanted her to say yes, which meant he ought to stay down here on his own, far, far away from her.

  She glared at the stack of paintings, then grudgingly took his hand. “Val has a key. I’ll get her.”

  “Don’t be silly. I need to help Dinah at the café. I’ll tell Val to lock the door,” Sam said.

  “Or better yet, since Kurt has business down the mountain this evening, why don’t I help Dinah and talk to Val while you share a nice dinner with our police chief?” Teddy suggested.

  Keegan let the discussion flow without his input, unable to decide if it was a good thing he might be sharing a dark bar with other couples and a woman as dangerous and attractive as Mariah. He’d already been badly burned by a woman he’d trusted. He had no reason whatsoever to trust Mariah. Maybe he ought to run while he still could.

  Five

  July 8: Sunday, evening

  Mariah disliked crowded public bars filled with strangers. She never knew if someone might recognize her. Her only hope was that if she stayed out of sight long enough, the world would forget her, and she could come out of hiding. But when Mayor Monty said he was buying, she grudgingly agreed to come along to keep an eye on the Nulls.

  Besides, Keegan had offered to tell his story, attempting to ingratiate himself with the Lucys by pretending to be one of them, she assumed. She didn’t know how to call him on it. When she’d had the internet to explore, she could prove someone was lying. Now, she writhed in frustration, knowing what she could do and fearing it at the same time.

  She didn’t even have Daisy for a sounding board. She missed Daisy’s odd insights already.

  Fighting off the emptiness, she chose to hear the Scot’s story. The alternative was to go to her empty cottage and grieve.

  The lounge at the Redwood Resort was one of those dark-paneled, masculine caves where the dads could hide while their families were out hiking and riding. Mariah only came here when it was empty, to check on her ghostcatchers.

  Because she feared outsiders, she checked the bar. A trio of white guys in suits nursed whiskey glasses and argued vociferously under their breaths. At the arrival of the police chief and company, they shut up and threw back their drinks. Mariah fought an itch at her nape. They didn’t look like reporters or the feds, and they weren’t looking at her. That’s all she normally cared about. But the itch forced her to study closer.

  The one might be young and strong enough to pull a hunting bow. The other two were older but big enough.

  Sliding into a black leather semi-circle booth, she studied her nets to see what the ghosts had to say. They quivered and jiggled unhappily—not a good sign.

  “The spirits are restless,” she told the group, just to raise a groan from the Nulls. She had no way of knowing if the old white guys disturbed anything but her.

  “There’s a storm moving in from the west and this place is drafty.” Monty deliberately contradicted her.

  “Watch what Mariah does sometime, and you’ll think twice when she tries to tell you about restless spirits.” Sam slid in beside her.

  Aaron had gone back to his shop. Orval and Harvey had gone their own ways, too, but Monty, Keegan, and Walker remained. Walker slid in to claim Sam. While Monty put in an order at the bar, Keegan took the space on Mariah’s other side.

  She liked that he made her feel almost dainty, but she hated sitting beside him as if they were a perfectly matched couple.

  Physically, she could see that they were, which made her squirm. With his symmetrical features and square jaw, he was much prettier than she was. She fingered her hawk nose and was glad of the relative darkness.

  “Nulls can’t see what I do,” Mariah said disparagingly in reply to Sam’s pacifying remark. “And they can’t believe what they don’t see.”

  Monty returned with their drink orders—ice tea for Mariah, a frou-frou drink for Sam, and beer for the men. “Mariah runs her fingers over string, and it straightens out,” the mayor said. “I figure she has glue in her fingernails.”

  She didn’t even bother rolling her eyes. She and Monty had gone to college together and argued these points into infinity.

  Keegan studied the shivering, swaying net near the ceiling. “I don’t believe glue would make them stop moving, if that’s what happens. They’re hung so they would continue to sway in any draft. The beads and feathers are designed for that.”

  “They also act as weights,” Mariah said, sipping her tea, waiting to see where he would go from there. The ghostcatchers were a minor trick she’d learned from her Nana, but most people didn’t believe in them any more than they did dreamcatchers.

  “So the nets should sway back and forth rhythmically if there’s a breeze.” Keegan studied the motion of the one in the corner. “That thing is almost thrashing.”

  “Score one for the potter,” Sam said, lifting her drink in toast. “Are you really a ceramics expert?”

  “It’s only a hobby, because of my resonance with crystalline structure. With our affinity for the earth, most of my family is involved in mining of one sort or another, although clay is another outlet. Some of them are ceramic artists. I help them locate the materials that work best for their needs. One thing led to another. . .” He shrugged.

