Mind Game (GhostWalkers #2)(88)
Author: Christine Feehan

“No real security system other than the alarm Ian interrupted,” she murmured softly, feeling a little foolish talking to the team. She wasn’t a team player, and she felt a bit self-conscious knowing they were all watching and monitoring everything she said and did.

She lowered her body until she could reach the edge of the window and tugged to bring it up. As she did so, she whispered softly. She wasn’t a strong telepath, she couldn’t read others that easily, but she could mesmerize with her voice, especially if the person was sleepy, drunk, or very susceptible. She kept her voice beguiling as she slid down the wall and rolled through the window, landing silently in a crouch, her gaze scanning the room as she continued to give the order to sleep. She was in the bedroom of Director Henderson’s secretary, Louise Charter, who lay sleeping peacefully. One hand was flung out just touching the end table where her alarm clock sat.

“I’m in,” she announced softly. “She’s alone, but I haven’t checked the house.” It was usually the first thing she did to insure her safety, but Nicolas had been adamant that she only deal with the secretary. She moved through the room first, searching it carefully, going through the drawers and the closet. She noted each item of interest. “She’s definitely seeing someone.”

Next to the phone was a framed photograph of Louise Charter and a young man of undetermined age, perhaps thirty or forty. He had his arm around her and was smiling down at her upturned face.

Dahlia sat at the end of the bed. “Louise.” She said the name softly, gently. Put persuasion in her voice.

Louise opened her eyes and gasped, half-sat, and pushed at the fall of tumbling blond hair threaded with gray. “Dahlia. I recognize your voice. What are you doing here? Are you in trouble?” She sat up all the way and reached for her robe in a no-nonsense fashion. “I can call the director and have help here immediately for you. He’s been out of the office and unavailable, but I can reach him in an emergency.”

Dahlia smiled at her, amazed that Louise would be so complacent to find her sitting on the bed. She was certain Louise was sixty, although she certainly looked younger. “Thank you, I’m fine. I just need information, and I didn’t want to use the phone. I was afraid it might be dangerous.”

Louise nodded her understanding. “I think the director has been afraid of that as well. He’s very secretive at the moment, even with me, and I’ve been his private secretary for twenty years.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

Louise shook her head. “Not at the moment, but he’s always in touch. Have you spoken with him since all this happened?”

“Briefly,” Dahlia lied. “He’s gone to see Jesse.”

At once Louise looked distressed. “How would you know where the director is?” The thought was clearly upsetting.

“He told me when I asked him about Jesse.”

Louise nodded, still frowning. “Please don’t repeat that to anyone, Dahlia. You shouldn’t have even told me.” She sighed. “Poor Jesse. I’m told he’ll never walk again.”

Something inside Dahlia went very still. Her heart began to pound. She felt the swarm of energy. Louise’s distress, her own rising anger. With an effort, Dahlia pushed down her temper. “Who told you he would never walk again?”

Louise frowned. “I’m sorry, Dahlia. I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have thought before I spoke. Jesse’s condition is very serious. His legs are damaged beyond repair. It’s no secret. I thought you knew.”

“Have you seen him?” Dahlia’s fingernails bit deeply into her palm. She wanted to reach out and shake the woman. The energy poured into her so that her stomach churned and pressure built in her chest. Electricity crackled in the air.

Louise looked around her, frowning at the static electricity in the air.

“Have you seen Jesse? I’m so worried about him.” Dahlia thrust her hand into her pocket and found the amethyst spheres, palming them for added control. Wisps of Louise’s hair were standing at attention, drawn by the static building in the air. Dahlia feared if she didn’t control it, lightning would arc.

“No, dear,” Louise sighed. “I wish I could have. Martin told me about him. Martin Howard.” She gestured toward the picture. “We’re good friends, and he knew I was worried, so when he found out, he told me.”

“How would he have found out?” Dahlia frowned and clenched her fingers tighter around the spheres. “I even asked the director, and he didn’t give out any information.”

“Dahlia, why would anyone keep Jesse’s condition a secret from all of us? There’s a lot of classified information, but an injured friend isn’t one of them.” Louise spoke very gently, reminiscent of her calm, pleasing voice on the phone.

Dahlia bit down hard on her impatience. “It does seem rather ridiculous, unless someone is out to kill him.”

Louise opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. She studied Dahlia’s face for a long time. “Out to kill him? Deliberately? Dahlia, you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

“Someone destroyed my home and killed my family, Louise. And they tried to kill Jesse. It was a setup from the very first. I walked into trouble. They didn’t follow me home, they were there ahead of me. I don’t exist to anyone except the NCIS. And even there, only a few people know about me.”

Louise shook her. “That can’t be. Only a handful of people know about you, Dahlia, even at the office.”

“So my guess is, the director is protecting Jesse even from the other agents until we find out who is behind this.”

Louise’s faded blue eyes met Dahlia’s squarely. “That’s why you’re here. You think maybe I had something to do with it.” There was great dignity in her voice and a wealth of pride. “I’ve served as Frank Henderson’s secretary for over twenty years, and long before that I served in positions of trust. I’ve never divulged a secret in my life. And you can’t count Jesse’s condition, as nothing has crossed my desk calling it classified information.”

“I’m just trying to keep from getting killed, Louise,” Dahlia said. It was hard not to believe the woman. The energy coming from her was not that of pretense or subterfuge.

“Does Frank think I’ve betrayed him?” When she asked the question her voice wavered and cracked, but her expression was one of pride and dignity. “Do you?”