Page 87 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“Do we have him contained?”

“No. He was already gone by the time Deputy Carver reached the row.”

“The grounds were cleared.”

“They were supposed to be.”

“What did he take?”

Grant is silent for half a second too long.

“Nothing we can identify,” he says. “He passed two food booths, the jewelry vendor, and the silent-auction tent without stopping. Went straight to the psychic’s booth.”

I turn toward the bed. Loralee has pulled the sheet around herself and is watching me. Her face is calm, but I see her fingers tighten in the fabric.

“How long was he inside?”

“Forty-three seconds.”

“What did he do?”

“We can’t see inside the booth from that camera. When Carver checked, the side panel had been opened.”

“Send me the recording.”

“Already did. There’s more.”

I wait.

“He left something on the table.”

Loralee rises from the bed.

“What?”

“A tarot card, I think. Carver hasn’t touched it. He says it shows a tower being struck by lightning.”

I don’t have to ask Loralee what it means. Her reaction tells me enough. The color leaves her face, but she doesn’t look frightened. She looks certain.

“Lock down the grounds,” I tell Grant. “No one enters without my authorization. Have Carver photograph the card where it is and check the ground around the booth before anyone moves closer. I want every camera from the east side pulled, including anything facing the county road.”

“Already working on it.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Loralee is out of bed before I end the call.

“No.”

She stops with one leg inside her leggings. “That word isn’t going to work.”

“You are not returning to the festival grounds in the middle of the night.”

“Someone broke into my booth and left one of my cards.”

“Which is exactly why you’re staying here.”

“I can tell you whether it came from my deck.”