Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  His gaze sought the lieutenant’s tall frame. He would need to utilize Cutter’s clout to get the info he needed. He could call Meta Corps himself, of course, but then he’d have to sell Dresden a pack of lies about Sonny. Not seeing Cutter, Logan’s gaze turned to Ned and Brad, who were standing just inside the French doors. Their resentful stares were aimed at him, which made him realize the pair disliked him as much, if not more, than Charlotte Fletcher. He schooled his features into an impassive stare, wondering which one of them had killed Blake. He was sure one of them had. Better yet, his ego nudged, which one of them is trying to kill Sonny now?

  Lieutenant Cutter’s large frame finally appeared in the doorway, shooing the pair out of the room. They hustled down the stairs, allowing the lieutenant to dismiss the blue uniforms standing about. The room emptied fast, except for the family. And then, to Logan’s surprise, the lieutenant ordered everyone out of the room, including himself.

  The family went reluctantly; however, Logan was not about to be dismissed so easily. He shored up his Meta Corps persona.

  “A word with you, Lieutenant,” he muttered, seeing the man about to vacate the room behind Ned and Brad.

  The lieutenant paused, giving Logan his undivided attention. “I recognize that look from this morning,” he said. “You want something from me.” He moved back into the room. “Access to the crime scene, maybe?”

  “It’s too late for that,” Logan replied. “What I need is information.” He pulled his ID wallet from his back pocket and headed for the kitchen counter. Once there, he plucked a business card from the wallet and then pulled a pencil out of a glass jar. He scribbled on the back of the card and then handed it off to the lieutenant. “I need you to call this number, but ask for Dresden Charles this time. Tell him it pertains to the serial killings. Ask him to do a code-one background check on Ned Chalmers and Brad and Charlotte Fletcher. Ask him to go back at least thirty years. And while you’re at it, have him search the files for any project that might be labeled ‘Pandora.’”

  The lieutenant studied the number on the back of the card. “Why the hell don’t you call the number? It’s your office. I have my own calls to make.”

  “Humor me, Lieutenant. Talk to Dresden.”

  The lieutenant pocketed the card. “What the hell is Pandora?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Logan replied. “Maybe a secret project the trio is involved with.”

  “Where did you get the name from? Sonny?”

  Logan emitted a crusty growl. “Stop asking for explanations I can’t give right now. I’ll explain when I can. Until then, call Dresden.”

  “You’re a relentless bastard,” Cutter muttered. “I’m warning you, though, when I call the number, I’m going to ask for a thorough background check on you. My gut tells me you were sent to The Sanctuary as some form of punishment—probably for doing something illegal.”

  “Let me ease your mind and save you the trouble of bothering Internal Affairs,” Logan responded. “My last assignment ended badly; however, I don’t intend to see Sonny go down that road.”

  “Neither do I; so whatever I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Tell me what you know about Foster Sykes.”

  “Good God, where did you hear that name from?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need to know whether this Sykes fellow might have a grudge against David Blake—enough to kill him.” The lieutenant’s expression changed rapidly, and Logan hoped he wouldn’t suddenly clam up and treat him like a leper. He needed the lieutenant as a sounding board. “I have a good reason for asking the question, Lieutenant,” he pushed.

  The lieutenant’s expression mellowed. “Sykes is a local therapist. He ran Sonny’s dream laboratory. He lost the use of his legs in an accident last year; however, if you’re thinking he killed David, you’re barking up the wrong tree. He’s a recluse that never ventures more than ten feet out his front door. And if you’re thinking of visiting him and testing the waters, let me caution you that he’s a gnarly, stubborn bloodworm.”

  “I have no intention of accusing anyone of Blake’s murder yet.” Logan frowned. “One needs proof to do that.”

  “You won’t find proof in that quarter,” the lieutenant responded. “David and Foster have been friends since college. After graduation, they stayed in touch. They eventually pooled their monies to buy a hundred acres of land, which in turn led to buying more land—about five hundred acres.”

