“It’s all right, Uncle,” the younger man said, in the loud voice one used to speak to the hard of hearing. “No customers.”
The old man grumbled but returned his attention to the television and a morning game show.
The younger man moved to the front window and gazed out at the Mercedes only now pulling away. He watched it until it moved out of his sight, then returned to his place behind the counter. He glanced at the absorbed old man, then reached for the phone and punched in a long number.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said when the call was answered. “They’re on their way to the lake.”
It was nearly four that afternoon when Sarah came out of the cabin’s single bedroom. It was a rustic cabin only in the sense that it was constructed of logs and river rock; it had all the modern conveniences, including plenty of hot water Sarah had used in her shower, and a television connected to a small satellite dish on the roof.
The television was on, turned down low and tuned to MSNBC. But Tucker was watching another screen. He had his laptop set up on the coffee table and was obviously working on something. But he immediately looked up when Sarah came into the room.
“Working on the book you’re going to get out of this?”
“No, something else. You look much better.”
“A few hours’ sleep and a shower can do wonders,” she agreed. “Did you manage to get any rest?”
“A little.” He didn’t elaborate. “You should eat something.”
“You’re always trying to feed me,” she said, nevertheless heading for the corner of the great room devoted to the kitchen.
“Well, aside from the fact that the fit of your clothes says you’ve lost some weight recently—weight you didn’t need to lose—it’s also a good idea for people on the run to follow the soldier’s maxim. Eat when you can, because you never know when you’ll get another chance. Goes for sleep too. Basic survival training.”
Sarah didn’t reply to his comment about her weight; the too-loose fit of her clothing was obvious, and she knew it. Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee and said, “I’m not really hungry, so I think I’ll wait awhile. If you got stuff for a salad we can have later, I’ll fix that.”
“I did.” He smiled slightly. “Need to keep busy?”
“Don’t you? What are you doing?” She came around the breakfast bar dividing the kitchen from the rest of the room and perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair at a right angle to the couch where he sat.
“Sleuthing.”
“Ah. And what are you sleuthing?”
Tucker smiled again. “The case of the missing psychics.”
Sarah thought about that, her gaze on the laptop’s screen. “There’s wireless Internet out here?”
“Via the satellite dish, so it’s not the fastest, unfortunately. But it gives us some access. You can find out almost anything if you know where and how to look, and I don’t mean just using Google. The real trick is having enough firewalls and other protection to ensure nobody else catches you looking.”
“Which you have.” It wasn’t a question.
“In these days of highly visible social networking, it pays to be at least a little paranoid, especially if you create intellectual property vulnerable to theft. I protect my work as best I can, and that includes whatever I happen to be researching.”
“So, have you found out anything?”
He leaned back on the couch and linked his hands together over his flat middle, frowning now. “So far, I have more questions than answers. I’ve been checking newspapers in major cities, looking for missing persons believed to have some kind of psychic ability. I’ve gone back more than ten years, so far, and checked half a dozen cities.”
“And?”
“Come see for yourself.”
Sarah moved over to sit beside him on the couch, keeping a careful few inches of space between them. She held her coffee cup in both hands, and looked at the laptop’s screen. There was what looked like a brief newspaper article accompanied by a photo of a young woman. She had to lean forward to read the article. It was dated March 17, 2008.
Carol Randolph, 16, vanished from her Phoenix home yesterday. She had apparently returned safely from school, since her backpack and other articles were found in her room, and the remains of her usual afternoon snack were in the kitchen. There were no signs of a disturbance, no indication that a stranger had forcibly entered the house. No ransom note has been found.
Police are asking that anyone with any knowledge of Carol and her movements yesterday please come forward. Carol is five feet seven inches tall, with long blond hair usually worn tied at the nape of her neck. She was last seen wearing a blue sweater and jeans.