Free Shattered Secrets by Karen Harper

in the Bible, that was dowsing. Martin Luther called dowsing ‘the work of the devil.’ In more modern times, Albert Einstein believed in it, and during World War Two General George Patton—well, he believed in the paranormal anyway—had a willow tree flown to Morocco to find water to replace the wells the German army had blown up. And that reminds me, the Brits used dowsing in the Falklands, and in Vietnam the Americans used it to locate weapons and tunnels.”
    “Your memory always amazes me, Kate. I’ll have to tell Lee about all that.”
    “If he’s still so gung ho for that whacked-out religious cult, he probably couldn’t care less. But one more thing. I read that from time to time, some have used dowsing to track criminals or find missing persons. But don’t go telling the new Sheriff McCord about that, or he’ll think you’ve gone off the deep end. What’s he like all grown up?”
    “Very dedicated. Really intense.”
    “Intense? Tess, what does he look like?”
    “Tall, broad shoulders. Icy blue eyes but dark hair. Black uniform. Strong but gentle...”
    “Okay, okay. Intense about solving these crimes, you mean?”
    “Yes, that’s what I mean,” Tess said, realizing she was sounding a bit shrill, as if she had to defend Gabe.
    “So, is the town as diverse economically and socially as Grace has been telling you?” Kate blessedly changed the subject.
    Tess explained the great divide in town and how that had changed things. But she told her how seeing Etta Falls at the old library made her feel as if she was in a time warp.
    “She was so encouraging to me about reading and learning,” Kate said. “Especially the months you were—were gone—she tried hard to distract us with books Char and I would love, books for Mom on how to cope with loss, things like that. I remember our first-grade class went on a field trip to her house, because it still had one of the first pioneer cabins way out in the woods on their land. She showed us an old pistol and a family graveyard out back, but the tombstones were so old you couldn’t read a thing on them. And that mother of hers is like a historic relic herself.”
    They talked too long, but Kate could probably afford it. Despite the great divide between her and her sisters—in education and ambition—she loved hearing their voices. Whatever her differences with them, she wished so much they were here to help and to hug.
    * * *
    Gabe recognized the older of the two BCI agents the minute he got out of the plain black car that had pulled in next to the blue-and-white mobile crime lab truck in the police parking lot. Despite it being two decades later, Gabe saw it was Victor Reingold, the agent who had worked with his father on Teresa Lockwood’s abduction, though he hadn’t been back to help with the second abduction nor had Gabe brought him in on Amanda’s case.
    Gabe hurried over to meet the agents. Reingold’s shock of unruly hair had gone white, but his brown, hooded eyes looked as sharp as ever. He walked with a slight limp, and almost always dressed in black, like Batman without a cape, Gabe used to think. The man in the lab truck was a lanky blond wearing rimless glasses and a dark blue jacket with BCI emblazoned on the back. He looked as uptight as Reingold looked at ease and in control. Gabe thought the younger guy might as well have Forensics Techie tattooed on his forehead.
    “Glad the posse’s here,” Gabe told them, shaking first Reingold’s hand and then the other man’s. “Sheriff Gabe McCord,” he told them, though he guessed that was pretty obvious.
    “Mike Morgan,” the younger man said. “I usually do lab forensics, so I’m glad to be out in the field, especially on this one. I have three young daughters, so I’m all in.”
    “Remember me, Gabe?” Reingold said as Gabe led them toward the building.
    “I sure do, Agent Reingold.”
    “You were pretty young on that first case and pretty upset about being so close to it.