UNDER A FOOL MOON

By

       Nora LeDuc

Triskelion Publishing

15327 W. Becker Lane

Surprise, AZ 85379

First e Published by Triskelion Publishing

First e publishing December  2006

ISBN    1-60186-037-4  

Copyright 2006 Nora LeDuc

All rights reserved.  No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law.

Cover design Triskelion Publishing.

Publisher’s Note.  This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

“My mother is my own personal travel agent,” Roselle Lewis muttered. “She’s always ready to book me on another guilt trip.”

Still dressed in her white waitress uniform, Roselle tightened a hand on the phone and braced herself for the rapid-fire assault Mom called “keeping in touch.” She combed her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair in case Mom’s superpowers could tell it was mussed. Although her feet ached from working the morning shift at Kozy’s Coffee Shop, Roselle forced a cheery, “Hello, Mom.”

“Roselle, you have to go to Aunt Caryn’s house immediately.”

Across the faded gray vinyl kitchen floor, the radiator hissed disapproval. Roselle shot an annoying glare at the ancient heater which refused to shut off in the warmth of the Indian summer day.

“Roselle, did you hear me? You must drive over to your Aunt Caryn’s. It’s a life and death matter!”

Mom’s emergencies were never emergencies, and Aunt Caryn wasn’t really an aunt. But since Caryn Christie had hired Roselle’s mother, she’d been bumped up from acquaintance to relative.

“Why? Did she make the one-hundredth jar of jelly and run out of room in her six-foot cabinet?” Roselle didn’t understand why anyone wanted an adult-size cabinet for small jars.

“Caryn called to tell me the cabinet tilts, and my reputation will be ruined if I’ve bought a cheap piece and Caryn exposes it to everyone.”

“I hardly think it’s an evening news headliner, Mom.” Yet her mother’s voice held a note of panic that ricocheted off Roselle’s feelings.

Stay detached.

No, help your mother.

Stay detached.

No, help your mother.

Roselle wished conversations with her parent didn’t always trigger these struggles.

Mom was a fifty-year-old housewife who had decided two weeks ago to become a personal shopper after reading an article about it in a women’s magazine. So far, only Mrs. Christie had hired her, despite numerous telephone calls to relatives and acquaintances.

So “Aunt” Caryn had ordered the jelly cabinet, and Roselle had helped her mom deliver the six-foot piece of furniture.

“Unless we can fix it,” her mother whimpered, “I’ll have to return the money and the cabinet.”

A return translated into staggering down Mrs. Christie’s front steps along ten feet of walkway and then angling the monstrosity into the back of Mom’s van while she shouted, “To the left--to the right—push!” The tiny Mrs. Christie would stand in her doorway watching, not lifting a petite hand.

“Uh-oh.” Roselle sighed.

“I know, problem with a capital P, right here in River City,” Mom said, inserting one of her favorite musical lines.

Mom loved musicals, but she was always misquoting lines from them. “I didn’t tell anyone,” her mother continued, “but I bought the cabinet on sale from Dollar Maniacs with a no-returns policy. Help me out and see if you can steady it.”

“Steady it? Ask Dad to help you. I’m not a carpenter.”

“You know I can’t. Your father thinks the whole idea of my business is silly. I have to do this on my own.”

Roselle wanted to blurt out, “Then do it on your own!” But she decided that wouldn’t go over too well. So she thought of the next best solution--her older sister. “How about Alicia?”

“Alicia has to study for a final in a big medical class.”

“Already? Didn’t she start grad school three weeks ago? How can the school be holding finals after a few weeks of school?”

Sounded like a crock if she’d ever heard one, but Roselle knew she’d never win the debate. Alicia was the golden pre-med girl. She looked like a model, tall with blonde hair and sky blue eyes, and to top it off she was the firstborn child. In contrast, Roselle looked like a munchkin with mousy brown hair, stormy grey eyes, and suffered from middle child angst according to the Dr. Phil show last week.

“Pre-med is advanced, but I heard you can still register for some classes, Roselle.”

“Like basket weaving?” Her mother never gave up pushing school at her and couldn’t accept that some people like her own daughter just weren’t the university type. Roselle loved reading, but school and study had never managed to make her top ten list. “How about Bobby helps you?”

“Your brother has football practice tomorrow.”

Everyone had made plans for the weekend. Maybe she should lie and say she was hooking up with a hot date.

Mom made that exasperated noise in her throat. “Go stick a piece of cardboard under the leg of the cabinet and everything will be fine. Aunt Caryn won’t care how you make it level.”

“Mom, why don’t you do it? Caryn loves seeing you.”

“I have to go with your father to his dentist’s appointment. You know what a baby he is when the dentist cleans his teeth.”

