“There was too much planning involved. Too many details. Harley Flood is driven by his mood and by impulse. He could pretend to be Clara Dover’s nerve doctor for a few weeks because he enjoyed playing the game. But in the end, he acted impulsively by burning down my house in an attempt to kill you and have Clara blamed for the act of arson. It was sloppy work. The individual who murdered Gilbert possesses a very different temperament. He is someone who was able to wait patiently in the wings for years before trying to take control of Dover Industries.”

“Rollins Dover.”

Jack laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the couch cushions. “The only real question is, why did he wait as long as he did?”

“Because it took that long to work up the nerve to take the huge risk of murdering two members of his own family?”

“Yes.” Jack contemplated the ceiling. “But why now?”

“Something pushed him over the edge. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Someone, not something,” Jack said. “Several months ago, the possibility that you would marry Gilbert set him in motion. He used Tapson to try to get rid of you. That failed, but you disappeared, so he assumed the situation was back under control, at least for a time. But then Harley Flood came on the scene, and things got complicated again. He knew Clara was falling under Flood’s influence. She was becoming unpredictable. He had no idea what she would do. He could no longer bide his time, waiting for an opportunity. He decided he had to act.”

“It all fits, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “But Flood is a wild card.”

Chapter 39

Do you collect crystal?” Jack asked.

Prudence took a bite of her pan-fried fish and put down her fork. Absently, she touched the pendant around her neck and got a speculative look. He knew she was trying to decide how much to tell him.

“Not exactly,” she said.

She was doing it again, he thought. She wasn’t lying to him, but she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. He reminded himself that he had no right to dig into her personal life unless he believed it had some relevance to the case. Still, he could not resist probing just a little.

He glanced at the crystal paperweight on the coffee table. “You’re attracted to it, aren’t you?”

“Certain pieces interest me.” Her hand fell away from the pendant. “Your paperweight is a particularly intriguing piece. It feels old.”

“Itfeelsold?”

“Where did you get it?” she asked.

Another question neatly avoided, he thought. “I saw it in the window of an antiques shop a few months ago. I needed a paperweight. It looked like it would do the job. It wasn’t very expensive. I bought it. There. I answered your question. How about answering mine? Why do you find crystal so intriguing?”

She smiled a slow, teasing smile. “Surely you know that psychics like to use crystal balls.”

“No, psychics aren’t known for employing crystal balls. Carnival fortune tellers like to impress their clients with crystal balls.”

“Semantics.”

“It’s not semantics,” he said. “You made it clear you were never in the business of telling fortunes or reading palms. Your specialty is interpreting dreams.”

“I’m no longer in that profession, remember?”

“But it was your former career as a psychic that made you the target of a killer. I need to know more about that aspect of your life.”

She hesitated, and then she eased her plate aside and propped her elbows on the table. She linked her fingers, rested her chin on them, and watched him with her riveting eyes.

“I come from a long line of women who made their living as psychic dream readers. We have a tradition of using crystal because it enhances the interpretation process.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” she said. She narrowed her eyes a little. “I believe it because I’ve experienced it. Crystal makes it easier to focus psychic energy. That results in sharper, clearer readings.”

She wasn’t trying to fool him, he decided. She believed what she was saying. The last thing he wanted was an argument about themetaphysics of the paranormal. He had enough problems just trying to keep her safe.