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“No, we didn’t do that; I’d remember. But I’ve probably had more past existences than anyone you know.”
“Tell me about some of your past existences,” she said.
“Let’s see, I told you about Key Wes
t, didn’t I?”
“You reeked of fish for eight months.”
“Yes. I did nearly a year with a white supremacy group in Arkansas.”
“You?”
“I had longer hair and another itchy beard. Then I did six weeks in northern California with a motorcycle gang and a couple of weeks as a drug pilot, between Colombia and the Bahamas.”
“Only a couple of weeks?”
“They were on to me; I got the hell out by the skin of my teeth.”
“What else?”
“I did some bush flying in Alaska, ostensibly fishing trips for rich businessmen, but the business they were in was highly illegal.”
“How long you been flying?”
“Since I was in high school; flying was my first great love.”
“I took my first lesson yesterday.”
“Good for you! You’ll love it!”
“I think I already do. And my first day out, I landed on the beach, or at least, my instructor did.”
“Lose the engine?”
“No, we were flying past my house, and I spotted a van parked outside that shouldn’t have been there. I got there just in time to take a pistol upside the head. Daisy, my dog, got an anesthetic dart for her trouble.”
“I’ve never heard of anybody using a dart on a dog during a domestic break-in,” Grant said.
“Neither have I. The guy got past my alarm system fairly easily, and earlier, my phones were tapped.”
“You’re dealing with a pro,” Grant said, “or pros.”
“Looks that way.” She didn’t tell him how worried she was about this.
“Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”
“Not a clue; I’m completely baffled.”
He stopped talking and seemed deep in thought.
“You think this might be connected with what you’re working on?” she asked.
“I don’t think Harry would want me to speculate about that.”
“Oh, come on, Grant; you don’t have to tell me everything. Maybe you can suggest something about who to take a look at.”
Grant shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
