Page 93 of Sweetwater and the Witch

She paused over the entries for Willis and Hatch, absently tapping the pen against the page. Her intuition whispered.

She took out her phone and called Sybil.

“You thought of something, didn’t you?” Sybil asked, her voice tight with tension. “Is it my program? Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t think it’s your program,” Ravenna said, choosing each wordwith care, because she was not entirely certain where she was going. “But what if someone hacked into it?”

Sybil fell silent for a moment. “It would have to be a hacker with mad skills. My programmer is very, very good, and he has an excellent reputation in the tech community. He installed all sorts of security protocols.”

“No program is perfectly secure.”

“True, but even if you’re right, it doesn’t make sense. Hackers want something—usually money. There haven’t been any ransom demands.”

“People crack computers for a variety of reasons, sometimes just for entertainment.”

“Yes, but how does this connect with the fact that Willis and Hatch both tried to kill you?”

“What if someone sent them after me with the goal of murdering me? That individual started with the most recent files in your database because they came up first when my name was searched.”

“That’s a ghastly thought, and again, it doesn’t add up. Even if someone wanted you dead, what would make that person think Willis and Hatch could be used to carry out a murder? There’s nothing in my files that indicates either man could be convinced to do such a thing. They’re rich. Successful.Nice.They aren’t in the murder-for-hire business.” Sybil paused a beat. “That I know of. And there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Quite frankly, they are both too smart to go after you the way they did. Why take the risk? In this town, people like Willis and Hatch know how to contact professionals who do that sort of work on a contract basis.”

Professionals like the Concierge, Ravenna thought. But neither Willis nor Hatch had contracted out her murder. Each had come after her on his own.

“Both men evidently underwent a major personality change,” she said.

“Obviously.”

“I do know someone who would like to see me dead,” Ravenna said quietly. “And he has a talent for manipulating people.”

“That self-appointed witch hunter? Clarence Fitch?”

“Yes.”

“But he was declared criminally insane. He’s sitting in a locked para-psych ward.”

“He escaped once before.”

“If he got out, wouldn’t someone have let you know?”

“Not necessarily. I left the FBPI several months ago. I’m sure the team has forgotten me. I’ve got to hang up now, Sybil. I need to call someone.”

“All right. While you do that I’m going to contact my programmer and ask him to see if there’s a possibility someone got into my files. You’ve got me scared to death.”

“Right.”

Ravenna ended the call and scrolled through her contact list, searching for a familiar name. Luckily she had not deleted him, otherwise she would have had to spend time tracking down the number.

Max Collins answered on the first ring. “Ravenna? Hey there, good to hear from you. Been a while. Looking to rejoin the task force? No problem. You were a good member of the team.”

“Yes, I was a good member of the team. You owe me, and I’ve got a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Is Clarence Fitch still locked up in an asylum?”

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