Page 37 of The Bride Wore White

“You’re evading the question,” he said.

“I answered your first question. I said I did not know if I was a fake dream reader. Here’s your problem, Mr.Consultant: I don’t care.”

“You must know if you are relying on something more than mere intuition when you claim to be interpreting a dream,” he said.

“The line between intuition and psychic ability is invisible as far as I’m concerned, at least when it comes to reading dreams. I don’t see how trying to define it would assist you in your investigation. What’s more, I’m not inclined to answer any more questions today, not unless they directly impact my case. I’m a client, not a research subject.”

“The more information I have, the faster I’ll be able to resolve your case.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “I’m not falling for that line. You want to use me so that you can add a chapter on ‘The Mind of the Fake Psychic Criminal.’ Or something. Admit it.”

That irritated him. “I never said you were a criminal.”

“A con artist.”

“No, damn it.”

“Ah. Perhaps you’ve concluded I’m delusional.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“I’ve got news for you,” she shot back. “It isn’t hard to do. You took my case because you want to study me—admit it.”

“I took your case because Pell is paying me a lot of money to take it.”

“And because you think I’m an interesting specimen of a particular criminal type. It’s hard to study fake psychics, because we don’t leave many clues at the crime scene, do we? All that’s left is a satisfied customer.” She paused and gave him another icy smile. “At least that’s all that’s left if one is a very good fake psychic.”

“This is a pointless argument. Let’s change the subject.”

“Excellent idea, but let me be very clear, Jack Wingate: I do not want to end up as an example in your manual of criminal analysis.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, aware that his voice was tightening. “I can guarantee you that your name won’t appear anywhere in my book.”

“I don’t think I trust you. I’m going to buy a copy of your book when it comes out and read it. If I see my name or anything that points to me, I will sue.”

“I doubt if you’ll ever see a copy. Assuming it does get published, it will be sold as a textbook to law enforcement agencies and serious academics who study the criminal mind.”

She flattened her palms on his desk again and leaned forward with a menacing air. “Until a few days ago I was a librarian. Before that I was a psychic. Turns out the skills needed to excel in both careers overlap. I know how to find out stuff. I will locate a copy of your book and I will go through it page by page. If I see a single word or phrase that looks like you used me as an example of a fraudulent psychic, you will hear from my lawyer. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” he said. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Fine.” She swept her hands out to the side in a grand gesture of dismissal. “Let’s talk about your talent instead.”

He went still. “I am a serious researcher trying to design a methodology for observing and analyzing the evidence at crime scenes that can be used to track killers. My goal is to produce a useful tool for law enforcement. I do not have a paranormal talent.”

“Well, well, well.” The energy in her eyes belied the innocence of her smile. “That is so interesting.”

He watched her warily. He knew he should not ask the next question, but he could not stop himself.

“Why do you find it so interesting?” he asked softly.

“Because it appears we have something in common, Jack Wingate. I read dreams. You read crime scenes.”

He stopped breathing for a beat and then reminded himself that she was deliberately trying to provoke him because she was annoyed. Just a difficult, exasperating client. She could not possibly know about the questions that haunted him.

He took a deep breath and pulled hard on his control. “I don’t see any comparison. I deal in facts. You deal in dreams. By definition there are no facts involved.”

She picked up the heavy paperweight and held it in both hands so that it caught the sunlight streaming through the window. She studied the crystal as if she could see omens and portents inside. He could have sworn her pendant glowed with an inner fire. A trick of the light, he thought. But he could not ignore the icy shock of intense awareness that flashed through him.

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