“You know you’ve just set me a challenge, don’t you?”
“I welcome said challenge, but I will not break.”
I grinned. “We’ll see about that, Ranger.”
He chuckled softly. “Call if there’s a problem.”
“Always do.”
I hung up, then made myself a big mug of hot chocolate and shoved a ton of marshmallows into it. I had a feeling I’d need the sugar hit to cope with the onslaught of Mrs. Hardwick’s emotions.
As it turned out, I should have shoved a whole lot more marshmallows into the drink.
Marion Hardwick was a tall, thin woman with short black hair and brilliant green eyes that were currently puffy and red. She was also surrounded by a fierce halo of fear and panic, and her aura was a writhing mess of dark blue—a sign that she either didn’t trust the future or couldn’t face the possible truth of it.
I plastered a smile onto my face and kept my hands well clear of her. “Please, continue on down to the reading room.”
She swallowed heavily and wound through the tables, her fear and worry trailing behind her like a long, dark cloud. I drew in another breath that did little to ease the desire not to follow her into that room, and then shut the front door and did exactly that.
“Right,” I said, once we were both seated. “Before we proceed, I need you to be aware there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to find your son. Psychometry can be a fickle talent at the best of times, and if your son’s vibes don’t linger on whatever item you’ve brought here, then there’s not much I can do.”
She nodded, opened her purse, and placed what looked to be a couple of hundred dollars on the table. “I’m told that’s how much something like this costs.”
“There’s actually too much there, but we can worry about that later—”
“No.” Her voice was surprisingly firm. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll be in no fit state to deal with such matters afterward. Besides, I know I’m taking up your time on your day off. The money on the table is fair payment for what you’re attempting.”
I didn’t bother arguing. “Can you place whatever item you’ve brought onto the table?”
She nodded and immediately produced a paint-speckled silver watch. “He wears it when he’s working—he’s an apprentice painter.”
“What’s his name?”
“Joseph, though he prefers Joe.”
I waited until she’d removed her hand and then carefully picked up the watch. Almost instantly, my psychic senses came to life. Joe was very definitely alive, but there was a thick haze of pain emanating from the watch that suggested he was in some sort of trouble.
I opened the psychic gates a little wider to deepen the connection and uncover what might be happening to him. The sensation of pain became a deep throbbing whose epicenter seemed centered on the lower part of my leg.
I frowned, but made no attempt to go any further. It was too damn risky without Belle here to pull me out if something happened. Besides, the connection between the watch and its owner was deep enough that I didn’t need to.
I returned my gaze to Mrs. Hardwick. “The good news is, he’s alive.”
Tears flooded over her eyelashes. “Oh, thank God. Where is he? What’s happened to him?”
I hesitated. Although I was pretty sure he’d shattered his leg, I couldn’t tell her that, especially given I had no true idea if that was all he’d done. “I’m not sure of either yet, but if you’ll lend me his watch, I can use it to find him.”
She immediately thrust to her feet. “Can we go now, then?”
I took another of those deep breaths and said, as gently as I could, “I’ll go, but it’s better if you return home—”
“I can’t. I won’t. Not until he’s been found and I know—”
“Mrs. Hardwick,” I cut in, “as I’ve already said, psychometry is a fickle beast. I’m afraid fierce emotions can block my receptors, and your presence will make it very difficult to follow the connective trail to your son.”
“Oh.” She wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand, then dug into her purse and handed me a business card. She was the manager of The Red Door, a very posh restaurant two streets over. “You’ll ring me the minute you find him?”
“Of course I will.”