The para-enhancement elixir had also proved to be exceedingly dangerous, its effects wildly unpredictable. Those who had tried it had, indeed, developed frighteningly powerful psychic abilities. But they had also become obsessed with the drug. Inevitably the formula had transformed its users into ruthless, psychically enhanced, highly unstable sociopaths.
Despite the risks, however, it seemed that in every generation some power-hungry sensitive came along who would stop at nothing to re-create the founder’s formula. Whenever that happened it was understood that it was J&J’s job to deal with the problem.
In some instances, the person intent on obtaining the formula was merely an unbalanced eccentric or someone who had become fixated on the legend of Sylvester Jones. Generally speaking such individuals did not get far before J&J stepped in to deal with the problem.
But this latest situation was different. The information that had filtered in thus far suggested that they were dealing with a highly disciplined, carefully structured, utterly ruthless organization. In fact it had all the earmarks of a full-blown conspiracy along the lines of the First Cabal.
The cabal was another Arcane Society legend, and, like the story of the founder’s formula, it was based on more than a nugget of truth. The original conspiracy formed in the late 1800s. Its goal was to take control of the Society and, using it as a base of power, to extend its tentacles into the highest levels of business and government in the UK.
The shadowy outlines of this new, modern conspiracy had been revealed over the past few months. At least two Arcane Society lab researchers had disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Their bodies had never been found. A month ago a technician who worked in an Arcane Society facility turned up dead. Just over two weeks later, a trusted informant was killed in a car crash.
In addition, Fallon was certain that some of the Society’s carefully guarded computer files had been hacked into by someone who was very good when it came to not leaving tracks.
The new conspiracy appeared to be centered on the West Coast. That meant that he was in charge of stopping it. He had a dozen agents working on various leads but he desperately needed a break. His best hope at the moment was Jake.
The arrival of Clare Lancaster was not a good thing.
Chapter Seven
Clare closed the lid of her laptop, got up from the chair and went to the balcony door. The slider did not want to move in its metal track. Eventually she was able to force it open. It made a harsh grating, grinding sound as it retreated, fighting her every inch of the way. She had a hunch the noise carried to the room next door.
She went out onto the narrow balcony and stood looking down into the murky pool.
According to what she had just learned from her online search, Jake Salter was exactly what he claimed to be: a successful pension-and-benefits consultant. She had found a few pieces and a brief profile on him in the financial press.
There was also a small reference to a marriage that ended in divorce after less than a year.
She remembered the little frissons of energy that had whispered across the nape of her neck during the drive back to the Desert Dawn Motel.
Unlike most people, Jake didn’t just tell lies. He was living a lie.
Chapter Eight
The cell phone rang just as Clare emerged from the shower. She tried to wrap one of the paper-thin towels around herself and discovered that it wasn’t long enough. She used it to dry a hand and picked up the phone.
“It’s me,” Elizabeth said. “Are you up for breakfast?”
“Sounds like a very good idea,” Clare said. “I’m a little hungry after my late-night swim.”
“I heard about that. I’m pretty sure everyone at the party knows what happened. Saw what Valerie did to your car, too. Dad said that Jake took you back to the hotel last night.”
“That’s right.”
“Look, since you don’t have your car, why don’t I drive out there to the airport and pick you up? We can have breakfast at one of the resorts on Camelback Road. Afterward I’ll take you out to Stone Canyon so you can deal with the rental car situation.”
Clare surveyed the seedy-looking motel room. She really did not want Elizabeth seeing the Desert Dawn Motel. Jake’s reaction last night had been bad enough. Her sister would be downright horrified.
“I can get a cab,” she said quickly.
“Forget it. Let’s see, it’s seven-thirty now. Rush hour. Going to take a while to get out to the airport. See you in about an hour.”
Clare sighed. “I’m not at the airport.”
There was a short, startled pause.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Uh, don’t tell me you wound up at Jake Salter’s house last night?”
“No.” Clare felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “For Pete’s sake, Liz, whatever made you think I went home with Jake? I just met him. You know that.”
“Okay, okay, take it easy,” Elizabeth said. “I was just asking. Didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Right. So, if you’re not at Jake’s house and you’re not at an airport hotel, just where the heck are you?”
“Things have been a little tight lately,” Clare said. “Let’s just say that I’m staying at a budget establishment.”
“Dad asked you to come down here to Arizona. Didn’t he pay your way?”
“He offered,” Clare admitted.
Elizabeth groaned. “You, of course, turned him down. I swear, you’re as stubborn as he is, you know that? All right, give me the address of this ‘budget establishment.’”
. . .
“It’s a dump,” Elizabeth declared.
“It’s not a dump,” Clare said.
“It’s a dump,” Elizabeth repeated flatly.
She had known Elizabeth would be horrified by the Desert Dawn Motel, Clare reminded herself. The only hope was to try to change the subject.
