The Stars Shine Bright
Acclaim for Sibella Giorello
“Giorello's writing is poignant, concrete, and humorously descriptive yet sincere . . . adding to Giorello's reputation as a pro and a shining star.”
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“Giorello has won the Christy Award and received two Pulitzer Prize nominations. When you read this book, you'll see why.”
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The Clouds Roll Away
is the work of a maturing novelist whose voice rings with authenticity, whose eccentric characters come vividly alive and whose storytelling skills are superior.”
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“With great attention to detail, gritty descriptions and fast-paced action, Giorello's tale of suspense is a sure bet.”
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Also by Sibella Giorello:
The Rivers Run Dry
The Clouds Roll Away
The Mountains Bow Down
The Stars Shine Bright
A RALEIGH HARMON NOVEL
SIBELLA
GIORELLO
© 2012 by Sibella Giorello
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Giorello, Sibella.
  The stars shine bright : a Raleigh Harmon novel / Sibella Giorello.
      p. cm. â (A Raleigh Harmon novel ; bk. 5)
  ISBN 978-1-59554-536-7 (trade paper)
  1. United States. Federal Bureau of InvestigationâOfficials and employeesâFiction. 2. Women geologistsâFiction. 3. Horse racingâFiction. 4. Forensic geologyâFiction. I. Title.
  PS3607.I465S73 2012
  813'.6âdc23
2012012626
Printed in the United States of America
12 13 14 15 16 17 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my sons of thunder: Daniel and Nico
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
“This mad sea shows his teeth to-night.
He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite!
Brave Admiral, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?”
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
“Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!”
Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speckâ
A light! A light! A light! A light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: “On! sail on!”
“Columbus” by Joaquin Miller
Contents
T
he glass skyscrapers towered over Puget Sound, like crystalline prisons for office slaves. I stood at the corner of Third and Madison and watched the hurried workers, toting their Starbucks and battered briefcases, while down the hill, between the city's steep reflective walls, a basin of salt water sparkled under late-summer sunshine. Puget Sound looked dappled and calm, nothing like the busy people. Nothing like the emotions warring inside me. And nothing like the woman who walked beside me, gripping a strand of pink pearls.
“Don't do this,” said Aunt Charlotte. Her pudgy fingers worried the silken beads. “Come work in my shop.”
“It won't help.”
“I'll pay you double minimum wage.”
I waited for the crosswalk light to change.
Hurry up
. The breeze tunneled through the buildings, bearing scents of wet salt and city pavement and the close of summer. A city bus wheezed to a stop on Madison and belched diesel fumes before releasing more serfs. They lurched out, sighing like pneumatic doors.
I glanced at Aunt Charlotte.
She had switched the pearls to her other hand, presumably because her fingers were fatigued from all that rubbing. It had started early this morning, when she told me I needed some geological magic to save my job. I looked back at the light. It refused to change.
“I'm fine,” I told her.
“I'll send you to all my rock shows,” she said. “You're a geologistâthey'll love you.”
I was a geologist, a forensic geologist, but I doubted the poor souls attending Aunt Charlotte's rock shows would love me. They were wannabe celebrities, pop musicians, New Agers all of them, believing Charlotte Harmon when she said malachite could enhance their visionary powers. That marble kept time with the earth's internal clock. That pearls provided clarity and wisdom.
My aunt was the most loyal of relatives, and she was a total kook.
The light changed, I stepped off the curb.
She hurried beside me. “You're afraid, I can feel it.”
“No,” I lied. “I just want my old job back.”
“You're in denial. And who wouldn't be, with what you're facing?”
A sarcastic
Thank you
perched on the tip of my tongue. But we had now reached my own urban prison. Nine stories of pale steel, the building stood at the corner of Third and Spring with its crosshatched architecture looking as unfriendly as graph paper.
“Take the pearls,” she said.
“No, reallyâ”
But she had already shoved the strand into my shoulder bag and was gathering me into her arms, squeezing tight. Plump and warm, loving and lost, Charlotte Harmon was one of the world's all-time great huggers. I breathed in the last of her patchouli scent.
Then I turned and walked away, without saying good-bye.
At the guard's desk inside, I flashed the credentials that identified me as a Special Agent for the FBI, rode the elevator to the building's top floor, and headed straight for the receptionist who sat behind the largest console desk. She wore the blank mask of the dedicated assistant.
“Raleigh Harmon,” I told her. “I have an appointment.”
