"You know, sir," Jeff said, "if you're really nice to her, she might give you her special amber tune-up service. She did my amber and, wow, what a difference."
Cruz swung around and started toward him.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked softly.
"Hey, don't look at me like that," Jeff retreated toward the open doors. "I didn't mean anything like what you're thinking, honest."
"Yeah? What was I thinking?"
"Haven't got a clue," Jeff said quickly. "Look, I'm just trying to tell you that Lyra has this really cool thing she can do when she tunes amber. I saw her do it for one of her clients. I asked about it, and she did it for me."
Cruz closed the distance between them. "What kind of really cool thing are we talking about?"
Jeff took another step back. "She locks the frequencies on to your specific wavelengths. It makes the focus more precise. When you use the amber, you don't have to generate as much raw power to get the same effect. Think about what that might have meant last night. You wouldn't have had to push so much energy through your ring. Maybe it wouldn't have shattered."
Cruz stopped, frowning a little. "Assuming she can do that special tuning thing to obsidian."
"Right. Assuming. But I use tourmaline, and she did it for me. You know how complicated tourmaline is. I ran some experiments yesterday. Works like a charm. Not only do you get more bang for the buck, you get incredible precision. It's the difference between driving a tractor and a Slider. Both will get you from point A to point B, but the tractor requires more fuel, and it squashes a lot of stuff along the way."
"The woman never fails to surprise me," Cruz said.
He headed into the bathroom and contemplated the image in the mirror. The guy staring back at him looked like he'd just surfaced from a weeklong bender. His eyes were bottomless pits, and he really needed a shave. But mostly he needed to find the SOB who had tried to kidnap Lyra.
One thing at a time. Got to prioritize here. Always with the damn priorities when all he really wanted to do was settle down with Lyra and get started on the next generation of Sweetwaters.
He opened the mirrored cabinet and took out the razor. "Any news from the people watching Fairstead's gallery?"
"I talked to Flagg a few minutes ago. We've got another situation."
Cruz rezzed up some lather. "Why?"
"Fairstead was seen returning to the gallery around midnight last night. He let himself in through the alley entrance. He never came out. The gallery employees found his body in a little room at the back of the main showroom this morning."
"Huh." Cruz thought about that while he went to work with the razor. "But Flagg's people didn't see anyone else enter or leave the gallery last night?"
"No. There may be a reason for that. The cops found a hole-in-the-wall entrance to the tunnels inside Fairstead's office."
"The killer came and went from underground." Cruz angled the razor for another stroke. "I assume the vault was opened?"
"Yes. But here's the weird part. My friend in the Frequency PD says that the gallery employees did an inventory and told him that nothing was missing."
"The killer took the relic. It wouldn't have been on any inventory list."
HALF AN HOUR LATER, CRUZ WALKED OUT OF THE BEDROOM wearing a fresh shirt and trousers from the selection of clothing he kept at the cottage. He headed toward the kitchen, thinking of Lyra and coffee, in that order.
Jeff appeared in his path. "Bad news. We have what you might call a situation."
"What?"
"Big Jake arrived by boat while you were in the shower."
"Should have known he'd find out what happened last night. Now that he's supposed to be retired, he's got way too much time on his hands, and he likes to meddle."
"That's probably what he's doing as we speak. He grabbed Lyra."
"Grabbed her?"
"Okay, maybe that's a little over-the-top," Jeff conceded. "Here's the deal. After Lyra got out of the shower, she decided to take the path down to the cove. Big Jake came here as soon as he got off the boat. He wanted to know where she was. Someone told him. He went looking for her."
Cruz headed for the front door. "You're right. We've got a situation."
Chapter 26
VINCENT WAS ENCHANTED WITH THE COVE. HE DARTED and frolicked about, red beret flapping. Lyra smiled as he chased waves, investigated stray bits of seaweed, and played with seashells. Dust bunnies could teach people a lot about the art of enjoying life, she thought. As far as they were concerned, almost anything could be turned into a game.
She was watching Vincent dip a paw into a tide pool in an effort to capture a tiny crab when she felt the tingle of awareness that told her she was no longer alone. She turned and saw a man coming toward her.
He was a lot older than Cruz, his hair gray and thinning. A pair of wraparound sunglasses concealed his eyes, but she knew who he was. The family connection was obvious in the hard profile and the prowling, specter-cat way he moved, even though he used a cane. She would know that well-dressed-assassin look anywhere.
Big Jake Sweetwater.
He reached the bottom of the path and started toward her. She was glad that she was wearing sunglasses, too. He couldn't see her eyes any better than she could see his.
Vincent paused long enough to give the newcomer a cursory glance, but he lost interest immediately and went back to his fishing.
Jake came to a halt in front of her. "So, you're Lyra Dore."
"Good morning, Mr. Sweetwater. Fancy meeting you here."
"I own this island," he said gruffly.
"Oh, right, I forgot. Did you come down here to ask me to leave? I wouldn't want to get arrested for trespassing. I'm still trying to pay off the lawyer I used to try to sue your company. I can't afford another attorney."
His jaw turned to granite, but he rose above the taunt. Lyra was impressed.
"They tell me you saved my grandson's life last night," he growled.
"Between you and me, I think he would have pulled through on his own. He's a very strong talent, as I'm sure you're well aware, and amazingly stubborn. Can't imagine where he got that, but there you have it. Those are useful traits when it comes to dealing with psi trauma."
"You think?"
"Yes. But I'm going along with the story that I saved his life, because I like the idea of having a Sweetwater in my debt."
"I talked to the med tech on the scene. She said Cruz might have survived, but he sure as hell wouldn't have made it through with his senses intact without some outside intervention. She thinks it was the energy you were generating through physical contact that was the deciding factor. It stabilized his aura until he could recover from the trauma."
"Guess we'll never know for sure, will we?"
"I'm sure," Jake said. "So is the med tech and everyone else who knows what happened. Like I said, you saved his life."
"His senses, maybe."
"Amounts to pretty much the same thing as far as a Sweetwater is concerned."
"Whatever. It's nice to know the Sweetwaters owe me."
Jake grunted. "If you care about Cruz enough to save his life, why in the hell did you have to go and break his heart?"
She nearly choked on her outrage. "Let's get something straight here. What I did for Cruz last night I would have done for anyone, if I thought just holding my hand would save a life. As for the heartbreak part, geez. Don't even try to convince me that you actually fell for that crazy talk."
"What's crazy about it?"
"You're Big Jake Sweetwater, for Pete's sake. I can understand some of the younger, more impressionable members of your family like Jeff buying into that romantic nonsense, but not you. Never you."