Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
“The useful thing about having a dog as a partner in an investigation is that it gives you an excuse to take extended strolls at odd times of the day or night,” Luke said.
Sophy looked down at Bruce, who was ambling along the footpath next to Luke.
The dog had been happy to greet them when they returned to the room and eager to go for a walk, even if it meant having to tolerate a leash.
The three of them were now exploring the glowing paths that wound through the colony.
There was a definite shiver of energy in the atmosphere—paranormal radiation was always strongest at night.
They were not the only guests strolling through the brightly lit garden. Most of the others were sipping cocktails or glasses of wine. The alcohol was being served free of charge at an outdoor bar set up in front of the inn.
She couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “You haven’t told me if you were able to connect any dots after I showed you those succubus images on my phone.”
“Aside from the fact that Grant is a lousy artist, I can tell you he’s escalating. But after seeing his installation tonight we knew that. He’s obsessed with you, Sophy, and the obsession is getting worse.”
She took a breath. “Obviously. But how could Vincent be involved with what is going on here at the art colony?”
“Just another dot waiting to be connected. Tonight we’re doing recon. Getting a feel for the layout of the compound.”
“What, exactly, are we looking for?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But you’ll know it when you see it?”
“That’s the plan.”
She studied the brightly lit casitas. There were eight of them, but only six showed signs of being inhabited. “I wonder if any of the artists are involved in whatever is going on here.”
“According to the brochure in the suite, the resident artists stay for only a month. When they leave, other artists take their place. The people we’re looking for are those who are here on a permanent basis.”
“That includes Trent Hatch and his security team and the employees.”
“I had a chat with the clerk at the front desk. He said that most of the employees live off-site in that little town we passed on the way here.”
“Fool’s Gold.”
“Right. He told me that the workers always go home after their shifts. He also said that employee turnover was fairly stable until a few months ago but lately several people have quit and many of the positions are vacant.”
She heightened her talent a little and opened herself to the currents of the night. “Maybe this canyon really is a natural vortex of some kind.”
The fit-looking woman walking toward them overheard the comment. She stopped, smiled, and swept out both arms.
“It’s a genuine vortex,” she said. “That’s why the original art colony was established here.”
Sophy stopped. So did Luke and Bruce.
“Sounds like you know something about the history of the colony,” Sophy said.
“A little. My name is Diane Buxton, by the way.”
“Susan Ainsley,” Sophy said.
Luke nodded. “Larry Ainsley. And this is Bruce.”
“Does he bite?” Diane asked.
“No,” Luke said. “He prefers to be adored.”
Diane leaned down to give Bruce a couple of pats. “Cute collar. You’ve got excellent taste, Bruce.”
Bruce grinned.
Diane glimpsed the fangs and straightened quickly. “You’re the couple in the honeymoon suite, aren’t you? I saw you checking in earlier this evening.”
“That’s right,” Luke said.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Luke said.
There was a short pause. Sophy suddenly realized she was supposed to acknowledge the congratulations.
“Thanks,” she said.
Okay, that sounded a trifle brusque. She did not dare look at Luke, who was probably doing an eye roll.
“There was another couple in that suite, but they didn’t stay long,” Diane said.
Sophy stilled. “Did you speak to the other couple?”
“No, I never got an opportunity. They checked in when I did but they were gone the next morning. I remember thinking they were a little old to be honeymooners. Probably a second or third marriage. You never know these days.”
“Did you see them leave?” Sophy asked.
“No. But it must have been very early, because they were not around for breakfast. What did you think of the gallery show this evening? Weren’t the installations amazing? Most of them, anyway. So much intense emotion. Very visceral. Light art is usually cool and abstract.”
“They were certainly interesting,” Sophy said. “Do you really think Fool’s Gold Canyon is a vortex?”
“Oh, yes. Years ago my grandparents retired to the little town about ten miles from here. They used to tell stories to us kids when we visited.”
“What kind of stories?” Luke asked.
“Ghost stories, mostly.” Diane lowered her voice to an amusingly ominous tone.
“This valley has always had a reputation for being haunted. People who live in the town will tell you that it is the energy in the area that caused the original colony to be abandoned. It’s one thing to visit a vortex for a short period of time.
It’s another thing altogether to live in the vicinity of one. ”
“Makes sense,” Sophy said.
“And now Trent Hatch has established a new version of the original art colony,” Luke said. “Interesting.”
“Yes.” Diane looked around, surveying the sparkling fairyland garden. “We’ll see how long it lasts this time.”
