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It was wonderful to see Megan. Not that they didn’t get together when they could, but now, with the three of them working in different states, it wasn’t family dinner every Sunday night.
Megan was seated on the old sofa in the living room when Colleen came in. She started to rise, but Jensen, asleep on her lap, made a protesting sound.
They both laughed.
“I’ll come to you,” Colleen said, and she did so, heading to the sofa, leaning over the cat, and hugging her sister before falling into the seat next to her.
“Long day, huh? I hope they give you a dinner break!”
“Actually, I had a really great dinner.”
“Oh?”
“We were looking for someone from a sketch, or someone who could tell us who he might be. And it happened to be at a great restaurant.”
“Ah, the perks!”
Megan grew serious then. “But they have you working on those awful Embracer murders, right?”
“Hey. I wanted to be FBI. And we saved a girl, Megan.”
“I get it. I do.”
“We need your help.”
“My help?”
Colleen explained they were just trying to get alibis for Brant Pickering and Gary Boynton.
Megan, of course, hadn’t fallen for it.
“I can’t believe he’s a suspect—that incredible writer is a suspect!”
“Person of interest.”
“So, basically a suspect! But I’m happy to prove the man innocent,” Megan said.
Megan studied her.
“You’re crazy, you know.”
“I am?”
“Wanting to do this for a living. It has to be so hard, dealing with...the terrible things people do to other people.”
“But we get good things too,” Colleen said.
Megan nodded. “I said I thought you were crazy. I didn’t say it isn’t great. I just don’t feel I have what you have.”
“I can listen to someone ramble for an hour and have no idea what they really mean, and you can practically read minds.”
Megan shrugged. “I don’t think I’m a complete yellow-bellied coward, but I don’t have your fighting spirit either. You’re a quiet fighter. You sit there and listen. No bravado. When it comes to it, you just act!”
“We’re lucky. We have great parents.”
“The poor things, having to put up with us. In all honesty, learning about the Krewe of Hunters has made me feel a lot more normal. I guess any of us with our strange abilities spend a lot of time trying not to appear crazy to those around us. And I’m pretty good at it—mainly because I’ve had a few playful spirits try to make me respond on a busy street or in a store or when others are around.”
“Cell phones and earbuds—they’re magic. Half the world walks around, appearing to talk to themselves,” Colleen said. “Anyway, tell me about this Brant Pickering.”
“I can show you!” Megan told her.
She winced, looking at the cat sleeping on her lap. Colleen scooped up Jensen—who remained a floppy pile of fur in her arms—allowing Megan to get up. Megan went to her overnight bag, opened it quickly, and produced a large coffee table–style book. The front cover was a striking photo of Arlington House and the cemetery that stretched behind it.
It was titled, The Deep, Dark—But Sometimes Light—History of Washington, DC.
Megan handed it to Colleen, and Colleen eased the cat onto the sofa to open the book on her lap.
“He writes about everything—everything! We have a tendency to think that we’re living in political division now, but people have had some harsh opinions through the years. Of course, social media has made it easier for people to remain divided. But they used to have duels. Most schoolkids know that Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton dueled, and that Hamilton was killed. Thanks to the play and movie, of course, more people have become interested in that stage of history. But Pickering goes further with everything. He explains the culture and the mix of people during each era—I think he’s just amazing. This book follows history from the determination of the area that would become DC to the present, covering a lot of dark days we got through.”
“Dark days, huh?” Colleen murmured.
“He points out America has weathered many storms. Yes, he covers the dark—but in an optimistic way.”
“That’s almost an oxymoron.”
Megan laughed. “Glad you know the word!”
“Hey!” Colleen protested.
It was late; she meant to be on the sidewalk in front of the townhome at eight sharp in the morning, with Megan by her side.
“I have to get some sleep. And you do too. I’m not sure about the schedule tomorrow, but I said that you—”
“I heard you. Oh, wow, and come to think of it—how’s your partner?”
“I have three of them,” Colleen said.
Her sister grinned. “You have three—but one main partner?”
“He’s polite.”
