Jayne Castle - After Glow

She moved one hand slightly. "I'm afraid so. I'll be happy when Emmett steps down, to tell you the truth. Being a Guild boss wife is not all it's cracked up to be."

"I can understand why you would feel that way." Gannon leaned forward to pick up one of the photos. "This is a very nice piece."

"The price is even nicer. The dealer hinted that the owner is desperate to raise cash."

Gannon tossed the photo down with a decisive air. "Let's get it."

She made a note. "I'll make the call later this afternoon. We don't want to look too eager."

Gannon settled back in his chair and studied her with a considering expression. "I don't suppose, given your connections with both the Guild and the university, that there's any chance of acquiring a couple of items from that library chamber for my project?"

"Are you kidding? The university has put up so many guards and barricades around the entrances and exits of that chamber that the place looks like a crime scene. Only authorized personnel can go in now and I'm not on the list."

"I might be able to pull a few strings and get you appointed to a consulting position."

"It wouldn't do you any good. If I got on as a consultant, I'd no longer be able to work for you. It would be a conflict of interest."

"Ah, well, it was just a thought." There was a discreet knock. Gannon frowned slightly and glanced toward the door. "Come in, George."

The door opened. The butler loomed. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Anderson is on the phone."

"Thank you, George, I'll take it in my office." Gannon got to his feet. "Will you excuse me for a moment, Lydia?"

"Of course."

Gannon left, closing the door behind him. Lydia waited a moment and then rose and crossed the room to the antiquities cabinet.

The closer she got, the stronger the pulse of psi energy. She did not understand why it would be this thick. Granted, so many relics grouped together could create a trickle of power but not as much as she was picking up.

And then she caught it, the unmistakable aura of illusion trap energy. It was coming from the bottom bookshelf on the right-hand side of the cabinet.

She crouched down and saw a row of books. Behind the volumes there were dark shadows. A lot of dark shadows. Illusion trap energy crackled gently.

She took out a couple of books and saw the chunk of green quartz that was anchoring the shadow. The trap was small, but extremely complex. Nevertheless, she was able to de-rez it in seconds.

When the unnatural shadow evaporated she saw a clear box containing a half dozen recordings. Not the new amber audio discs that had appeared on the market a couple of years ago, but the older synch wave tapes that had been used for twenty years before that.

Each tape was sheathed in a plain, unmarked cover.

Ice-cold perspiration trickled down her ribs.

She listened intently but heard no footsteps in the hall outside the library.

Very carefully she opened the lid of the storage box and took out one of the tapes. The envelope that protected the recording was not marked with any of the familiar commercial music studio brand names. Instead, someone had used an ink pen to write simply Number 5 .

She quickly replaced the recording and took another one out of its envelope. Number 6 .

What was it Karen Price had said when she had called to talk about her old roommate? " Burgis was obsessed with only two things. One of them was pulse-rock music. He went so far as to rent a studio so that his band could record a half dozen tapes .…"

It was getting hard to breathe. Lydia was intensely aware of the enormous silence of the big house.

She had to get out of here, she thought. Right now.

She shoved the second recording back into the storage container and closed the lid.

She was about to reset the trap when intuition made her hesitate. She had no way to protect herself on the way out of this big house. What if the butler tried to stop her?

The little trap might come in handy.

Gingerly she picked up the chunk of quartz that anchored the ephemeral psi energy. It looked harmless now but she could feel the core of the illusion trap pattern resonating around it. Unless she deliberately destroyed it, the snare would continue to pulse, ready to be reset and re-triggered.

Quartz in hand, she leaped to her feet and ran to the table where she had spread out the photos and her notes. She put the still-resonating stone into her purse and gently reset the trap. She shoved her paperwork back into the portfolio, grabbed it and the purse, and rushed toward the door.

It opened before she was halfway across the room.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, but I really can't let you leave," Gannon said with polite regret.

Heart thudding in her chest, she stared at the mag-rez gun in his hand.

"There seem to be a lot of those around these days," she said hoarsely. "Part of your underground cache, I assume?"

Gannon shook his head. "I've been so damned careful for so long. I'd really like to know what it was that gave me away."

Emmett crouched beside the twisted and broken body. The remains of Foster Dorning were sprawled in the alley behind the City Center Parking Garage. A large trash container partially obscured the dead man. The rain that had been falling steadily all morning had soaked Dorning's clothing and sluiced off much of the blood. His personal phone lay in the muck nearby.

"Who reported it?" Emmett asked.

Verwood juggled the oversized umbrella he was using to cover Emmett and the body. "A delivery truck driver found him a few minutes ago. He notified the garage attendant who sent for me. Figured you'd want to know."

"Someone call the cops?"

"I told the attendant to take care of it. They'll be here any minute." Verwood looked at the body. "His assigned parking space is on the top floor of the garage. You think maybe he got out of his car, got disoriented in the rain, and fell over the edge?"

"No." Emmett rose slowly. "I think it's a lot more likely he was pushed. What the hell was he doing here at headquarters in the middle of the night?"

Verwood shrugged. "Who knows? Looks like the Guild is going to be in the news again this week. Never a dull moment, huh?"

Sirens hummed in the distance.

Emmett leaned down and picked up Dorning's personal phone and dropped it into his pocket just as the first police car turned into the alley, lights flashing.

The car doors opened. A familiar figure got out.

"Detective Martinez," Emmett said. "What a surprise."

"Personally I'm trying to look on the bright side," Martinez said. "At least your wife isn't involved this time."

Fifteen minutes later Emmett managed to escape Martinez's clutches.

Upstairs he walked into the reception lobby and dropped the phone on the desk in front of Perkins.

"The last number he called is blocked," Emmett said. "I assume you can get around that little obstacle?"

"Of course, sir. I'll have an address for you in a few minutes."

"Thanks." Emmett went toward the door of his office. "I'm going to call Wyatt. Let me know as soon as you track down that number."

Inside his office he reached across the desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed Wyatt's private number. Mercer answered on the first ring.

"Tell me everything you can about Sandra Thornton," Emmett said.

Mercer was silent for a moment. "Something else happen?"

"Dorning is dead. Apparently he fell from the top of the garage here at headquarters."

"Seems a little unlikely," Mercer said dryly.

"Struck me that way, too. I think someone is getting rid of loose ends. Talk to me about Sandra."

"You think maybe she was a loose end?"

"Yes. Lydia is right. The coincidences are getting a little too thick on the ground. What did you know about her? Where did she come from? Where did she go to school? Any family?"