“Walk me through what happened,” he said, sounding nothing like her lover in the night or a werewolf.
“There’s been three break-ins in the past month.”
“And Silver Spring will never recover from the shock,” he said dryly.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think they will. The first was at the hardware store, where Gary said some gold panning equipment, bleach, and fertilizer went missing.”
He took the hat out of her hand as she was lifting it toward his face and stuffed it on his head without comment. Then he held his arms wide. “Am I presentable, Mom?”
She made a face. “I didn’t think it could get worse than Patchouli.”
“What was the second break-in?”
“Right, the second break-in wasn’t a break-in, exactly. Some chemistry supplies at the high school went missing, which makes sense if it’s the Banks kid. Everyone knows he stole the janitor’s keys a year ago.”
“The bank had a child?”
She laughed, feeling a weird sort of grief that their time in this cabin was over. “No, the Banks family is the, well, you of Silver Spring.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The richest man in town.”
He laughed hysterically. “I am so far from being the richest man in New York.”
That genuinely horrified her. “Our country is completely messed up.”
She marched toward the door, and he caught her by the arm. “Hey, where are you going?”
“I’m going out to look for them!”
“Do you know where they are?”
She squinted at the visions she’d been getting all day. “I can See them. It’s driving me crazy. It’s snowing.” She tried tosummon it, staring into the glass of the window, but she didn’t get anything else.
“Yes, but do you know whereitis?”
She shook her head.
“So let’s figure this out. Keep talking.”
“How is it going to be useful to you to know that they stole outdoor equipment, a magnet, and chemicals?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I don’t know yet. Which chemicals?”
“I don’t know what’s in fertilizer, but I know it was nitric acid from the high school.”
“What was the third break-in?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. The tax preparation front got hit.”
“Are you sure you know what your visions are about?” he asked, sounding as careful as he did talking to the stranger.
“Yes?”
“You’re saying a bunch of teenagers raided a tax preparation office in December?”
She crossed her arms. “I said a tax preparationfront. They do do taxes for four months of the year, but the rest of the time, they’re a staging station for preppers.”
