silver-gray SUV drive slowly down the narrow street. “There’s the team.”
The driver of the vehicle stopped and rolled down the window to speak to Raine and Isabella. Fallon watched Isabella point toward the small parking area behind the office. Then the two women entered the empty lower floor of the building.
There were footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. Isabella and Raine walked into the room preceded by the spicy aroma of the warm muffins. They brought something else into the office, as well, the subtle heat of their auras. Both women were powerful talents. Strong sensitives stirred the atmosphere in a space even when they were not running hot.
“Dr. Rafanelli and his team will be here in a few minutes,” Isabella said. “We told them to get some coffee and muffins at the Sunshine first.”
“Damn.” Impatience flashed through Fallon. He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have all day. We need to get started. It’s going to take some time to make sure those gadgets are deactivated and properly stowed for safe transport.”
“I’m sure the crew won’t be long,” Isabella said. She opened her sack and held it out to him. “Here, have a muffin. They’re right out of the oven.”
Distracted, he peered into the sack. “Okay, thanks.”
He selected a muffin and downed half of it before he realized that Zack and Raine were watching him with scarcely veiled amusement.
“Something funny?” he asked, munching.
“No,” Zack said quickly. He took a bite of the muffin that Raine had handed to him. “You said there’s a lot of old para-energy in the bomb shelter. Anything else we ought to know about?”
Isabella tossed the empty muffin sack into the trash. “We should probably tell you about the body.”
Raine looked at her and then at Fallon. “There’s a body?”
“Old one,” Fallon explained. “Just a skeleton. Belongs to the con artist who founded an intentional community here twenty-two years ago. The members of the community kicked him out when they realized that he’d taken all their money and was trying to set up his own private harem. He returned one night to try to steal the curiosities. He got one out, the clock.”
Zack dusted muffin crumbs off his hands and looked interested. “How did he get dead?”
“Workplace accident,” Fallon said.
AN HOUR LATER Fallon stood with Zack in the shelter. They watched Rafanelli and his team painstakingly deactivate the clockwork mechanisms that animated the objects in the glass cases. Each curiosity was carefully stowed in one of the leaded-glass boxes the Society’s museums used to transport artifacts infused with a hefty amount of unknown crystal or glass-based psi.
Isabella and Raine were on the other side of the room, standing over the skeleton. They talked in low voices. Zack glanced at the body with a thoughtful expression.
“That was no workplace accident,” he said.
“Close enough.” Fallon shrugged. “Lasher was a thief, and he appears to have been at work trying to steal stuff when he got whacked. Workplace accident, like I said.”
“Who used the crowbar on his skull?”
“We think there was a woman with him. Her name was Rachel Stewart and she had some talent. From the looks of it, Rachel got really pissed off.”
“You’re going with a falling-out-among-thieves scenario?”
“It fits,” Fallon said. “In any event, it happened more than twenty years ago. No one gives a damn now.”
“And it would be a little awkward to turn the case over to the authorities,” Zack agreed dryly, “given the hot psi down here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“See?” Zack widened his hands. “This is how the Joneses accumulate secrets.”
“Another thing we’re good at, like acquiring enemies.”
Raine and Isabella turned away from the skeleton and walked back across the small space.
“You say you’re planning to dump the remains off the Point?” Raine asked.
“That’s the plan,” Fallon said.
“Use your own judgment,” Raine said. “But I think you should know that I can hear the echoes of the voices of the people who were here that night.”
Fallon looked at her. “And?”
Shadows flickered through Raine’s eyes. “There was a woman involved. But she was not the killer. There were three people down here at the time of the death. Someone else struck Lasher with that crowbar.”
“Lovers’ triangle?” Isabella asked.
Raine’s brows tightened over the rims of her glasses. “No, I don’t think so, not exactly. But there was a violent quarrel.”
Fallon pondered possible revisions to the scenario for about one second, made the small adjustment necessary to his theory of the crime and was satisfied.
“Doesn’t change anything,” he said. “No one cares.”
Across the room Preston Rafanelli finished locking