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“How’s Will taking Jericho’s leaving?” Evie asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Oh, you know how it is with your uncle—impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He has the same expression whether it’s figuring out what to eat for lunch or facing the possible end of the world. You, ah, hear from the big fella?”
Evie shook her head.
Woody sneaked back in. “I think I found a way. Let’s ankle while we can.”
The three of them set off down the labyrinthine halls of the asylum. For the first time, Evie realized that the work they’d been doing with Sister Walker had opened her gifts up further. The very walls seemed to want to whisper their long-held secrets to her:
“… I wasn’t crazy. My husband put me here so he could marry another.…”
“… Dirty Robert… does things to us when the warden’s away.…”
“I only want the pain to stop, don’t you see? Just end it.…”
“There’s evil in this world.…”
Sam looked concerned. “You okay?”
Evie nodded. “Too many secrets here,” she said, and kept straight down the middle.
At the entrance to Luther Clayton’s ward, an attendant was on duty at his desk.
“Afternoon, sir.” Woody tipped his hat briefly as he approached the guard. “The name’s T. S. Woodhouse of the Daily News. And this lovely lady is the Sweetheart Seer.”
The guard stood and smoothed a hand over his hair. “Well, Miss, it’s an honor. A real honor. I sure do love your show!”
“Aren’t you just the berries!” Evie said, smiling flirtatiously and fluttering her lashes just a bit.
“Don’t cause a windstorm with that peepers-batting,” Sam whispered.
Evie stepped lightly on his foot with the heel of her Mary Janes.
The attendant frowned. “Gee, you’re not supposed to be back here, though, Miss. Not without permission.”
“I’ve come to see the man who tried to kill me, Luther Clayton,” Evie said quickly, managing to work up a few perfect tears. “I want to forgive the poor tortured soul.”
“Golly, Miss O’Neill, I sure wish I could let you see Luther, but he can’t receive visitors. Orders of the police. You’d need permission. Should I call up to the warden…?”
“No! That is, I wouldn’t want to bother him. I’m sure the warden wouldn’t mind if I just popped my little head in and—”
The attendant crossed his arms. “Sorry, Miss. Orders are orders.”
“Well, I suppose it’s time to dry that nail varnish, then, isn’t it, Sam? Woody, could you turn around and cover your ears, please?”
“What? Ohhh. Sure.”
“Sam, do you mind?”
“For you, Lamb Chop? Anything.” Sam stretched out an arm. “Don’t see me,” he said. The attendant’s eyes went blank. His arms dangled loosely at his sides. Evie tapped Woody’s shoulder. He took in the sight of the mesmerized man and shook his head, whistling.
“That is a neat trick, kid. Wish I could use it on my bookie next time I run into him and he wants his money.”
“How much time do we have, Sam?” Evie asked.
“Three, maybe four minutes, tops?”
Evie bit her bottom lip. “It’s not much. But it’ll have to do.”
