Dream Eyes

Forty-five

The voice on the other end of the connection sounded like the low, ominous growl of a bear.

“This is Fallon Jones,” the bear said. “Who are you, and how did you get this number?”

“The name is Judson Coppersmith,” Judson said. “Got the number from a guy who’s really good at tracking down information online.”

Nick smiled and drank some of his beer.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone.

“Coppersmith as in the Coppersmith mining company?” Fallon Jones said. He sounded interested now.

“Yes. And also as in Coppersmith Consulting,” Judson said.

“Never heard of Coppersmith Consulting.”

“We’re a small security outfit,” Judson said. “Specializing in psychic investigations. Sort of like Jones and Jones.”

“Yeah? Lot of psychic investigation agencies out there. Most of them are frauds.”

“We’re a little different,” Judson said. “Like you. And by the way, we’ve never heard of you, either. But we need to talk.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m calling from a small island in the Caribbean. We pulled what’s left of a man named Daniel Parker out of an underwater cave today. He was murdered a little over a month ago. He left a message for whoever found him, a scrap of paper with the name of your firm on it.”

“You’re right,” Fallon Jones said. “We need to talk.”