Footsteps echoed in the hall. A moment later the door opened and an elegant wisp of a woman peered out. Beatrice was in her early eighties. It was clear that she had been a beautiful woman in her younger days. Her blue eyes glittered with intelligence and a barely concealed excitement.
She was dressed in an expensive knit trouser suit. The jacket was studded with snappy gold buttons. The diamonds in her ears and around her throat looked real. Gold bracelets were stacked on each thin wrist. Rings adorned several fingers.
It was obvious that she had gone out of her way to dress for the meeting. She beamed at Catalina.
“You must be the psychic,” she said. “I’m Beatrice Ross.”
“I’m Catalina Lark from Lark and LeClair. A pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ve been expecting you. Won’t you come in? Let’s go into the living room and have tea while I explain my problem. This way, dear.”
Beatrice led the way into a heavily shadowed living room. Catalina followed, heightening her senses. Old homes were the most difficult to read accurately. The energy of decades of emotions had seeped into the floors, walls and ceilings. The heavy vibe could confuse her senses. Whatever the cause, she was getting the someone-just-walked-over-my-grave chill that told her something was very wrong in the mansion.
The lack of light was unnerving. There were wall sconces in the hallway and lamps in the living room but none of them were illuminated. The blinds were open, but the woods outside, combined with an overcast sky, filtered out most of the sun.
“Do take off your coat, dear,” Beatrice said. “You look as if you’re ready to rush out the door.”
“I’m a little cold at the moment,” Catalina said. “I’ll leave my coat on if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself, dear. Please, have a seat.” Beatrice indicated a cream-colored sofa. “My lawyer arrived a few minutes ago. I asked him to wait in the solarium at the side of the house. Trey insisted on meeting you because he knows I am prepared to change my will immediately if your investigation confirms my belief that my sister was murdered. He’s quite concerned. You know how lawyers are.”
“I see.”
A man appeared in the doorway.
“You’re here, Ms. Lark,” he said. “Right on time.”
Catalina turned quickly to look at him.
The energy of rage radiated in his aura.
She recognized him immediately. He was fifteen years older and his head was no longer shaved, but she knew she was looking at the man who had murdered John Morrissey. He was not in hiking clothes today. Instead he wore a stylish trench coat not unlike her own. Underneath the coat he had on a pair of tailored trousers and a dark pullover. His right hand rested casually inside one of the deep pockets of the trench.
“There you are, Trey,” Beatrice said. “Ms. Lark, allow me to introduce you to my lawyer, Trey Danson.”
“I didn’t know that there would be a lawyer present today,” Catalina said, playing for time.
“There’s a great deal at stake, I’m afraid,” Trey said. “Ms. Ross is a wealthy woman. If she decides to change her will, there will be some significant ramifications.”
“I see.”
“Let’s go into the solarium,” Trey said. “Beatrice, please wait here while I explain the situation to Ms. Lark. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Very well,” Beatrice said. “I suggest you use the library instead. You’ll have more privacy. And don’t be long about it. Ms. Lark charges by the hour. So do you. I don’t want to waste time.”
“We won’t be long, Beatrice,” Trey Danson said.
Catalina walked slowly out into the hall.
“The library is on your right,” Danson said. When they were two steps away from the living room and out of Beatrice’s sight, he spoke again. “You recognize me, don’t you? I was afraid you would.”
Catalina glanced over her shoulder. She saw that Danson had taken his right hand out of his pocket. He held a gun.
A wispy vision floated across her senses. He would use the gun if he thought he had no choice, but he preferred to use a more subtle method. A syringe full of some lethal drug, no doubt.
“One thing I’m curious about,” she said.
“Only one thing?”
“Why haven’t you made a move against Olivia and me for the past fifteen years? You must have known we were in Seattle.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary to take the risk. Nyla was sure the tea she gave you and Olivia in the days following your escape from the cave would mess with your memories. And even if you did remember bits and pieces, you had no way to identify me. At the time I lived in California. I didn’t move to Seattle until about three years ago. It seemed unlikely that our paths would ever cross.”
“That’s not the only reason you didn’t try to kill us, is it? You and Nyla were afraid of drawing the attention of the Foundation.”
“Nyla was terrified that if something happened to you and LeClair, your parents would call in the Foundation. Fifteen years ago she was afraid of the Rancourts. Later she was even more worried about Victor Arganbright.”
“She wanted to protect her drug business.”
“Poor Nyla lived in fear that one day the Foundation would show up at her door and take her away to Halcyon Manor,” Trey said. “She always claimed she would rather die than be locked up. But I couldn’t be sure that, when the time came, she would actually follow through, so I made certain she got her preferred ending.”
“You put something deadly into a bottle of her prescription meds.”
“I knew that one day she would probably become a liability, so I kept a bottle of the special meds handy. When I delivered Olivia LeClair to Nyla I took the opportunity to replace Nyla’s regular tablets with a medication I knew would be lethal to someone with her heart problems. I must admit I didn’t know that she would take the pills so quickly, but it worked out well.”
“You poisoned your own sister?”
“Half sister. We weren’t close.”
“I sort of figured that out. You’re the collector who murdered Ingram and Royston, aren’t you?”
“Both of them were eager to show off the latest additions to their vaults to someone who would understand the significance of their new acquisitions.”
“You didn’t find what you wanted in Ingram’s vault, but you did discover it in Royston’s vault.”
“I see you and the Foundation crowd have put most of it together,” Trey said. “Yes, I chased the rumors of that logbook for six months before I finally found it in Royston’s collection.”
“All for nothing.”
“The project has come apart, thanks to you and Olivia LeClair. Fortunately, now that Nyla is gone, there is no connection between me and the murders and kidnapping.”
“Except for Olivia and me.”
“It has become clear that your memories have returned. I can’t afford to take any more chances.”
“You’re going to get rid of me today. But what about Olivia?”
“She is your best friend, remember? She will be devastated by your death. She’ll have a few drinks and get into a fatal car crash. There’s the library door. Open it.”