“You know what I’m trying to say,” she said. “For heaven’s sake, we’re practically strangers.”

“You said we were partners.”

“That, too,” she said quickly. “At least for now.”

“Partners who sleep together. Do you know what that makes us?”

“No,” she said.

“It makes us lovers.”

She caught her breath. “Lovers?”

“Yes. Lovers.”

He kissed her before she could say another word. It was a thoroughgoing kiss. He did not let up until she sighed and softened against him. By the time he freed her, they were both breathing hard.

“Lovers,” he said again, making it a statement of fact.

“Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath and then she took a step back. “Lovers.”

He looked satisfied. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

“You bet.” She headed for the bathroom. “Who says men don’t know how to communicate?”

She closed the door very firmly and locked it.

Max’s soft meow alerted Judson when he emerged from the bathroom after his own morning shower. The cat was in Gwen’s room.

A faint trickle of energy shifted in the atmosphere, reminding Judson of the light current of the underground river that had guided him out of the flooded cave. He heard soft footsteps out in the hall and checked the time. It was just going on seven.

He heard the muffled sound of the stairwell door closing outside in the hall.

Max meowed again, more urgently.

Judson took a clean shirt out of the closet and went to the doorway between the two rooms. On the far side of the big bed he saw Max crouched in front of the hall door of Gwen’s room.

Gwen came out of the dressing room area, fastening the waistband of her jeans.

“What’s Max complaining about?” Judson asked.

“I don’t know.” Gwen looked toward the door. “He just started making noise a couple of minutes ago while you were in the shower. He’s probably hungry. I’ll feed him before we go downstairs to breakfast.”

Max abruptly lost interest in whatever had attracted him to the door. He rose and trotted across the room to greet Gwen with a demanding purr. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears.

“He heard someone out in the hall a moment ago,” Judson said.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I heard someone, too. Whoever it was went down the emergency stairs at the back of the inn.”

Gwen straightened. “Probably a guest going out for an early morning run.”

“Maybe. I’m going to take a look.”

Judson turned, crossed his room, opened the door and went out into the hall. The wall sconces lit the scene in a warm, golden glow. He glanced at the muddy footprints on the floor and then he followed them to the stairwell door.

He opened the emergency door just in time to hear the first floor door open and close at the bottom of the stairwell.

He went back along the hall and let himself into his own room. Gwen was waiting.

“Well?” she asked.

“Our visitor came from outside. She left a little mud on the carpet and the stairs.”

Gwen was impressed. “Did your para-senses tell you that the person was a woman?”

“No, I cheated and used my normal senses. The footprints belong to a woman. She came up the emergency stairwell, went to your door and then turned around and went back down the same stairs. Let’s take a look in your room.”

He went through the connecting doorway and walked around the bed to take a closer look at the place where Max had been crouched earlier. From that angle, he could see what had not been visible from the other side of the room.

An envelope lay on the floor.

He picked it up.

“Looks like she left a message,” he said.

“Probably the bill for room charges here at the inn,” Gwen said. “I’ll take care of it at breakfast.”

“It’s not the bill for the room.” There was no name or address on the outside of the envelope, but he could sense the anxiety that stained the paper.

He slit the seal and took out the photograph.

Gwen came to stand beside him.

“It’s a copy of the same group shot that I found on the floor near Evelyn’s body,” she said. “The picture of the seven research study subjects.” She took a closer look. “Someone drew a circle around my face.”

Judson turned the picture over and read the scrawled message on the back aloud. “You are next.”

“You’re sure about this?” Gwen asked.

“Almost positive,” Judson said.

Gwen opened her senses a little and watched his aura as he shut down the SUV’s engine. He was definitely running hot with a mix of adrenaline and psi—he had been ever since he had opened the envelope that contained the unpleasantly marked-up photo. But, as usual, he was fully in control.

He sat quietly for a moment studying the thick stand of mist-shrouded trees that stood between the vehicle and the rear door of Hudson Floral Design.

In the backseat, Max glowered through the recently repaired door of his carrier.

It had stopped raining, but an early morning fog had rolled in off the river, muffling sound and limiting visibility. At least, Gwen thought, the fog had that effect on those like her who possessed merely normal hearing and vision.

“What do you see?” she asked Judson.

“What?” He glanced at her. His eyes glowed with a low level of psi.

“Just wondered if you could see through the fog.”

“Sometimes I forget that you see things differently than I do. Don’t worry, I won’t blunder into a tree and brain myself.”

“That possibility never occurred to me.” She turned back around to study the scene. “I have to tell you that knowing that you’re almost positive you know what we’re doing here is not the most reassuring thing you could say under the circumstances. Remember, she’s got that old rifle.”

“I gave you the option of staying behind at the inn,” Judson reminded her.

She ignored that. “Maybe we should talk to Oxley first.”

“That won’t do any good.”

“Things could get awkward if you get caught.”

“I won’t get caught. But if I do, get on the phone to Dad.”

She almost smiled. “That sounds similar to the advice you gave Nick.”

“Because it’s the best advice under the circumstances.”

“Wow.” She snapped her fingers. “Must be nice to come from a family that can make every little problem go away.”

“The Coppersmiths can’t make every problem go away, but we’re pretty good when it comes to the annoying legal stuff.” He unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. “I won’t be long.”

“Forget it.” Gwen got out, too. “You’re not going in without backup, partner.”

He gave that a few seconds of consideration. Then he nodded once. Decision made.

“Okay,” he said.

“Glad we got that settled,” she said. She told herself that she was pleased that he seemed to be treating her as an equal partner in the investigation.

“All things considered, I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you,” Judson added.

So much for the partnership, she thought.

“You do need me, Judson Coppersmith,” she said. “I’m the one who knows this town and the people in it. Without me, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start investigating. What’s more, I’m in charge here. I’m the one paying the bills, remember?”

“Paying the bills doesn’t mean you’re in charge. It makes you the client.”

“Semantics.”

They wove a path through the trees to the narrow strip of paved parking area behind the shop. Gwen waited for Judson to crack the old lock. To her surprise, he knocked on the door instead. The sharp rap of his knuckles on wood gave her a start. But she was even more astonished when he wrapped his hand around the knob and opened the door.

“We know you’re in there, Nicole,” he said calmly.

Gwen glanced at him, startled. It was certainly news to her.