Free Chain of Souls (Salem VI) by Jack Heath, John Thompson Page B

the police and file a missing person's report. That way, if it turns out Sarah's absence is something completely innocent, you won't be the one who gets blamed by your daughter for calling the cops."
    "Yes, thank you very much, I'd really appreciate that."
    John hung up, hoping he'd managed to deal with Sarah's abduction in a way that made it look normal. A second later he shook his head and let out a humorless laugh, wondering how far over the edge he'd gone when he could even think about an abduction as being "normal."
    He glanced at his watch, wondered if he could still make a call to the Phillips Library at the Peabody Essex Institute before they closed, and he dialed the number. When someone answered, he asked for the second time to speak with Joe D'Angelo.
    When D'Angelo came on the line John said, "I'm sorry to be a pest. I don't know if you remember me, but I came to the library a few weeks ago with Rich Harvey, and you were kind enough to let us look at the documents you'd just received from the House of the Seven Gables."
    "Yes, I remember you," D'Angelo said. "I've just been tied up in meetings all day and didn't have a chance until now to return phone calls. What a tragedy about Rich, by the way. I was absolutely devastated to hear it. I saw him with some regularity. I never would have guessed he was suicidal."
    "I agree," John said, and then after a suitable pause, he continued, "I know Rich was working on several ideas for scholarly articles using those new documents as his sources. I wanted to have the paper write an article honoring Rich's scholarship and his contributions to helping us better understand our own local history. I was wondering if you might allow me to come back in and look over those same documents again?"
    There was a pause while D'Angelo seemed to think it over. "Well, you're not an academic and those documents haven't even been properly catalogued yet. Usually the only people allowed into our Rare Book and Manuscript Collection are working on academic projects, but in this case I certainly believe we should make an exception. I think that article would be a wonderful idea."
    Having made an appointment for early the next morning, John got off the phone with D'Angelo, and then made three more quick phone calls, first for a case of cold beer to be delivered from a nearby deli and then for pizza and takeout Chinese. Everything arrived around eight and everyone took a break and ate and drank a few beers. Afterward they continued to plan out the first edition of the new paper, worked on the masthead design, the typefaces, and other issues.
    At about nine o'clock, John told the staff it was time to go home. They would meet tomorrow and continue the process. People wandered out to their cars, while he and Amy stayed behind to lock up and turn off the lights.
    "Want some company?" Amy asked. "Or would you rather be alone?"
    "Please come over," John said, rubbing his eyes and realizing how absolutely drained he was. That thought brought another reflection, that he was perhaps the most unromantic man on the face of the earth. How many other men, given the chance to sleep in the same bed with a woman who looked like Amy, would have done anything but hold her for most of the nights they had been together? "I have nothing left, but I'd sure like to know you're there beside me."
    She came up and rested her hands on his chest. "Life is going to get better, and then we're going to live like normal people."
    He looked at her and nodded. "I hope so."
    When they got back to his house, John went upstairs, took a shower, and got into bed, feeling so tired he expected to be asleep before his head hit the pillow.
    As soon as he closed his eyes he had the strange sensation he was someplace else and his eyes snapped open. Only when he looked around, he realized he must have been dreaming because he felt just as exhausted and wrung out as he had before he got into bed.
    He was on a narrow dirt road that wound along