Abby looked at Sam. “Are both of your parents strong talents?”
“Dad definitely has some serious sensitivity for the latent energy in crystals. But he isn’t nearly as strong as Judson and Emma and me. He can’t run a little psi through any of the stones the way we can, for example.”
“What about your mother?”
“I’d say Mom has above-average intuition, but what mother doesn’t? And she runs the Coppersmith Foundation like a forensic accountant. But I don’t think her ability could be described as psychic. She’s just very, very good when it comes to following the money.”
“So where did you and your brother and sister get your talent for crystals?”
“Dad says it must have come from farther back on the family tree. Coppersmiths have been involved in mining of one kind or another for generations.”
“Sounds like you don’t buy that explanation.”
“Let’s just say that Judson and Emma and I have our own theory. We worked it out a few years ago, but we never told Mom or Dad, because we didn’t want to upset them.”
“Good grief. Surely you don’t think you aren’t your father’s offspring. You’ve got your father’s eyes, his bone structure…”
Sam grinned. “Not that kind of theory. But forty years ago, when that explosion occurred in the Phoenix, there was a hell of a lot of paranormal radiation released. We know that Dad and Knox must have caught a lot of it.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Abby felt her mouth fall open. She got it closed with an effort. “Are you telling me that you believe that the fallout from the explosion caused some kind of genetic mutation that manifested in you and your brother and sister?”
“Genetics are extremely complicated, even when you’re dealing with the normal kind. We don’t know much at all about the paranormal aspects.”
“True.”
“Promise me you won’t say anything to Mom or Dad about the theory. Emma says they wouldn’t handle it well.”
“Okay,” Abby said.
Sam went along the dock and grabbed the line that Dixon tossed to him. Then he caught the second one. He secured the water taxi with a few efficient, expert moves, straightened and took his mother’s hand. Willow Coppersmith stepped lightly onto the dock. She gave Sam a quick maternal kiss, and then she turned to Abby with a warm smile.
“You must be Abby,” she said.
Abby smiled. “Yes.”
She started to put out her hand, but Elias bounded out of the bobbing water taxi, interrupting the polite greeting. He gave her a head–to–toe survey. Then he grinned, cold satisfaction glittering in his eyes.
“You got her.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Nice work, son. If she’s half as good as Webber thought she was, we’re going to get that damn book at last.”
Abby gave him her best professional smile, the one she reserved for the most eccentric clients. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Coppersmith.”
26
“YOU’LL HAVE TO FORGIVE MY HUSBAND,” WILLOW COPPERSMITH said. “Well, actually, you don’t have to forgive him for acting as if you’re just a useful employee that he can manipulate for his own purposes. But there is an explanation for his rudeness.”
“I understand,” Abby said.
They were sitting in the living room of the house that Sam’s parents had built for themselves. It was not only much newer, it was a lot cozier and warmer than the old house. The modern, two-story windows provided a spectacular view of the water and far more natural light than those in the old stone house.
“To be honest, I thought Elias had abandoned the search for that old notebook,” Willow said. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I hoped he had given up on it. But after he got the call from his old partner, Quinn Knox, he became obsessed with finding it all over again.”
“I did get that impression, yes.”
“If he does locate it, I know that he won’t rest until he finds the crystals that went missing at the same time. He’ll never believe that they were buried in the explosion, not now, after this business of the notebook surfacing.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Coppersmith,” Abby said, sticking with her polished, professional tone.
“Willow, please.”
“Willow. The thing is, I’m accustomed to working for obsessed, difficult and eccentric clients. All part of the job, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Ouch.” Willow grimaced. “We’re not just talking about Elias here, are we? You think Sam is a lot like his father in some ways.”
“Well…”
Willow sighed. “I prefer to use words like stubborn and determined rather than obsessed and difficult to describe them, but you’re right. They are good men, but I swear, once they set themselves an objective, it is almost impossible to make them rethink the whole idea.”
“Not to worry, Mrs. Coppersmith,” Abby said. “I’ve worked with even stranger clients, believe me. Collectors of the paranormal are always somewhat outside the mainstream.”
Willow narrowed her eyes. “So are those who deal in the paranormal.”
Abby kept her smile in place. “Takes one to know one.”
Willow gave her an assessing look. “You’re trying to convince me that your relationship with my son is strictly business, aren’t you?”
“A business arrangement is the basis of our association. Sam and I made a deal, you see. He’s trying to keep me from being kidnapped by some other collector who is after the notebook. In exchange, I’m trying to find the notebook for him. So far, he has upheld his end of the bargain. I’m still working on my half.”
“If your relationship with my son is strictly business, I’m surprised you’re staying in the old house. That’s his personal residence.”
“He had to stash me somewhere,” Abby pointed out. “There weren’t a lot of options. Someone did try to kidnap me, you know.”
“Yes, I heard about what happened after you found Webber’s body. That must have been a terrifying experience.”
Abby pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t say it ranked quite that high on my personal fear-and-panic meter. I reserve that category of terrifying for my step-grandmother. But the carjack incident definitely met the criteria for extremely alarming. Sam handled it brilliantly, though. Like I said, he is holding up his end of the deal.”
Willow considered her with a thoughtful expression. “You are a very unusual woman, Abby.”
“Just trying to do my job.”
“Did Sam tell you that he’s had some experience investigating paranormal crimes?”
“I think he said something about having done some work for the post office.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “The post office?”
“Never mind.” Abby smiled. “Inside joke. Yes, he mentioned his consulting work.”
“He told you about those jobs?”
“Not a lot,” Abby admitted. “Between you and me, I think he was trying to reassure me that he does know what he’s doing. Giving me his résumé, as it were.”
Willow regarded her with a long, considering look. “Neither Sam nor Judson are in the habit of telling people about the nature of their consulting work. In fact, I would be willing to bet that Sam has never mentioned it to any of the other women he has been involved with in the past.”
“To be clear, Sam and I are not exactly involved, at least not seriously involved. Not in the way you mean.”
Willow brushed that aside. “I suppose you’ve heard about what happened to the last woman he dated.”
“Hard not to know about it, under the circumstances. I got the first lecture on the subject from Dixon. Got another from a friend of mine who Googled Sam. Got the story from Sam. And last but not least, today I received yet another lecture on the subject from the waitress at the diner in town.”