  “They built The Sanctuary together?” Logan asked. “I thought Charlotte Fletcher was David’s partner.”

  “She is. But Foster was a silent partner—might still be. Once The Sanctuary got on its feet, Foster opted to go back to school. He earned three degrees in parapsychology and hypnotherapy, disappeared off the grid for a while, and then returned to The Sanctuary to work with Sonny. So, you see, the man is simply not capable of killing anyone.” He halted mid-sentence, and Logan sensed he was remembering something unpleasant. “There was that thing years ago with his sister,” he said. “Her name was Gail. She died at the same time Sonny’s mother did. Now that I think of it, it’s possible the pair had a falling out over the deaths.”

  “Don’t jump the gun,” Logan advised. He studied the lieutenant’s expression, which was once again easy to read. “Let’s go with your gut feeling that he’d never kill anyone, until we prove differently.”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “I can’t believe David’s dead, although I can well imagine someone wanting to murder him. I’ve had the thought myself over the years.”

  “I could use a name, if you’d care to share.”

  “Brad and Ned are on the top of the list,” the lieutenant said. “They each run their own therapy labs, and they tolerate no interference from anyone. As you heard earlier today, David was taking an avid interest in their appointment schedules and demanding a complete accounting of their travel itineraries and expenses.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Sy Belvin, the retreat’s attorney, had a grudge. He was recently fired by David for misappropriating funds. He claimed innocence, but a thorough investigation revealed he was knee-deep in insider trading. And then there’s Charlotte,” Dick added. “She and David had some wicked rows over the last few months.”

  “And then there’s Sonny,” Logan stated.

  “You can’t possibly suspect her. She was David’s biggest fan.”

  “Everyone’s a suspect until they’re not. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I did, but I didn’t mean Sonny. Besides, she has an alibi—you—unless of course you killed David before meeting her.”

  “Why don’t you do something productive, like making that phone call?” Logan snarled.

  “Before I do, tell me why you felt compelled to piss Charlotte Fletcher off?”

  “She dislikes me for no apparent reason,” Logan said.

  The lieutenant grinned at him. “It was that damn bombshell she witnessed in the foyer. That kiss you and Sonny engaged in was smoking hot. And I do mean smoking.”

  “How do you know?” Logan asked. “I don’t remember you in the foyer.”

  “You were too busy playing kissy-face to notice you had an audience.”

  Logan growled peevishly. Would they never get past that damnable kiss?

  Voices rose behind them, and Logan whirled around. The security team was settling into place. He headed towards the voices, not surprised to find the lieutenant matching his stride. As they walked, he reminded his brain that playing mind tag served no purpose. To protect Sonny, he needed concrete answers. That don’t get us killed, his inner voice added. Was it time to reveal David’s obsession with Pandora? The longer he held back the information, the better chance there was that the lieutenant would believe David Blake had become paranoiac in recent months, rather than focused on a real threat.

  He frowned. He should have put two and two together on the mesa, but he had been gulled by the mouse’s tits and legs. And that was dangerous. A
n agent who didn’t attend to business got people hurt. Or ended up in hospital beds, his inner voice reminded him. The thought set his teeth on edge so much that he began plucking at his shirt collar. We need a shower badly, he told his alter ego. Sleep wouldn’t hurt, either. Reaching the foyer, the lieutenant finally spoke.

  “Because of the knife embedded in David’s back, his autopsy should be quick and easy. But I wonder if there’ll be a surprise we aren’t expecting?”

  “In my line of work, there’s always one more surprise, Lieutenant.” Logan saw the lieutenant’s frown and purposely changed the subject. “How important is Sonny to The Sanctuary if she doesn’t hold shares?”

  The lieutenant wrinkled his brow, unperturbed by the sudden change of thought. “She has no proxy, can’t vote. Doesn’t seem likely she’s a threat.”

  “Is it possible she might inherit the retreat now that her father’s dead?”

  “Good Lord; that would make her a sitting duck.”

