Chapter Five

“I don’t understand—” Shelton broke off. “Wait, are you talking about that list of people I developed during the career guidance research study I ran years ago?”

“Yes, Uncle Shelton. That list.”

“Well, shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“The study went nowhere because it couldn’t be replicated,” Shelton said. “At least, not without me and my device.”

“A machine only you can operate.”

“What can I say? Crystals are complicated. I was trying to come up with some standard testing and calibration methods that others could use when the agency that commissioned the study pulled the plug on the funding. The project was shelved. A short time later the agency itself disappeared. After years of dropping millions into paranormal research, all of a sudden no one in government wanted to be associated with that kind of work.”

“But you managed to develop a list of people who demonstrated some measurable talent.”

“That’s right.” Shelton paused. “Huh. Wonder how your client found it.”

“We’ll deal with that question later. There is an escalating stalker involved in this case, so I’ve got to set priorities. Did you keep track of the test subjects?”

“No, of course not. That would have been impossible. Hundreds of people volunteered to participate in the study. I worked with several colleges and a couple of military bases up and down the West Coast.”

“What about the people who ended up on your list?”

“I planned to keep an eye on a few of them from a distance, but I got busy with other projects,” Shelton said. “I have no idea where any of those people are now. You say your client is on the list?”

“That’s what she told me. Amelia Rivers. Does the name ring a bell?”

“No, but it’s been several years since the study was shut down. I can dig up my notes if that will help.”

“Thanks,” Gideon said. “They might be useful.”

“You said there’s a stalker involved in this case?”

“Amelia thinks so.”

“Nasty lot, stalkers. Old boyfriend?”

“Amelia is convinced the stalker is hunting her because her name is on that list. What’s more, she claims she and her friends were kidnapped, drugged, and used in experiments designed to enhance their natural abilities.”

“What the hell?” Shelton snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Did she mention UFOs by any chance?”

“No extraterrestrials were involved. I’m pretty sure she’s not delusional.”

“You can’t always tell, Gideon. If she’s on that list it means she does have some talent. But one thing I learned in the course of that study was that people who possess some serious psychic ability don’t always have the mental stability required to handle the additional sensory input. A powerful sixth sense can cause an individual to become confused and disoriented. The dream energy overwhelms the normal senses in the waking state.”

“I know.”

“And don’t get me started on what could go wrong if the subject has a criminal mind. When I closed down that research project I couldn’t help wondering how many of the people I had tested were headed for an asylum, a life on the streets, or prison.”

“Did you try to identify the unstable subjects?”

“I made a few notes about the ones who worried me the most. But there was nothing more I could do. Did your client give you anything else to go on besides a story about being kidnapped?”

“She had some photographs,” Gideon said.

“That should help.”

“They won’t do me any good. Just some fuzzy, glary splashes on a sidewalk and what she claims is a photo of the stalker’s aura.”

“Really?” Excitement lit Shelton’s voice. “She figured out how to take pictures of aura and energy prints? That’s amazing. Did she say what kind of camera she used?”

“A film camera, the old-fashioned kind that uses a mirror and prism. She shot with black-and-white film. Trust me, the results are useless.”

“Fascinating.”

“Speaking of cameras, let’s try to stay focused here,” Gideon said. “I’d appreciate it if you would get those notes for me.”

“Sure, sure. It’ll take me a while, though. The file is in my storage locker. I’ll drive over there today and see what I can find. Meanwhile, be careful, Gideon. I wasn’t joking when I said that there are some potentially dangerous people on that list.”

“Understood,” Gideon said. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait, before you go. Your mother is putting pressure on me again. She’s afraid that marine biologist you were seeing broke your heart.”

Gideon groaned. “Virginia did not break my heart. Remind Mom that I haven’t been in great shape for dating recently.”

“She worries about you, Gideon. She’s not the only one. Most Sweetwaters are married and firing up a family by your age.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Gideon said.

He ended the call and dropped the phone into his pocket. For a time he sat quietly, studying the nearest painting. He had started it during the course of the Colony case and finished it in the days after Ian Luxford had been arrested.

He had no illusions about his artistic ability. He was an amateur and that was all he would ever be. Fortunately, he wasn’t trying to make a living as an artist.

No one responded well to his paintings. His own relatives told him his pictures were creepy. He usually took the unframed canvases down before he interviewed a client because they had a disturbing effect on people who were already anxious about meeting with a private investigator. But, acting on impulse or intuition—he wasn’t sure which—he had opted to leave them up today.

Amelia had done a very good job of concealing her reaction, but he had caught a glimpse of something disturbing in her response. He was almost certain she had realized that his muse was his own dreamscape.