To be honest, I didn’t think Sheriff Kincaid was going to buy that government-issued identification you showed him,” Sierra said. “But he seemed thrilled with it.”
She and North were finally warm and dry and ensconced in front of a fire in room 210 of a local inn. She had not protested when North had decreed that they would share a room. It was a pragmatic decision. They now knew for certain they were chasing a killer. They needed sleep and they needed to watch each other’s backs. The most effective way to do both was to remain in close proximity.
She and North had stayed at the scene of the Garraway murder until the sheriff and his team had assessed the situation and taken their statements. It had soon become apparent that all four orderlies had vanished, leaving no one to manage Riverview. That presented a host of additional problems.
North had contacted Victor and Lucas to give them a rundown on the rapidly evolving situation. Victor had dispatched a forensics team from Las Vegas to take charge of the investigation and some members of the Halcyon Manor staff to assume control of Riverview. They were expected to arrive midmorning. In the meantime the sheriff had called in a retired doctor and a couple of former military medics who lived in the area. They had agreed to keep the situation at the asylum under control until the medical team from Las Vegas could get there.
It was clear the local authorities could not wait to hand all the problems connected to Riverview to the agents of the Foundation.
“Sheriff Kincaid didn’t question my ID for two reasons,” North said. “The first is that it’s legit. The Foundation is a genuine government contractor.”
“What’s the second reason?”
“Kincaid is smart enough to know there’s no upside for him if he gets involved in the investigation. Think about it—Garraway and the orderlies are from out of town and are widely disliked by the locals. The Riverview hospital makes everyone around here nervous. And now a card-carrying agent of a government contractor says his employer will be arriving to make all his problems go away. No one is going to be happier than Kincaid when the Foundation teams get here.”
“I see what you mean. But our problems are just beginning.”
“No,” North said. He contemplated the machine he had taken from Loring’s lab. It was currently sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. “We have a lot more information than we had at this time yesterday.”
Sierra followed his gaze. “Yes, but it’s not getting us anywhere. That machine seems to be important, but we don’t even know what it’s supposed to do.”
North drank some wine. He did not take his attention off the machine.
“We have an eyewitness who may be able to answer some of our questions,” he said.
Sierra started to ask who he was talking about but the answer dawned on her in the next breath.
“Marge, the street lady?” she said.
“According to Victor she spent a lot of time in Loring’s lab.”
“Marge is now in Fogg Lake,” Sierra said. “I assume that’s our next stop?”
“I think so. It feels like the right move.”
“Long drive to the mountains from here. We need some sleep. A couple of hours, at least.”
North did not respond at first. Then he turned his head to look at her. The firelight glinted on his mirrored glasses. His jaw was tense.
“You could have been killed tonight,” he said.
“We both could have been killed.”
“I never intended for you to be put in the line of fire.”
“I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m just the hired go-between. You thought you could use me to track down an artifact and then, when you got what you wanted, you could kick me to the curb.”
He winced. “That’s a little harsh considering the fact that I am paying you a hell of a lot of money.”
“It’s the truth. Don’t bother denying it. You’re still thinking you can dump me. But you’re afraid to cut me loose and send me back to Seattle because I might be in danger. I know too much for my own good now, don’t I?”
“Probably. Until this thing is over it would be best—”
“If you shipped me off to Las Vegas.”
“I’ve got a solid lead on Loring now,” North said evenly. “I may be losing my talent but I’m still a decent investigator. I’m good at finding people.”
“Forget it. You still need me, because I’m the one with the feel for artifacts.”
“Damn it, Sierra—”
“Give me a minute.” She stripped off one glove, sat forward, reached out and touched the black box machine. She winced and quickly removed her fingers.
“You said you could sense your grandfather’s signature in that device. I can tell you that the last person to handle it was really, really pissed off. But there’s a layer of much older rage and frustration infused in it, too.”
North’s expression sharpened. “How old?”
“Lost lab–era old.”
“But some of the anger is fresh?”
Sierra sat back against the cushions. “Definitely.”
North considered briefly. “The more recent prints most likely came from Loring.”
“Who may or may not be Harlan, Crocker Rancourt’s grandson.” Sierra paused, processing what she had experienced when she touched the machine. “There might have been more than one set of new prints. Maybe one of the Puppets touched it.”
“They’re definitely hot-tempered.”
Sierra eyed the black box. “Think it’s another weapon?”
North sat forward on the sofa, his forearms resting on his thighs, and studied the machine. “I can sense the heat in it and Griffin Chastain’s vibe, but there’s only one way to get a real feel for it.”
“You’re talking about using your talent?”
“What’s left of my talent,” North said.
“You’d have to remove your glasses to do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. It’s a risk, but I don’t have a lot of choice. I need information.”
He took a deep breath and reached up with both hands to remove the mirrored glasses. He set them down on the coffee table.
For the second time since they had met, Sierra saw his eyes. The first time had been in the abandoned building when they had encountered the light grenade. She had not been able to get a close look on that occasion. But tonight she could see them clearly. North’s eyes were a mysterious shade of green and gold. They burned with energy. For a few seconds she could not look away.
North was the one who broke the moment of connection between them. He blinked several times as if trying to clear his vision. Then he turned back to the machine and reached out to put both hands on it.
“Hot as hell,” he said. “Light energy.”
“That makes sense if it has your grandfather’s vibe,” Sierra said. She started to say something else but a tingle of heat snagged her attention.
The vibe was not coming from the machine. North’s mirrored glasses were the source.
Slowly she removed her glove. “Can I touch your glasses?”
“What?” North was concentrating on the machine. “Sure. Help yourself.”
She picked up the glasses and opened her senses. “Shit.”
A shock of chilling awareness rattled her so badly she almost dropped the glasses.
North turned his head to look at her. “What is it?”
She took a breath, tightened her grip on the glasses and concentrated.
“Rage,” she said. “And frustration. Some instability.”
North froze. “Heat laid down by me? Are you picking up my frustration and the deterioration of my talent?”
“No.” She took another breath. “This feels like some of the new stuff I sensed on that machine.”
“The same sensation you got off the doorknob at Garraway’s house?”
Sierra hesitated and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “You told me you got these glasses from a lab at Halcyon Manor.”
“Yes.”
“I think whoever handled these lenses before you started wearing them hates you, North. I think the radiation infused in the crystals is poisoning you slowly but surely. Someone is deliberately trying to destroy your talent and drive you mad.”