Falling Awake(57)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

She tore off a bite to feed to Sphinx. “You can make them for me and Sphinx anytime.”

Ellis watched her eat the sandwich. The darkness receded from his expression.

“It’s a deal,” he said.

the phone rang just as they finished the last of the sandwiches. Ellis took the call. Isabel listened closely and understood that he was not happy with the news he was getting.

He finished speaking and ended the connection.

“That was Detective Conrad of the Roxanna Beach PD, the person assigned to investigate the fire.”

“I gathered that much.” She brushed crumbs from her fingers.

“The name of the guy they arrested at the scene is Albert Gibbs. His lawyer got him out on bail about fifteen minutes after they booked him. An hour ago he was found dead in his trailer. Overdose.”

Her mouth went dry. “Oh, my God.”

“He lived in a park about fifty miles from here.” Ellis rested his forearms on his thighs. “Apparently he was so happy about getting out of jail that he went straight home and shot himself full of some extra strong junk.”

She watched his face. “You’re thinking that is rather a convenient conclusion, aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking it sounds like Vincent Scargill from start to finish. He finds real losers, manipulates them into doing his dirty work and then he gets rid of them.”

“What’s Detective Conrad’s theory?”

“He’s looking for the neatest solution, naturally. Turns out Gibbs had a history of arson-for-hire. Did time for it about three years ago. The detective thinks he was hired to set the fire today but that your locker probably wasn’t the intended target.”

“So who does he think hired Gibbs?”

Ellis shrugged. “Presumably one of the other renters who probably wanted to get rid of some incriminating evidence stashed in one of the units. But between you and Tom, the plan fell apart. Tom noticed the missing lock and called you. One thing led to another. Gibbs panicked, knocked Tom unconscious and shoved him into your locker. Before he could get out of the yard, you were there, demanding to know what was going on. So he tried to get rid of you, too.”

“Why does the detective think Gibbs just happened to pick my locker?”

“He’s not sure but at the moment he’s assuming that your locker just happened to be located near the one that Gibbs was hired to destroy. Gibbs probably figured that if the fire started in your space, it would look more like an accident and less like it had been set to damage evidence.”

“Got it.” She propped her ankles on the coffee table and went back to what had become her favorite hobby lately, petting Sphinx. “So much for Conrad’s theories. Let’s return to our own paranoid, sadly deluded view of this case. Why would Scargill tell Gibbs to target my furniture?”

“Damned if I know.” Ellis frowned and got to his feet. He went to stand looking out the window. “But I think it’s clear that it was your furniture, not you. The only reason you were there at all was because Tom called you. Maybe it was a message to me.”

“Scargill’s way of letting you know that he might go after me if you don’t back off?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.” She studied her toes. “Why not just kill me? Or you, for that matter?”

“Two words: Jack Lawson.”

“Ah, yes. He is the eight-hundred-pound government Bigfoot in this thing, isn’t he?”

“He’s that, all right. As it stands now, Lawson thinks I’ve got some serious psychological issues. He believes that I’m cracking up slowly but surely because of what happened a few months ago and the way it affected my dreaming. At the moment, he’s still convinced that Scargill is dead.”

“But if he decides otherwise . . . ?”

Ellis closed the drapes and turned to look at her. “If you or I get killed in the course of this investigation, it’s a sure bet that Lawson will decide that maybe I was right all along. He won’t quit until he gets answers, and he’s got the resources to rip Scargill’s cover, whatever it is, to shreds.”

“I see.” She swallowed. “Presumably Scargill knows this?”

“He does.” Ellis turned back to the window. He braced one hand on the wooden frame. “You know, Albert Gibbs’s death raises a question that’s been bothering me for a while.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve always wondered how Scargill finds all the losers he uses. And how he got so damn good at manipulating them. Hell, if he’s still alive, he’s only twenty-two years old. You don’t learn tricks like that until you get some mileage under your belt.”

She drummed her fingers on the sofa cushion, thinking about that. “I couldn’t begin to guess how he locates them but as far as motivation goes, I imagine most of them would have been happy to do whatever he wanted if he paid them enough money.”

“Not necessarily. A guy like Gibbs, who needed cash for dope, maybe. But not some of the others. Not McLean, the demented fool who kidnapped his ex-wife and hauled her off to his compound in the mountains. A couple of the other kidnappers didn’t strike me as being particularly interested in money, either. They were too lost in their own delusional worlds to pay much attention to mundane things like cash. None of them demanded ransoms. All of them had other motives for the abductions.”

She tilted her head back against the cushion. “Where are you going with this, Ellis?”

“Maybe I’ve been missing something in the profiles of the people he uses. I need to look at those guys from another angle.”

“What other angle?”

“The way I do potential investors and start-up entrepreneurs before I decide whether or not to fund their projects. I need to find out if there are any connections that I’ve overlooked.”

He swung around and went to his briefcase. She watched him take out a small computer.

“While you’re doing that, I’ll take a look at some of Belvedere’s research reports.” She sat forward and scooped up the nearest stack of papers. “I know how he worked. Maybe I’ll spot something you missed.”

“Good idea.” He sat down at the counter and powered up the computer. “I’m getting that nasty feeling you get when you know you’ve missed something important in a Level Five dream.”

27

an hour and a half later, Isabel closed the file she had been reading and tossed it onto the coffee table. Collapsing back against the sofa cushions, she removed her glasses and absently stroked Sphinx, who was a warm, heavy weight on her lap. The big cat purred contentedly.