Vortex (2 page)

Karen smiled. “Are you buttering us up for some godawful assignment, Martin?”

“No, no, I mean it.”

In his early fifties, Burgess was slowly losing his hair on top, but he remained youthful. His dark hair was shaggier than usual and he’d grown a goatee that sparkled with silver. Stubble darkened his jaw on each side of the goatee. He wore faded jeans, sneakers, and a dark blue sweatshirt that read “Zombies hate fast food” on the front. Karen had never seen him in anything other than jeans and one of the countless slogan-bearing sweatshirts or T-shirts sent to him by his fans. From his appearance, no one would ever guess he was a filthy-rich bestselling writer whose horror novels were regularly turned into bad movies that made him even richer. He didn’t act like a wealthy man, either, or a celebrity of any kind. He wasn’t exactly a regular guy, but he had no arrogance or sense of entitlement—he wouldn’t have been a regular guy if he were dirt-poor. He just had an undying curiosity about the paranormal and the money to hire the services of two top private investigators—Karen and Gavin—to investigate it for him. He paid very well, even more than they charged, and neither of them was cheap. Karen liked him. She didn’t see him very often, of course, and maybe familiarity would change that, but she liked him. She wasn’t as crazy about his writing as the rest of the country, but she was quite fond of what she found to be his greatest talent—loving life.

“I would like you to meet Crystal,” he said, gesturing toward the young woman at the table. She stood and smiled at them. “She’s a good friend of mine and will be working with you on this job.”

Crystal was in her mid-twenties and looked like she’d been painted by Alberto Vargas. Long flaming red hair, a voluptuous figure displayed by the tight, forest green cashmere sweater she wore.

Karen looked at Gavin beside her. He’d straightened his posture and was sucking in his gut as he adjusted his tie, then tugged on the hem of his charcoal suit coat. Karen smirked. Crystal was one of those women who made
all
men stand up straight and suck in their guts, so Karen was not being critical of Gavin. She was just amused.

Gavin cleared his throat, smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Crystal.”

“Have a seat, you two,” Burgess said, pulling two chairs out from the table for them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you. I didn’t know what you preferred, so I ordered most of the menu and you can take what you like. The food should be here any minute.”

Once they were seated, Gavin said, “Don’t you have a house near here, Martin?”

“I did. For a little while. It was near Mt. Shasta. It’s beautiful up there, as you’ll see when you get there, but I—”

“We’re going to Mt. Shasta?” Karen said.

“Yes, that’s why I told you to pack enough warm clothes for a few weeks. But I’ll get to that in a minute. My house near Mt. Shasta was a great place, I loved it. And like I said, the area’s beautiful. But it didn’t take me long to get tired of the people around here. I sold that house the year I met you two.”

“What’s wrong with the people?” Karen asked.

“Most of them are to the right of Dracula. They’ve got more churches around here than gas stations and Starbucks combined. I’m surprised they haven’t put Sarah Palin’s face on the goddamned money. All the talk radio is so right-wing, you practically have to wrap yourself in a flag and hold a big cross just to listen to it.”

“They’re not like that in Mt. Shasta,” Crystal said. “Not all of them, anyway.”

“Crystal lives in Mt. Shasta,” Burgess said. “She moved there to write a book about the mountain.”

“What kind of book?” Karen asked, smiling.

“I’m a mystorian.”

Karen blinked but kept smiling. “I’m sorry?”

“Mystorian,” Burgess said as he slipped an arm across Crystals shoulders. “That’s Crystal’s word. A mystical historian—mystorian. She writes about the history of mystical places. And Mt. Shasta is a very mystical place. She’s been published in a few magazines, but the book is going to be big, I think. I’ve hooked her up with my publisher and we’ve already got her a contract.”

“How did you become interested in... mystical places?” Gavin asked.

“I’m very sensitive,” Crystal said. “And psychic. I can sense the mystical nature of places. The first time I visited Mt. Shasta, I was just a little girl. We drove up from Sacramento, my parents and my big brother and me. On that drive up, just seeing it in the distance... well, I could, like,
feel
it. And when we finally went there one weekend, as we got closer, that feeling got stronger. The whole time we were here that first time, I could feel the mountain in my
bones
.”

