“Tucker loved the work. The more dangerous, the better as far as he was concerned. He was a real adrenaline junkie. Like I said, we made a good team.”

“You’re an adrenaline junkie?”

“No. I was the plodding research guy. I handled the investigative and planning phase of the cases. I identified and drew up the list of suspects. Tucker went inside to get the evidence. Then we put it all together and gave the package to my uncle at J&J. He decided whether the case could be turned over to regular law enforcement or if it was a situation that J&J had to take care of on its own.”

She nodded. “The way we handled the killer at the Zander house yesterday.”

“You know, in some quarters that kind of activity is called taking the law in our own hands,” Fallon said. There was a deep weariness in the words. “And it is frowned upon.”

“Arcane polices its own because no one else can do the job.”

“That has certainly been the rationale for J&J’s existence since it was founded,” Fallon agreed. “I’ve never told any of my agents or even anyone in my family, but sometimes in the darkest hours of the night I wonder if that makes it right.”

She turned toward him. “We both know we can’t leave para-psychopaths free to prey on the public. Not if it’s in our power to stop them. Regular law enforcement doesn’t even acknowledge the existence of criminals with paranormal abilities. How could the cops possibly track down the bad guys, let alone keep them in prison?”

“Don’t think I haven’t asked myself that question a million times.” Fallon leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs and cradled in his gloved fingers the box that held the ring. He watched the surf pound on the rocks. “But sometimes I wonder, Isabella.”

She put her hand on his arm. “The fact that you even ask the question is what makes you the right man to head J&J, Fallon Jones.”

They sat together for a time, watching the relentless waves.

“What happened to Tucker?” she asked after a while.

“I killed him.”

There was no trace of emotion in his voice. That told her everything she needed to know. Fallon was haunted by the death of Tucker Austin.

At first she thought he was not going to tell her the rest of the tale. But eventually he started to talk again.

“Tucker and I were assigned to the biggest case of our careers. A nightclub not so coincidentally named Arcane had popped up on the J&J psi-dar. It catered to sensitives, many of whom were not members of the Society. Some didn’t even realize they had a little talent. But they were drawn to the club consciously or unconsciously by the energy of the place.”

“All nightclubs have to give off a lot of intense energy or they go bankrupt,” she said.

“Yes, but most clubs get their energy from the music and the crowd and a good marketing image.”

“And the alcohol and the recreational drugs that are frequently available,” she added.

“The Arcane Club attracted its patrons with all those things, but it offered one additional lure, an elite club within a club.”

“Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess. The insiders’ club was called the Governing Council?”

He looked at her. “You’re good.”

“Thanks,” she said. Pride tingled through her. Fallon Jones did not give praise lightly. “So whoever operated the Arcane Club got a kick out of creating a shadow version of the real Arcane Society, including the Council. Creepy.”

“It was,” Fallon agreed. “Also smart marketing.”

“Did the club offer a parallel version of Jones & Jones?”

“Within the world of the club, J&J provided security.”

“For crying out loud,” she said, incensed. “They made the J&J staff the bouncers? That’s just wrong. We are an elite investigative firm.”

He smiled a little at that and went on with the story. “Unlike most insider clubs, the big draw wasn’t a drug; it was the lighting fixtures in the rooms that were reserved for the exclusive patrons.”

“The lights?”

“They were called magic lanterns,” Fallon said. “They were based on crystal technology. The paranormal radiation they emitted acted like an intense hallucinogen on people with talent. The higher the talent level, the bigger the hit.”

“Lot of energy in light,” Isabella mused. “All across the spectrum.”

“My uncle was aware of the club, but he was not too concerned at first. Even when it became obvious that there was some kind of drug dealing going on, he figured it was a problem for regular law enforcement. J&J didn’t get concerned until people who were deeply involved in the scene in the Arcane Club started dying.”

“How did they die?”

“Two thought they could fly. They jumped out windows. A couple of others were so disoriented by the state of altered consciousness that they engaged in high-risk behavior that got them killed. The authorities investigated the deaths but never made the connection to the club because no evidence of drugs showed up in the autopsies. My uncle decided it was time for J&J to take a look at the situation.”

“What happened?”

Fallon focused on the crashing waves. “He assigned Tucker and me to the case. We both realized immediately that there was no way we were going to get the kind of evidence that would stand up in court. Tucker suggested that we recommend to my uncle that he put pressure on the club owners to shut down. I agreed.”

“Did that work?”

“The club closed, but my uncle wanted to know who had designed and built the magic lanterns. He asked me to look a little deeper.”

“Wait,” Isabella said. “Let me get this straight. Your uncle assigned you but not your partner to conduct the more detailed investigation?”

Fallon looked down at the ring. “I think my uncle had his suspicions about Tucker by then. Once I started looking, though, I could see the connections myself. Just a few things at first, but it didn’t take long before they formed a pattern. Should have seen it much sooner.”

“The pattern pointed to your friend, Tucker?”

“I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. I had trusted Tucker with my life in the course of some of our investigations. But in the end I had to face the truth. He was the secret owner of the club. He was responsible for the magic-lantern deaths.”

“Something tells me you did not go straight to your uncle with the results of your investigation.”

Fallon frowned. “Why do you assume that?”

She waved off the question. “Because he was your friend and partner. You had to be absolutely certain.”

“I should have turned things over to my uncle at that point. But you’re right—I needed to be sure. I confronted Tucker. I hoped that I was missing some piece of the puzzle that would exonerate him. Like everyone else I know, he had been warning me that my talent gave me a skewed vision of reality, that it made me inclined to see conspiracy fantasies where there was nothing but random chance. He told me more than once that some day I’d go too deep into the darkness and never return.”

“So you gave him a chance to convince you that you were wrong. I’ll bet he had a really good explanation.”

“He laughed at me,” Fallon said, sounding resigned. “He told me that I really had lost it. He said he could prove that he was innocent. He asked me to give him twenty-four hours. I said okay.”

“What happened?”

“He tried to kill me.”

“With his talent?”

“With an overdose of magic-lantern psi.”

“Oh, crap.”

“I had dinner with my fiancée that night.”

An odd little chill fluttered through Isabella. “I didn’t know that you were engaged.”

“I was at the time,” Fallon said. “Obviously I’m not now.”

“Right.” She did not know how to take that. The thought of Fallon Jones having had his heart broken by another woman left her feeling slightly unnerved for some inexplicable reason. She did not want to think that someone else had ever had the power to hurt him in that way. “Go on.”