"No," Bill almost snapped. "No, don't come home, Jack. That would be bad."
A cold fist clenched in Jack's gut. "Jesus, Bill. You've got more down there." It was not a question. "Courtney . . ."
"You trusted me to watch over her, Jack. I'm doing that."
"Jesus," Jack whispered again. He leaned over as though he might be sick and put a hand to his forehead.
He felt the bed shift as Molly sat down behind him. She laid a hand, long fingers gently reassuring, on his shoulder.
"Twenty-four hours, Jack," Bill said. "Just keep your head down. Don't do anything stupid. I'll take care of business here and then I'll be up."
Several courses of action occurred to Jack in a heartbeat, but he dismissed them all. It was not that he did not trust Bill to protect Courtney - despite what Bill was. It was that Jack felt that it was his responsibility to keep his sister safe. That particular emotion had been with him since Courtney survived the accident that had taken their mother's life. It was not going to be easy to shake.
Jack was about to insist, when Bill spoke again.
"I think you'd be walking into the line of fire if you came back right now. But if I don't deal with it in the next twenty-four hours, you can come home then, all right?"
"All right," Jack agreed, voice thick with emotion. "I don't think I could handle it if anything happened, Bill."
"I know," Bill replied. "I know."
They said their good-byes and hung up. Slowly, still shell-shocked, Jack turned to Molly. He opened his mouth to explain but she held up a hand to forestall him.
"I think I've got it," she said, sympathy and warmth in her eyes. "So, Humphrey Bogart, then?"
"Yeah," Jack agreed slowly. "First, though, I think we need to have a talk with Maria Von Trapp downstairs."
Alan felt as though the whole world were turning upside down. It may not have been the worst day of his life, but it was certainly the strangest. He thought it was almost perverse that the weather was so damned beautiful on a day when so many dark things were taking shape in Buckton.
Though he knew the sheriff 's expectations - and those of the townspeople - meant he ought to be out questioning people to try to find a single witness who saw something useful, Alan had stopped at the inn first to see Tina.
He needed to see her, if only to remind himself that there were parts of his life that could not be tarnished even by the ugliest business.
As she strummed her guitar, he sipped a lemonade he had poured himself from a pitcher, and listened to her play. It soothed him. Just watching the way her fingers moved, the expression of peace, of bliss, on her features, he felt better. Alan Vance was a law officer, but he had to remind himself sometimes that he was also just a man. He could only do what he could do.
"Hey," he said, voice low.
Tina looked up and stopped playing immediately. He leaned toward her and she lifted her chin so that he could kiss her. Their lips grazed sweetly, and then he kissed her again, with more passion.
"You're a good man, Alan," Tina whispered.
His heart felt lighter already.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are we interrupting something?"
With a start, Alan turned to see Jack and Molly standing just inside the bar area. Jack looked uncomfortable at having walked in on them, but Molly - who had spoken - had a mischievous smile on her face.
Alan wasn't in the mood. "As a matter of fact - "
"Not really," Tina interrupted. "Just commiserating. Alan's having a bad day at work."
"They know," Alan said quickly. "They saw the mess at the diner." He stood up and hefted his gun belt on his hips, then mentally cursed himself. Tina always told him he looked like a cartoon deputy when he did that.
"What can I do for you two?" he asked.
Jack scratched the back of his head. "While we were hiking yesterday, we ran across what was left of a house. It's a cool spot, so we thought we'd try to picnic there today, but couldn't find it. That's half the reason we came home early. We were worried about getting turned around. Anyway, we thought we'd look up the property so we could be sure to find it again. We'd do that at the surveyor's office, right?"
Alan chuckled. "In a town this small? The survey map books and all of that stuff is in a room at the library, but they close at one o'clock on Saturdays." He glanced at his watch. "You've got fifteen minutes."
The reaction that news got out of the two city kids surprised Alan. Both of them grimaced as though the information was much more important to them than just a place to picnic. He studied them a bit closer and realized that both of them seemed edgy. Even more so, he thought, than might be expected given the events of the day.
"I don't suppose they're open Sundays?" Molly asked.
"Sorry," Tina said.
"Not that big a deal, I guess," Molly said. "Oh, one other thing. Are there any good bookstores in town?"
"There aren't any bookstores in town," Tina said. "Nearest one's in Dunning, about fifteen minutes from here. Maybe twenty."
Molly frowned. "So, other than the diner, there's nowhere in town to get books?"
"Just the library," Alan supplied. "But that doesn't help you this afternoon."
Though there was still something off about Jack and Molly - and he kept Sheriff Tackett's instructions to watch them in mind - Alan knew he had better get on with investigating the break-in at the Paperback.
"I guess that's my cue," he said, then glanced at Tina. "As long as nothing else happens, we're still going to help Trish later on?"
"I'll be there," Tina promised.
Once more Alan waved good-bye to her and then