Maybe that was just the cold mountain air
, Karen thought, but she just kept smiling and listening.

“I could feel its energy—it’s a vortex, you know, a vortex of energy—and its history, its connection to so many, like, ancient peoples and places.” As she continued, an urgency crept into her voice and she spoke with increasing speed. “But at the time, I didn’t know any of that. I mean, I didn’t know
that’s
what I was feeling. I was just, like, a kid, y’know? I didn’t know that the Hopi believe it’s the home of the Lizard People, or that some tribes have always stayed away from the mountain because they believe it’s the home of invisible people, or that many believe that after the destruction of the continent of Lemuria more than 15,000 years ago, the Lemurian people went deep underground and inhabited the tunnels connecting dead volcanoes and have rebuilt their civilization beneath Mt. Shasta. I didn’t know any of that. But I knew the mountain was special. Significant. I just
knew.
That’s when I began to understand that I was sensitive to spiritual vibrations and energies that other people just can’t feel.” She shrugged one shoulder as if to say,
And that was that.

Still smiling, Karen’s eyebrows rose high, she locked her fingers together and rested her chin on her knuckles. “And this is somehow connected to the job you have for us?”

“I’ll get to that,” Burgess said. “I think Crystal’s sitting on a good book. This mystical history of Mt. Shasta, I mean. And she can write. That’s what’s so amazing.”

Crystal gave Burgess a look that Karen suspected would have most men reaching for the defibrillator.

“Marty’s been very supportive,” Crystal said. She leaned over and kissed him.

Burgess seemed incapable of simply dating a woman. He made her his personal assistant or his book tour manager or, in this case, became her writing mentor. At least he wasn’t marrying her. Karen turned to Gavin, expecting to exchange a knowing glance—they’d both seen this before—but he was watching Crystal.

This is going to be a long assignment
, she thought with slight annoyance.

But there was more to it than mere annoyance.

She looked at Gavin again, saw the faint smile on his lips as he watched Crystal, and found that she was annoyed with herself.

Ridiculous
, she thought.
You’re too old to feel jealous of a man you’re not even involved with, Karen.

“Crystal’s got something that publishers love,” Burgess said. “She’s gorgeous. They look for that, you know. Somebody who can promote a book and looked damned good doing it. The book itself is—ah, the food’s here!”

Two waitresses entered the banquet room, each pushing a rattling cart of aromatic food into the banquet room and began putting the platters on the table. They made small talk for the next several minutes as they filled their plates from the dishes spread out over the table.

As they began to eat, Gavin said, “So, Martin, what have you got for us this time?”

Burgess said, “There’s something strange going on in Mt. Shasta and I want you two to look into it.”

Karen swallowed a mouthful of food and dabbed her mouth with the red linen napkin. “I thought something strange was
always
going on in Mt. Shasta. Isn’t it a mecca for—” She stopped herself from saying
new age crackpots and crystal-rubbing wingnuts
and paused long enough to glance at Crystal. “Uh, well... people with nontraditional beliefs and philosophies?”

Before Burgess could reply, Crystal smiled and said, “Its okay, I know most people think were nuts.”

Karen said, “No, I didn’t mean—”

“Really, it’s okay,” Crystal said. She sounded sincere. “To be honest, I think most of it is nutty myself. You don’t have to tiptoe around it, Karen. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh. In that case, um... yes, a lot of it
is
pretty nutty.”

“There are people who believe Mt. Shasta is a filling station for flying saucers,” Crystal said. “I’m serious. Whenever a lenticular cloud forms over the mountain, there are people who honestly believe it’s being used as a cover by a flying saucer while it refuels on top of the mountain. So, yeah, a lot of them are nuts.”

“What’s going on in Mt. Shasta that you consider strange, Martin?” Gavin asked.

“Actually, Crystal is the one who brought it to my attention. How long have you been living there now?” he asked her.

“A year and a half.”

“She’s been noticing a change in the people there.”

“Well, some of them,” she said.

