Page 17 of The Night Island

He paused the coffee in midair. “Anomalies Report?”

“I’m not surprised you aren’t aware of it. It’s a low-end operation. Small audience. But talk about sensationalizing the paranormal. It covers crap like those so-called energy vortexes in Sedona, astral travel, and Area 51 stuff. Real junk science.”

“You sound like you read the blog.”

“I check it out occasionally,” Talia admitted. “Mostly because it pulls in some information from the dark web.”

“That interests you?”

“It’s a resourceThe Lost Night Filesdesperately needs. I’m competent when it comes to navigating the surface web, but I’m not a pro, and I’m a total amateur when it comes to the dark web. I’ve been trying to find a virtual assistant with that kind of expertise but I haven’t had any luck so far. Probably because we can’t afford to pay really good money.”

“Yeah, that might be a reason.”

“My point is, unlike theAnomalies Reportblog,The Lost Night Filesconducts serious investigations of cold cases that appear to involve genuine paranormal elements,” Talia said. She continued to point the knife at him. “We focus on real psychic phenomena. We don’t do ghosts and hauntings. Well, not unless they are somehow related to the case.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Don’t you dare pat me on the head.”

“I haven’t touched you,” he said.

“I was speaking metaphorically. I would think a history professor would realize that.” Talia lowered the knife. “But I’m going to let this particular incident of head-patting go, because I don’t want to waste time arguing.”

“Good plan,” Luke said.

A fragile truce settled on the booth. He told himself he’d dodged a bullet—or, in this case, a knife. Metaphorically speaking.

He went to work on the two biscuits he had ordered and watched Talia munch hers. The woman ate with appreciation andenthusiasm. He decided to put those attributes into the plus column. He was still working on the pros and cons of Talia March—currently there seemed to be more cons than pros—but it was surprisingly pleasant to share biscuits and coffee with a woman who made no secret of enjoying her food.

He had to admit the biscuits were good. Hot and tender. He buttered the second one and spooned honey over it.

For the past three months he had been eating for fuel, not for pleasure, but here he was, savoring the best biscuits he had ever eaten—in the company of a woman he had no reason to trust. A woman who had set off a thousand alarm bells when she had recognized his talent and proceeded to resist it. That was a first. Obviously he still had a lot to learn about camouflaging his new abilities.

The really disturbing twist was that, in spite of the risks and the unknowns involved, it was a relief to discover that Talia was not only aware of his talent but could resist it, at least at the level he had used on her. She hadn’t panicked. She had been annoyed. True, she had not witnessed his Mr.Hyde side, but at least he now knew that he did not have to be careful around her. He could relax. A little.

The fact that she had some ability to ward off his talent might present a problem in the future, but right now he did not have to think about that. He just wanted to study the woman on the other side of the table.

There was something sleek and feline and intriguingly unpredictable about Talia March. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. The severe style emphasized her strong profile and green-gold eyes. She radiated a magnetic energy that made him want to get closer and test the boundaries.

This was not good news.

It was one thing to discover that he was attracted to her physically—something of a shock, given his depressing lack of interest in sex during the past three months—but not a problem. He could deal with physical attraction. What ought to worry him was that she aroused another, far more dangerous reaction—curiosity.

Obviously she had a few control issues. Again, not a problem. He had control issues, too.

She also had a strong measure of a true paranormal talent.

“How did you figure out where Hatch hid the memory card and the necklace?” he asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

Talia dusted crumbs off her fingers and reached for the mug of coffee. “I’m psychic, remember?”

“So am I. But I would not have been able to find those things in the plant pot. Talk to me, Talia. We’re on the clock now. If we’re right about what happened to Phoebe Hatch, we’re dealing with a kidnapping.”

She drank some coffee and looked as if she was considering how much to tell him. After a moment she set the mug down.

“I’ve always been good at finding stuff that has been lost or hidden,” she said. “Including information. The ability made me an excellent librarian and researcher. I always considered it a form of intuition.”

“Go on.”

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