  “Relax. Blake was silenced for what he wanted to reveal to her. It’s possible our killer thinks he’s already revealed it to Sonny.”

  “Then why not set the entire hacienda on fire, instead of burning out one small computer?”

  Logan sucked in his bottom lip. It was time to reveal David’s suspicions.

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Lieutenant,” he remarked. “David left Sonny a note on the mesa warning he was in danger and so was she.”

  The lieutenant blanched at the news. “How long were you going to withhold that piece of information from me?”

  “Until it was time to give it up,” Logan answered calmly.

  “What did the note say?” the lieutenant prodded.

  “That Sonny should access his computer as soon as possible.”

  The lieutenant’s head whipped around. “That’s why she was so anxious to return to Serenity. She accessed David’s files.”

  “And almost got fried in the process,” Logan said. “My instincts tell me there’s something in Sonny’s past that people will do anything to keep buried.”

  “Perhaps Sykes’ accident last year wasn’t really an accident, either.”

  “I’m working on that connection.”

  “What else are you keeping from me?”

  “Sonny insists that David’s death is related to the murders I’m currently investigating. When she touched the knife—”

  The lieutenant cut him off, his anger palpable. “You let Sonny contaminate a crime scene—taint evidence?

  “Not on purpose. She reached for the knife. I tried to stop her. Her skill set off, and we were flung into a vision of some damn therapy session.”

  “You entered one of her visions?”

  “Yes, but don’t ask how or why because no explanation would be believable.”

  The lieutenant raked his fingers through his hair, and by the look on his face, Logan knew he was battling a war with his conscience.

  “I oughta haul your ass off to jail,” he finally muttered. “If you’re the best that Meta Corps has to offer, this country is in serious trouble.”

  Logan laughed at the slur. “I’m the best of the best, Lieutenant,” he countered. “You’d do well to remember that when you find yourself having to play outside the law to solve this case.”

  “I’m an honest, hard-working employee, Reed.” The lieutenant smirked. “A rent-a-cop with scruples.”

  “Good for you. Now, besides calling Meta Corps, do you think you can finagle Sonny’s medical records for me? I’ve read her Meta Corps file, of course, but as you know, the agency is only interested in her empathic skills. They could care less how they first started.” Logan reached for a cigarette and pulled the stick out. He tapped the tip on the back of his hand, hearing Sonny’s voice suddenly tripping through his head. No smoking! He pocketed the stub again and threw the lieutenant a lopsided grin. “Sonny’s a bitch about smoking inside.”

  “Outside, too. You can’t preach a healthy lifestyle to your guests if they run outside every hour to have a smoke. It defeats the purpose of living well.”

  Logan grunted and then eyed the lieutenant. “I have every intention of marrying Sonny when this fiasco is through,” he stated. The lieutenant’s expression switched to shock, which had Logan hiding a grin. “Just thought you should know.”

  “Love at first sight, eh?”

  “Followed by lust at first sight.” The earlier image of the pair having sex flitted through Logan’s mind. He pushed the empathic memory away rapidly. He’d not go there just yet. However, when this debacle was over, he would make putting his life together a number-one priority. He couldn’t ask Sonny to marry a broken-down screw-up. She deserved better than that. For a brief moment, Logan wished he had Sonny’s power to touch a person and view the contents of their mind. He’d love to know whether the vision of them having sex was pleasing to her. The lieutenant’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Now that we're in a confession mode, you should know that I was personally hired by Blake to keep an eye on Sonny. He feared some lunatic would attempt to use her skills for something unsavory.”

  A smile crossed Logan’s face. “Do I detect a threat in that statement?”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Men have always found Sonny attractive; however, up to this point, she has made sure the attraction goes no further than the front door, and never into the bedroom.”

  Logan gave a crusty laugh. “I’ll see what I can do to alter that.”

  The lieutenant chuckled. He pointed left. “So how come you’re out here, and she’s in there?”

