She wanted to argue, if only for the sake of form. But common sense prevailed.

“You’re not quite what I had in mind,” she said.

“What?”

“I was thinking of getting a cat.”

CHAPTER 8

The vibe of Olivia’s apartment hit Harlan with such intensity he had to pause in the entryway to adjust to the effect on his senses. The place was infused with her energy, and he wanted to savor it.

“You can hang your coat in the hall closet,” Olivia said. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get out of these heels.”

It wasn’t exactly a make-yourself-at-home sort of welcome—more of a grudging acceptance of his presence—but when you had been living in short-term rentals and hotels for five years, it was a good enough invitation.

“Thanks,” he said.

But Olivia had disappeared around the corner.

He dropped his duffel bag on the floor, peeled off the trench coat and hung it in the small closet. He hesitated a beat and then took off his government-gray suit jacket and hung it beside the trench. Then, concluding he was on a roll, he unknotted his tie and slung it around one of the hangers.

He started to unbuckle the shoulder holster—the damn thing was uncomfortable—but given what had happened a short time ago and the fact that Olivia had already seen the pistol, he opted to leave it on.

He started to roll up the sleeves of the white shirt but caught himself in time. Olivia had seen the gun but he wasn’t sure how she would take the knife sheath strapped to his right wrist. He didn’t want to wear out what minimal welcome he had going.

Social skills.

When he was ready he wandered into the living room and stopped again when he was hit with a blast of drama and color.

The walls were a sun-drenched gold that provided a warm backdrop for a sofa that was the same shade of blue as Olivia’s dress and two ruby-red velvet chairs. A carpet patterned with an abstract design framed a black coffee table and a couple of elegant black reading lamps.

He was studying the three paintings on the walls when Olivia returned. She had changed into casual trousers and a pullover, both in a warm shade of amber. When she saw him she paused.

“Those are the paintings I told you about,” she said. “The ones my mother did. Scenes around Fogg Lake.”

He contemplated the neon-green foliage and the glowing fog in one of the pictures. “Is the vegetation really that incredible shade of green?”

“Yes. There’s a lot of natural paranormal energy in the atmosphere. It leaks out of the caves. Probably the reason why Bluestone chose the area for one of the labs. Would you like a glass of brandy?”