Copper Beach

Dawson said. “Probably why I was invited to the negotiating table. In my world, you use whatever edge you’ve got.”

    “So you decided to use me?” Abby asked.

    Dawson had the grace to redden. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’m not trying to take advantage of you, Abby. I’ll pay you for your time. In fact, I’ll give you a very hefty bonus if you can turn up that lab book before my competitors get hold of it.”

    “Any idea how many other people are looking for the book?” Sam asked.

    “No,” Dawson said. “But I have to assume that at least a couple of the other players who want the account have hired their own experts. What do you say, Abby? There’s a lot of money at stake, and a big chunk of it can be yours if you find that book for me. I’m on a deadline, by the way. I need to get it as soon as possible.”

    Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry. I realize the account is important to you, but you don’t know much about my world. Some books are dangerous. Some collectors are ruthless. Your investor may be one of the bad guys.”

    “The bad guys in my world are focused on the money. They operate Ponzi schemes. They don’t set up elaborate scenarios just to acquire old lab books.”

    “The fact that your investor knows enough about you to figure out that you’re connected to me is not a good sign,” she said. “That means he knows he can’t approach me directly, because he can’t get a referral.”

    “He needs a referral to get you to broker a deal for an old book?” Dawson asked, incredulous.

    “Yes,” Abby said. “That’s how I work.”

    “That’s crazy.”

    Abby said nothing. She just looked at him. But there was suddenly energy in the atmosphere. Sam heard a low growl and looked over the counter. Newton was on his feet now, very still, very focused. His whole attention was fixed on Dawson.

    Dawson flushed. “I didn’t mean anything personal. Just an expression. Come on, Abby, it’s just an old lab notebook. I know it’s valuable to this particular collector, but we’re not talking illicit drugs or the arms trade here. People don’t kill each other over forty-year-old notebooks.”

    “Actually, they do from time to time,” Abby said. “Which is why I try to stay out of that end of the market.”

    Dawson’s face was a study in outraged disbelief. “You expect me to believe that this book is that valuable?”

    “I don’t know,” she said. “But I do know that it is associated with the paranormal, and collectors in that market are often eccentric and unpredictable.”

    “Abby, this is supposed to be your specialty. You find weird books for weird people who believe in the paranormal, right?”

    She smiled faintly. “Something like that. It’s nice to know you have so much respect for my professional expertise.”

    Dawson grimaced. “Come on, I know you’re holding a grudge because of the past. And let’s face it, you did have some serious issues when you were in your teens. Remember the time you came home with that old book you picked up at a yard sale? That night you set fire to it in the bathtub.”

    Abby’s shoulders were rigid. “That was sort of an accident. But no one believed me.”

    “Because you scared the hell out of everyone and set off the alarm,” Dawson shot back. “We ended up with a house full of firefighters and a lot of water on the floor. Mom was furious. You embarrassed her in front of the neighbors. That was when Grandmother said you should be put into an institution.”

    “I’m well aware of your grandmother’s opinion of me,” Abby said.

    “It’s not like that was the only scary incident. You exhibited some very bizarre behavior when you were in your teens. Mom had every reason to worry about the twins.”

    “No, she didn’t. I would never have hurt anyone.”

    “What about the time you disappeared for nearly two whole days? Mom and your father were frantic. The police wouldn’t look for you, because they said you were probably just a runaway. Then we got that call from the cops saying you’d been found at the scene of a fire that had started in a bookstore. The dealer was injured and had to be taken to the hospital. The only reason you didn’t end up in juvenile detention was because your father got you a good lawyer who got the charges dropped.”

    “Got news for you, Dawson,” Abby said. “The Summerlight Academy was only about half a step up from jail. The doors and windows were