“How?” she whispered.
“I think Quinn gave her a lethal injection.”
A sick horror, followed by a tide of guilt, rose inside her, threatening to make her ill.
“Nothing came up in the autopsy,” she reminded him, trying to quell another tsunami of guilt.
“There are a lot of drugs that can trigger a heart attack and leave no trace. Remember, Lawrence Quinn was an expert on meds. He also knew how they affect people with strong parapsych profiles.”
“You’re sure he gave her something?”
“I saw his hand,” Zack said quietly. “Sensed the syringe in it. I could feel his anticipation of the kill. He was…excited.”
Tears leaked out of her eyes. “Dear heaven. He enjoyed killing her?”
“No. When I said excited, I meant jacked up. He was very, very nervous. Scared that someone would catch him, probably. But I could tell that he was also thrilled because he believed he had gotten whatever it was he wanted from Vella. The combination of emotions was so strong they left a lot of residue on the bed railing.”
“But what could he possibly have wanted from her?”
“I don’t know but I got the impression that he killed her to protect the secret, whatever it was. He didn’t want to risk that she might tell someone else what she told him.”
She blinked back more tears.
“Are you okay?” Zack asked.
“Not really.” She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. “But whatever he gave her obviously didn’t work right away. The orderly said Aunt Vella was calm after Quinn left.”
“I think that’s true. I got no sensation of resistance. Vella didn’t fight back. In fact, she seemed to welcome the injection. Quinn must have tricked her, convinced her that whatever he was giving her would help her.”
“She wouldn’t have been able to pick up any warning signals on the psychic plane because her clairaudient talents had all disappeared,” Raine said. Sadness mingled with the guilt, roiling her insides. “On top of that, even her normal senses were probably dulled because of her regular medications. She had no natural defenses left at all.”
The night seemed to grow heavier and darker, closing around the moving car.
“There’s something else,” Zack said. “Something that may be very, very important.”
“What?”
“I picked up a hospital pen. It was like touching a live electrical wire. Female energy.”
“Aunt Vella’s?”
“I think so. Whoever it was sensed that she was dying. She was desperately trying to leave a message for someone she loved.”
Stunned, she twisted around in the seat. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be.” He flexed one hand on the wheel in a small gesture of irritation. “You know how it works.”
“Not as well as you do,” she reminded him. “I haven’t had the advantage of all that fancy Arcane Society research, remember?”
“I told you, our brand of psychic talent is hardwired to our sense of intuition. On some unconscious level we interpret the energy we pick up and translate it into the images that I see and the voices you hear. But as is the case with any interpretation or translation, there’s room for nuance and outright error.”
“Nuance,” she repeated evenly.
His fingers tightened on the wheel but when he accelerated through the intersection, the car moved smoothly, under full control. “Always plenty of room for nuance and misinterpretation.”
She knew then that he was thinking about how he had allowed himself to be deceived by his fiancée.
“Do you think it’s likely that you didn’t translate the nuances correctly in this case?” she asked.
“No. I think your aunt aroused briefly from the effects of the drug that Quinn gave her. Dr. Ogilvey told us that she received her evening meds around ten o’clock and that she died less than two hours later. Her regular drugs may have temporarily counteracted the effects of the injection. Or maybe the sense of impending death produced a burst of adrenaline. It happens that way sometimes. Whatever the cause, she managed to get up and find a pen.”
“Did she actually write a note to me?”
“That’s the part I can’t be sure of because what I picked up was her absolute determination to write some kind of message.” He hesitated, thinking. “But there was also a trace of overwhelming relief in the mix. She believed that she had succeeded. I can tell you that much.”
“But there was no message. Gordon and Andrew would have noticed it when they collected her things that night.”
“Would have been easy to overlook a small piece of notepaper lying on the table,” he said.
She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Or the message might have been meaningless gibberish that made sense to her disordered mind but not to anyone else.”
“In which case it would have wound up in the trash.”
“Yes.”
They both fell silent for a while.
“What happened to the things that Gordon and Andrew took away from her room?” Zack asked eventually.
“They kept the items that they knew would have sentimental significance to me. Everything else was thrown away.”
“Where did they put the stuff they saved?”
She tensed a little, thinking about the task she had put off for the past few weeks. “They’re in a box at Gordon and Andrew’s house. To tell you the truth, I haven’t been able to gear myself up to go through her things. It’s been hard enough just dealing with the paperwork and the legal side of death.”
“I understand.” He shifted gears. “I assume you have a key to Gordon and Andrew’s place?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Know where the box is stored?”
She braced herself for what she knew was coming. “You want to pick it up tonight, don’t you?”
“We’re fighting time here, Raine.”
“I know.” She rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “I’ve got the key with me on my ring.”
Zack cradled her in his arms while she used her key to open the front door to the house. Then he moved into the hall with her so she could punch in the code that deactivated the alarm system.
“You don’t have to carry me around, you know,” she said, reaching out to switch on a light.
“I like carrying you around.” He settled her into a chair. “Stay here while I get something to ice that ankle.”