  “An affinity with the earth?” Monty asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Ignore Mayor Surfer Dude. He’s a jock,” Mariah said, wishing sh
e could go on the internet and explore crystalline structure. She’d never met a man other than Aaron willing to speak about paranormal gifts—even if he was lying about them. Even Harvey denied he was gifted—because he didn’t understand what he did and refused to learn. She sat back, prepared to be entertained. “You have to speak in simple terms for Monty, or footballese.”

  “Behave,” Sam admonished, poking Mariah’s muscled arm with her bony elbow. “We’re here to help find a killer, which means we have to work together.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible when our Null mayor is hoping an affinity for the earth means Keegan plans on putting in a mine. We speak different languages.” Had she just assumed that Keegan, the Null of all Nulls, was talking spiritual affinity and not mines? Damn, maybe she ought to consume alcohol to blot the hunky Scot out of her head.

  “Communication is essential,” Walker said, surprisingly, since he usually listened rather than speak.

  “Communication is not always the answer.” Mariah slid down in her seat. “Take my word for it, okay?”

  “Honest, open communication is,” Keegan argued.

  “Is tough.” Mariah shot him a challenging glare. “You want to honestly, openly explain your reason for traveling half way around the earth to look at a bunch of pots?”

  “Is there a reason I should start first?” He glared down at her.

  “Because you could be the killer?” Mariah suggested, even knowing she was being malicious. That earned her a snort of disbelief.

  “Explain.” Walker intervened, probably keeping Keegan from punching her out.

  “You haven’t established an exact time of death. I saw Keegan come up from the direction of the commune where Daisy was killed.” Although if anyone would believe she’d felt Daisy’s death, she could probably exonerate him. But even she couldn’t be sure. “He’s strong enough to pull a bow the size needed. And we don’t know why he’s here.”

  Even in her old life, Mariah was accustomed to being a loner. She didn’t like being questioned. She crossed her arms and waited. Slithering down cyber holes was simpler than direct confrontation.

  “The same could be said of you,” Keegan retorted.

  Well, he had her there, except everyone knew she would never harm Daisy. “I don’t know beans about archery,” she countered.

  “Aaron said he knew you at Oxford and you were on the archery team.” Walker addressed Keegan. He sat back against the bench seat and drank his beer as if he were talking baseball.

  “The coal miner’s son attended Oxford?” Mariah taunted.

  “My grandfather once owned diamond mines,” he retorted. “I have a second cousin who is a marquess. Ives have attended Oxford for generations. And yes, I was on the archery team as well as the rowing team. I don’t like hurting people in rough athletics. Targets and finish lines don’t have breakable bones.”

  “If you’re telling the truth, I applaud your integrity.” Mariah threw a spiteful look at the mayor. “Monty enjoys cracking heads in contact sports.”

  “Would you like to tell the group what you enjoy doing, Mariah?” Monty glared over his beer. “I’m not a complete airhead.”

  He knew her real name. She shouldn’t taunt him. But she didn’t work well with others.

  “This isn’t helping Daisy,” Sam said—Earth Mother to squabbling toddlers. “We’re here to decide what to do about the art.”

  “I vote we wait for your birth mother to arrive,” Mariah said. “She has to know more than any of us do.”

  “You’d better hope she’s more informative than Cass then.” Monty emptied his beer.

  “Crystals.” Keegan directed the conversation off emotional quicksand. “The ones I’ve seen are not natural to this area.”

  The itch at her nape intensified when she noticed one of the men at the bar was actively staring. The light was dim enough that she could hope he couldn’t see much, but she lowered her voice to argue. “They can be purchased anywhere. We need Teddy for this conversation. She says the crystals she has with power are from her parents. Harvey says the same. Their grandparents were part of the commune.”

  Mariah poked Keegan with her elbow. He checked the bar, frowned, and spoke more softly. “I do not understand crystal power, beyond their use in manufacture.”

  He rolled his beer bottle between his big hands as he sought words. “My family’s journals speak of crystals gathered from around the world by one of my ancestors. They were reported to have odd energies and structures, which was why he gathered them. Both my more scientific and gifted ancestors studied them for generations, but I never read much of their writings.”

  “Lucinda’s book,” Mariah said, grasping the situation immediately. “Your family created the compendium of usage.”

  Keegan frowned. “So my sources say. I have never seen this book. Or the crystals. They disappeared at the same time.”

