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.My pulse slowed.I sighed with relief.I aimed my camera at the man in the moon and snapped a picture as a gesture of appreciation.My mother was sitting up in bed.“We’ll get you a cell phone.But you need to be home by midnight.”“Okay,” I said, as if I were giving her permission.And then, after a pause: “Sorry.”“Me too,” she whispered.I zipped my hot camera back into its case and placed it on the kitchen table.I didn’t want it too close to me while I slept.When I woke up the next morning, the camera was gone.Okay, truth: it was afternoon.But the camera was really gone.For a single, sweaty moment I thought it had been spirited away, but my mother, seeing my panicked expression, said, “Your dad took the camera.He wanted to take some pictures of the work site.”“But I need it!” I croaked.“He needs it,” my mother corrected, putting her empty coffee mug in the little stainless steel sink.“They’re having problems building a retaining wall, and your father had some ideas.” She looked me in the eye.“This could be a big deal for him.”“What? He could be promoted from ditchdigger to wall builder?”I regretted the words as soon as they were out (though my mother should have known better than to speak to me before I’d had my coffee).The crease between her eyebrows deepened to a near-canyon.“This is difficult for all of us.”“My camera is the only thing I have left!”“That’s more than I have,” she said.I was about to say she had about twenty ceramic roosters in a storage unit in Amerige, but I held it in, asking instead, “Where’s Dad’s job site? Because maybe I could walk down there, and if he’s done taking his pictures, I could get my camera back.”“No.” For added emphasis, she said it like it had two syllables: No-wah.Aargh.I really wanted to show Delilah the blue lights, but there was no point arguing with my mother when she was like this.Actually, there was no point arguing with my mother most of the time.She was dressed in regular clothes: a pale blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and bright white sneakers.My mother cleans her sneakers in the washing machine.“Aren’t you working today?”“It’s my day off,” she said, her eyes narrowing.“I hope that’s okay with you.”There was no way I was going to hang around that room.I put on my bathing suit and headed for Psychic Photo.Delilah wasn’t in the shop.Instead, Rose flitted around the room, arranging things on the shelves.There was a new crystals section, I noticed, right next to a photo album display.“Hi, Madison.” Rose smiled as if she had been expecting me.In a simple white sundress, with her auburn haired pulled back in a tidy clip, she looked almost old enough to be a mom.Her ears, neck, and hands were free of jewelry, but she made up for it with an anklet and four silver toe rings.“Going to the beach?” she asked.For a moment, it freaked me out that she knew that without being told—but then I realized that my board shorts, bikini top, and beach bag may have tipped her off.“Uh-huh.I thought Delilah might want to come with.”“She’s not big on the beach—burns too easily—but you can ask.” She gestured toward the back of the shop, which led to the stairs.At the doorway I paused.“Did Delilah tell you that we figured out who the guy in the window picture was?”“Leo did.” Her mouth twisted.“Delilah doesn’t like to encourage me.At least Larry can calm down now that he knows that guy won’t be hanging around.”“Isn’t it kind of a weird coincidence?” I said.“You know, that he got hurt right after showing up in my camera? And that Mrs.Lunardi died?”“Yes,” she admitted.“But coincidences happen.In my business, you have to admit that.Otherwise, people won’t ever believe you.”“But what if the lighting was weird in both pictures, like something I’ve never seen before? What if Francine Lunardi and Ronald Young both kind of…glowed?”“Larry thinks it’s just sunlight.He’s probably right.”“It’s more than that,” I said, dropping the bomb.“I couldn’t see it until I looked at my camera in the darkness, but the figures are surrounded by a blue light.”She froze for a moment before asking, “Both of them?” I nodded and took a deep breath.“Francine Lunardi and Ronald Young weren’t there when I took the pictures.I’m positive.There’s something going on.”She didn’t say anything at first.And honestly? She didn’t look all that surprised by what I’d said.Something flickered behind her eyes.“Do you want to tell Delilah or should I?”It wasn’t an easy sell.“It was late morning.The sun was overhead.” Delilah sat on the couch in her apartment, knees drawn up to her chest.“It’s about the same time now,” I said, pointing to the window permanently shadowed by a cramped tree and the inn next door.“You see anything but shadows?”She chewed her freckly lip.“Maybe the flash went off.”“Then it would have reflected against the pane,” I said calmly.“And anyway, it wouldn’t have turned their edges blue.”“Where’s the camera?”“My dad has it.”Oh, God.What if he deleted the pictures by accident? Then Delilah would never believe me.I was tempted to dash over to my dad’s work site and reclaim the little Canon, but if my mother found out, she’d kill me.Delilah caught me looking around the room.“He’s not here.”“Huh?” I said.“Duncan,” she said.“He went out on the boat with his father this morning.”“Oh,” I said.“Whatever.”Footsteps sounded on the steps outside the apartment.“Energy,” Rose said, bursting in.“Who’s watching the shop?” Delilah demanded.Rose waved at the air.“We can leave it for a couple of minutes.” She plopped down on the floor and pretzeled her legs into what I think is called the Lotus position.“Please don’t launch into your energy routine,” Delilah moaned.“What energy routine?” I asked.Rose took a deep breath before speaking, her hands moving like a hula dancer’s.“There’s electric and magnetic energy all around us.We can’t see it.Sometimes we feel it, but we attribute it to something else: a breeze, a virus, a cold front.In my work, I tune in to this energy, try to make some sense of it.”“Can we just cut to the photo?” Delilah snapped.Rose ignored her.“Sometimes energy trumps time and space.Time folds in on itself, and if you tap into the right energy and the right place, you can—”“Don’t say it,” Delilah moaned
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