CHAPTER EIGHT
June 12, 1937 ~ Dr. Steven’s Journal ~ Thelma’s. Stood up for myself. Made a woman cry. Never a good day when you make a woman cry.
I turned to the packed diner, hands on my hips. “I was just traveling through town with my assistant—with Henry. We were exploring your little demonic cave when he drowned there. I have no idea what is in your pool that would make three people disappear. I’d like to know, too.”
I brushed crumbs out of my beard. "What your town fathers failed to research was that the one they now called on to check this all out—me—is in fact, just a professor of agriculture at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln." I growled again—felt good. "I'm not even a hydrologist. He studies water.” I pounded my chest—a little dramatic, I admit. “I study … dirt!"
One ma
