Judson’s ring flashed with dark energy, but his expression did not change. “Yes,” he said. “We’re talking about an accomplice who may have decided to continue playing the game.”

“But no one else in the study group has died in the past two years. Evelyn and I kept track.”

Judson’s did not take his eyes off the fire. “You said that Mary Henderson and Ben Schwartz were both victims of Taylor’s kill-the-psychic game and that Taylor liked to see his prey run. He intended for you to die running, too.”

“Yes. The chase excited him.”

“What I sensed today at the scene told me that Ballinger’s killer did not see her as a player in a fantasy game. He definitely got a rush out of the kill, but he was under control at the time, not excited the way I think he would have been if he had considered that murder a game.”

“You could perceive that much?”

“It’s the nature of my talent,” Judson said. “I can sense the emotions the killer experienced when he made the kill.”

She shivered. “It’s as if you get a snapshot of the killer’s mind.”

He looked at her. “Yes.”

“Tough talent. Must make for a lot of bad dreams.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes shadowed. Eventually he turned back to the fire.

“My talent doesn’t make for good dreams or stable, long-term relationships,” he said.

She recognized it for the warning it was and smiled.

“Welcome to the club,” she said.

He smiled. “There’s a club for people like me?”

“People like us. I’ve got dream disorder issues, too, and they make stable, long-term relationships very difficult. Impossible, in my case.”

“Yeah?” Judson looked intrigued.

“You’d be amazed how fast a guy can run when you tell him that you see ghosts. In fact, men I have known have fled, screaming, into the night.”

Judson’s teeth flashed briefly in a wicked smile. “Sounds interesting.”

“You think I’m joking, don’t you?”

“Sure, but I get your point. You’ve had a few problems with long-term relationships. Good to know I’m not the only one.”

There was no reason to tell him that she had not been joking, she decided.

“I think we can both blame our relationship problems on our talent,” she said instead.

Judson nodded. “With the exception of Sam, no one else in my family understands. My mother and my sister are convinced that I’ve got major commitment issues. Their theory is that I’m obsessed with hunting bad guys, that I’m somehow addicted to using my talent. They’re afraid, long-term, that will damage me psychically if not physically.”

“Well, you’re going to have to find a way to deal with it because you need to hunt,” Gwen said without stopping to think. “Your talent drives you to it, just as mine makes me see ghosts. It’s not like either of us can just stop perceiving what we perceive.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not like we have a choice.”

“I’m not sure we’d want the choice. As hard as it is sometimes, I can’t imagine that either of us would want to come upon a crime scene and not know that something bad had happened there. It would be like walking through a graveyard or across an old battleground and not sensing the dead and the dying under our feet. It would be . . . disrespectful, don’t you think?”

He was surprised. Then his eyes tightened at the corners in a thoughtful expression. “Yes, that’s exactly how it is for me.”

“What about your father? Does he understand?”

“Dad tells himself and everyone else who will listen that my problem is that I just haven’t found the right woman. But deep down he’s worried that I won’t get lucky the way he did with Mom and that it’s his fault.”

“Why?”

“He feels guilty because he’s pretty sure the problem is my talent,” Judson said. “He blames himself.”

“Because he thinks you acquired your talent from his side of the family?”

“Because he knows I got it from his side.” Judson’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “Hell, it’s the truth. He’s probably responsible for Sam’s and Emma’s psychic abilities, too. But it’s not his fault he got hit with a heavy dose of paranormal radiation forty years ago.”

“Is that what happened?” she asked.

“It’s a long story, but the bottom line is that Dad was caught in an explosion in an old mine back in his prospecting days. We have reason to believe that there was a lot of paranormal energy released in the blast. Sam and Emma and I are convinced that the ultra-light altered his DNA in a way that affected all three of his future offspring.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” she said. “I have no idea where my talent came from. I never knew my parents. They were killed shortly after I was born. The aunt who raised me swore it didn’t come from her side of the family. That would have been my father’s side. But, then, Aunt Beth had a few issues of her own.”

There was a long silence. Max rumbled on.

“How have you handled your relationship issues?” Judson asked after a while.

“Mostly I just avoid them.”

“The issues?”

“No, the relationships. It’s easier that way.” She stretched and settled deeper into the chair. “Well, now that we’ve established that neither of us is good long-term commitment material, maybe we should get back to our investigation. You said you didn’t think that Evelyn was a victim of some terrible fantasy game. What does that tell us?”

“That she was killed for a very pragmatic reason.” Judson got to his feet and went to the window. He stood looking out into the night. “You knew her better than anyone. Do you have any idea where we can start looking for her secrets?”

“Maybe,” Gwen said.

She rose from the chair and crossed the room to take the photo out of her tote. She brought the picture back to show him what Evelyn had written on the back.

“Mirror, mirror,” he read.

“I think I may know where she hid at least one very important secret,” Gwen said.

The next morning, the old lodge was shrouded in a heavy mist. Judson shut down the SUV engine and studied the scene. The rustic, badly weathered structure was two stories in height. The architecture looked like it dated from the early nineteen hundreds. All of the windows on both floors were covered with metal shutters.

“What’s with the blackout windows?” he asked.

“Evelyn was convinced that natural daylight and light in general from the visible end of the spectrum interfered with psi, making it harder to detect and measure,” Gwen said.

“She was right. Sam and his lab techs have come to the same conclusion. So you are now the proud owner of this old firetrap as well as her house?”

“Yep, property taxes, utilities and all.” Gwen fished a piece of paper out of her tote. “I didn’t want the lab and I have absolutely no use for the equipment inside, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Evelyn. Just about everything in there—all of the instruments and machines that she designed to study the paranormal—is a one-of a-kind device, designed and built by her.”

“What did she expect you to do with the stuff?”

“She hoped that I would find a good home for her precious instruments and test equipment. There aren’t a lot of people doing serious research into the paranormal, but there are a few.”

He smiled faintly. “Like Coppersmith, Inc.”

Gwen brightened. “Do you think that Sam and his R-and-D techs would be interested in some of her devices?”

“I think I can safely predict that Sam and his people would jump at the opportunity to examine whatever is inside that lodge. Can’t guarantee they’ll take every piece of equipment, though.”

“I understand. But I know Evelyn would have been thrilled to have some genuine paranormal researchers give her inventions serious attention. Unfortunately, she never even knew that the Coppersmith lab existed.”

“And Coppersmith was never aware of her work.” He unfastened his seat belt. “Damn shame. You know, this isn’t the first time that it has occurred to me that those of us with real talent need to come up with a way to find each other and communicate. It’s like we’re all working in the dark.”