The telephone was ringing when I returned home. I closed and locked the door, then hurried to the kitchen and picked up the receiver. “Trevalyan.”
“You will kindly tell me what game it is you’re playing,” my father demanded without even taking the time to greet me, and I knew things were about to go west. “And don’t you dare tell me ‘nothing’ in that bland tone you take.”
“Truthfully, I have done nothing, sir.”
“And yet Haynsworth is dead. This was not well done of you.”
“Would you have preferred I let him get away with murder?” My temper began to fray.
“No, of course not, but if anyone questions how you did it—This has been kept secret since the very first Trevalyan discovered the ability to—To have it revealed now is unconscionable.”
“I apologise, Father. I’ll do what I can to see
