“First, tell me why you showed up on my doorstep with a gun,” she said.
He gave her a faint, ice-cold smile. “I used to be in the import-export business, remember? I traveled to some dangerous places around the world and met with some dangerous people. Years ago I started carrying a gun for protection when I traveled. It became a habit.”
“You consider Burning Cove a potentially dangerous town?”
“I don’t think there is any such thing as a crime-free town.” He paused a beat and glanced at the pistol in her hand. “I would also point out that you seem to have the same opinion of Burning Cove.”
“I’m a woman living alone. It seems sensible to take precautions.”
“I won’t argue with that. So, what’s it going to be? Do you want me to take a look around or leave?”
If he wanted to do her any harm, he’d had ample opportunity earlier in the evening when he had brought her home. She was overreacting.
She stepped back, opening the door wider. “Pick up your gun and come on in. Yes, I would appreciate it if you would take a look at the laundry room window and see if you think it could have been opened from the outside.”
“The intruder used a window in the laundry room?”
“That was the only one that was unlocked.”
Jake stooped, collected his gun, and moved across the threshold.
Letting him into her home was the biggest risk she had taken since her escape from the Rushbrook Sanitarium, she thought. But it was a calculated risk.
Chapter 13
Zolanda stood at the edge of the roof and looked out over the moonlit ocean. She had never felt so thrillingly alive, so powerful. She was the queen of the night, and soon she would be a star on the silver screen. She spread her arms wide, savoring the euphoric sensations sweeping through her. She was on fire. She could fly.
The wide sleeves of her caftan caught the cool breeze like great wings. Maybe her visitor was right, maybe she really could travel by astral projection. She was in a waking dream now. All she had to do was take one more step off the edge of the roof and she would be floating high above Burning Cove. The experience would be exactly as she had described it in her performance tonight. She would drift above the lights of the gorgeous Burning Cove Hotel and watch the glamorous people drinking their cocktails and making arrangements for illicit encounters. Soon she would be one of them, no longer the psychic to the stars; she would be a star.
But even as the glorious possibilities dazzled her senses, a tiny flicker of doubt intruded. Like a drop of poison in a glass of water, the whisper of uncertainty tainted the vision. She didn’t have paranormal powers. There was no such thing as astral projection.
What if she was hallucinating?
She thought about the last glass of whiskey she had finished before climbing the stairs to the roof of the villa.
A drop of poison.
“The drug,” she gasped. “You gave me some of the drug, didn’t you?”
The killer watched her from the shadows, saying nothing.
The horror of what was happening was swept away by a searing rage.
“You lied to me,” Zolanda hissed. “You poisoned me with Daydream. I’ll kill you.”
She tried to lunge toward the killer but the monsters of the night were moving toward her now. Their eyes glittered with a hellish fire.
Some small part of her mind struggled with reality. She was not seeing monsters with eyes of fire—the killer had just lit a cigarette.
But the hallucinations were in control. The dazzling rivers of the night swirled around her in fiery, disorienting waves. She staggered wildly on the parapet.
The monsters advanced, relentless and implacable. The killer told her exactly why she was going to jump off the roof of the villa and quoted the old adage about revenge—a dish that was best served cold.
“No,” she said, desperate to save herself. “You don’t understand. It was all a mistake. I can explain.”
But the killer did not believe her.
Zolanda lost her balance and fell, shrieking, into the night.
The screaming stopped when she landed on the unforgiving concrete patio.
The killer went downstairs, crowbar in hand, walked through the glass-walled conservatory, and stepped outside onto the patio. The psychic to the stars was very dead. There was no need to use the length of heavy metal to finish the job.
The killer went back into the house and began to search for the psychic’s stash of blackmail secrets. The drug had hypnotic as well as hallucinogenic properties. In her delirium, Zolanda had talked freely, describing exactly where she had hidden the papers.
Panic set in a short time later. There was no sign of the extortion material. Zolanda had probably not lied—the drug was very powerful—but she had somehow succeeded in taking her secrets to the grave.
Chapter 14
“You’re not going to be able to sleep tonight, are you?” Jake asked.
Adelaide looked at him with haunted eyes.
“Probably not,” she said. “But that’s my problem. Don’t worry about me. I appreciate your taking a look around but, as I told you, nothing is missing and every window is locked now.”
They were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Adelaide had surprised him by brewing coffee instead of one of her unique tea blends. Some situations require coffee, she had explained. He had agreed.
At least she was no longer pointing her little pistol at him. But the gun was currently lying on top of the big, scarred kitchen table, within reach. That made him uneasy because it was obvious that she had not had a lot of experience with it. She seemed to know the basics but she was not comfortable with the weapon. Guns in the hands of professionals were dangerous enough. In the hands of amateurs they were an even greater cause for concern because of the possibility that the trigger would get pulled by accident or impulse.
His own gun was also on the table, also close at hand. He’d left the shoulder holster behind on his nightstand. There had not been time to buckle it on after he’d become alarmed by the lights in Adelaide’s cottage.
They had established a cautious truce but were circling each other warily. He knew that Adelaide was not telling him everything but he also sensed that she was not lying to him. Fair enough. She had a right to her secrets. He was keeping a few from her.
All things considered, it had been a very unusual first date.
“I could stay here until morning,” he said.
He realized immediately that the offer had not come out quite the way he had intended.
She tensed. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
He groaned. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
She relaxed a little. A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “I know. But, really, I’ll be all right. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if I actually did leave the laundry room window open.”
“You said you thought the shoe rack in your wardrobe had been moved—as if someone had searched the place for valuables.”
“Maybe I was wrong about that, too,” Adelaide said, her tone stark. She shook her head. “Maybe I imagined that it had been moved. I . . . get a little nervous after dark.”
The possibility that she had let her imagination run away with her common sense disturbed her more than seemed appropriate under the circumstances. After all, she was a woman living alone. She had a right to be extra cautious, especially at night.
He glanced at the gun.
“One question comes to mind,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed a little. “What’s that?”
“If someone did search your house looking for valuables, why didn’t he find the gun?” A thought struck. Now his nerves really were rattled. “Don’t tell me you had it in your handbag all evening.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
“I keep it under my bed.”
She slept with a gun under the bed. The lady was running from someone; a man, most likely.