I yearned for the solace of a quiet night’s sleep. My fingers found the quartz under my pillow. It’s cool surface was becoming familiar to my tired fingers. I traced the edges of the stone and held it tight. There would be no peace until I solved the mystery surrounding Barrett’s daughter. It was this understanding that finally allowed me the freedom to fall asleep. There was a way out; all I had to do was find it. No, I had to find the girl. What would I tell Barrett?
Or her.
I heard the voice hiss one last time against my ear, or maybe it was the feathery wings of a moth.
* * * *
The next morning I called Barrett and this time he actually answered my call.
“I saw my Aunt Cyn last night, and—”
Barrett interrupted before I could finish.
“That old gypsy?” He snorted into the phone with derision. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t have missing kids chained in her basement.”