So we should reverse our positions.
She moved to his back and clasped her hands around his waist.
CHAPTERTWELVE
From his position behind a tree, Gabe surveyed what he could only think of as the Langston estate. There was a wide lawn leading down a gentle slope to a wood lot that gave him cover.
The house occupying pride of place at the top of the hill was probably a couple of hundred years old, but the exterior was freshly painted. In back and to the side was what he took to be an old carriage house, converted into a garage and probably converted again into her studio. The woman he’d encountered in St. Stephens must be doing pretty well with her painted furniture, even if she had inherited the property from her parents.
He’d picked up that information from one of the articles he found about her—both in the local Frederick paper and in a couple of art magazines. He’d had his phone read them to him on the way over. He knew a lot about her background and her artistic talents, but he still had no idea why she’d been recklessly heading for Carson’s boat. And then there was that intriguing line about “one of the men who killed him.”
As he moved from tree to tree, getting closer to the house, he saw her come outside carrying a two-step metal stool, the kind that was dangerous to use because there was nothing to hang onto when you stepped on top.
She set it in the driveway several yards from the house and the workshop. Once it was in place, she opened a plastic grocery bag she was carrying and pulled out a can that had probably held some tomato product, judging from the red color. After taking several steps back, she stood oddly, and he would have sworn that someone was behind her, holding on to her, but there was no one else in the scene. She stood still, her focus on the can. As far as he could tell, her arms remained at her side, and her eyes were locked on the can. From the look of intense concentration on her face, it seemed like she was putting considerable effort into something—focusing mental energy on some difficult task.
For long moments, nothing happened, but then it looked like a beam of light shot out from...somewhere...and struck the can. It started to glow, then leaped into the air like a jolt of electricity had struck it. As it shot upward, she pressed her hands to her face, looking shocked that anything had happened. In the next moment, the can clattered to the blacktop.
Jesus! What the hell was that?
He watched her get a rake and push the can out of the way, before pulling another one from the grocery bag and setting it on the step stool and moving back to where she’d been stationed earlier. Only this time her stance was completely different. There was no one standing in front of her, yet her arms were raised in a circle at waist height as though she had locked them around another person. But there was nobody out here besides her and Gabe. Even stranger, she leaned to the side as though she had to look around the person she was holding to see the can.
What the hell? He stepped out from behind the tree to get a better look at whatever weird scenario was being played out.
The same attitude of concentration was on her face, until it was replaced suddenly by a look of shock and alarm.
“No, don’t,” she shouted.
Seconds later something struck Gabe in the solar plexus. He doubled over, and as he went down, he blacked out.
* * *
“Travis, what have you done?”Olivia shouted as she ran toward the man who was lying on the ground. As she got closer, she saw that it was the guy from St. Stephens who’d said he was a detective.
She could feel Travis behind her as she dropped to her knees beside the fallen man. His eyes were closed, his face was deathly white, and his breath was shallow.
I spotted him...sneaking up on us. I just reacted.
You might have killed him—or,” she lifted one shoulder. “Or worse,” she added aloud.
“When you screamed, you pulled back your power, and I did too. I think I just stunned him.”
“Hopefully. But we can’t leave him out here.” She gave the supine figure a long look. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can get him to the house by myself.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“How?”
“Lift his shoulders. I’ll do his feet.”
“You can do that?”
“I think so, now that we’ve done that trick with the fireballs.”
She bent to take the unconscious man by the shoulders. At the same time, his feet and legs lifted. Travis took more of the weight, and it was like the two of them were carrying the guy. Still, it was a struggle to get up the hill. Luckily, Olivia had left the kitchen door open, so that they didn’t have to put down their burden when they got to the house. They carried him into the living room and laid him on the modern sectional sofa that she had bought when she’d redecorated the house.
Olivia went to get a blanket, and by the time she was back, their visitor was looking more normal.
“Maybe he just needs to sleep,” she said, as she covered him with a blanket.
