“Why was it special?”
“It was focused on developing technology designed to weaponize paranormal energy. There are some hints in the archives that suggest the Vortex lab may have been successful or, at the very least, came up with a few working prototypes.”
“Do you think the Fogg Lake lab was the Vortex operation?”
“We don’t know. It may not be the Vortex lab, but I think whoever is searching for Vortex has taken an interest in the Fogg Lake facility.”
“Assuming it even exists.”
“You and Olivia and I, along with everyone else who can trace their ancestors back to Fogg Lake or the Bluestone Project, are evidence that it existed,” Slater said.
Catalina eyed him closely. “What’s your connection to Fogg Lake? I grew up there. I don’t remember an Arganbright family.”
“None of my people are from Fogg Lake but the residents of your hometown aren’t the only ones with a connection to the Bluestone Project. A wide range of paranormal research was carried out in all of the labs. The Arganbrights carry the results of one of those experiments in our DNA.”
A shiver of intuition crackled through her. “Well, well, well. I’m going to take a flying leap here. You think the Arganbrights were affected by experiments done in that mysterious Vortex lab, don’t you?”
Slater hesitated and then shrugged. “There is some family lore indicating that my grandfather may have worked in the Vortex lab. We’ve never been able to prove it because he didn’t survive the closure of the labs. My father suspects Granddad was killed by someone who thought he knew too much. What we do know is that there’s a strong psychic vibe in the bloodline and that it showed up first in my father’s generation. Everything after that is pure conjecture.”
“Do you think the explosion on that night was caused by some sort of paranormal weapon? A bomb, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Slater got to his feet and put his empty mug on the counter. “Ready to go talk to Gwendolyn Swan?”
“Yes.” Catalina rose and walked around the end of the desk. “Where is her shop located?”
“Pioneer Square.”
“That’s not far from here,” Catalina said. “It will be faster if we walk.”
She went to the window and looked down at the street. A van marked with the familiar logo of a local TV station was just pulling up in front of the building. The passenger-side door opened. Brenda Bryce got out. A man with a video camera emerged from the van. They headed toward the lobby doors.
Catalina turned away from the window. “We’ll use the loading dock entrance in the alley.”
Slater glanced down at the TV crew. “You do have a problem with the local media, don’t you?”
“Yep, thanks to good old Uncle Victor and Roger Gossard.”
“Don’t worry.” Slater picked up his pack. “I’ll handle security on the street so you don’t have to waste a lot of energy running hot. On the way you can tell me what you did with a fork last night.”
CHAPTER 12
The escape through the alley went off without a hitch. It was a relief not to have to walk down the street with all senses firing. With Slater handling security, as he called it, Catalina discovered she could allow herself to relax somewhat for the first time that day. No more stepping over hot prints on the sidewalk. No more flinching every time a person with a disturbing aura drew near. No more confrontations with Brenda Bryce and her crew.
True, she found herself checking the faces of those around her, searching for two people who looked enough alike to be twins, but aside from that she felt she could let down her guard, at least for a while. As long as Slater is keeping watch.
Okay, it was weird to have a bodyguard from the Foundation at her side, but her life had taken a weird twist.
Under other circumstances the vibe of an energy field as fierce as Slater’s would have made her deeply uneasy. She had never been so close to such a powerful aura. But now that she had recovered from the shattering jolt that had arced through her when they had collided, she was surprised to discover she had already adjusted to his unusual aura.
Adjusted might not be the right word. The truth was, she found it exciting to walk down the street with Slater Arganbright. Thrilling, even.
That was probably not a good sign.
The fact that he was from the Foundation was a serious complication. The reality, however, was that she had no choice but to accept help from the secretive organization. Victor Arganbright had the kind of resources she might need to try to save Olivia.
She decided her reaction to Slater’s nearness could be attributed to the fact that her own energy field was badly frazzled from recent events. A person couldn’t perceive their own aura, so she didn’t know how hers looked to Slater or to anyone else who could detect human energy fields. But she had a bad feeling that her aura was probably sparking and flashing like a busted neon sign.
Sooner or later the crash will hit. You couldn’t go flat-out, as she had been doing most of the time since the scene at Marsha Matson’s house, without paying a price. Energy was energy, and she had burned a lot of it lately. The fact that she hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours of fitful sleep during the night only made things worse.
“I get that you read the scene at your client’s house last night,” Slater said when she finished her story. “You picked up on the fact that Hopper had a weapon and that he was behind the door. You rescued your client and yourself. Nice work, by the way.”
“Thank you. We try to be a full-service agency for our clients.”
He smiled a little. “I’ve got one question.”
“The fork.”
“Why did you happen to have one in your handbag?”
“I owe your uncle for that,” she said.
“You don’t sound overly grateful.”
“After I read the Ingram crime scene for him six months ago, your uncle thanked me and left town that same day. I played the good citizen and contacted the police. I told them there was reason to believe that Ingram had been murdered. They investigated the death. No evidence was found. Case closed. But word got out that a woman claiming to be psychic had called in a tip about a possible murder. Brenda Bryce ran with the story. That’s when things got complicated for me. Some very odd people started showing up at the career counseling firm where I worked.”
“I heard something about that.”
“I became a media sensation here in Seattle for about twenty-four hours. But that was long enough. Most of those who tried to get an appointment with me wanted lucky numbers for the lottery, or they wanted me to tell their fortunes. The ones that really gave me the creeps were the folks who asked me to contact spirits on the Other Side.”
Slater shook his head. “Some people still believe it’s possible to talk to ghosts.”
“I tried to explain that being psychic is not the same thing as being a medium and that anyone who claimed to be able to contact a ghost was either a fraud or seriously deluded. I pointed out that if I could predict which numbers would win the lottery I would have played them myself long ago and retired to a beach in Hawaii. And then there were the so-called paranormal researchers who wanted to study me, as if I were a lab rat.”