“I see,” Harmony said. She closed a file and glanced at her watch. “This is a fascinating conversation, but it’s getting late. Time for dinner. Your house is ready, Olivia. I turned on the power and stocked the refrigerator. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything else. I know how you feel about the place.”

Harlan got a ping, the same ping he had experienced that morning when Dexter Rose had asked her about sleeping accommodations. Something was off. He looked at Olivia. She was smiling politely at Harmony, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you need to borrow any clothes?” Harmony asked. “I noticed Harlan has a duffel bag, but you didn’t bring anything with you.”

“I left some of my clothes in my bedroom at the house. I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Harmony said. “There’s a pot of cheddar-and-broccoli soup and some polenta cakes in the refrigerator. All you need to do is warm them up. Oh, and I left a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. Figured the two of you might need it tonight.”

“Proof positive that you are a genuine oracle,” Olivia said.

CHAPTER 33

Harlan poured wine into two glasses. “Got to hand it to Harmony. In addition to being a fine librarian and archivist, she was right when she predicted we would need a drink tonight.”

“Definitely.” Olivia picked up one of the glasses and walked to a window. “You now have some new information. Think it will be enough to work with?”

Harlan watched her, trying to get a read on her emotional state. Looking back at what had been a very long day, it struck him that the strange mood, whatever it was, had been apparent almost immediately after they had arrived in town. He had first noticed it when Dexter Rose had asked her where she planned to spend the night. But the vibe had taken on weight and substance when she had unlocked the door of the house she had grown up in.

She didn’t seem to be depressed, not exactly. Not wistful, either. Edgy, maybe. Restless. She was gazing out into the foggy night as if searching for omens and portents. Or maybe just answers.

He doubted she would find them in the paranormal shadows cast by the mist. The thick stuff, infused with moonlight and energy, had rolled in off the lake shortly before sunset. It had flowed through the woods and flooded the small community, muffling sound. As far as he could see, it offered no answers.

“We’ve got new data,” he said. “I’m not sure how far it will take us. I need time to think about it, and to be honest, I’m too tired to analyze the information now, at least not with the attention it requires.”

“Not surprising. Neither of us got any sleep last night.”