Except the burglars would have likely made it to the rock first, if that were the case. They at least knew to look for a stone. Rock, stone, basically the same thing.
Sylvie assumed a skeptical expression. One could hardly blame her for losing faith in Tamara. Blowing up someone’s house, even if it was technically an unattached outbuilding, tended to have that effect.
“Witches can’t lie.” I volunteered the information, in hopes it would set Sylvie’s mind at ease.
Tamara tilted her head. “Don’t lie. We can, but the consequences are unpalatable.”
She wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t do much else. So I nodded as if “unpalatable” signified a significant deterrent. “There you go.”
Lilac let out an exasperated sound and snatched the rock from the ground. “There, all done. It’s totally fine, right?”
As she held the rock, a change came over her. She closed her eyes and her expression was transformed. She looked like a little girl lifting her face to the sunshine after nothing but days of rain. Then a single tear slipped down her face.
When she opened her eyes, she let out a breath and swiped at the dampness on her cheek. “Your grandmother loved you so much.” Then she blinked and looked confused. “I have absolutely no idea what just happened. I swear, nothing like that has happened to me before.”
Sylvie took the rock. “Well, you’re right—my grandmother and I were very close. As a child, I adored her. She was such a kind woman. She worked as a nurse most of her life, and she was incredibly popular with her patients.” Sylvie smiled, but looked miles away. “She used to say, ‘Be kind to the living, because you never know what grudges will last beyond death.’” Sylvie smiled, but it was tinged with sadness, and her dimple stayed out of sight. “Of all people, she would have known.”
“This is your grandmother who could talk to ghosts,” I said. Sylvie looked at me in surprise, so I added, “You mentioned her before, when we first discussed Bobby.”
Her face cleared. “That’s right.” She hefted the rock in one hand then transferred it to the other. “So is that what this is? A message from my grandmother?”
“Hm. I don’t think so,” Tamara said. “At least, that’s not all it is, because there’s little value to a third party in such a message.” She wasn’t looking at Sylvie when she answered, instead shooting speculative looks at Lilac. “What was it you said about your business? That your psychic readings were more therapy with a dash of intuition than fortune-telling? Maybe you’ve been focusing on the wrong skill set.”
Lilac’s pretty blue eyes widened, and she shrugged. “I’ve always considered myself more of a medium than a psychic, but a girl has to keep the new age shop lights on.”
“We’ll chat.” Tamara looked at the stone again. “Later.”
Lilac nodded. “Where to stash it, that’s the question we need to be focusing on. I don’t suppose you have a safety deposit box, Sylvie?”
“Actually—”
A chirping noise sounded from the vicinity of my pocket, and then a split second later, I felt a vibration. Once I was certain my heart hadn’t stopped, that I’d merely received a text message, I retrieved my phone with the intent of shutting the thing off. “Apologies.”
Before I hit the power button, I realized that the only people with my number were present. I swiped the message open.
I have the cat. The cat for the stone, instructions to follow.
Lilac peered over my shoulder and read the message aloud. “The cat? Oh, heavens above and hell below, the baddies have Clarence.”
22
Wednesday midday
“We can’t give them the stone. For all anyone knows, it’s some kind of magical nuclear weapon.” I regretted my words instantly. Thankfully, my reflexes were fast enough to catch the stone before it hit my stained concrete floor.
We’d convened at my house, because it seemed only sensible to verify that Clarence was gone. After a thorough search of the premises, we confirmed that he wasn’t trying to steal porn online or wallowing in my bed in an attempt to make it smell better and cover it with bobcat fur—his two favorite pastimes. He wasn’t anywhere in the house or yard.
Sylvie looked at her hands in horror. “Oh . . . oh . . . rats! I am so sorry, Geoff.” She pointed at the table when I asked what I should do with the hopefully not nuclear rock.
Which left Lilac, Sylvie, and I staring at the rock on my kitchen table, waiting for the one person who might have a clue to return.
Tamara had gone home to retrieve some supplies. When we’d asked if it might not be wiser to move to her house—where all of her supplies and equipment were located—she’d declined. Until she could do a cleansing, she didn’t want visitors, especially in an emotionally charged situation. After the big “I was the bomber” reveal in her kitchen, she said there were some bad vibes in her home. My words, not hers. She’d made it sound much more technical and complicated.
Rather than twiddle our thumbs, I figured we could make some kind of headway, so I asked the first question that came to mind. “How did the kidnappers know about the stone?”
Sylvie shrugged. “Maybe they knew my grandmother . . . knew about the will . . . Uh, maybe, I don’t know, someone close to my grandmother told them. For all I know, a ghost told them.”
“Oh, I see. This is a good question.” Lilac tapped the table impatiently. “It wasn’t in the will, not directly. And you didn’t even know about it, Sylvie.”
“Okay, a ghost, then?” Sylvie didn’t look convinced.
My gut said not, but it couldn’t be ruled out. “Maybe, but I’m thinking it has to be your family. Perhaps a—”
Sylvie’s humorless laugh interrupted me before I could ask about her relatives. “Certainly not my mother or
