Genevieve was more disturbed than she had expected to find out for certain that Lori Star was dead.
The victim of a murderer.
Possibly—no, probably—the victim of the same killer who had murdered Thorne Bigelow.
She was certain that no one other than Joe and herself would instantly make that assumption. But Joe had known. He had known, before Lori was found, that she had been killed. And he had seemed to know that she would be found in New Jersey, as well.
She knew that he wasn’t going to take her with him to meet with the police. His own position was going to be tenuous enough; he was just lucky that Raif was on his side, and Raif was lucky that the New Jersey homicide officers were willing to accept that there might be a connection to Thorne Bigelow’s death and let the New York cops in on the case.
She was actually glad that she wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse to get away from him that afternoon. She hadn’t known how she was going to manage the feat, since he had been getting more and more adamant that she not go anywhere without him.
She didn’t mind that Joe was so determined to be with her, but she did mind that he continually seemed not just preoccupied but so…
Haunted.
She was worried about him. He had been so strange last night.
“Make sure you keep in touch with me,” she told him when he brought her back to her apartment. “Please.”
“And you stay here. Promise?”
“I’ll be around,” she swore.
And she would be. Just not exactly at home.
Shortly after he left, she got the call she’d been expecting from Adam Harrison. He had gotten her message, he said, and had arrived in town, where he would be happy to meet with her at her convenience. She asked him to come right over.
She felt that she knew him fairly well. He had been there when she was brought back into the light of day. And he had been at Leslie’s funeral. She knew that Joe had also gotten to know him when Adam had come to New York City to help Leslie deal with her ghostly communications when Genevieve had still been a prisoner far beneath the ground in the abandoned subway tunnel.
Adam Harrison was regal and dignified, despite his advancing age. He was a tall man, slender, with snow-white hair and kind eyes that looked out on the world without judgment. Probably the best thing about him was his ability to listen without distraction.
He greeted her like a distant uncle, with warmth, but without presumption. He held her at arm’s length for long seconds, studying her with discerning eyes before commending her on how well she looked.
She made tea and asked him about the weather in Virginia, and then about Brent and Nikki Blackhawk, the employees who had been with him in New York.
He asked about her mother.
And then they were seated together at the table and she couldn’t quite start speaking.
He laid his hand gently over hers and looked at her encouragingly.
She inhaled deeply, then plunged in. “Have you ever heard of a man named Thorne Bigelow?”
He frowned. “Yes, actually. He wrote an excellent book about Poe,” he responded. “And he was murdered recently.”
She nodded, and he waited patiently for her to speak.
“There was a society. The New York Poe Society—it still exists—and the members are known as Ravens. He and my mother are both on the board.”
“Ah,” Adam murmured, and leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to take it that you hired Joe to work the case. Because your mother is a Raven and you’re worried about her.”
“Exactly.”
“So tell me what else has happened that has you so worried,” he said.
She told him all she knew about Thorne Bigelow’s murder, the accident on the highway, the disappearance of Lori Star—and the very recent discovery of her body. He listened gravely.
“Do the police seem competent?” he asked at last.
“The lead detectives on the case are friends of Joe,” she said, then shrugged. “And he seems to think they’re more than competent.”
“Genevieve, I’m sure you’re aware that my agency deals with the occult.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you believe that you’ve seen a ghost?”
“No,” she said, then frowned, remembering the night she had dreamed she was someone else. When she had awakened and found that Joe had also had a strange dream.
“Genevieve, I can’t help you if don’t talk to me,” he told her.
She smiled wistfully. “You know, Adam, I wanted to see a ghost. I even made myself think I saw one, at the cemetery, a year ago. I wanted to believe I saw Matt and Leslie, arm in arm, disappearing over a rise together. I wanted to believe that it was okay. I mean, don’t you think that happens a lot of the time? We see and hear what we want to? We believe what we want to?”
“I’ll put it this way,” he answered. “I know that our energy goes somewhere when we die, and that some people can see that energy. But you called me for a reason. Would you like to tell me what it is?”