Page 62 of It takes a Psychic

“It’s okay,” Leona said, relieved that Roxy wasn’t running wild in the kitchen. “Dust bunnies like to explore. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Edith said.

She opened the door. With a farewell chortle, Roxy tumbled outside and vanished.

“Thanks,” Leona said.

She went back into the dining room and sat down at the table. “Crisis averted.”

“For now,” Oliver said.

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You were worried.”

“Maybe a little.” Leona lowered her voice. “What about the bridge? Aren’t you concerned about the fact that it’s washed out? You heard Edith. We could be stuck here for a few days.”

“Now, that,” Oliver said, “may be something to worry about.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Thacker mansion loomed inthe deep shadows of the woods, a gray stone bunker of a house. It was three stories tall and, Leona concluded, not at all graceful in its proportions. The windows were narrow and dark. The front door bore a strong resemblance to a fortress gate. There were no gardens, just a wide clearing around the structure and a long, graveled driveway.

“It’s depressing,” she announced, studying the big house through the windshield of the Slider. “I can’t imagine living inside that place for any length of time.”

“Judging by the stone that was used in the construction, I’d say it dates from the start of the Era of Discord,” Oliver said.

“Vance’s time.”

“Yes.” Oliver brought the car to a stop, rested one hand on the wheel, and contemplated the house. “Lawrence Thacker, the man who built the place, was convinced that the colonies were going to self-destruct in acivil war. He stocked up on food and water and weapons and then hunkered down with his wife and son to wait out the violence.”

“A prepper,” Leona said. “What happened to him?”

“When the rebellion was over, his wife and son left but Thacker stayed on. He became obsessed with the idea that Vance wasn’t dead. When he died, the son inherited the mansion. It was handed down through the bloodline. About twenty years ago the Thacker we’re going to meet today moved in and stayed. He never married.”

Leona unfastened her seat belt. “This is going to be interesting.”

Oliver opened the car door. “Remember the plan. I’m taking the lead. You’re the outside consultant.”

“Yes, right, I know. You’re in charge. I got the message.”

She opened the door, slipped out of the Slider, slung her messenger bag over one shoulder, and reached back for Roxy.

“Behave yourself,” she ordered. “If you want to come inside with us, you’re going to have to charm the housekeeper the way you did Edith Fenwick.”

Roxy chortled, evidently confident in her talent for charm.

On the front steps, Oliver rezzed an old-fashioned doorbell. At first there was no response. Eventually Leona heard muffled footsteps. The door opened.

A tall, wiry woman dressed in jeans and a buttoned-up denim work shirt confronted them. Her graying hair was scraped into a thick braid that hung down her back. Her sharp features were set in stern, forbidding lines, and her pale eyes looked mean.

“What do you want?” she said.

She sounded mean, too, Leona thought. Roxy was going to have her work cut out for her if she wanted to charm the woman.

“You must be Ms. Harp,” Oliver said, slipping into his professional persona.

“How do you know my name?”

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