“Why do you say that? I’ve heard of lots of human psychics. They even have television shows sometimes.”
Dixie Lou scrolled past a picture and then scrolled up to look at it again.
Her mouth dropped open.
“What’s wrong with you? Close your mouth, Dixie Lou,” Miss Penny said. She leaned in to see what Dixie Lou was staring at. It was a picture of an older woman with an older man, maybe her husband. They sat in rocking chairs on a porch, hands clasped sweetly together.
“That’s…that’s…” Dixie Lou was flabbergasted.
“Who? Who is it?”
“Constance Brickwood.”
“Never heard of her,” Miss Penny said, sitting back in her chair.
Dixie Lou stood up and started pacing. If Constance Brickwood hadn’t died and been buried, why had she stayed in Superstition instead of going back to Alpha-Prime fifty years ago? The picture looked exactly like her, only a bit older. Alpha genes were awesome.
She snapped her fingers. “We need wheels.”
“Wheels?” Miss Penny also stood up.
“Yes. You know, transportation.”
“Where are we going?”
“Superstition, Minnesota. We’re going to visit a woman who’s supposedly been dead for fifty years.”
Diesel took a deep breath and wondered what in the space potato farm would happen next.
He’d managed to lure Daphne Charlene into his office and give her a blast with the Defender. Then he’d handed the unconscious woman off to Gage and called an emergency meeting to discuss the problem.
He entered the conference room full of people braced for nothing less than a call-to-arms about handling a possible earthling discovery of their big secret on top of the recent news that the infamous Indigo Smith was at large somewhere on Earth. It was a banner day for bad news.
He hoped someone had a brilliant idea about what they should do, besides his current favorite nightmare scenario of packing up the whole operation and heading back to Alpha-Prime after leveling Alienn with a Defender bomb set for nuclear.
Wyatt entered ahead of Cam and they chose seats in the row of extra chairs not at the table. Hopefully, no one would notice the earthling in attendance.
Diesel gave a short introduction and explained the reason for the meeting. He then silenced the uproar, telling his brothers and the assembled elders they needed solutions not pandemonium. Once everyone settled down, one member asked, “Is there any trace of where Indigo Smith has gone? Anywhere we can start the search?”
“None. At least not yet,” Diesel amended to keep himself from sinking into dire predictions.
“Does Alpha-Prime know yet?” This from his youngest brother, Jack.
“Nope. But the gulag ship is scheduled to leave tomorrow at noon. Alpha-Prime will be expecting to receive the usual message notifying them about the exact departure.”
Jack said, “Around twenty hours to search an entire planet? That’s typical. We should probably get started, yeah?”
“If only we knew where to start,” Wheeler said, sizing up the problem perfectly in a calm, rational tone. Wheeler often had a different perspective when it came to emergency issues. Diesel appreciated his peaceful approach to most things, especially in this instance.
Abruptly, one of the elders pointed a bony finger at Wyatt. “What is an earthling doing here in this meeting?”
“He’s been brought in to help us capture Indigo Smith, Mr. Gris.”
“Why on earth would you do that? Bring anearthlinginto our secret fold.” The elder’s tone was condescending, as if earthlings were inferior by every measure and couldn’t possibly help with anything.
Diesel explained, “He’s an expert shot, Mr. Gris. Vastly better than anyone working at our truck stop operation.”