They were eating breakfast on the outdoor dining terrace of one of the luxurious golf-course resorts near Scottsdale. The tiered swimming pools and the unnaturally green expanse of the course beyond gave an illusion of balmy comfort. In reality, although it was only eight forty-five in the morning, the heat was building fast. It would have been uncomfortable sitting outside had it not been for the awning, the overhead fans and the misters that spewed forth a cloud of tiny water drops that evaporated almost immediately.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay at Mom and Dad’s place?” Elizabeth asked one more time.
“No,” Clare said.
“I’ll be there, don’t forget.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to Myra. I cause her enough stress as it is.”
Elizabeth made a face, acknowledging the truth of that statement without words.
“Stop worrying,” Clare said. “I’m fine where I am. I’ll only be in town for one more night, anyway. No big deal.”
The waiter appeared, bearing a cup and saucer.
“Your green tea,” he said to Clare.
Clare looked at the bag perched on the saucer. The tea was a generic brand, and she was pretty sure the water was going to be lukewarm.
“Thank you,” she said. She unwrapped the little bag and lowered it into the cup.
She had been right about the water.
Elizabeth chuckled. “You ought to know better than to order green tea in Arizona. This is coffee country.”
“Unlike the Desert Dawn Motel, this is a high-end resort that caters to affluent travelers from around the world. You’d think they would be able to provide a decent cup of tea.”
“You remind me of Jake. He’s the only other person I know who drinks tea. I think he likes the green stuff, too.”
Clare pondered that while she dunked the tea bag up and down in a desperate effort to extract some flavor and caffeine.
“What do you think of him?” she asked.
“Jake?” Elizabeth raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. “He seems nice enough. He must b
e competent or Dad wouldn’t have hired him.”
“Do consultants always get invited to Glazebrook cocktail parties?”
“It’s not so unusual.” Elizabeth forked up a bite of her eggs Benedict. “Dad has always made it a practice to invite his upper management team to social functions. He gives them memberships at the Stone Canyon Country Club, too.”
“But Jake is an outside consultant, not a vice president.”
“Dad wants him treated with respect at the office,” Elizabeth said. “That means he has to get the perks of upper management.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
Elizabeth smiled. “What’s with the curiosity about Jake Salter?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Clare said. “He just struck me as a bit unusual, that’s all.”
Talk about a bald-faced lie. Jake wasn’t just a bit unusual. He was off the charts, at least as far as she was concerned. No other man had stirred the hair on the nape of her neck or aroused her feminine instincts the way he had last night.
“That’s funny,” Elizabeth said. “Jake always strikes me as being just what he is. A pleasant, somewhat dull business consultant.”
Were they talking about the same man? Clare wondered.
“He’s registered with the Society, you know,” she said.
“Yes.” Elizabeth stirred her coffee. “But what’s so odd about that? It’s not surprising that Dad would look for a sensitive when he decided to employ a consultant.”
“No,” Clare agreed.
“My understanding is that Jake is a mid-range talent. Maybe a level five or six. No more.”
Clare went still.
“What?” Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Don’t tell me he hit on you last night?”
“No.”
She did a quick rerun of her conversation with Jake. It occurred to her that he had never actually mentioned his level of sensitivity. She had just assumed it was very high; no, she had known that it was high with every intuitive fiber of her being.
What was going on here? Were her instincts that far off or had Jake lied to Archer and the rest of the Glazebrooks about the strength of his psychic abilities? If so, why?
Maybe he thought it would make things awkward for him, she reflected. Heaven knew her high Jones number had never served her well, socially or in her career. Members of the Society, who understood the significance of it, tended to put some distance between her and themselves. It wasn’t uncommon for people to feel uncomfortable around level-ten sensitives of any kind. Then, too, there were always those at the opposite extreme who were attracted to power in a sick kind of way.
Upon reflection she had to admit that advertising a high-level talent could complicate Jake’s professional life.
Give the man a break, she thought. Jake had a right to his privacy.
“You were correct about Valerie Shipley,” she said to change the subject. “She’s got a serious drinking problem.”
“Yes, and it’s getting worse. Valerie always liked her cocktails but after Brad was killed she really started to hit the bottle. Poor Owen. I think he’s at his wit’s end. Mom said he talked to her about putting Valerie in rehab.”
“Did she encourage him to do that?”
“Of course. But it’s easier said than done. Valerie won’t even discuss her problems. If she doesn’t quit the heavy drinking, I think Owen will probably divorce her.”
“Who could blame him?” Clare said quietly. “But I’m not sure Valerie will find what she needs in a rehab clinic, even one run by the Society. She’s a mother who lost a son to an act of violence, and as far as she’s concerned, justice has not been done. I doubt if that kind of thing can be resolved with a twelve-step program.”
“As far as I’m concerned, justice was done,” Elizabeth said, abruptly fierce. “I just wish Valerie knew what a bastard Brad really was. I wish the whole world realized it, not just you and me.”
