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He looked like he was going to argue but instead he nodded once, accepting her right to make the decision. Without another word he turned and led the way across the small, parlor-like living room. The entrance to the kitchen was on the far side of the space.
She took a steadying breath, unsure what to expect. Without a word Ambrose rested a hand on her shoulder, silently offering her whatever support and comfort he could with physical touch. She felt the reassuring heat of his energy.
“Thanks,” she said.
He kept his hand on her shoulder as they walked into the kitchen and stopped a few steps away from Fenner’s body. It was crumpled facedown on the floor beside the kitchen table. There were an empty glass and a bottle of whiskey on the table. Next to the bottle were a small vial and a used hypodermic needle.
“He looks smaller in death than he did when he was alive,” Pallas whispered.
“When they do an autopsy they’ll probably find some of whatever was in that vial in his blood,” Ambrose said. “And maybe that is what killed him. He certainly wouldn’t be the first medical professional to get addicted to drugs.”
“But you don’t think that’s what happened.”
“No. I think he was murdered.”
“So do I,” she said.
She kicked up her senses and slipped into her other vision. Wavesof energy oscillated in the kitchen, much of it old and faded. She tuned it out and focused on the new currents. The icy, glistening strands of a nearly invisible web littered the kitchen.
“The scene I need to draw is out there, just inside the front door,” she said.
“All right.” Ambrose took his hand off her shoulder and pulled out his phone. “While you do your thing I’ll call nine-one-one and make sure Detective Logan gets the news. He’ll be excited. He’s probably already submitting his résumé to one of the big-city police departments—or, hey, maybe the FBI.”
“What if he decides we’re suspects?”
“If he does, we may have a problem,” Ambrose admitted. “But if it turns out that Fenner died during the night we should be in the clear. The hotel security cameras will show us entering the lobby when we got back from dinner. They will prove we didn’t leave again until this morning. Relax. As far as Logan is concerned we’re just a couple of reckless podcast investigators who are in a position to give him a real career boost.”
“Right.”
She carried the messenger bag back into the other room, set it on the scarred wooden floorboards, and reached inside for her sketchbook and a pencil. She crouched very close to the strongest pool of energy and went into her other vision.
She proceeded slowly and carefully, trying to limit the worst of the jolt, but a spiderweb was a spiderweb. Brushing up against one, whether real or the product of a trance vision, always came as a shock to the senses and sent a frisson of primal horror across the nerves.
Resisting the urge to retreat, she studied the glittering strands, searching for the pattern. For a moment it eluded her. And then the scene became startlingly clear. There was something in the web...
She began to draw.
Some time later, the feel of Ambrose’s hand resting lightly on her shoulder yanked her out of the trance.
“What?” she gasped.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said. He hauled her lightly to her feet. “But Logan and his officers will be here any minute. It would not be a good idea to have him catch you sketching the scene.”
Belatedly she became aware of the blaring sirens in the distance. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here. I’ll take a closer look at the drawing when we’re alone.”
She dropped the sketchbook and pencil into the messenger bag.
They were waiting on the front porch when the first police vehicle slammed to a halt in front of the house. Logan climbed out of the passenger seat and strode toward them, a man on a mission.
“You two ever consider that you might want to look for another way to make your mark in social media?” he said as he came up the steps.
“That thought has crossed my mind more than once lately,” Ambrose said.
Logan pulled on some disposable gloves as he headed for the doorway. “You’re sure Fenner is dead?”
“Yes,” Pallas said.
Logan grimaced. “The college authorities are not going to be happy about this.”
