“I’ll think about it,” Gwen promised.

“Do that,” Wesley advised. “But do it fast. I’ll give you the same salary that I gave Evelyn. We both know that between the research and the scriptwriting, you’ll make a hell of a lot more than you will in the psychic counseling business.”

“I know,” Gwen said. She studied him with an assessing expression. “How long do you plan to be in town?”

“I’ve got to get back to Portland tonight to catch a plane to California first thing in the morning. We’re filming all day tomorrow. But you can reach me on my cell. Call anytime, day or night. I’ll need an answer soon, Gwen.”

“I understand.”

Wesley hesitated. “Do you have any idea what she was working on there at the end?”

“No. She never sent me any notes. Usually the two of us batted around ideas for a show before we settled on a couple that we thought would work for you. But I hadn’t heard from her in nearly two weeks.”

“If you find anything connected to Dead when you go through her files, let me know.”

“All right,” Gwen said.

“It’s weird,” Wesley said. “The last time I spoke to her—about a week ago before she stopped taking my calls—I got the impression that she was working on something really big. You’re sure she didn’t drop any hints?”

“None.”

“Well, that’s it, then. Shit.” Wesley’s jaw hardened. “I’m dead serious about my offer, Gwen. Evelyn would have wanted you to take over her job. Think of it as carrying on her legacy of research into the paranormal. And I can guarantee you that the money is good.”

“I promise I’ll think about it.” Gwen took one hand out of her jacket pocket and glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. You’ll have to excuse us, Wesley. Judson and I have some business to attend to.”

“Yeah, right. Business.” Wesley shot Judson a narrow-eyed look and then jerked open the door of a nearby car. He got behind the wheel and looked up at Gwen.

“Don’t forget,” he said. “If you turn up that last research file she was working on, call me.”

“Okay,” Gwen said. “But I can tell you right now that it was probably on her computer and her computer is missing.”

“Shit.” Wesley slammed the door and fired up the car.

Judson watched the vehicle roar out of the parking lot.

“Guess we can’t add him to our suspect list,” Judson said. “Sounds like he depended on Ballinger to keep his show on the air.”

“She was certainly important to him,” Gwen said. “So it doesn’t seem like he would have had a motive. Also, if I’m right, Evelyn was killed by paranormal means. That means it’s practically impossible that Wesley killed her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve known Wesley since the days of the Ballinger study. I’m almost positive that he doesn’t have any strong psychic talent. Heck, he doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. He just thinks it makes good television.”

“Okay, that explains a few things.” Judson took her arm and steered her toward his black SUV. “First things first. Let’s go have a look at the scene and find out whether or not we’re dealing with murder and, if so, whether it was murder by paranormal means. We’ll figure out what to do from there.”

“Well, actually, first things first means a stop at the Wilby General Store before it closes. I’ve got a cat to feed.”

“Fine. Cat food first. Then the murder investigation.”

He discovered he liked holding her arm. He liked it a lot. When he opened the passenger-side door of the vehicle, Gwen paused, glancing at his hand.

“Your ring,” she said.

“What about it?”

“It’s infused with a little energy. It’s a paranormal crystal like the one your brother, Sam, wears, isn’t it?”

Judson glanced at his ring. The amber crystal was faintly luminous. The stone was responding to his slightly jacked senses,

“Yes, it’s hot,” he said. “My father gave it to me when I was in my late teens. Sam and Emma got crystals as well. They’re each unique.”

He used his grip on Gwen’s elbow to give her a boost up into the passenger seat, closed the door and walked around the front of the SUV to the driver’s side. He took another look at the ring. The crystal had been infused with energy that night in Seattle when he’d contemplated the possibility of getting Gwen into bed. It was hot again tonight. Probably for the same reason. He got a little rush just thinking about her. Being physically near her was a real ride.

Over the years, he had learned that the crystal resonated with the energy of his talent. When he was really in the zone, the stone glowed like molten amber. The ultra-light it gave off, however, was from the paranormal end of the spectrum. Only someone who was sensitive to psi could perceive the heat in the crystal.

