“What else can you tell me about Lark and this case?” Slater asked.
“Lucas put together a file for you,” Victor said. He broke off at the sound of a knock on the door. “Come in, Lucas.”
The door opened. Lucas Pine strolled into the room. He looked at Victor, brows slightly elevated.
“Did I hear my name just now?” he asked.
Charming, with a warm smile, a gracious manner and an innate sense of style, Lucas was the exact opposite of Victor in many ways, but the two had been together for nearly twenty years. They had recently formalized the relationship with an over-the-top Vegas wedding hosted at one of the big, glamorous casinos on the Strip. Slater’s mother held the opinion that the enduring relationship was a classic example of the old theory that opposites attract.
There was no denying that Lucas and Victor complemented each other in a way that made them a formidable team.
“Uncle Victor just finished explaining to me that he managed to piss off the investigator I might need to assist me in the Seattle case,” Slater said.
“Right,” Lucas said. “That would be Catalina Lark. Victor threw her whole life into the toilet six months ago.”
“What happened was not my fault,” Victor grumbled. “And for the record, she seems to be doing fine now.”
Lucas ignored him. “You’re going to have your work cut out for you, Slater, but Ms. Lark does have an exceptional talent. It would be very good to have her consult. Try to keep all contact with her on a face-to-face basis if possible, though. Your phone is heavily encrypted, but we think you should stay off of it as much as possible.”
“Understood.” Slater glanced out the window. It was past three now. Maybe he could still catch a couple of hours of sleep before he left for Seattle.
“I’ve got you booked on a six fifteen flight to Seattle,” Lucas continued. “You’ve got just enough time to pack a bag and head to the airport. The flight time is about two hours and forty minutes. Here’s the file. You can review it on the plane.”
So much for a few hours of sleep.
“I’m flying commercial?” Slater said. “I don’t get to use the Foundation jet?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Victor snorted. “Talk about a red flag to whoever might be watching. Besides, do you know how much it costs to put that plane in the air?”
“Petty cash for you,” Slater said.
“Victor is right,” Lucas said. “No sense announcing the fact that the Foundation has taken an interest in the Royston murder.”
“If people are watching, they’re going to figure that out right quick once I start asking questions,” Slater said.
“Every minute of time we can buy up front gives us just that much more of an edge,” Victor said. “Go figure out what the hell is going down in Seattle.”
“On my way,” Slater said.
He went into the hall and closed the door. The thick carpet hushed his footsteps as he made his way through the penthouse.
Out of nowhere, a little rush of exhilaration and anticipation flashed across his senses. It had been a while since he had felt the familiar stirring sensation. The last time had been just before the Morgan case six months ago.
He wondered if the whisper of excitement was an omen and then reminded himself that he didn’t believe in omens and portents. He tightened his grip on the file. He would focus on the unknown Catalina Lark instead.
He walked swiftly through the elegant, high-ceilinged rooms, heading toward the grand foyer, where the butler was waiting.
When he turned one particular corner, he was very careful not to look at the closed door of the room at the end of the hall. He saw enough of the attic in his nightmares.
________
Victor waited until the door closed behind Slater before he pushed himself out of his chair and crossed the room to the wall of windows overlooking the Strip.
“He still thinks that we locked him up in an attic, Lucas,” he said.
“He doesn’t really believe that.” Lucas moved to stand beside Victor. “Slater knows we did what we had to do to protect him.”
“Why does he keep insisting he was locked away in some damned attic?”
“Because we did lock him up. He was hallucinating wildly. His mind obviously translated that room at the end of the hall into an attic. He probably picked up the imagery from some old horror movie that he saw years ago. It’s okay. He’s stable now. He has been for months.”
“When I think of what that bastard did to him …”
“The radiation he was exposed to in that rogue lab six months ago may have permanently affected his senses, but it didn’t change the man. Slater is still Slater. You gave him exactly what he’s been needing—a job.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
Lucas reached for Victor’s hand. “It’s not like we had a choice. We need someone we can trust on this case. Someone who knows what’s at stake. Someone who won’t immediately dismiss the possibility that Vortex may be involved.”
“For the past five years I’ve tried to tell myself that with Rancourt gone, it was finished.”
“Secrets have a bad habit of climbing up out of the grave.”
“You know I don’t like metaphors.”
“In this case, I don’t think it’s a metaphor,” Lucas said. “It may be the truth.”
“Rancourt is dead. We know that for a fact.”
Lucas tightened his grip on Victor’s hand. “Yes.”
“We destroyed all the files and the artifacts that we found in his lab, but what if we missed something?”
There was nothing reassuring he could say, Lucas thought.
“We’re doing all we can do,” he said. “We’re staying vigilant.”
CHAPTER 5
Catalina awoke on the last tendrils of the old nightmare, the one in which she and Olivia tried to flee deep into the Fogg Lake caves to escape the stranger who had just murdered a man. But no matter how hard they struggled, they could not find the right current of energy. Each time they attempted to enter a tunnel, they found themselves at the edge of the lake.
“We have to go into the caves again,” she tells Olivia. “It’s the only way to escape.”
“We can’t go inside,” Olivia explains in the unnaturally calm tone of dreams. “If we do, we will go mad and throw ourselves into the deepest part of the lake. We will drown.”
But the dreamer tries another path. Once again she finds herself at the edge of the bottomless lake. She realizes that she is holding a fork and suddenly understands that they can use it to find their way through the caves.
She turns to tell Olivia that everything will be okay now. Olivia is not there.
Catalina sat up abruptly, her pulse skittering, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She knew that most people would probably turn on the lights and walk around for a few minutes in an attempt to suppress the dream images. But if you were raised in Fogg Lake, you learned to analyze your dreams.
It didn’t take any great insight to understand why the old dream had come back tonight. The anxiety of the past had been roused from the depths by the drama at Marsha Matson’s house.