Falling Awake(36)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

Still bracing herself against the dash, she angled her head slightly to study his profile. “I’ll admit I’m curious about the identity of Number Three, myself. The implication is that there is another Level Five dreamer out there somewhere who wants secrecy as badly as you and Lawson do.”

“That’s the implication, all right.”

“I can understand a degree of interest on your part,” she said patiently. “But would you mind telling me why you’re freaking out about it?”

He considered how much to tell her. She already knew a great deal about Lawson’s operation and if she was serious about contracting out her services to Lawson and him, she was going to learn a lot more.

Hell, she had a right to know.

“I am very, very wired about this third client because I think there is a possibility that he just might be the man I mentioned earlier at dinner, Vincent Scargill.”

“Maybe you better tell me a little more about him.”

“The only thing you need to know tonight is that Scargill is a Level Five killer.”

“Oh, my God.” Her voice went very soft as she absorbed the ramifications. “An extreme dreamer who is also a sociopath and a murderer would be—”

“Right. Your worst nightmare.”

isabel did not like the way she had been feeling since Gavin’s call. “Jittery” was the only word she could come up with to describe the strange sensation. Sitting in the seat next to Ellis for the past few minutes had done nothing to elevate her mood. It was a lot like sharing a den with a hungry wolf. All traces of the warm, sensual promise that she had experienced in his arms earlier when he kissed her good night had vanished. In its place was a steady, ice-cold intensity that was disturbingly familiar. She had sensed it often enough in his dream reports.

The news that a person like Vincent Scargill existed and was at large had made things a whole lot worse.

She was about to start asking questions, lots of them, when she was distracted by a myriad of flashing lights.

The sputtering neon sign that marked the Breakers Motel and the one that spelled out the words BAR and LIVE MUSIC were directly opposite each other. But neither of them provided the eye-dazzling strobe effects that dominated the scene. Those came from the emergency and police vehicles that sat at angles on the edge of the road, blocking traffic.

A number of people, most in uniforms of one kind or another, were visible. A gurney was in the process of being loaded into the back of the ambulance. The victim’s face and body were entirely covered.

“Accident,” Ellis said tersely.

Isabel watched the doors of the ambulance close. A chill whispered through her. “A very bad one.”

Ellis downshifted swiftly, slowing smoothly to a halt.

A police officer, flashlight in hand, walked across the pavement to the Maserati. Ellis lowered the window.

“Sir, the road is closed for an investigation. Hit-and-run. You’ll have to turn around.”

“I’m headed for the motel,” Ellis said.

“Okay.” The officer stood back and waved him into the parking lot entrance.

Isabel could not take her eyes off the ambulance. “Ellis.”

“Yeah?” He slipped the Maserati into a space close to room number eight.

“There are no lights on in Gavin’s room,” she whispered.

He glanced at her, frowning slightly as he shut down the engine. “Probably trying to keep a low profile.”

“Maybe.” She gripped the edge of the seat on either side of her knees, staring hard at the ambulance. “But he said he was going to walk back to his room from the bar. You don’t think that . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to put her fears into words.

Ellis turned to look at the scene on the road.

“Damn,” he said very softly. “Stay here.”

This time she did as he ordered, mostly because she did not want to hear the news that she felt certain he would bring back.

Ellis got out of the car and walked through the rain to where the nearest cop stood directing traffic. There was a short conversation.

When he returned to the Maserati, he leaned down to speak to her through the open window. His expression was grim.

“It’s Gavin Hardy, all right. Hit-and-run. He’s dead. No witnesses. I told the cop that you knew Hardy because sooner or later it’s going to come out.”

She swallowed hard and looked past him. Two officers had detached themselves from the main group and were coming across the motel parking lot.

“I suppose those cops want to talk to us?” she said.

“Good guess.”

“What do we tell them?”

“The truth. No more, no less. Hardy wanted to sell you some contact information for some of your former clients. You agreed to meet with him to discuss it. When you got here, you found the accident scene. That’s all you know.”

The cops were closer now, only a few strides away.

“What about the connection to Jack Lawson’s operation?” she whispered urgently.

Ellis raised his brows in a politely quizzical expression. “Who’s Jack Lawson?”

“What about your suspicion that one of the e-mail addresses belongs to that killer, Vincent Scargill?”

“Guess I forgot to mention one small fact. Vincent Scargill is dead.”

16

the following afternoon Isabel sat with Tamsyn at one of the terrace tables outside the café at Kyler, Inc. The rain had stopped shortly before dawn, leaving a day that jarred and strained Isabel’s exhausted senses to the point of pain. The sky was too blue. The sun was too bright. The surface of the bay glittered as though it had been sprinkled with shards of broken mirrors. And then there was Tamsyn, vivid and energetic as ever, her expensive centerfold cle**age on display in her carefully styled Kyler blazer.

It was all somewhat overwhelming after the long, depressing night, Isabel thought. A person could be expected to endure only so much bright stuff. In self-defense, she removed her regular glasses and reached into her purse for her prescription sunglasses. She positioned them firmly on her nose and immediately felt much better able to deal with Tamsyn and the overbright day.

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” Tamsyn said. “What a horrible thing that must have been for you, coming across the accident scene the way you did.”

“He wasn’t exactly a friend. He was a coworker at the center.”

“If he was just an acquaintance, why did you feel you had to go visit him at one o’clock in the morning?”