Page 68 of It takes a Psychic

Leona winced. “That was me.”

“I’m so glad you’re all right. Pirates are a plague in the Underworld. The story caught my eye because it reminded me of another kidnapping involving a young girl. That was several years ago, of course.”

Leona went still. “My sister, Molly. What made you remember us?”

“Something about the name.”

“Griffin?”

“No, the name of the man who took the young girl all those years ago—Willard.”

Leona got a screaming-loud ping. “Nigel Willard. Do you have some information about him in your collection?”

“Not a Nigel Willard, another Willard.” Thacker raised his gaze to the topmost shelf. “I believe I have a journal—”

A muffled shriek of outrage reverberated in the hall.

“Oh, dear, that’s Ms. Harp,” Thacker said. “She sounds somewhat annoyed. It’s never a good idea to upset her like that.”

“Get out of there, you little monster,” Harp screamed. “You’re dead. Do you hear me? Dead.”

“Shit.” Leona whipped around, ducked past Oliver, and rushed back toward the door, following the yellow tape. “She’s trying to murder Roxy.”

Chapter Thirty

Oliver watched Leona disappear amidthe deep canyons and soaring peaks of documents, papers, books, and artifacts. He held his breath until he heard the outer door slam open. Only then did he allow himself to relax. She had made it into the front hall without setting off an avalanche.

Turning back to Thacker, he took the envelope and the signed paperwork and dumped both into the messenger bag. “You’re certain you want me to give the payment to your housekeeper?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thacker waved his hands. “Harp takes care of everything around here. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Oliver started to follow the path to the door but he paused. “Any chance you might sell the Vance letter?”

“Sorry, no. This collection is devoted to Era of Discord documents and artifacts. That letter belongs here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe in the vault.”

“Right. In that case, Leona and I will be on our way. Long drive back to Illusion Town.”

“No rush,” Thacker said. “I heard the bridge was washed out last night. The creek will be running very high by now. I’m afraid you and Ms. Griffin will be enjoying the amenities of our fine town for a few days.”

“That may be a problem,” Oliver said.

“I understand. You’re welcome to come back here anytime to explore my collection.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said.

He retraced the route through the overstuffed library with great caution. The noise out in the hall grew louder as he got closer to the door.

Harp’s shrill, infuriated voice echoed. “I warned you that beast was not allowed inside this house.”

“If you’ll get out of my way, I’ll remove her,” Leona said.

She was furious, too, Oliver thought. But her control was better than Harp’s. She was on a mission to save Roxy. She was not going to get distracted by a screaming match with the housekeeper.

There was another sound now—the muffled rumble of an old-fashioned amber-powered motor. It sounded like it was coming from inside the walls.

There was no sign of the women, so he set out to find the scene of the crime. At the end of the hall, he rounded a mountain of papers and artifacts and turned into an intersecting corridor. At the far end a door stood open.

Harp’s unpleasant voice came from inside the room.

---