Page 73 of It takes a Psychic

“Not yet. Pretty sure we’re not in immediate danger.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Roxy isn’t worried.”

She looked at Roxy. “You’re right.”

The small broadcasting studio at the end of the street was dark. Channel one had gone off the air at eight, as scheduled. Oliver stopped at the door and removed the lock pick from his pocket.

“I’ve got this,” Leona said.

She touched the lock with her fingertips. He felt a whisper of herenergy—it gave him a pleasant little rush—and then he heard the bolt slide open.

“You really are very handy to have around,” he said.

“Thanks. It’s always nice to be appreciated.”

For a couple of seconds he tried to decide if she sounded irritated but gave up the effort. He just could not tell.

The interior of the studio was dark, thanks to the lowered shades. He took out the small penlight he had brought with him and rezzed it. The beam played over a jumble of vintage broadcasting equipment, an elderly swivel chair, and a heavy wooden desk. There was no sign of the alcoholic station manager. Evidently Margo Gibbs was drinking somewhere else tonight.

Roxy vaulted down to the floor and began to investigate.

Leona looked around. “What are we looking for?”

“Anything that looks or feels interesting,” he said.

She turned slowly on her heel. Energy whispered.

“How about a floor safe?” she said.

“That would definitely qualify. Do you see one?”

“No, but I can sense the psi-lock.” She walked across the room and stopped near a workbench that held an outdated microphone and a control box. She tapped the toe of one sneaker on the tiled floor. “I think it’s under here.”

“Let’s take a look.”

He crossed the room and went down on one knee to examine the section of flooring that had caught Leona’s attention. It didn’t take long to find the hidden button. He rezzed it cautiously.

One large floor tile popped open, revealing a vintage safe. Leona opened it without any effort. He aimed the light into the space. Together the three of them considered the video sticks inside. After a moment he removed one and focused the beam of the flashlight on the label.

“ ‘Vance Speech Number Two,’ ” he read.

Leona took out the other two sticks. “ ‘Vance Speech Number One’ and ‘Vance Speech Number Three.’ ”

“That explains the late night rez-screen programming on channel one. No ghosts involved.” He took the video sticks from her, dropped them back into the floor safe, and got to his feet. A frisson of awareness raised the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m getting that vibe again.”

“So am I.” Leona closed the safe, stood, and picked up Roxy. “Maybe it’s that guy with the mag-rez, the one named Burt.”

“Time to find out.”

“I assume you have a plan?”

“Always.”

He explained it.

“No offense, but that seems like a very simplistic plan,” Leona said.

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