Copper Beach

think.”

    “I have always found that when dealing with the authorities it’s best to stick with the bare facts and not offer too much in the way of explanations.”

    Abby gripped the railing and saw the understanding in Hannah’s eyes. “I came to the same conclusion myself a few years ago, Mrs. Vaughn. Those are definitely words to live by.”

    Hannah made the call and put down the phone. She glanced up at Abby.

    “What is it, dear?” she said gently. “If you’re concerned that word of what you did with that encryption energy might get out into the underground market, you needn’t worry. I won’t ever tell anyone what really happened here, and Mrs. Jensen passed out before she witnessed a thing. Your secret is safe with me.”

    “I know, Hannah. I trust you. Thank you. But there’s something about this Grady Hastings guy that is bothering me.”

    “He is obviously mentally unbalanced, dear.”

    “I know. But that isn’t what I meant. He was sweating so hard. He seemed on the edge of exhaustion. It was as if he was struggling against some unseen force.”

    “Perhaps he was, dear. We all have our inner demons. I suspect that Grady Hastings has more than most people.”

    The new nightmare started that same night.

She walked through the strange glowing fog. She did not know whom or what she was searching for, only that she desperately needed to find someone before it was too late. Time was running out. The sense of urgency was growing stronger, making it hard to breathe.
Grady Hastings materialized in the mist. He stared at her with haunted, pleading eyes and held out a hand.

“Help me,” he said. “You have to help me. The voices in the crystal told me that you are the only one who can save me.”

    She awoke, pulse racing. Newton whined anxiously and pressed his furry weight against her leg. It took her a few seconds to orient herself. When she did, she was horrified to realize that she was no longer in bed. She was in the living room of her small condo, looking out the sliding glass doors that opened onto the balcony. The lights of the Seattle cityscape glittered in the night.
    “Dear heaven, I’ve started sleepwalking, Newton.” She sank to her knees beside the dog and hugged him close.

    The first blackmail note was waiting for her when she checked her email the next morning.
I know what you did in the library. Silence will be maintained for a price. You will be contacted soon.

3

    “YOU’VE PROBABLY HEARD THE RUMORS ABOUT SAM COPPERSMITH.” The water-taxi pilot eased off the throttle, allowing the boat to cruise slowly into the small marina. “Don’t pay any attention to ’em.”
    Abby pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose and took a closer look at the man at the helm. Half an hour ago, when he had picked her up at the dock in Anacortes, he had introduced himself as Dixon. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, but it was hard to be certain of his age because he had the rugged, weathered features of a man who had spent a lifetime on the water.

    Dixon Charters was painted on the white hull of the boat. The name of the business was accompanied by a logo depicting an orca leaping out of the waves. Images of the magnificent black-and-white killer whales that prowled the cold waters of the Pacific Northwest in pods were ubiquitous throughout the San Juans. Orcas graced signs above bookstores, souvenir shops, real estate offices and restaurants. They decorated menus, greeting cards and calendars. Parents bought cute, cuddly stuffed orcas for their children.

    Abby had grown up in the region. She understood the significance of orcas both culturally and historically. And they were certainly magnificent. There was nothing like the thrill of watching the sleek, powerful creatures launch their multi-ton bodies out of the depths and into the air and then plunge back beneath the surface. But in her opinion, most people tended to forget that orcas were anything but cute and cuddly. They were intelligent, powerful, top–of–the-food-chain predators. Just ask a salmon, she thought.

    “I’m here on business,” she said coolly. “I can assure you that the very last thing I care about is Mr. Coppersmith’s personal life.”

    “That’s good,” Dixon said. He nodded once, satisfied. “Because the gossip about him being the one who murdered his fiancée six months ago is pure bullshit. Pardon my language.”

    Okay, didn’t see that coming. Abby’s pulse kicked up for a few