“I don’t know. It seems reasonable, but I do know of an exception—Dillon Savich. He said his gifts simply came to him when he was a teenager. No one really knows, there are so few we know about.”
Rebel slowly shook his head. “I can’t remember anyone in our family ever talking about prescience or telepathy or anything like that. Sure, my grandmother always seemed to know when someone was about to knock on her front door, but her hearing was very sharp and we all thought she heard us coming.”
Joanna waited, saw the same look on his face she’d seen on Ox and Glenis six years before—a rational adult faced with something he couldn’t comprehend.
Rebel said finally, “All right, suppose I go ahead and tell Tash I believe he’s gifted until proven otherwise. Gifted—it’s a nice harmless word for artists, but in this case it means something beyond reality as I know it, as almost everyone knows it.” He heaved a sigh. “All right, Joanna, I’ll suspend my disbelief, if you think that’s what Tash needs right now. And what then? How can I help him?”
Lula jumped on Rebel’s lap, followed by Mackie settling himself on Joanna’s. Her fingertips had been lightly tapping the smooth oak table, but now she began to stroke Mackie until his purr was engine loud. Lula never made a sound, even though Rebel rubbed her whiskers and lightly scratched her ears.
The kitchen was otherwise silent save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
Joanna knew Rebel Navarro was going to pretend he believed Tash even though his brain wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to accept. Well, it didn’t matter, if he did it well and Tash believed it. She said, “I’d counsel you to do what Ethan and I have done with Autumn. We’ve warned her to keep her gifts under wraps from the outside world because it would scare people, push them away, and there’s no reason to do that. I told you Ox and Glenis suffered when Blessed came here and stymied them, but they don’t talk about it for Autumn’s sake. There were lots of rumors at the time, but I don’t think most people in town believed what they heard. We’ve focused Autumn on the outdoors, on being a kid growing up in Titusville. She thinks of what she can do as just another skill, a fact of her life. I do know, though, that if there was danger threatening anyone, Autumn would act in an instant regardless of what the consequences might be, and that’s as it should be.”
“Does she ever slip up?”
“Not really. Well”—Joanna shook her head, smiled at the memory—“one time last year a boy at school was bullying a little girl, making fun of her glasses, shoving her. Autumn didn’t make any kind of a scene that could make the other students wonder about her. She looked into the boy’s eyes and told him he had stomach cramps. He ran away holding his belly. I was very proud of her. She was only eleven, but she was smart enough to think it through and act without causing alarm.
“Another time, we were driving home in a torrential downpour when Autumn yelled, ‘Dad, there’s a man coming and he’sin pain, he’s scared, and he’s losing control of his car!’ Ethan pulled over right away, flicked his lights on and off. The driver managed to skid to a stop a few yards away from us, sideways in the road, and then he passed out. He’d had a heart attack, and somehow Autumn had known. His name is Mr. Philips and he lives on a farm maybe fifteen miles away. He’s fine, and he’s Ethan’s biggest fan. We never told him Autumn was the one who very probably saved his life. And ours too.
“Rebel, the fact is none of us know where these kids’ gifts come from, or if they might change. I doubt anyone does, even Dillon Savich. He and Autumn are good friends now, they have a strong bond. Tash will be fine with Autumn.”
She sat forward, took his hand. “It’s an amazing twist of fate they found each other. I have no doubt they’ll be close for the rest of their lives. I think it’s simply impossible for Tash’s father not to suspect already, given his two experiences with his son. Will he believe he is gifted? Probably, but that will have to wait until the mess he’s in is cleaned up.” She glanced down at her watch, hugged Mackie, and set him on the floor. “It’s time for me to teach three couples from Terre Haute how not to drown while white water rafting. They’re young, eager, and unafraid. My job will be to keep them safe while I scare the crap out of them.”
Joanna watched Rebel set Lula on the floor, give both cats pats on the head, and stand. She touched her fingers to his arm. “My very best advice? Be yourself with Tash. If you do, he’ll be fine, both of you will be fine. Tash and Autumn are on a journey of discovery together, and there’ll be some hiccups for sure, but Autumn was right when she told him they’d have a blast together.
