“Crocker Rancourt.”

Sierra gripped the steering wheel, startled. “You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Crocker Rancourt established the Foundation. His son, Stenson Rancourt, took over after Crocker died. My parents told me that Stenson’s son, Harlan, was set to inherit the operation. The Rancourts were like a mob family.”

“Victor Arganbright and Lucas Pine changed all that,” North said mildly.

“So they claim,” Sierra said. She paused. “How long was Crocker in charge?”

“Only a few years,” North said. “He died relatively young. Heart attack. Stenson Rancourt took over after that. He ran it for decades. It was no secret he was grooming Harlan to take his place eventually.”

“Five years ago Stenson and Harlan Rancourt died in an explosion at the old headquarters of the Foundation, right? So there are no Rancourts left.”

North was silent for a long, thoughtful moment. He seemed to be contemplating the concrete wall in front of the SUV.

“What?” Sierra asked.

“There is a rather significant detail about the explosion that killed Stenson and Harlan,” North said. “Only one body was found in the wreckage. Stenson’s.”

“They didn’t find Harlan’s body?” Sierra asked, shocked. “I never heard that.”

“Victor Arganbright and Lucas Pine thought it best to keep the information quiet. They did not want to launch any new conspiracy theories. The Foundation has enough of those circulating at any given moment. Besides, the reality is that for the past five years there has been no evidence that Harlan Rancourt made it out of the blast zone.”

“This is getting creepier by the minute,” Sierra said.

“Want out?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone tried to murder my friend Matt Harper tonight. Matt was in harm’s way because of me. The would-be killer tried to murder me as well, and one of my clients.”

“Me.”

“Yes,” she said. “I need my clients. They are paying for this car and my apartment.”

“Always nice to know one has a purpose in life.”

She ignored that. “The three of us were intended to die in a blast of paranormal energy that would have left no traces of foul play, no clues that might make the Seattle police launch a homicide investigation.”

“True,” North said.

“Well, I take that sort of thing personally. I’ve got a reputation to protect. For a go-between, reputation is everything. That means we’re in this together. But first you need sleep.”

“A nap.”

“I think I can make sure you get more than a nap.”

“The same way you made Harper remember the man he met at the Vault?”

“Sort of like that, yes.”

“Sort of like that?”

“Well, obviously you would go to sleep, assuming I do my job right. Matt, on the other hand, was wide-awake during the whole process. But with a couple of tweaks I could have made him sleep.”

North was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke he sounded thoughtful. Intrigued, maybe. Curious.

“Are you a psychic hypnotist?”

“No. I can use my locket to make someone go to sleep or faint, but that’s about it. In the grand scheme of things it’s a pretty minor talent. I can’t even see auras unless I’ve got a mirror or some other reflective surface handy.”