Page 4 of Shattering Dawn
“I understand you believe you can see someone’s aura and perceive energy prints,” Gideon said. “But how can you get them on film?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Aunt Cybil thinks it probably has something to do with the way I manipulate the camera’s prism and mirror with my own energy field. I just know that if I get the focus right I can use gray scale to capture some of the bands of energy.”
Gideon contemplated her in silence for a long moment. “Who is Cybil and what does she know about auras and energy?”
Amelia winced. “Aunt Cybil is what my mother likes to call the family eccentric. I seem to be following in her footsteps. But that’s not important. Can we focus on my case?”
“Yes. After you tell me a bit more about your aunt.”
It was clear Gideon was not going to move forward unless she met his demand.
“All right, I come from a long line of overachievers,” she said briskly. “Academics, researchers, doctors, and writers. But occasionally the DNA gets screwed up and someone like Cybil or me appears on the family tree. We get stuck with a psychic vibe. Mostly we fail at a lot of things until we figure out what to do with our other vision. To be honest, there aren’t a lot of practical uses for the ability to see auras and prints.”
Gideon looked fascinated now, and not in a good way, she decided. He was watching her as if she had just dropped in from outer space.
“Out of curiosity, what does your aunt do with her other vision?” he asked.
Amelia raised her chin and narrowed her eyes, prepared to defend Cybil to the end. “My aunt makes a very good living as a psychic. She gives demonstrations on cruise ships. She is very popular and is always booked out for months. At the moment she is on a round-the-world cruise.”
“I see,” Gideon said. He picked up one of the photos and tapped it gently on the desk. “Are you considering a similar career in show business?”
“I would rather not go in that direction,” she said. She gave it abeat and then added, “Not that my career plans are any of your business. Do you mind if we get back to the subject at hand?”
“Right,” he said finally. “Do you think you might have attracted a stalker because of that podcast you and those other two women produce?The Lost Night Files?”
Excitement sparked through her. She smiled. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know that you follow theLost Night Filespodcast. That’s wonderful news. It makes things so much easier. Relax. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that you don’t believe in the paranormal. Not with me. As we say at the end of every episode, we’re in this together until we get answers.”
Gideon did not move. “To be clear, Ms. Rivers, I did not say I was a fan. I didn’t know your podcast existed until I ran a background check on you after you called for an appointment.”
“Oh.” Her spirits dropped like a rock. “I see.”
“I listened to some of the episodes. They are quite…imaginative. Murders committed by psychic means. Rumors of illegal experiments disguised as legitimate drug trials. Convenient episodes of amnesia. Reminded me of old-fashioned radio dramas.”
Fury surged through her. She had been willing to work with an investigator who was afraid of revealing his own talent. She had been prepared to deal with skepticism and questions. But damned if she would tolerate outright insults.
“This isn’t going well, is it?” she said in her iciest tones. “My fault. I assumed you would understand, or at least hear me out.”
Gideon’s expression didn’t change but she could have sworn his eyes got a little hot.
“Don’t give up on me, Ms. Rivers,” he said. “You are here in my office because your case interests me.”
The energy in the atmosphere became more intense. Somewhatbelatedly she realized that she was alone in a house with a man she did not know. Yes, given his physical condition she could outrun him, maybe even topple him with a well-placed kick to his injured leg. Still. If he pulled out a knife or a gun she was in an extremely vulnerable position.
Cold perspiration trickled down her sides. She finally remembered that her voluminous tote was on the floor beside the chair, her Taser inside. She leaned down and picked up the bag with what she hoped was a casual motion. She rested her hand on top. The tote was open. The weapon was tucked into a side pocket.
She smiled again, cool and composed this time—a client preparing to terminate an interview and walk out the door.
“It’s obvious I’m wasting your time and mine, Mr. Sweetwater,” she said. “My apologies. If you’ll give me my photos, I’ll be on my way.”
She gripped the handles of the tote and got to her feet.
“Please sit down,” Gideon said, his dark voice very soft. “I like unusual cases, and yours qualifies. I will take it.”
Be careful what you wish for, she thought. But she was short on options. She sank back down onto the chair, careful to keep her hand on the tote.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do you think I’m delusional?”
“No, Ms. Rivers, I don’t think you’re delusional. But when it comes to clients there are other categories.”