“Angry. Scared. Desperate.” Judson turned back toward the SUV. “You’re wondering if it was Nicole Hudson who fired that shot, aren’t you?”

“You heard her last night. She blames me for Taylor’s death.”

“If she was the shooter, all I can tell you now is that she wasn’t trying to kill you. I need more information.”

Gwen smiled. “I know what you mean. It’s called context.”

“Hunter.” Oxley studied the scarred metal where the rifle shot had punched through the doorjamb. “Every year we get a lot of city folks up here. Most of ’em can’t hit the broad side of a barn. They get excited and shoot at anything that moves.”

“I can see you’re not impressed,” Judson said.

Gwen was initially surprised that Oxley had not kept them waiting long. His arrival at the lodge so soon after Judson made the 911 call indicated that he had been poised to spring into action if he got word that she was present at yet another crime scene. It was almost as if he had been expecting to hear more bad news, she thought. It was depressing to be the Wilby version of Typhoid Mary.

Light glinted on Oxley’s dark glasses when he turned his head to look at Judson. “This kind of thing happens every season. Just glad no one was hurt.”

“Gosh, so are we,” Gwen said.

Oxley’s heavy jaw hardened. “You think someone deliberately took a shot at you?”

“That possibility crossed my mind, yes.”

“Now, why would anyone want to do that?” Oxley asked very softly.

“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “It occurred to me that getting the answer to that question was your job.”

Oxley contemplated her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable behind the shades. “It’s no secret that you made an enemy here a couple of years ago.”

“You’re talking about Nicole Hudson, aren’t you?” Gwen said.

“Between you and me, Nicole is not real stable.”

“I’ve heard that,” Gwen said.

Oxley grunted. “I happen to know for a fact that she’s still got her dad’s old hunting rifle.”

“Wonderful,” Gwen said. “An unstable woman in possession of a weapon. What are the odds she might decide to use it?”

Oxley rubbed the back of his thick neck. “I’ll have a talk with her.”

“We don’t think this was a hunting accident,” Judson said quietly. “We wanted to report the incident in case the situation escalates.”

“Escalates?” Oxley repeated in ominous tones. “Like it escalated two years ago?”

“Yes,” Judson said.

“Who are you, Coppersmith, and what’s your connection to Miss Frazier, here?”

“I’m a friend,” Judson said. “I’m helping Gwen deal with Evelyn Ballinger’s affairs.”

“Friend, huh? Way I hear it, you and Miss Frazier are more than just friends, but that’s your business,” Oxley said. “I’d advise you to be real careful, though. Friends of Gwen Frazier have a bad habit of dying here in Wilby.” He squared his cap on his head and stalked back toward the patrol car. “Call me if there are any more incidents.”

“You bet,” Gwen said. “Good to know you’re there to serve and protect, chief.”

Oxley paused before stuffing himself behind the wheel. “You want to see this situation de-escalate? Leave town. Got a hunch things will go right back to normal around here once you’re gone. Just like they did last time.”

“You found one of the Phoenix geodes?” Elias roared into the phone. “Just sitting around in some abandoned resort lodge?”

Wincing, Judson held the phone away from his ear.

His father had built a business empire founded on rare earths and valuable ores. Elias had interests in every region of the globe. As president and CEO of Coppersmith, Inc., he did high-level deals in cosmopolitan European capitals and in hardscrabble mining camps on every continent. He had connections that stretched from Wall Street and Washington, D.C., to the farthest corners of the planet.

The strategic importance of rare earths ensured that Elias could pick up a phone and get the full and immediate attention of government officials, directors of hedge funds and the owners of a wide range of technology firms. He was the go-to man for those who wanted to know what the foreign competition was doing. In practice, Elias almost never picked up the phone. Other people wasted a lot of their valuable time and their assistants’ valuable time trying to get through to him.

Elias could hold his own with anyone from an East Coast banker to a Silicon Valley engineer, but he had started out as a hard rock prospector in the deserts of the American West, and he would be a man of the Old West for the rest of his life. It was there in his voice. The drawl got thicker when he got excited. He was excited now.

“The geode was actually sitting around in a private lab here in Wilby,” Judson said. He looked at the steel strongbox on the bench at the end of his bed. “The former owner cut it open. She was using it to power some of her lab equipment, a psi-reflecting engine made out of hot mirrors.”

The door between his room and Gwen’s stood open. Max wandered across the threshold and vaulted up onto the big bed, landing with a heavy thud. He looked at the steel box with an attentive expression for a few seconds and then he seemed to lose interest.

“You’re sure it’s one of the stones from the Phoenix Mine?” Elias asked.

“There’s no way to be absolutely certain of the source,” Judson said. “Rocks are rocks. They don’t come with tidy little stamps stating the place of origin. But this rock is definitely hot just like the others in the vault. And there’s one other thing that makes me pretty sure it came from the Phoenix.”

“What the hell is that?”

“I recognize the energy in it. Some of the crystals are identical to the one in my ring.”

“Son of a—” Elias broke off, thinking. “Well, wherever the hell it came from, we need to get it up here to Copper Beach and into the vault as soon as possible.”

“I agree, but someone is going to have to come to Wilby to pick it up. I can’t leave town yet. The client insists on staying here until we find out who killed Ballinger.”

“This would be the client who happens to be one of Abby’s two best friends?” Elias asked.

“Gwen Frazier, right.”

“Does she have any idea how the dead woman got hold of that rock?”

“Gwen says Ballinger bought it online about two years ago.”

“Damn Internet,” Elias growled. “Talk about the perfect black market. Anyone can sell anything and not leave a trace. Can’t believe Ballinger was using that rock to fuel a bunch of hot mirrors. It’s a miracle that she didn’t blow up her lab and maybe the whole town.”

“Gwen says that Ballinger knew the rock was powerful. That’s why she kept it in a steel box. But it’s obvious she didn’t know what kind of fire she was playing with when she decided to use it as fuel for her engine.”

“No one knows what kind of fire those rocks are capable of igniting. That’s what makes ’em so damn dangerous,” Elias muttered. He paused. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I’m no ace detective like you, son, but it strikes me that stone would be a mighty fine motive for murder.”

“That thought did occur to me.”

“Wouldn’t put it past Barrett to do whatever it took to get hold of one of the Phoenix rocks.”

Judson suppressed a groan. He had been expecting this. His father’s long-standing feud with Hank Barrett, the owner of Helicon Stone, had achieved the status of legend, not only in the family but in the global mining business. The origins of the feud were locked in secrecy. Judson was fairly certain that his mother, Willow, knew how it had all started, but she kept Elias’s secrets.

“I don’t think Barrett would resort to murder,” Judson said patiently.

“Sure he would,” Elias shot back. “But it’s more likely he’d send his son to do his dirty work. Gideon Barrett is a chip off the old block, and we know that he’s a powerful talent, like you and Sam and Emma.”