He’d noticed energy stirring on several occasions in the crystal. But until he had met Gwen, it had never heated with this unique color. It was the glow of sunlight, he thought, the same light that had guided him out of the flooded caves.

He opened the door, got behind the wheel, cranked the big engine and drove out of the small parking lot.

“Want to tell me what made you decide to give Thor the impression that you and I are sleeping together?” he asked.

There was a short, startled pause from the other side of the vehicle.

“Thor?” Gwen repeated, as if she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.

“Sorry.” He shifted gears. “I think it’s the hair.”

She smiled. “Wesley does have a certain sense of style.” She stopped smiling. “But I certainly never meant to imply that you and I were romantically involved. Are you sure that’s how it came across?”

He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Oh, yeah.”

“Are you positive?”

“Call it male intuition,” he said.

“I wasn’t trying to project that sort of impression, believe me. I just wanted him to know that I had—”

“Backup?”

“Yes, backup.” She was clearly pleased. “That’s the right word.”

“Why?”

“Wesley can be a trifle obsessive when it comes to his show. I don’t want him interfering with our investigation.”

“Do you think that he would?”

“Ha. In a heartbeat if he thought it might be fodder for an episode of Dead of Night. What could be more made-to-order than an investigation into the mysterious death of a woman who conducted research into the paranormal?”

“Is his series really popular?”

“It has attracted an audience on cable, but between you and me, I think it’s struggling,” Gwen said. “You can only do so many ghost stories, you know. After a while, they all tend to be alike. Evelyn and I did our best, but it’s hard to keep coming up with new angles.”

“Especially since there are no such things as ghosts.”

“That fact was the least of our problems,” Gwen said. “Between us, Evelyn and I did a good job of coming up with interesting locations and good scripts because we focused on genuine murders. We stuck with the really old ones, of course—historical mysteries.”

“The kind where everyone involved is long dead.”

“Right. The last thing we wanted to do was get sued by irate relatives of the deceased. Anyhow, once we had the mystery and the location, I just invented a ghost for the story. No problem.”

“Or have to wonder if you should go to the cops with whatever evidence you found?”

She glanced at him swiftly and then looked straight ahead through the windshield. “There would be no point going to the police in most cases. They wouldn’t pay any attention to a psychic counselor.”

“No, probably not. But you’re okay with the real cold cases?”

“Yes.” Gwen brightened. “I view them as fascinating puzzles. To tell you the truth, I think that Evelyn and I solved a lot of very old murders for Dead of Night, but of course there’s no way to prove it.”

“Because everyone involved is dead.”

“Yep.”

“Were you telling Wesley the truth when you said that you didn’t have any idea what Evelyn was working on recently?”

“That was the absolute truth,” Gwen said. “I’ve been busy with my clients and finishing an earlier script for Dead. I hadn’t heard from Evelyn in a while, but that wasn’t unusual. I just assumed she was consumed with her research. When she got caught up in a project, she became very, very focused.”

“Are you talking about her research for Dead of Night?”

“No,” Gwen said. “She just took that job to pay the bills. Her real passion was serious research into the paranormal. She set up an entire lab out at the old lodge near the falls. That’s where she spent most of her time.”

“When was the last time you heard from her?”

“I got a very cryptic e-mail message from her late last night telling me that she had stumbled onto something very important. She wanted to talk about it in person, not over the phone.” Gwen looked out the side window at the river. “But I didn’t read my e-mail until this morning. I tried to call her immediately, but by then it was too late.”

He caught the faint tremor in her voice.

“There was nothing you could have done,” he said quietly.

“I know.” Gwen trapped her hands between her knees and continued to stare out the window at the river. “I know.”

Brooding on what ifs never went well, he thought. He should know. The solution, he had learned, was to stay focused on the present.

“Let’s stick with what we have,” he said. “You’re thinking that if Ballinger was murdered, there may be a connection to whatever she was working on just before her death.”

“Yes.” Gwen turned back to look at him. “You heard me tell Wesley that her computer was missing. Her cell phone was gone, too.”