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“Yesterday, she readRoom on the Broom, and then we made witch puppets out of felt, yarn, and paper cups.”
Laura laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad, bro.”
He actually had it good, but he didn’t tell her that. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Okay, text me when your flight lands. Has Dad called you yet?”
“About Thornwall?”
Laura huffed out a laugh. “You really are in the boondocks out there, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Call Dad, Adam. Now.” There was a click as she ended the call.
Adam started to pull up his father’s phone number, then switched over to check his personal email account.
A dozen messages came up, the first one from the head of the disciplinary board at MIT, asking if he’d be willing to make a statement about his experience with Thornwall.
The second email was from a chemistry professor at Virginia Tech, mentioning an open associate professor position. The other messages were from former colleagues both at the Electron Institute and MIT, asking what he thought about “the Thornwall situation” and what his plans were.
Adam suddenly had no idea. He’d “planned” to pursue the lab technician opening with the London-based research group and to keep applying for whatever science-based jobs he could find, but now?
Every part of his life seemed like it was either being turned upside down or was about to be.
He called his father’s number. Bruce Powers answered with a gruff, “Yeah?”
“It’s Adam.”
“I know. When are you getting here?”
“For the party, you mean? My flight leaves on the morning of the twenty-ninth.”
“Good. They’re scheduling a hearing for some time next week, but I have some talks lined up for you.”
“What kind of talks?”
“Potential employment kind of talks.”
Adam tightened his grip on the phone. “With who?”
“The director of the department on partnerships with academic institutions, one with the head of the Defense Science Board, and a meeting with a scientist from the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency.”
Adam didn’t know what to say. Between his father’s connections and the tone of the emails, it sounded as if people might be starting to open the door for him. Maybe even to let him back inside.
“That’s great,” he finally said. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”
His father snorted. “I didn’t call them. They called me. Seems your name surfaced again with the whole Thornwall mess, and people are starting to realize you might’ve gotten the shaft. I set up the appointments because I knew you’d be here, but they’ll be contacting you directly soon.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Adam said. “Thanks.”
He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. Two weeks ago, when theHex or Hoax?producers had been briefing him on the details of the “haunted” Gardenia House in Bliss Cove, and “Librarian Delaney” who’d called in about needing an investigation, Adam had wondered—again—how he’d ever climb his way back into the echelons of the real science community. The physicists working on quantum field theory, particle physics, and quantum statistical mechanics. He’d wanted to create hypotheses and conduct experiments andthink.
He had not wanted to go to yet another small town with yet another “haunted” house and tell everyoneyet againthat ghosts were not real and that their photographic proof was nothing more than microscopic particles caught by a flashbulb, and that the strange noises they heard were caused by the ventilation system, not a poltergeist.
But he’d smothered all of his reluctance and frustration—again—until he’d stalked out of his trailer in the Bliss Cove Library parking lot and crashed right into a brown-eyed woman with shiny hair and freckles and a mouth he’d wanted to kiss the instant her lips formed an O of shock and surprise.
At that second, everything had changed.
