“Three years ago in two weeks. I attended her funeral. She was a lovely young woman, but there were very few attendees. I felt terrible for her husband.”

She probably still did. Kaylin exhaled slowly. To Jamal, she said, “I’ll be walking Mrs. Erickson home for the next little while. If the neighbor shows up, do not interfere again.”

“He went away.”

“Yes. And as I said earlier, he went away before we could...resolve the issue.”

“Before you could hit him, you mean.” Esmeralda was clearly not shy about making corrections.

“What is the neighbor’s name?” When no one immediately volunteered the information, Kaylin frowned. “I can look it up in Records back at work.”

Jamal offered a choice word or two as if it were a name.

“I doubt that’s what his legal name is.”

“Brennan Oswald,” Mrs. Erickson said. “His wife was Alisa, but I think that was a nickname.”

“Her full name?”

“Annalisa Oswald.”

Kaylin nodded briskly. “I’ll leave you with the kids.”

Esmeralda looked mutinous at the word. “We’re older than either of you,” she snapped.

“Fine. I’ll leave you with the octogenarians.”

Kaylin exited Mrs. Erickson’s house, glaring at the neighbor’s much larger abode as she made her way down the stairs. She did stop to check the condition of the stairs, although it was a waste of time; there was nothing wrong with them. They were old, they’d worn slightly in the middle, but without inspecting closely, they looked in decent repair.

She then rose, grinding her teeth. She disliked people who assumed they could physically intimidate her. She hated people who picked on little old ladies. She might have been able to clear up both problems had the neighbor led with his fist.

She exhaled. Poked Hope. Hope lifted a wing to her face, and this time she saw a ghostly building rising between the Erickson residence and the Oswald residence, although it overlapped Mrs. Erickson’s home. The passage of time had robbed that building of solidity; Kaylin thought if she attempted to view it again at a later hour, she would see nothing there at all.

All of this was worrying. She made a mental list of questions that she wanted answered, paring it down to essentials; other questions would no doubt arise when the few on the list had been answered.

But to get answers, she needed to do her research on foot. She therefore headed to the Academia.

Severn met her on the way; he, too, had left the Hawk’s tabard behind. He wore his weapon chain, and he no doubt carried at least a decent dagger or long knife, although it wasn’t immediately visible. Both indicated his level of comfort.

“Are you done with whatever it is you’ve been doing?”

“Not entirely, no.”

“Good. I need you to be busy for the next few days.”

“How few?”