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“Just like Robin Hood.”
“He gave to the poor.”
“So…I’m poor.”
“I’m not going to entertain this argument,” Jericho said. “I’d meant to ask Will about it at some point. And they were a little damaged, so I kept them out of the damp basement.”
Watching Jericho untie the string and sift through the letters made Evie antsy. She wanted to know what was in them and didn’t at the same time.
“Here’s one. ‘Today we visited with Miss Maudie Lemieux, a Diviner in Poughkeepsie with the ability to commune with the spirit world through séance.’ Et cetera, et cetera…”
“Et cetera, et cetera?” Sam said, incredulous. “You’re skipping over the best parts, Freddy.”
“You know how to read, don’t you, Sam? You can go through them to your heart’s content,” Jericho said, exchanging a brief smile with Evie before returning his attention to the letter. “Here it is: ‘She consented to allow Margaret the liberty of a sample or two.’”
“Diviner blood,” Evie mused.
“The question is, what did they do with it?” Jericho asked.
“I got a feeling whatever it was, we’re the end result,” Sam said.
Evie examined the letter. She squinted at the return address, feeling a tingle. “‘Hopeful Harbor, New York,’” she read aloud. “Where’s that?”
“That’s the name of Marlowe’s family home upstate,” Jericho said. “Why?”
“Sam, remember when I read your mother’s photograph, I heard Will asking her to come to the Harbor? I thought it was an actual harbor somewhere. But what if he meant Hopeful Harbor? What if that’s where all the Project Buffalo testing happened?”
“Doll, I think you were right that all of these things are connected. And don’t say anything about Nietzsche and the eternal recurrence, Freddy.”
Evie frowned. “What’s the matter, Jericho? You do look very serious.”
“He was born that way,” Sam said. “Came out reading philosophy.”
“It’s these letters. The last one was from Will, dated 1917. It read, ‘You were right. I was wrong. I’m sorry.’ That’s it. No explanation.”
“Maybe he was sorry for being a chump.”
“Maybe,” Jericho said. “But what if it was something else?”
There was a creaking sound, and they all stilled, eyes on the door in case it was Will coming home. But it was only the wind making the Bennington’s Victorian bones moan.
Evie bit her lip. “Jericho, I feel awful asking this—”
“But it’s not going to stop her,” Sam said.
“What if you said yes to Marlowe’s offer? What if you went up to his estate after all?”
Sam sat up, looking from Evie to Jericho. “What are you talking about?”
Evie ignored him. “You could spy on him, report back to us.”
“Spy on Jake Marlowe?” Jericho’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a tall order.”
“Wait, why are we spying? What are you talking about?” Sam pressed.
“Marlowe was part of the Paranormal Department. He knows what happened with Project Buffalo! And that card reader is probably at his house. You could find it for us.” Evie took Jericho’s hand. “Please. We have to know what happened.”
“All right,” Jericho said. He didn’t want to let go of Evie’s hand just yet.
