Tally’s kitchen is cluttered and cozily dim, an L shape that traces the line of the wraparound porch. Along her wooden countertop, jars full of herbs sit squeezed between a collection of books that don’t seem to belong to a single reader, let alone in a kitchen, a volume on climate change next to Agatha Christie next to the poems of Alexander Pushkin.

She lights the kettle and brings a ceramic bowl full of tangerines to her round kitchen table, where I sit, watching her putter, the dog at my feet. She’s fifty or a little older and pretty, with fine lines around her mouth and eyes that show me she’s spent time outdoors, in the sun. The way she’s dressed and carries herself seems much more typical of a painter than a psychic to me, but that’s probably Northern California. Everyone’s a painter here, or a potter, or a jewelry maker, or all three.

“I’m sure you know there are several missing girls in the area,” I say. “Your name came up recently in relation to Shannan Russo.”

“That’s right.” She sits across from me, resting her hands on the table, palms up. It’s an unusual gesture, but the main thing I notice is that she doesn’t seem nervous or put off by my being here. “I phoned her mother. I felt I had to.”

“Shannan’s been missing since June, Tally. Why call now?”

“I woke up with her name in my mind and the strong feeling that she’d been murdered.”

“Is this typical for you? This sort of vision?”

She blinks at me thoughtfully. “I’ve always had the gift if that’s what you mean. When I was younger, I didn’t understand the messages or what I was supposed to do about them. It’s not always clear how I can help, but lately, the feelings and images have been very strong. Not just about Shannan, either. I reached out to Sheriff Flood to try and talk to him about Cameron Curtis almost two weeks ago, but he didn’t want to hear what I had to share.”

I sit forward, remembering the conversation I’d overheard in the café my first day back, the two men arguing about this very thing, and whether or not Tally was a con artist. They must have heard the story from Will or someone in his office. If she is a con artist—and she might be—I can’t see her angle just yet.

“Do you think Cameron’s still alive, Tally?”

“I do, but she won’t stay that way if you don’t stop him.” She looks at me levelly. “There’s a lot of mystery in the universe. I don’t pretend to understand everything that comes through me, but I do my best not to be afraid of it, either.”

“What did Karen say when you called?”