“You have your brother and his troubles to deal with now, too, and it doesn’t seem there’s much you can do about that except wait and see. Do ask Ethan if he’s heard anything more from Dillon Savich.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you cameto see me, Rebel. Remember, whatever happens, whatever you see, Tash isn’t crazy and neither are you. You’ll work it out.”
Joanna watched him as he walked down the drive. She wondered how much of what she’d told him he’d ever believe, until Autumn or Tash made it impossible for him not to believe. Maybe he’d spend some time looking into his family tree to see if he could find a great-uncle Festus or someone else who’d spent his life in an attic. She knew he’d never understand any more than she did how a child could be a math genius or a music savant, much less have psychic gifts. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Ethan.
Chapter Fifteen
Hoover Building
Deputy Director’s Office
Washington, D.C.
Wednesday
Deputy Director James Maitland rose, stepped around his big mahogany desk, and shook Elizabeth’s hand, surprised at her firm grip and the calluses on her fingers and palm. He’d expected a blue-blooded English aristocrat, all proper and polished, not someone who looked like a tough-as-nails special agent. He nodded to Savich and Sherlock and waved them to his conference table. He’d remembered her name from Savich’s report a year ago about Samir Basara’s gun battle with Sherlock, ending, thankfully, with his death on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He’d had time to glance through the brief biographical file Goldie had pulled up for him before they’d arrived. He studied Elizabeth Palmer—excuse me, Lady Elizabeth Palmer—daughter of the Earl of Camden, wealthy banker and member of the House of Lords. He’d read her younger brother, Thomas, Lord Audley and the future Earl of Camden, was a drug addict. What a disappointment that had to be for the present earl. He thanked the Lord his four sons were all straight arrows. He had a son named Tommy, too, following in his footsteps. He’d transferred to the Boston field office and was engaged to marry JulietAsh Calley, a concert pianist and one of the most beautiful women Maitland had ever met.
He said in his smooth baritone voice, “Sherlock, tell me how you think we might assist Lady Elizabeth.”
Sherlock said, “There were three attempts on her life in London three months ago. The final attempt nearly succeeded. Perhaps the attempts were connected to her former relationship with Samir Basara. I think it’s best Elizabeth tells us all about what has happened herself.”
Elizabeth took them through the three attempts on her life in a precise, clipped voice that reminded Mr. Maitland of the BBC at its snootiest. When she finished, Maitland said, “Are you certain they wanted to kill you? Not take you? For possible ransom?”
Elizabeth blinked at him. “I never considered that, nor did John Eiserly. At least he didn’t say anything to that effect.”
“Why?”
“I felt their hatred for me, especially when they broke into my house at night that last time. I thought the knife would have gone into my heart if the MI5 agent guarding me hadn’t taken the knife in his own chest instead. I thank God he survived.”
Mr. Maitland said matter-of-factly, “Whoever they were, they weren’t trained operatives. The first attack seems spur of the moment. There you were, run you down, hurt you, but kill you? Not certain. The second, trying to shoot through your door in the middle of London, was hardly an improvement. It showed urgency, perhaps, but little planning. The third, breaking into your house at night, now that showed some thought and planning, some brain power. You were lucky to end up with only an arm wound. They were committed, no doubt about that, but again, I ask, to what exactly?”
Sherlock said, “We haven’t had a whole lot of time to process this, but if we’re talking killing her, it could be revenge for Basara’s death, or for the imam’s and Bahar Zain’s imprisonment,one or all but it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me they’d wait a year. So, just maybe there’s something else going on here.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “If it’s something else entirely, Basara not in the picture, I can’t think of anything. I’ve done nothing to draw attention to myself this past year. I’ve lived my life, painted, taken care of my brother, visited my mother and father, kept to myself mainly. But after that third attempt and I ended up in hospital, I knew I had to do something to protect myself. I know Mr. Eiserly was pulling his hair out trying to find out what was going on, but he was flummoxed. My father found Hurley Janklov and convinced him to hide me away and train me at his survival camp in Maryland.”
