Copper Beach

forensic accountant. But I don’t think her ability could be described as psychic. She’s just very, very good when it comes to following the money.”

    “So where did you and your brother and sister get your talent for crystals?”

    “Dad says it must have come from farther back on the family tree. Coppersmiths have been involved in mining of one kind or another for generations.”

    “Sounds like you don’t buy that explanation.”

    “Let’s just say that Judson and Emma and I have our own theory. We worked it out a few years ago, but we never told Mom or Dad, because we didn’t want to upset them.”

    “Good grief. Surely you don’t think you aren’t your father’s offspring. You’ve got your father’s eyes, his bone structure…”

    Sam grinned. “Not that kind of theory. But forty years ago, when that explosion occurred in the Phoenix, there was a hell of a lot of paranormal radiation released. We know that Dad and Knox must have caught a lot of it.”

    “Oh, my gosh.” Abby felt her mouth fall open. She got it closed with an effort. “Are you telling me that you believe that the fallout from the explosion caused some kind of genetic mutation that manifested in you and your brother and sister?”

    “Genetics are extremely complicated, even when you’re dealing with the normal kind. We don’t know much at all about the paranormal aspects.”

    “True.”

    “Promise me you won’t say anything to Mom or Dad about the theory. Emma says they wouldn’t handle it well.”

    “Okay,” Abby said.

    Sam went along the dock and grabbed the line that Dixon tossed to him. Then he caught the second one. He secured the water taxi with a few efficient, expert moves, straightened and took his mother’s hand. Willow Coppersmith stepped lightly onto the dock. She gave Sam a quick maternal kiss, and then she turned to Abby with a warm smile.

    “You must be Abby,” she said.

    Abby smiled. “Yes.”

    She started to put out her hand, but Elias bounded out of the bobbing water taxi, interrupting the polite greeting. He gave her a head–to–toe survey. Then he grinned, cold satisfaction glittering in his eyes.

    “You got her.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Nice work, son. If she’s half as good as Webber thought she was, we’re going to get that damn book at last.”

    Abby gave him her best professional smile, the one she reserved for the most eccentric clients. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Coppersmith.”

26

    “YOU’LL HAVE TO FORGIVE MY HUSBAND,” WILLOW COPPERSMITH said. “Well, actually, you don’t have to forgive him for acting as if you’re just a useful employee that he can manipulate for his own purposes. But there is an explanation for his rudeness.”
    “I understand,” Abby said.

    They were sitting in the living room of the house that Sam’s parents had built for themselves. It was not only much newer, it was a lot cozier and warmer than the old house. The modern, two-story windows provided a spectacular view of the water and far more natural light than those in the old stone house.

    “To be honest, I thought Elias had abandoned the search for that old notebook,” Willow said. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I hoped he had given up on it. But after he got the call from his old partner, Quinn Knox, he became obsessed with finding it all over again.”

    “I did get that impression, yes.”

    “If he does locate it, I know that he won’t rest until he finds the crystals that went missing at the same time. He’ll never believe that they were buried in the explosion, not now, after this business of the notebook surfacing.”

    “It’s okay, Mrs. Coppersmith,” Abby said, sticking with her polished, professional tone.

    “Willow, please.”

    “Willow. The thing is, I’m accustomed to working for obsessed, difficult and eccentric clients. All part of the job, as far as I’m concerned.”

    “Ouch.” Willow grimaced. “We’re not just talking about Elias here, are we? You think Sam is a lot like his father in some ways.”

    “Well…”

    Willow sighed. “I prefer to use words like stubborn and determined rather than obsessed and difficult to describe them, but you’re right. They are good men, but I swear, once they set themselves an objective, it is almost impossible to make them rethink the whole idea.”

    “Not to worry, Mrs. Coppersmith,” Abby said. “I’ve worked with even stranger clients, believe me. Collectors