The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(43)

The terrible energy left by the victim’s mounting horror was a palpable force sending waves of violent dread through her, threatening to shatter her own senses. She fought for control, struggling to overcome the urge to run for her life; to hide.

Strong hands closed around her shoulders, hauling her out of the pool of death energy.

“It’s all right, Catalina.” Slater’s voice shattered the vision. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, enveloping her with his aura. “I’ve got you. It’s over. Done. You’re safe.”

She shut down her other senses and found herself once again in the world that most people defined as real. Her normal senses took charge. That was when she realized Slater was still holding her. She could not resist the temptation to burrow deeper into the warmth and energy of his embrace. Just a few seconds, she promised herself. Just long enough for me to catch my breath.

It had been a very long time since anyone had comforted her after a vision.

She was pretty sure the last time had been when her mother had come into her bedroom to calm her after she had begun to experience the nightmares that had heralded the onset of her talent. The era of parental sympathy and concern had not lasted long. Once the true nature of her new senses had become apparent, her mother and father had immediately begun to emphasize the necessity of gaining control over her strange new ability. You’ve got to learn to handle the visions or you’ll never be able to live a normal life in the outside world.

She knew they had meant well and that their insistence on control was for her own good. Nevertheless, neither of them could see the things that she saw. They could not comprehend how disturbing the dreamlike visions were. They imagined them to be waking dreams but the truth was that they were so much worse because, in a sense, the visions were all too real.

“Most people who see me like this want to get as far away from me as possible,” she said, her voice muffled by Slater’s leather jacket.

“What did you say?” Slater asked.

Mortified, she raised her head and took a step back. His hands fell away from her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t usually get that dis-oriented. I think the heavy atmosphere in here made the vision a lot more powerful than it would have been otherwise.”

“That’s not surprising.” Slater gave it a beat before he continued. “Do you think it affected the accuracy of the vision?”

She managed a wry smile. “You know, that’s one of the things I’m starting to admire about you, Mr. Arganbright. You’re very good at going straight to the bottom line. No, the energy in here didn’t affect the accuracy of the vision. It just made it stronger. Someone was murdered in here. Given that it was Royston’s body that was found, I think it’s safe to conclude he was the victim. I also picked up the hot prints of one other person.”

“Any chance there might have been two other people?”

His focus on the crime made it easier for her to pull herself together. He wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t looking at her as if he was wondering if she should be locked up in an asylum. He was treating her as a qualified, professional investigator. That realization warmed her almost as much as the feel of his arms around her had a moment ago.

“You’re thinking about Marge’s clones, aren’t you?” she said. “I’m almost certain that there was only the one other person here inside the vault,” she said. “But there wouldn’t have been room for two killers.”

“Good point. It would have taken only one to do the job.”

Catalina opened her senses again and moved around the vault. “The killer was … excited.”

“By the kill?”

She hesitated, trying to analyze the energy. “No, that was an act of cold-blooded violence. I think he was excited because he found whatever it was he was looking for.”

“And three days later Olivia gets kidnapped.”

Catalina looked at him. “I think you’re right. Olivia was taken because of something the killer found here inside Royston’s vault. That means there is some connection to what happened in those caves fifteen years ago. But how could Royston have been involved?”

“Looks like he had the bad luck to acquire the wrong artifact,” Slater said. “So much for his safe room.”

“What safe room?”

Slater indicated the latch on the heavy steel door. “Collectors usually design their vaults to function as safe rooms in the event of a home invasion by freelancers or thieves. But that concept doesn’t work well if you invite the killer right into the vault. Evidently that’s what happened here.”

“That would seem to indicate that Royston knew his killer.”

“Not necessarily. The murderer may have forced him to open the vault.”

“How?”

“Something as simple as a gun to the head would probably do the trick.”

Catalina thought about that. “I don’t think so. Royston wasn’t afraid, not at first. He was … elated.”

“In my experience there are only a couple of things that get an obsessive collector like Royston excited—adding a new artifact to the collection or showing off a particularly valuable acquisition to a rival.”

“Maybe the killer posed as a collector or the representative of a potential buyer.”