Brett rounded another corner. What at first had seemed interesting —the way the house changed at every turn—now annoyed him. He’d made so many turns, traversed so many yards, he’d become completely disoriented. “Damned silly men, trying to meddle in things they don’t understand.”
He looked up and blinked. He was in the front yard again, no sign of the fence. A sagging carport once again fronted the ragged Victorian.
Clarissa sat on a bench across the street, shuffling a small deck of cards. He grinned. She must have had a Tarot deck in her purse. This woman is dedicated. She lifted the top card and regarded it. Then she scowled and tossed it onto the bench beside her. “Clarissa,” he called.
Her head shot up, and she rose, zooming into the street without looking. A car honked. Brakes scr