  “Because the sooner I find the bastard who wants to kill her, the sooner I can focus entirely on getting her to fall in love with me.” The remark produced a smirk from Cutter.

  “Subtlety is certainly not your style, Reed.”

  “So, you’ll give me access to her records?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call Sonny in the morning, though, to verify that she’s okay with the release.”

  “She’ll agree,” Logan said arrogantly.

  Another laugh echoed, and a hand descended on Logan’s shoulder.

  “Watch out, my friend. Sonny’s a tiger when riled. If you toy with her emotions and then end up screwing her over, she’ll have your balls for dinner.”

  Logan let a tired grin escape. “Though it pains me to say it, Lieutenant, I love the damn wench.”

  The hand lifted from his shoulder. “What’s your next move?”

  Logan brushed his stubbly chin. “A shower and sleep—in that order.”

  “In your own bed, I hope.”

  “Can it, Lieutenant. You’re making me blush.”

  The lieutenant clapped Logan on the shoulder again. “I’ll make that call for you as soon as I get back to the security office.”

  Logan nodded, glad to let Cutter do all the legwork for him. When the door closed behind him, he whirled around and headed for the room next to Sonny’s. Five minutes later, he was enjoying a scalding hot shower and tamping down the urge to dash next door and have sex with the most gorgeous mouse he had ever met.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Taking a quick sip of coffee, Sonny’s gaze swept the landscape beyond the terrace. It was almost sunrise, and the sky was draped in gorgeous yellow and orange streaks. Most days, she loved watching the rays cascade over the mountaintops, but this morning the sight had an eerie quality to it, as if the streaks were strands of unwanted ectoplasm heading her way.

  She shivered at the thought. What had the obnoxious toad done after she left the room last night? Obviously he wasn’t worried about anything happening to her. Only one security guard lounged in the foyer. He had also left her in Consuela’s capable hands, which proved what she already knew. Toads and mice never mixed; they simply coexisted.

  She took another sip of coffee, her gaze softening as she realized the toad’s luggage had been delivered to her home. Who had authorized the transfer? The toad himself? She wouldn’t put it p
ast him. Had a good night’s sleep in her guest bedroom recharged his Meta Corps skills and readied him for whatever battle awaited them today?

  “How long have you been up?”

  The question startled Sonny so much that she almost dropped the mug in her hand. She whirled around, spotting Logan walking out onto the terrace. She studied his appearance as he came. He had shaved, showered, and donned clean clothes, and like the first time they’d met, she could smell the manly scent of his aftershave. He walked quietly, too; in fact, everything about his demeanor was quiet—except for his ego.

  “I’ve just finished dressing,” Sonny answered. “Did you find everything to your liking in the guest suite? A comfortable bed? Fluffy towels? Bath soap?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, and she didn’t know why she was taunting him. You’re mad that he didn’t come to our room, buck naked, her inner voice supplied.

  “Soften your tone,” he said, reaching her. “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet.” He took the mug from her gloved fingers and drained the contents. He handed the mug back with a grin. “That hit the spot.”

  “What happened after you sent me to my room?” Sonny asked, getting right to the point.

  He chucked her nose. “I stayed and filled Lieutenant Cutter in on our touching the knife and your father’s suspicions.”

  Sonny bristled. “You told him about Pandora, too, I suppose,” she groused. When he didn’t deny it, she suppressed the urge to box his ears. “Are you insane? I thought we agreed to tell him together.”

  He gave a fractured growl in return. “I dropped hints, nothing more. Besides, we were treading on dangerous ground by keeping pertinent information from him.”

  Hearing the censure, an army of snakes began to coil in Sonny’s stomach. “I suppose he threatened to jail us,” she said.

  “You suppose wrong. He threatened to jail me. He’s too fond of you to upset you in that way.”

  Sonny whirled back to the landscape, her gaze grazing the desert scrub below. She ran her fingers around the rim of the mug. “He will blame me for the tampering, though,” she stated. “We’re friends, and friends should always be honest with each other.”