“You took a 1962 penny,” Dragos said. His teeth were gritted. “You left a 1975 penny. It’s no replacement.” She stared at him. “Oh my God, it’s scary you noticed that.” “I know everything in my hoard and exactly where it is,” he told her. “Down to the smallest piece.” “You could go to a doctor, get checked out for OCD,” she panted. “There might be medication for that.”
