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can all forget this ever happened.”
    “For the last time, Miss Spring, I did not kidnap him. Believe it or not, it’s not my style.”
    “Your style?”
    “Contrary to what you may be thinking, a man in my position prefers to conduct his business affairs in a normal manner.” Nick smiled. “Besides, the bottom line is that I can afford anything I want. There’s no reason for me to take the risk of committing a crime that could get me thrown in prison for thirty or forty years.”
    A stubborn look appeared in her eyes. “All I know is that Morris is gone. His shop is closed. He doesn’t answer his phone. No one has seen him all day.”
    “One day is not a long time,” Nick said gently. “He could have simply left town to buy books in New Vancouver or New Portland.”
    “No, I told you, we had an appointment. Morris would have called to cancel if he had intended to leave town. I wouldn’t be so concerned if it weren’t for this business with the journal.”
    “Why exactly are you so interested in Morris Fen-wick’s continued good health?”
    “I told you, he’s a client.”
    He recalled bits and pieces of the Synsation articles he had read during the Eaton scandal. “You’re an interior designer, aren’t you?”
    She gave him a cool look. “I see you know who I am.”
    “I read the papers.”
    “Only the tabloids, apparently.”
    “I collect information where I find it,” he explained.
    “If you get your information from the gossip columns, my advice is not to rely on it. But that’s your problem. Yes, I’m an interior designer but I’m also a full-spectrum prism. I do some part-time work for a firm called Psynergy, Inc.”
    That caught him by surprise. “The focus consulting agency?”
    “That’s right. Psynergy, Inc. grabbed a lot of headlines a few months ago when one of our prisms helped solve the murder of a very well-known university professor.”
    “I’m aware of the case. A friend of mine was involved.”
    Shock lit her eyes. “Do you mean Lucas Trent?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re a friend of Mr. Trent’s?”
    For some reason her undisguised astonishment amused him. “Is that so hard to believe?”
    “I can verify all this, you know,” she warned.
    “I know.” He glanced at the phone. “I can call Trent at home now if you like and have him vouch for me. Save you the trouble.”
    “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”
    “So Trent may grumble a bit.”
    Zinnia glanced thoughtfully at the phone and then pursed her lips. “Never mind, I’ll check your story later.”
    “My story? You’re beginning to sound like a cop, Miss Spring. Maybe it’s time you showed me some identification.”
    She stared at him, clearly startled. “I’m not with the police. I told you, I have a business of my own and I do some part-time work for Psynergy, Inc.”
    Nick was pleased with the progress he was making. The tables had finally started to turn. He had her on the defensive now. “I take it you focused for Morris Fenwick?”
    “Yes. It’s difficult for matrix-talents to work with most prisms. I’m one of the few who doesn’t mind focusing for them.” She gave a small elegant shrug. “So my boss gives me all the matrix assignments. That’s how I met poor Morris. I help him authenticate some of the really rare stuff he buys.”
    A nagging unease trickled across Nick’s acute senses. “Did you help him discover the Chastain journal?”
    “No. As a matter of fact, he found it strictly by accident when he was called in by the heirs of an old reclusive collector who recently died in New Portland. Morris came across the journal when he evaluated the man’s private library. He said he didn’t require my help to authenticate it. He knew it would be valuable to certain people. Naturally, being a matrix, he promptly hid it.”
    “Naturally,” Nick muttered. “So you never actually saw the Chastain journal?”
    “No.”
    “And now both the journal and Fenwick are missing. It would