“How do you tell a mother that her dead son was a sociopath? Your own parents wouldn’t even believe it when you tried to explain to them that you had married a handsome monster. Archer and Myra thought you were having some sort of mental breakdown.”
“Brad could be unbelievably convincing.” The fork in Elizabeth’s hand trembled a little. “He always had evidence of my craziness to show people. He was even able to convince Dr. Mowbray that I was a nutcase.”
“The creep really did a number on you. All that stuff about how you were suffering fugue states during which you tried to kill yourself. It was like something out of a horror film.”
Elizabeth made a face. “He seemed so perfect at the beginning. It gives me chills every time I realize how wrong I was about him.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Clare said. “You weren’t the only one who thought he was wonderful. Archer and Myra and Matt and all your friends bought into his phony persona, too.”
“I honestly believe that I would have been dead by now if it hadn’t been for you, Clare.” Tears glittered in Elizabeth’s eyes. “And the worst part is that everyone except you would have been convinced that I committed suicide.”
Clare touched her arm. “It’s all right. It’s over. Brad is the one who is dead. That’s all that matters.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “He’s gone. That’s the important thing. But no one realizes how evil he truly was. I just wish we could find a way to let everyone know the truth. After the funeral, the more I tried to talk about the situation, the more Mom and Dad tried to make me keep quiet.”
“In their defense, I’m sure they think it’s best for all concerned if the whole thing just goes away. Murder in the family is never good for business, let alone your social life.”
“It’s more than that,” Elizabeth replied. “I think Mom’s afraid that everyone in Stone Canyon secretly believes I’m unstable. She’s worried that I won’t be able to find another husband.”
Clare smiled. “Are you looking for one?”
“No.” Elizabeth shuddered. “It’s going to be a long time before I even think about marriage again, if ever.”
“You’ll get past what Brad did to you,” Clare said. “You just need a little time.”
Elizabeth put her fork down. “Actually I’m more concerned about you than I am about myself. You paid a very high price for rescuing me from Brad. First you got dumped by your fiancé and then you got fired. We both know it was because of the gossip that went around after the murder.”
“What the heck.” Clare reached for the small blue ceramic pot that contained salsa. “Screw ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
She concentrated on spooning salsa over her scrambled eggs. It took her a couple seconds to realize that Elizabeth was staring at her.
Clare looked up. “What?”
Elizabeth shook her head and then, unexpectedly, started to giggle. The giggles turned into laughter. She clapped a hand across her mouth in a vain attempt to stem the tide.
Clare ate her spiced-up eggs, waiting for Elizabeth to get herself back under control.
Eventually Elizabeth sobered and reached for her coffee cup. “Thanks, sis, I needed a good laugh.”
“Happy to be of service.”
Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. “Are you really that laid-back about what happened to your career and engagement?”
“I wasn’t at the time but in hindsight, it did not turn out to be the end of the world. As far as the engagement goes, I was having a few doubts anyway. I don’t think Greg and I would have made it for the long haul.”
“I agree. You didn’t even feel that you could confide in him about the paranormal side of your nature.”
“That was certainly part of the problem.”
“You couldn’t have kept that secret forever. Sooner or later it would have come out and Greg probably would have assumed that you were delusional. That’s how most nonsensitives react when told that someone has psychic abilities.”
“True.” Clare he
sitated, thinking. “But there was another aspect of our relationship that was starting to worry me, too.”
“What?”
“In the whole time we were together we never had a single fight.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m not sure,” Clare admitted. “But it started to get irritating. We always did what I wanted to do. I made all the decisions. I picked the restaurants where we ate. I chose the shows. He always let me set the pace in bed. It got old.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Elizabeth waved her hand in Clare’s face. “Back up to the part where he always let you set the pace in bed. I thought that was one of the things you liked about him. You told me you appreciated the fact that he let you control things in that department.”
“Sometimes you just want someone else to take charge for a while.”
“Really?” Elizabeth smiled knowingly. “And just when did you come to that little epiphany?”
“I don’t know,” Clare admitted. “The thing is, I could only allow someone else to take charge if I trusted him completely.”
“You will recall that I did warn you that it was probably a mistake for someone with your level of talent to marry someone who could never in a million years understand your true nature,” Elizabeth said.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Clare said.
“Famous last words.”
“In fairness to Greg, my paranormal issues aside, I’m just not the type who can hand over the reins to someone else.”
“You can say that again.” Elizabeth chuckled. “In your case I think someone will have to come along who is strong enough to take the reins away from you.”
Clare winced. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”
“See? You’re resisting the very thing you say you want. That control streak in your personality probably goes with your level-ten trust issues.”
“Probably. Catch twenty-two, I guess.”
Elizabeth sobered. “Well, I for one will always be profoundly grateful for your particular talent. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t seen through Brad’s wall of lies.”