“That’s pretty much what it comes down to,” she said. “He’s decided to trust you because he trusts me. But he wants to move fast. I get the impression that he is very nervous. Believe me when I tell you that it takes a lot to make someone like Milton nervous.”

Sam pulled the lock mechanism out of the wall. “Get the details. Tell him the money will be wired into whatever account he wants as soon as we have verified the authenticity of the journal.”

She sent the message. A moment later, she looked up from the screen.

“Done. Milton just sent the code for the pickup location and his bank-account information.”

Sam headed for the door. “Where is the pickup point?”

“A place where no one ever thinks twice about someone collecting a package.”

41

“I LEFT A SHOPPING BAG HERE A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO,” Abby said. She held up the claim ticket that she had found in a sidewalk planter in front of the museum.

The woman behind the coat-and package-check desk smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She took the ticket and disappeared into a back room.

Sam glanced around. “Isn’t this a risky way to conduct business?”

“Beats the old locker routine at the bus station,” Abby said.

Sam surveyed the monumental glass-walled forum in which they stood. There was art everywhere, some of it hanging from the high ceiling. “Definitely more upmarket.”

The woman reappeared. She held out the shopping bag with the familiar department-store logo on its side. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” Abby said.

She took the bag and opened her senses a little. Currents of energy swirled in the atmosphere. The object inside was hot. She looked at Sam and knew that he had picked up on the heat. Without a word, he took the shopping bag from her. They walked through the front doors onto First Avenue and turned right toward the Pike Place Market.

“This better be the right lab book,” Sam said.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Wonder where Milton is? Think he’s watching us?”

“No,” Abby said. “I think he’s on a plane out of town as we speak. I told you, he was scared.”

“Like everyone else involved in this thing.”

“Except us, of course,” she said proudly.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Hah. Nothing scares you, Sam Coppersmith.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve been running on the edge of panic since that first day you came to see me on the island.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“Believe it,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve known from the start that you were in danger.”

She glanced at him. “And that scares you?”

“Like nothing else I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

“Oh,” Abby said. She was not sure what to do with that information. “I’ve known some people who were scared of me but not for me. Except for my mom, of course. But she’s been gone a long time.”

“Trust me, I’m scared for you. That’s why we’re headed back to the island.”

“Okay,” Abby said. “For now, I mean. I appreciate it. But I can’t stay there forever. After I break the code on this book for you, my job is done. I’ve got things to do. I have to find a new place to live, someplace that will take dogs. Got to put my old condo on the market. Then I have to get back to work.”

“We’ll take it as it comes.”

A brisk wind whipped Abby’s hair. She could see a bank of ominous dark clouds moving in over Elliott Bay.

“It’s going to rain soon,” she said.

“I understand it does that a lot around here.”

It was clear that Sam’s mind was not focused on the weather.

“How will we know?” Abby asked after a while.

“What?”

“How will we know when this thing is over? It will be easy to get the word out that the lab book has been acquired by a new owner and that the code has been broken. Heck, I’m sure it’s already out in the underground. But we can’t be sure that will be the end of the matter. What if whoever tried to kidnap me decides to try to steal the book from you?”

“I don’t think the killer will risk trying to steal the lab book from my vault. He knows that he can’t get through my lock.”

“You’re still convinced that whoever is after the book is the person who murdered Cassidy, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Now what?”

“Now we go home. Can’t miss the annual tech summit and the big barbecue.”

“I didn’t realize you were looking forward to it.”

“The weekend is going to be a lot more interesting than usual this year.”

“Why?”

“The killer will be there.”

42

THE COPPERSMITH FAMILY COMPOUND WAS ABLAZE WITH fiery grills. The annual Black Box technical summit was concluded, and the big barbecue was in full swing. The weather had cooperated, with plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the mid-seventies. The long summer day was drawing to a close, but there was still some light in the evening sky.

Abby stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of sparkling water in her hand, and tried to shake off the chill that was lifting the hairs on her neck. Everything looked normal. There was a line in front of the open bar set up under a large tent. Elias and Willow Coppersmith were mingling with their guests. The sound of laughter and conversation rose up into the trees. All appeared as it should, except for one thing. A few minutes ago, Sam had disappeared.

Earlier that afternoon, he had given a series of tours of his lab, answering an endless string of questions. Abby had been amazed at his patience with the children and teenagers. Afterward, he had done his duty, socializing with the employees and their families. But now he was gone.

She took a sip of the sparkling water. She hadn’t had anything stronger to drink all afternoon, even though she could have used something to calm her nerves. A strange darkness was gathering at the edges of her senses. Every time she tried to focus on it, the eerie shadows flickered out of sight. But the sense of wrongness was intensifying. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was linked to Sam. He had set his trap, and now he was waiting for the killer to walk into it.

She had assumed the snare involved catching the killer on camera in the lab. But now she was having doubts.

Jenny O’Connell materialized out of the crowd. She had a glass of wine in one hand.

“I’ve been looking for you, Abby,” she said. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day, when you and Sam came to the Black Box library. To be honest, I was a little taken aback, or maybe just plain insulted, that Sam Coppersmith was using a freelancer to go after a hot book for his family’s personal collection.”

“I understand,” Abby said. “It’s okay. I know what librarians and academics think about those of us who work the underground market.”

“It’s hard enough having serious academic degrees and just enough talent to know that the paranormal is real. Most of us in that category have to pretend that we don’t really believe in the existence of extrasensory perception, psychic energy or any of the rest of it. We tell people that we study the sadly deluded folks who do believe in it and examine the effects of such bizarre beliefs on culture and society.”

“I understand,” Abby said again. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Unlike many of my colleagues, I was lucky enough to get a job in a scholarly collection like the Coppersmith company library, where the paranormal is taken seriously. And what did I do? I treated you the way my old academic colleagues would have treated me if they had realized that I actually do believe in the paranormal.”

“I get that,” Abby said. She smiled. “My father has spent a lot of time in the academic world. I have a sense of how things work there. Please don’t worry. I accept your apology.”