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The rest of the day was far less exciting. By the time Sam relieved me from duty at five o’clock, my head ached from staring into a mirror in a dark room all afternoon. I’d gotten a few glimpses that told me not much, and I’d been interrupted roughly seven hundred times. The primary thing I learned was that teaching myself to scry in a public place was dumb.
After grabbing a sandwich from On What Grounds?, I drove straight to Professor Zimm’s house. Even after a long day, I was energized by the thought of finding some clue as to what happened. According to the newspaper, she’d been shot, but I still had a million questions. Was she shot in her office or outside? Did she enter the nature preserve of her own initiative? If so, why? Were their tire tracks nearby?
Even if Mr. Zimm was th
