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sat still, as if processing his information through a concealed computer. But her eyes were blank, and he was afraid he’d lost her.
    â€œI don’t think this person means harm,” he offered. “I really think they’re trying to help, but the messages are so incomplete that it’s hard for me to tell who they’re helping. They’ve cut off abruptly at times. I think the sender might be monitored.”
    â€œAnd they say I’m crazy,” she replied noncommittally, scraping up the rest of her eggs. “I don’t suppose you write science fiction by any chance?”
    Damn. She had a suspicious mind. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. “Look, I’m trying to find your parents, like you asked, and I need to know everything about you. If you really don’t want to know your origins, tell me now, so I can reboot this project. I have a lot of people relying on me to pay their mortgages, and I dislike letting them down.”
    â€œWhy would who I am have anything to do with your crazy text message?” she asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity. “And feel free to kill the project anytime. It was your idea, not mine.”
    â€œThe town is counting on you,” he pointed out. “Do you really want to let them down?”
    She glared and finished off her juice. “They’d survive if you quietly slipped away and never returned.”
    â€œNot happening. I’ve booked the show with the network. They’re thrilled about you. Your agent is hopping up and down with glee. I’ve got a cameraman whose kid has cancer, and he needs the work. You want to blow them all off because you don’t like me?”
    â€œI don’t like Syrene , ” she hissed, leaning over the table so no one else could hear. “I don’t want her resurrected. She’s dead and gone. I’m a writer of children’s books, nothing more.”
    A little lightbulb lit, and Oz sat back in the booth so she couldn’t stab him with her bread knife. “Syrene wrote the seal song,” he declared.
    â€œYes, and that’s all you need to know.” She stood up and waved at Dot, who waved back. “I’ve got a bunch of little kids waiting on me. Have a lovely day.”
    He had no idea in hell where this was leading, but so far, the Librarian was batting a thousand. And Miss James didn’t like it a bit.
    ***
    Toweringly egotistical Hollywood baboon! Pippa screamed inside her head as she walked the path from the day care to her home after the morning reading session. The citrus scent of the Mexican orange bush growing in the sun at the back of the day care mixed with a whiff of jasmine from her courtyard. She’d spent years developing this low-key walk in the sunshine so she could relax to the sound of birds and the fragrance of herbs planted among the stones. But she wasn’t relaxed now as she replayed the breakfast she’d shared with Oz.
    How could he possibly know about a song she’d written in her studio nine years ago and sent to cyberspace with no other person anywhere involved? Was he psychic ?
    More likely, he had some hacker in his employ who had broken into her computer. The thought infuriated her even more, until she applied cold logic. Unless he meant to steal her songs—and she didn’t think Oz was a thief so much as a manipulator—a hired hacker good enough to bust through her firewalls might find government records other investigators hadn’t, records that might reveal her parents.
    She could add more buffers to her system and keep it turned off so the snoop couldn’t nose around anymore. But a hacker that good could be the reason Oz was so confident he could meet her challenge.
    Which ought to terrify her. She had no intention of appearing on television as Syrene and driving herself over the brink of destruction again. She’d fought too hard to find the peace she enjoyed now.
    But she