Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-seven

Amelia was leaning against the kitchen island, munching a cracker, when the ghostly fingers touched the back of her neck and sent a frisson of dread across her nerves. She flinched and caught her breath.

“Gideon,” she whispered.

She did not realize she had spoken aloud until she saw that Shelton was watching her intently from the other side of the island. She was suddenly sure there was a little energy in his eyes.

“What about him?” he asked, his tone sharper than it had been a moment ago.

Amelia finished the cracker and dusted crumbs off her hands. “I don’t know. I’m worried about him. More worried than I was a moment ago, if that’s possible.” She glanced at her watch. “He’s been gone quite a while, don’t you think?”

“I told you, Gideon can take care of himself.”

She winced. “You’re right. I’m a little overanxious. He and I have been through a lot together recently. Stress.”

Shelton studied her for a long moment. “You’re not his usual type. For a Sweetwater, that’s a good sign.”

She felt the heat rise in her face. “I’m just another client as far as he’s concerned. An inconvenient one.”

“No, there’s more to it than that. I’ve known Gideon all his life. The energy between the two of you is unmistakable. You’re not just another client, trust me. The question is, how do you feel about him?”

“We’ve only known each other for a few days,” she shot back, exasperated and a little panicky. “You’re reading way too much into our energy or whatever you’re picking up. I think Gideon needs me, that’s all.”

“For a Sweetwater, that’s plenty.”

“What are you talking about?” Understanding struck. She waved one hand. “Oh, no, no, no. You’re way off base. I didn’t mean he needs me the way you mean. He needs my help for an entirely different reason. For now.”

“My turn to ask you what you’re talking about,” Shelton said.

She forced herself to concentrate on the question and her evolving theory about Gideon’s talent.

“We’ve only run a couple of experiments,” she said, “so I don’t have a lot of data, but on both occasions I was able to channel his energy with the aid of a crystal. It was all a matter of focus, you see. Evidently my talent gives me that ability. But I don’t see why, with practice, he can’t learn to do the same thing on his own, in which case he could cut out the middleman—or the middlewoman. Make that the middle person.” She frowned. “I think the crystal might have to be tuned, though. I’ll have to ask Aunt Cybil about that.”

Great. Now she was rambling. She couldn’t help it. She was distracted. Her nerves were getting zapped by short flashes of unease. The sensation that Gideon was in trouble was growing stronger.

Shelton peered at her, very intent now. “Do you think anyone with a strong psychic talent can learn to channel energy through a crystal?”

“I don’t know.” She paused, briefly distracted by the question. “The process seems fairly straightforward. It’s a lot like focusing an old-school film camera.”

“Huh. It’s an interesting idea. I’ve spent some time studying crystals, but I’ve never been able to make them work the way you describe.”

“Aunt Cybil says the key is tuning.” Amelia picked up her coffee again. “But, to be fair, she says that about everything.”

“Tell me about Aunt Cybil.”

“My mother’s sister, otherwise known as the family eccentric. She’s a professional psychic who gives performances on cruise ships.”

“I’d like to meet her. Probably takes a certain kind of talent to tune a crystal.”

A sharp rap sounded on the front door. Amelia darted out from behind the island.

“That must be Gideon,” she said.

Shelton got up and followed her. “Check first.”

“Of course.” Amelia peered through the peephole. “It’s Irene.” She opened the door. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it Falcon? Did he call you?”

“No.” Irene glanced back along the walkway. “I just got off the phone with your weird therapist. He said he was afraid you were having a psychotic break or something and that I should buzz him in the front gate so that he could check on you.”

“You didn’t unlock the gate for him, did you?”

“No, but we both know how easy it would be for him to follow someone inside, Amelia. He may be on his way here right now. If you don’t answer the door, he’ll come to my place. I’ve got to tell you, the guy makes me nervous. He’s obsessed with you. Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“I doubt it,” Amelia said, “but to be honest, I just don’t know for sure. You’d better come inside. There’s someone else here. He’s got a gun.”

“Oh, shit,” Irene said. She looked past Amelia, her eyes widening. “I can see that.”

Amelia turned to follow Irene’s alarmed gaze. Shelton was standing casually behind her. His pistol was no longer in the shoulder holster. It was in his hand. The gun was not aimed at Irene—Shelton held it against his leg, pointed at the floor—but it did not look any less threatening.

“Amelia’s right,” he said. “You’d better come inside. Amelia, close and lock the door. We’ll all have a cup of coffee and wait for Gideon. If Dr. Pike shows up I’ll deal with him.”