Abby looked at Gwen over the top of her glass. “Having met Sam Coppersmith, yes, I believe that theory.”
“You do realize that there’s a lot of money in the Coppersmithfamily,”Gwen said ominously. “With money comes the kind of power it takes to make sure someone in the family does not go down for murder.”
“Your cynical side is showing, Gwen.”
“It’s my best side. Is this Sam Coppersmith a real private investigator?”
“He described himself as a technical consultant.”
“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Gwen said.
“But I do think he’s the best man for the job.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Because this situation involves a very hot book, and I need an investigator who at least takes the paranormal seriously. Not a lot of those floating around, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides, you know as well as I do that Thaddeus Webber would never have sent me to Coppersmith if he had believed there was a better option.”
“Point taken.” Gwen sat back. “Have you received any more email from the blackmailer?”
“No, thank goodness. But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“I’ve had a really weird dream two nights in a row. They both featured Grady Hastings.”
Gwen frowned. “The crazy guy who staged that home invasion in your client’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not surprising that you would have some bad dreams for a while. That was a very frightening situation.”
“True, but what is freaking me out about the dreams is that I’ve started sleepwalking. I’ve never done that in my life.”
“There is nothing unstable about your talent,” Gwen said, “if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“You’re the one who told me that a disturbance in the dreamstate can be an early indication of serious problems with the para-senses.”
“It’s true, but that kind of disturbance is visible in the aura. You’re fine.”
Abby framed the base of her glass in a triangle formed by her thumbs and forefingers. “Take a look. Please.”
“Okay, okay.”
Gwen heightened her talent. Abby felt energy shiver gently in the atmosphere. A few feet away, a middle-aged businessman who was slouched on a bar stool suddenly turned his head and looked around, as though searching for someone or something. Abby knew that he had felt the tingle of psi in the vicinity but probably did not know what it was that had lifted the hairs on the nape of his neck. Over in the corner, a redheaded stylist drinking a cosmopolitan glanced uneasily around the room before turning back to her colleagues.
Abby waited while Gwen did her thing. After a couple of minutes, the energy level in the atmosphere receded.
“I’m not picking up any bad vibes,” Gwen said. “Just the indications of stress that I’ve mentioned before. There is some deepening in the intensity of ultralight coming from the hot end of the spectrum, but nothing alarming. I didn’t see anything that I associate with instability of the para-senses. Also, for the record, I didn’t see the kind of dreamlight that is associated with regular sleepwalking.”
“Then what in the world is going on?”
“I’ve tried to explain to you that what happened to you in the Vaughn library was the equivalent of a category-five hurricane, as far as your para-senses are concerned. You channeled an enormous amount of volatile energy. For heaven’s sake, you managed to render a man unconscious. There was bound to be some blowback, to say nothing of the fact that you could have been killed that day. You need to give yourself time to recover from the shock.”
“I can’t continue sleepwalking,” Abby said. “What if I open the sliding glass doors and decide to take a walk off the balcony?”
“Calm down. You’re not going to do that. Your para-senses would kick in fast if you tried to do anything that might put your life in danger.”
“You have more faith in my senses than I do.”
