“Yes, you are.” Bishop went on to Deverell, “So that sounds like a reasonable explanation for our presence in Salem. It probably won’t fool everyone, especially if the Blackwood elder’s vision spreads as gossip does, and if the situation drags on, but it’ll definitely help. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure your force has all the training and resources we can offer.”

“Thanks,” Finn said with real gratitude. “When can you be here? I’m not given to jumping at shadows, but I’d rather have your people here and settled in before everything hits the fan. Assuming it does.”

“We should all be there by tomorrow afternoon,” Bishop said. “Late afternoon, most likely. I’ll make the reservations at Hales B and B. Just our names; that will give you a bit of extra time to prepare whoever you feel the need to for our official arrival.”

“Thank you. I do have a few people to talk to about that. And you have a journey to start. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Right.”

Hollis barely waited for Bishop to hit the speakerphone’s button to end the call before saying, “Every time I turn my back on you, my résumé grows longer.”

“Or even when you don’t,” Bishop said.

Hollis considered, obviously, and just as obviously decided not to comment on that. She eyed Bishop. “So you are coming, huh? And Miranda?”

“That surprises you?”

She immediately shook her head. “I doubt any of us has to be told Salem fascinates you. A very unusual little town with a whole lot of psychics. Like a buffet.” The last three words were said with obvious relish.

Bishop didn’t rise to the bait, but he was glad to see that even Diana looked a little amused.

“We have a lot to do, so best get started,” he said instead. “We’ll fly to the mountain house and stay there tonight, pick up any additional equipment we might need as well as a couple of technical people to help out in Salem. And we’ll gather as much info as we can before leaving for Salem tomorrow, just in case communication inside the valley does turn out to be even more of a problem than it was two months ago. The jet leaves in half an hour.”

FOUR

TUESDAY MORNING

Nellie Cavendish looked across her big desk at Finn Deverell and sighed. “Want to run that by me again?” The desk, like the big front office, had once belonged to her father, who had for a number of years before she was born run the family banking and finance business.

Her late uncle Duncan’s office remained closed and locked. If it hadn’t been a part of the big building, Nellie would have had it burned to ash and then buried the ashes. Deep.

“At least six federal agents are arriving in Salem later today,” Finn responded, and then sat down in one of the two visitors’ chairs, absently reaching to pet Leo, Nellie’s big black Pit bull, who had settled down beside him after a friendly greeting. “More, probably.”