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do, Sonny.”
    â€œThat’s why we have to find them. You’re my link to that night, Gran. I was too little to absorb much. ’Member how we used to read the Sherlock Holmes mysteries together? You always picked up on the clues first, knew the answers right away. We can go over everything together.”
    She said nothing.
    â€œWant me to stay in my old room tonight?”
    She shook her head, mouth tight.
    â€œI know it’s sudden, but think about it. I need you.”
    â€œI need you, too, Sonny.” Her voice sounded thin, about to break.
    He stepped out into the darkening night. Shifting storm clouds swirled and spit lightning across the horizon. The deluge began, pelting him as he sprinted to his car. Rain depressed him. It always had. Violent, wind-driven sheets of torrential rain slammed into the windshield. He had never felt so alone. So bleak.
    His grandmother had raised him. They never kept secrets from each other. He had always believed that. But he was wrong. She knows something, he thought, bewildered. Something she won’t tell me; something she never told anyone.

CHAPTER 3
    Burch left the Blazer in the driveway.
    The front door was wide open. So was every window in the house. Unusual for summer. The ceiling-fan blades stood motionless, the silence deafening. No radio, music, or TV. The cat ran to greet him, rubbing his face on Burch’s shoe. Sprawled on his bed in a corner, the big dog opened one eye but otherwise ignored him. White candles flickered in the foyer. Damn. Power outages had been all too frequent since the last hurricane.
    â€œConnie?”
    His wife emerged from the kitchen.
    â€œHi, babe.” He loosened his tie. “How long has it been out this time?”
    She flashed the brilliant smile that knocked him out the first time he ever saw her, in high school, then clapped her hands.
    â€œOkay, kid. Can the applause. So I got quite a reception this morning. Who told you?”
    She clapped again, then spun around, tossing her shiny dark hair, hands high above her head.
    It reminded him of her cheerleader days.
    â€œCon? Whatcha doing?”
    â€œClearing our space,” she sang out. “Drawing in positive energy.”
    He took off his gun, removed the clip, and placed the unloaded weapon in the lockbox on the closet’s top shelf, as usual. “The hell you doing?” He squinted at her.
    â€œVisualizing a pure white light,” she said. “Driving out the negative and filling the house with loving energy.”
    Â 
    â€œFung who?” Nazario wrinkled his brow the next morning at the office.
    â€œFeng Shui. It’s Asian, all about the flow of energy, or something,” Burch said uncertainly. “The power wasn’t out. Connie was clearing our space. That’s what they call it. You turn everything off, open all the doors and windows so the bad energy can escape. Clapping chases it out.” He shrugged.
    â€œBottom line is to eliminate negative energy from your environment. Hey, makes her happy, I’m all for it. Helluva lot better than other things she might be up to, as we all know.”
    â€œShe wants to eliminate negative energy,” Corso said, “she should just kick your ass ta the curb.”
    â€œYeah, and we want to eliminate it up here, we could just kick your ass back down to Patrol.” Burch dropped a dusty box onto Corso’s desk. “Here, dive into this.”
    It was one of half a dozen boxes delivered from the warehouse, the Pierce Nolan file. “Everybody grab one and pitch in,” Burch said. “We’re looking for crime scene diagrams, photos, news stories, and original reports.”
    â€œLook who’s here! Hey, dawg,” Corso greeted Stone, who ignored him.
    â€œWhere you been?” Burch said.
    â€œBad night. Sorry,” Stone said. “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t drop off until five A . M ., then I overslept.”
    â€œCalled your