There were always secrets aplenty in old houses and the Vantara mansion was no exception. Traces of psi fog swirled in the hallway. Layer upon layer of wispy mists indicated decades of small, private secrets that were nobody's business but that of the individuals who harbored them. Isabella suppressed her awareness of the old radiation and concentrated on the newer mysteries. As usual in a space that had been well traveled, there was a great deal of fog, including some very hot stuff that she recognized as having been left by the hunter.
"Nothing here that looks like it ever had any connection to your broker," she said.
Fallon consulted the map. "According to the team, he entered the mansion on a regularly scheduled tour. All the tours start in the Grand Hall."
"To the left," Julian said.
He led the way around the corner and down a long, high-ceilinged corridor paneled in rich, dark hardwood.
Isabella lowered her senses, not wanting to waste energy that she might need later for more nuanced detective work. Still, even when perceived with only a fraction of her talent, there was an abundance of fog to wade through. There were no such things as ghosts, but sometimes she wondered if down through the centuries, others endowed with her kind of talent had started the rumors of spirits from the Other Side. It was easy enough to imagine phantoms in the eerie light.
She followed Fallon and Julian through another doorway and into a heavy sea of fog.
"Whoa." She stopped abruptly, adjusting her senses down another notch. "This, I take it, is the Grand Hall?"
Even in darkness lit only by moonlight slanting through high, Gothic-style windows and the two thin beams of the flashlights, the vast space glowed with gilded splendor. The walls were hung with huge ancient tapestries depicting medieval hunting scenes. Marble tiles covered the floor. Heavy, ornate furniture adorned the room. Couches and chairs covered in velvet and embroidered brocades were arranged in groupings around tables inset with lapis and malachite. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
"We know for certain that the broker was in this room," Julian said. "He was seen entering. He exited the house with the rest of the tour group through the kitchens."
"There's a high probability that your broker had some serious talent in order to survive as long as he did in his line of work," Fallon said. He studied the cavernous space, keeping his flashlight aimed at the marble-tiled floor and the richly woven rugs. "Probably a strategy-talent or an intuitive."
"He definitely had some juice," Julian agreed, "although he seemed unaware of it."
"Strats and intuitives often take their psychic side for granted," Fallon said absently. He crossed the room to examine a wall of glass-fronted bookcases. "Their abilities don't strike them or those around them as unusual unless they are extremely powerful."
"If he did have some talent, he would have been jacked when he entered this hall," Isabella said.
"Right." Fallon aimed the beam of the flashlight at a gilded red lacquer console table. "He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous. There would have been a lot of adrenaline, and that means his senses would have bounced sky-high."
"Which would heat up the fog," Isabella said.
Julian frowned. "What fog?"
"Never mind," Isabella said. "Just give me a minute to take a closer look." She opened her senses slowly. "Sheesh. There's a ton of energy in here."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Julian demanded.
"This place gets half a million visitors a year, according to the brochure," Fallon said.
"Well, no wonder the mist is so thick," she said. "There's so much stuff in this house that anything smaller than a refrigerator would be hard to find unless you knew where to look."
"Damn it, Isabella," Julian said. "Can you handle this or not?"
"Oh, shut up, Julian," she said. "I don't work for you anymore, remember? I'm a J&J investigator now."
Fallon's shadowed smile bordered on the macabre.
Julian shut up.
Isabella ignored them both and concentrated on calibrating her senses. She tuned out the older fog, concentrating on the brighter, more recent traces. Then she refined the search further, looking for only the very hot, icy light that she had detected on the broker's computer.
And suddenly, there it was, the unique trail of searing fog that could only have been laid down by the broker.
"Got it," she said softly. "You're right, Fallon, he was running very hot. He was definitely nervous but mostly he was excited, thrilled."
"No surprise there," Julian said. "It was probably the biggest deal of his career."
Fallon watched Isabella. "You're in charge here. We'll follow you."
"This way," she said, confident now that she had the trail.
She went quickly up the wide, curving staircase at the far end of the Grand Hall to the second floor. The river of fog flowed along another paneled passageway, past rooms and chambers and alcoves that gleamed and glowed and glittered in the shadows.
"Wouldn't want to have to pay the utilities bill for this place," she said.
"It would be the salaries for the staff required to maintain the mansion that would ruin you financially," Fallon observed.
"Could you two try to stay focused here?" Julian muttered.
Isabella ignored him. So did Fallon.
She followed the searing mist down another hallway, past a large ballroom. She hated to admit it, but at times like this she did feel a little like a dog that had picked up the scent. Fallon's words floated through her head. Born to hunt. Somehow that made her talent sound a lot more impressive.
She rounded another corner and came to a halt. Fallon and Julian stopped behind her.
"What do you see?" Julian asked urgently.
She studied the energy on the carpet. "He went into this room," she said. "But the others on the tour did not."
Fallon aimed his flashlight at the doorway of the room. A velvet rope blocked the entrance. "He hung back, waited until the tour group had moved on and then he ducked under the rope."
"Looks like it," Isabella said.
Julian moved to stand beside Fallon. Together they speared the shadows with their penlights.
Isabella stood on tiptoe behind the men, trying to peer past the barricade created by their broad shoulders.
"How sweet," she said. "It's a little girl's bedroom."
"Vantara had a daughter," Julian said. "She inherited this place. Couldn't afford to maintain it so she sold it to the historical foundation that runs the tours."