“This is television,” Wesley said. “We don’t have to prove anything. All we need to do is come up with a convincing theory of the crime that’s strong enough to cast doubt on the original findings. Hell, we’ll be doing a public service. At the very least, we can force regular law enforcement to take a closer look at some cold cases.”
“How do you intend to decide what cases warrant a Dead of Night investigation?”
“That’s where you come in. Your job will be to come up with the right cases. Shouldn’t be too hard. Once the word gets out online that I’m looking for reports of deaths that are unexplained or are in some way suspicious, we’ll be flooded with leads.”
“I can’t help you, Wesley.”
But he was not paying attention now. Dazzled by his own brilliance, he plowed forward.
“We’ll start right here in Wilby,” he announced. “We’ll investigate Evelyn’s death.”
Gwen stared at him. “What?”
“It’s perfect.” He flung up both hands, palms out. “Paranormal researcher slain by dark forces unleashed in her secret lab.”
“Forget it.” Evelyn’s ghost had been right, she thought. Wesley wanted to use her death as an episode on the show.
“After the first show, the lab will become the permanent set for Dead of Night,” he continued. “All of our future investigations will launch from there. I have to get back inside the lodge as soon as possible and take a closer look. Word in town is that you inherited that as well as her house. We could run over there right now.”
“No.”
That stopped Wesley. His face fell. “She didn’t leave the lab to you? But everyone is saying—”
Gwen got to her feet. “The lab is mine, but I won’t allow you turn Evelyn’s death into an episode for your series.”
Wesley stood. “You think she was murdered. This is your chance to prove it.”
“Law enforcement and courts require hard evidence. No one is going to pay any attention to an investigation run by a bunch of television psychics.”
She started toward the door.
Wesley lunged after her. He seized her upper arm, forcing her to stop.
“I need Evelyn’s list of psychics,” he said. “I’ll pay you for it. Name your price.”
She glanced down at his hand. “Let me go.”
“Listen to me, damn it, you can’t walk away. There’s too much at stake here.”
Gwen sensed the flood of icy energy an instant before she heard Judson’s cold voice.
“Take your hands off her,” he said.
Gwen felt the shock that snapped through Wesley. His hand dropped away. He stepped back so quickly he bumped into a nearby table. He glared at Judson.
“Don’t you dare threaten me, Coppersmith,” he said. “I’m trying to talk to Gwen. She works for me, damn it. I’ve got a right.”
Judson ignored him. He looked at Gwen.
“Finished in here?” he asked.
The banked embers of a glacial fire still burned in his eyes. Heads were turning in the lobby. At the front desk, Riley Duncan was frowning.
Trisha Montgomery appeared from the back office. “Is there a problem?” she asked. The question was coolly polite, but there was steel in her eyes. “Gwen?”
“It’s all right, Trisha,” Gwen said quickly.
The situation was deteriorating. She knew that she had to separate the two men as fast as possible.
“Wesley and I have finished our business discussion,” she said to Judson. “And the last thing we need is a scene,” she added in low tones as she whisked past him.
She held her breath, but in the end Judson reluctantly turned away from his prey and followed her. They climbed the stairs in silence. Wesley stalked out of the tearoom, crossed the lobby and went outside to get into his car. Trisha returned to her office. Riley went back to work. The guests picked up their books and magazines.
On the third floor, Judson unlocked Gwen’s door. She walked into the room. Max was ensconced in the center of the bed. He got to his feet to greet her. She crossed the room to rub his head.
Judson closed the door and stood with his back to it.
“What was going on down there?” he asked.
“Don’t look now, but we may have some competition in the psychic detective business.” Gwen sank down onto the side of the bed. “Wesley wants to fire up a new TV series focused on solving real cold case crimes using a team of genuine psychics as investigators. But you know how hard it is to find real talent.”
Comprehension heated Judson’s eyes. “He wants Evelyn’s records of the Ballinger Study so that he can use them to find genuine psychics. He was the one who searched her study before we got there.”
“Yes.” Gwen planted her hands behind her on the quilt and braced herself. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was planning to go into the psychic investigation business myself.”
“The field is getting crowded,” Judson said. He glanced at his watch and went to stand at the window, looking out into the woods. “We have some time. How long would it take?”
“How long would what take?” she asked.
He turned his head to look at her. “You said you could help me find what I’m looking for in my recurring dream. How long would it take?”
She stilled. “Not long.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyes burned. “Dad said that a man would really have to trust a woman before he let her put him into a trance. I told you earlier that I trust you.”
“But you still don’t like the idea of needing dream therapy.”
His smile was rueful. “You know me well, don’t you, Dream Eyes?”
“Think of me as a repair person. Some people fix plumbing. I fix dreams.”
“You have a gift, an incredible talent,” he said. “What you do is amazing.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Walk through my dreams, partner. Help me find what I need to find.”
“All right, but I have to warn you, I need context first,” she said.
“I knew you were going to say that. Am I good or what?”
“You’re good. Talk to me, Judson.”
Thirty-seven
He needed answers, and it wasn’t like he was having any luck getting them on his own, Judson thought. Time to call in the services of an expert. Gwen was one hell of a talent. And he trusted her.