“Tell them about your friend in the antique store.” Crystal bit into an egg roll and chewed for a moment. “My friend Sarah owns a little antique shop in town. I do a lot of walking and I walk by her store every day, so I, like, drop in and say hi. I walk at night, too. I’m a night owl. I’m more creative and productive at night, y’know? I walk through town pretty late and it’s, like, empty. There’s nobody out in Mt. Shasta after 10. Even
before
10 it’s pretty dead. The streets are, like,
empty.
I like to walk down to my office and do some writing.”

“Office?” Gavin said.

“I have a little business in town. I told you I’m very sensitive. I do psychic readings. I’ve been doing that for a few years, but since I’ve moved to Mt. Shasta, it’s been pretty successful. Anyway, one night, I was walking through the middle of town and Sarah drove by in her pickup truck. As she passed me, she slowed way down and looked at me. But it wasn’t just a normal look, it was really, like,
intense.
Like she didn’t know me. At all. I waved and smiled, but she just sped up and drove on. When I saw her the next day, I asked her where she was going and she didn’t know what I was talking about. She said she’d gone to bed early and slept the whole night until she got up at six that morning. She insisted she hadn’t left the house all night. And I believed her. I mean, I believed that she
meant
it.”

“Do you think it was someone else you saw?” Karen asked.

“Oh, no, it was Sarah.”

Karen frowned. “Then you think she
forgot
that she went out? Or...”

“I don’t think she was aware of going out. It’s happened to other people, too. Somethings going on at night in Mt. Shasta. People are up and, like,
doing
things. I mean, in the middle of the night. And early in the morning.”

Gavin frowned and put his fork down. He leaned forward slightly. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“I don’t
know.
That’s the thing, see, I just... I don’t
know
.”

“But there’s more,” Burgess said.

Gavin turned to him and said, “More of what?”

“Crystal told me she’s noticed some unusual people in town lately. People who stand out.” He turned to her. “Tell them.”

“Well, it’s a small town, so everybody kind of knows everybody else,” Crystal went on. “I know most people by the cars they drive. But there’ve been new people in town, and I’ve seen some of them at night. They drive new, expensive cars. Like, SUVs. They wear expensive clothes. They’re not around
too
much, but I’ve seen them. They’re there. And now it looks like people are disappearing.”

“Disappearing?” Karen said. “You mean, they’re being... taken? Kidnapped?”

“No, not that. At least, it doesn’t seem like that. There’s Rhonda Burkett. She’s been talking about leaving her husband because he’s an abusive creep. Then one day, she’s just... gone.” She shrugged her shoulders, picked at her food as she continued. “Her husband, Rick, says she left him, but I don’t think she’d just take off without telling anyone. Her other friends agree, too. She didn’t say anything about where she was going, nobody’s talked to her. She doesn’t answer her cell phone or return calls.”

“You said her husband was abusive,” Gavin said. “Is it possible he did something to her?”

“That’s what we all thought at first. Then he gets a new pickup truck. And a new boat. Rick’s an electrician. He can’t afford stuff like that. A friend of mine asked him if a rich relative left him some money. He was, like, half-joking, y’know? And Rick says, ‘Yeah! How’d you know?’ Now Rick’s put his house up for sale and plans to leave town.”

“Did you go to the police?” Karen said.

“I didn’t, but a friend did. She told them she was worried about Rhonda and thought maybe Rick had done something to her because he’s been violent in the past. The cops talked to Rick and he said Rhonda left him. They believed him.”

“You said others have disappeared, too?” Gavin said. Crystal nodded. “A little boy. There’s this woman named Wendy Folkes. She lives on the wrong side of town, if you know what I mean. A single mother of two kids, one of them autistic, the little boy, Joel. She’s, like, a party girl. No job, on welfare, there are always lowlifes hanging around her house, which is a dump. She doesn’t have a car and some days, she walks into town with her kids, Joel and his sister Tammy, and gets a few groceries. I know her to say hi, but that’s all. One day, I see her in town, but she’s got a car now. But she didn’t have Joel with her, only Tammy. A couple days later, I see her again, and Joel’s still not with her. I stopped her on the way into the grocery store and said hi and asked her where Joel was. She said he’d gone to live with her mother. ‘She can take better care of him than I can,’ she says. I congratulated her on the new car and she laughs and says, ‘Yeah, ain’t it nice? It was a gift.’ Then she goes into the store.”

“Has
anyone
gone to the police?” Karen asked.