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Jax joined her, crowding close to examine the labels. They were all alone in the semi-dark, and Evie wondered if it were only her hormones jumping. He seemed pretty focused as he yanked boxes out by their handles and flipped back lids, hunting for something only he understood.

“This one has his name on it.” He dropped a box on the floor and started through the next row. “I still have no idea what we’re looking for.”

“Memories,” she sang, sitting down beside the box and pulling out file folders. “Huh, a lot of these papers look as if they’re printed from a computer file, so they must have been digitized at some point.”

“Reuben and Roark haven’t found them online. Twenty years ago, they could have been on disk, for all I know. Stephen still likes his copies in print.” He tossed down two more boxes.

“I’ll write down client names and addresses and so forth. Maybe you can start there.” She’d actually brought a notebook with her to prove she could be organized. She began taking notes.

Jax handed her his phone. “Take pictures of client info and I’ll send them to the team.”

“Spoilsport.” With a sigh, she figured out how the camera worked and snapped the original interview notes from the first box. “Disks.” She held up a couple of the old-fashioned square ones.

Jax looked torn but finally nodded. “Put them in your bag. I’ll return them after I’ve uploaded them to our cloud files. Nothing wrong with that.”

Evie checked that each disk had a client name, took photos of the labels along with the interview notes, and pocketed the squares.

Several boxes in, she noticed Jax had gone still. She didn’t know how she noticed the difference between his usual composed state and this, but she could feel the impact. Glancing up, she watched as he pulled one box out as if it might be a time bomb. She’d already calculated what part of the alphabet the shelf represented before he spoke.

“John Posthas been a client for a long time.” Jax set the box on the floor and lifted the lid as if it would explode in his face.

Nineteen

Surroundedby a warehouse full of dusty paper, Jax had just torn open the Post file box, when his phone vibrated. He never left his phone off, in case Ariel needed to reach him. Reluctantly, he let Evie dig in while he checked his messages.

SEND CARwas all his sister’s text said. That was sufficient to escalate his pulse into the red zone. He tried calling but she didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong? Is Loretta okay?” Apparently picking up on his vibrations, Evie watched him, her crystal eyes wide with anxiety.

He’d dumped a hell of a lot on the genie lately. He hated seeing her natural exuberance crushed. Ruthlessly, he ignored his better instincts to reassure her and punched in Roark’s contact number. “My sister.”

Not having any life of his own, Roark answered instantly.

Jax knew Evie was listening, but he wasn’t whitewashing his urgency. “Ariel needs a car. For her, that’s ominous. Can we get someone over there ASAP? Make it look good, black Lincoln, uniform, whatever. Take her to my condo.”

“Reuben’s scrolling through the list now. We’ll get the van out there too, hide nearby in case reinforcements are needed. How dangerous can one old man be? Explosives?”

Jax grimaced at his friend’s instant paranoia. “This isnota combat zone. Ariel is neurotic and not dangerous to anyone.Yet. I suspect it means she’s found volatile information and doesn’t want to send it from home. It may mean once she passes on her information, that we’ll have trouble.”

“Which means she suspects she’s been hacked or watched, got it. On our way.”

Yeah, it probably meant Ariel was more uncomfortable than usual and needed a getaway. Since she hated leaving the house, it had to be uncomfortable. On a Sunday. When Stephen might be home?

Ignoring his own advice not to panic, Jax began flinging boxes back on the shelf.

Evie clung to the Post box. “You have good excuse to want this one. I’ll put on a good performance for the cameras. Take it to your office or condo or whatever. You need some idea of what your father was working on, and this ties in with your current case.”

He wasn’t arguing. He needed to be there for Ariel. He lifted the long box to his shoulder. Evie clung to one of the file folders. As they headed for the door and cameras, she started smacking him with the flimsy cardboard.

“Loretta is mine! I don’t care what you find in there, she belongs with us.” She ranted and raved as he signed the box out and passed the security cameras to the parking lot, smacking him with vigor.

Jax suspected she was enjoying herself, but she performed the angry woman role as if she had experience.

“Drama runs in the family, I take it.” He flung the box into the trunk and handed her into the car.

She crossed her arms and continued her furious act until he’d pulled from the parking lot and was halfway down the street. Then she relaxed and opened the file she’d been hitting him with to read it.

“Drama is useful. People don’t believe me if I calmly say,There’s a ghost in your living room. Or if Mavis sees romance in your future, what fun is it if she just says,The guy at the desk next to yours wants to boff you.”


Tags: Patricia Rice Psychic Solutions Mystery Fantasy