  Walker sat up straight. “How long ago?”

  “A few hundred years. It’s a long story. My problem is that another of the journals written at the time of the compendium has recently disappeared from my library.”

  “And what was in that journal?” Mariah had a bad feeling just watching him crush his beer bottle.

  “Experiments in how to use the crystals,” he said gloomily. “We had thought the journal useless because the crystals were long gone. Apparently, someone else thinks differently.”

  “What does it matter if they’re experimenting with pieces of rock?” Monty asked.

  Keegan winced. “Diamonds and rubies are pieces of rock. So is uranium.”

  “Damn,” Walker muttered, polishing off his beer. “Maybe this time they’re after rocks. But I can’t figure out how Daisy plays into this scenario.”

  “I can think of half a dozen ways,” Mariah said. “But speculation won’t help. We need to find the crystals, the journals, examine Daisy’s art for clues, and see if any of Keegan’s family has been hanging around. And look into Keegan while you’re at it.” She said the last out of meanness, and maybe wariness. She’d learned the hard way to be cautious, and she really needed to know he was safe.

  “Dig up the mountain,” Monty suggested, being as malicious as she was. “Build a ski slope while you’re at it. Maybe that’s the solution—heavy equipment.”

  “I can find crystalline structures faster than heavy equipment can.” Keegan gestured to a waitress for more beer. “So far, I’ve found nothing.”

  Everyone turned to stare at him. He shrugged. “You wanted to know why I was here. That’s it. I’m looking for crystalline rocks and our missing books. So far, all I’ve found is Harvey and Theodosia and their stashes. Perhaps that’s all that’s left of the ones we had. It’s not as if I can prove ownership, although it seems unlikely that so many oddities would end in one place.”

  Mariah wanted to believe him, but life had taught her otherwise.

  The waitress returned carrying another round of drinks and the wireless landline. “A call for Miss Moon from Miss Baker.”

  Miss Baker—Teddy was working at the café. Mariah waited expectantly.

  Sam took the phone, listened, and turned pale. “My mother’s there? Now? What am I supposed to do?”

  Walker hugged her and kissed her temple. “You go meet her.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Mariah said, relieved for an excuse to escape. “We’ll put a hex on her if she doesn’t immediately hug you when she sees you.”

  “She doesn’t know I’m here,” Sam whispered. “She won’t know me.”

  “Then we get to know her first.” Mariah shoved at the mountain of man beside her. “Let us out, big boy. We’re about to interrogate our first witness.”

  Finally, action she could understand.

  Samantha

  July 8: Sunday, evening

  Her mother! She was going to meet her mother—the one who had given her away at birth. She had so many questions. . .

  Sam swallowed hard and tried to hold herself together a
s Walker drove down from the lodge to the café. She’d lost her adopted parents five years ago. Discovering Hillvale and pieces of her extended family over this past month had showed her how much she’d missed having family. But a real mother. . .

  Walker reached over and squeezed her hand. “I wish I knew how to help.”

  She managed a feeble smile. “I don’t know if I could do this if you weren’t here, telling me I’m not a misbegotten aberrant deserving abandonment.”

  “You know better than that. She did it for herself, not because of an innocent baby. She’s the one at fault, not you.” He parked the car in a suspiciously full lot. “The Lucys have turned out for you. We’ve all got your back. I almost feel sorry for your mother.”

  “Val? Do you think Val is here?” Sam asked in panic. “She just lost her best friend, and now her sister has returned after deserting her all these years. This is going to be awful.”

  “If Val were standing on the roof, wailing, I’d be more worried,” he said with humor. “At least they’re not planning on killing each other.”

  “Maybe that’s what I need to do—look at the world from the worst possible perspective. Thank you for your cynical wisdom,” she said, knowing Walker’s past and that he had a right to see through jaded eyes. She respected that place, but she didn’t want to go there herself.

  He gazed out the windshield at the crowd on the boardwalk. “What the hell are they doing? Forming a welcoming committee?”

  Sam sighed and opened her door. “They’re showing off my planters. That has to be my mother.”

  She studied the middle-aged, stout woman examining the lush garden of purple flowers in front of Dinah’s café. The pansies and lobelias were growing in one of Daisy’s colorfully decorated planters. Sam thought the pots more artistic than flowers, but if this was her mother. . .

  The Lucys were showing her mother that she was gifted. That ought to scare the woman to hell and back—if they were also telling her that the flower genie who produced bountiful gardens from almost nothing was her daughter.