She started to give Bruce a goodbye pat. He made the mistake of grinning, showing off his fangs. Diane changed her mind. Bruce looked disappointed.
“It’s getting late, so I’m going back to the inn for a nightcap and bed,” Diane said. “It was a pleasure to meet you both, and Bruce, too, of course. I’m sure I’ll see you around the inn.”
“Do you plan to attend the auction?” Luke asked.
“Definitely. I’ve got my eye on that gorgeous vase. Wish me luck.”
“What about the sculpture titled Succubus?” Sophy said, trying to sound casual.
“What a monstrosity.” Diane shuddered. “That was the one installation I thought was an utter failure. Someone said the artist was probably attempting to convey female power, but it looked like a Halloween costume or the villain in a low-rent horror film. All that sculpture needs is a bloody knife. I doubt if anyone will be bidding on it at the auction. Enjoy the honeymoon suite.”
Sophy watched the woman walk away along one of the illuminated paths. “She saw Bea and Deke. I was right. They were in the suite.”
“Did you doubt your reading?”
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m conjuring the visions,” she admitted. “I’m always relieved when the police find hard evidence at the scene of the crime that verifies my read.”
“Believe me, I understand the need for confirmation,” Luke said.
The grim intensity of the words made her look at him. But he went on before she could ask any questions.
“We know for sure that Deke and Bea were in the suite and we know they disappeared sometime during their first night at the inn.”
“Now what?”
“They’re still here,” Luke said, very certain.
She stared at him, stunned. “What makes you sure of that?”
“Simple psychology. No psychic talent needed. This place is a fortress. As far as anyone knows, Hatch never leaves the compound. This is where he feels secure. Where he hides his secrets. We know Deke and Bea were here. If they left under their own power they would have contacted us. That did not happen, so we have to assume they never got out of the compound.”
Sophy stared at him, unable to breathe. “Oh, my God, are you saying they are dead?”
“I think it’s more likely they are in hiding around here.”
“What makes you think that?” She was grasping at straws but she needed reassurance.
“If they were dead, whoever was responsible would have arranged for the bodies to be found. There would also have been a good cover story to explain why the son of the CEO of one of the most successful security firms in the country died under mysterious circumstances. Trust me, no one wants the Wells family breathing down their necks.”
“I see what you mean. If Bea was murdered, only Chloe and I would care. But a missing or dead Wells would draw a lot of attention.”
“You’re wrong, Sophy.”
The edge on the words startled her. She looked at him and saw that his amber eyes looked a lot more feral than usual.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“If anything happened to you or Bea or your sister, the Wells family would come looking for answers.”
A shivery chill whispered through her. “Because of the pact.”
“The pact is what connected the families back at the start, but now it’s personal.”
She wasn’t sure how to interpret that statement. Maybe she was afraid to read too much into it. Regardless, they were in this together.
She looked around, taking in the brightly lit scene. “How do we even begin to search this place? It’s not like we’re the police or the FBI. We can’t get search warrants and go door-to-door.”
“We don’t need search warrants. Let’s go back to the inn. I want to take a closer look at that silver doughnut.”
“I thought we were supposed to be doing recon.”
“We’ve done enough for now.”
“All right.”
They turned and walked toward the warmly lit windows of the inn.
“I’ve been thinking about that installation in the gallery tonight,” she said after a moment. “Maybe it wasn’t the Mona Lisa or Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, but was it that bad?”
“What are we talking about? I need a hint.”
“Succubus. Do I look like a creature from a horror movie when I come out of a trance?”
“Vincent Grant is an unstable, obsessive psychopath. Why are you taking his work personally?”
“Because it is a very personal work of art. It was me, Luke. Right down to my chimes and…and my eyes. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.”
“Neither can I.”
“You want an opinion on that damn sculpture? How’s this?
By invoking the ancient myth of the succubus, the artist attempted to convey a sense of female power, mystery, and sexuality while also acknowledging the ancient tensions between the sexes.
The use of the chimes is of particular significance.
It brings ambivalence to the scene, implying the potential for harmony as well as discord. ”
She stared at him for a moment and then she could no longer contain the laughter. It bubbled up and spilled into the night. Aware that two people passing by on the path were looking at her, she clapped a hand over her mouth until she regained control.
“I am impressed with your insightful analysis,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“No wonder your family wants you to be the next CEO of Wells, Inc. You’re pretty good when it comes to thinking on your feet.”