All the air deflated from Roselle’s lungs. It was true. Her dad ran his own computer sales business and faced the wrath of angry dissatisfied geeks with a smile and a calm that foreign dignitaries would envy. But show him a dentist’s chair and he lost it.

She eyed her oversized green chair in the small, square living room. When she sat in it, the cushion sank with a gushing noise. She longed to plop down in the seat and sink to the floor. Instead, she felt her mom’s invisible lasso tightening about her.

“Do this for me, Roselle, and I’ll bring you dinner with your favorite--chocolate cake.”

“A ready-cooked dinner for tonight?” Roselle imagined herself with her aching feet propped up, feasting on cake. And her mom would hover at her elbow, waiting for the next command.

Okay, she could be the good daughter in the family for a change. Everyone knew that’d be a switch. She was the daughter who refused to “further her education” and supported herself by waiting tables. At least for the moment, her mom had avoided the big question, “What are you going to do with your life, Roselle?” Like she could figure it out. Waitressing just seemed to be something she’d try out on her way to the “real job.”

Where was the good fairy who’d sweep down and sprinkle her with career dust?

Must be out with the tooth fairy.

“I’ll go.” Roselle sighed again. “But I don’t have any cardboard.” Well, not quite the cooperative daughter...

“Good, she’s expecting you.”

Before Roselle could protest further, Mom hung up. For a second Roselle fumed. How could her mother have beaten her by hanging up first? Apparently she’d perfected her disconnect speed on a few telemarketers. And she hadn’t even mentioned her other favorite topic: Will.

Whenever her mom worked his name into the conversation, goose bumps broke out over Roselle’s entire body. Then her heart did an Olympic flip followed by a mid-air panic freeze as she remembered: they’d broken up six months, five hours and two minutes ago.

She’d never let her mother in on the big why of the break-up, which only fueled her parent’s obsessive prying. Funny, her mom had never liked Will. Over and over she’d sung the same refrain, “He’s all wrong for Roselle.”

Like Roselle could tell her it was Will’s other love, alcohol, that had broken them up. Forget Will. Concentrate on the now. Roselle vowed to run the errand quickly and be back slouching in her chair and pigging out before J Lo found a new husband.

She changed into jeans and a T-shirt which was a gift from her mother with I’m a Keeper plastered on the back. No one would see her except Mrs. Christie.

She glanced around for anything to wedge under a furniture leg. Her gaze landed on the weekly tabloid magazines stacked on the hand-me-down maple coffee table. A group of famous stars on the cover stared back at her. She ripped off Brad Pitt’s face. That would teach him to fool around and break up his first marriage.

Next she tore out Brittney Spears’ breasts. Rats, even with an inflated picture, the supply still appeared meager, not enough to compensate for an un-level furniture leg. She’d take the whole pile.

Armed with her carpenter supplies and the keys of the Saturn she remembered she’d left her cell phone in the charger. Retrieving the phone, she headed out. Caryn Christie lived about fifteen minutes from Main Street and Roselle’s one bedroom apartment above the coffee shop. Of course, downtown only consisted of three blocks of two-story clapboard buildings, but Roselle always had loved the small town feel. And if she wanted bigger stores, she’d hop in her car and drive to the bigger city twenty minutes away.

Stark Falls was in a perfect location. Within an hour you could drive to the beach or the mountains. She waved to old Mrs. Lang who was at her mailbox as Roselle zipped by. And she could always find someone to talk to. It was hard to be lonely in Stark Falls because everyone always felt they were related to you or friends with your best friend.

A few trees had lost their grip on the end of summer and their leaves blazed a bright red. She turned the volume of the car radio high enough to be heard in another state and before she knew it, she was turning onto Mrs. Christie’s road.

Her house was built on the edge of federal woods. Trails had been carved through the forest for adults to play with their toys. ATVs roared past in the summer. In the winter, snowmobiles glided over the trails. If Roselle turned down the music, she would be able to hear the hum of motors as riders crisscrossed the dirt paths hidden behind the trees.

Ahead, she spied Mrs. Christie’s curving drive, a gravel path cut out of the woods. Disguised as the good driver and the good daughter, she put on her blinker for the turn. She started across the yellow line into the drive when a car shot around the clump of trees lining a curve in the driveway-straight at her!

God! She hit the brake. Panic charged her heartbeat into overtime. Her stomach plunged to her feet. Desperate, she yanked the wheel to the right. The black sedan continued hurtling like a rogue torpedo from a bad computer game. Worse, she was the target. She screamed.

The sedan and the Saturn rushed toward their death collision. For one long second, she looked into the face of the suicide driver: an older man, big, burly, and with a cigar clenched between his teeth.

It was Fast Eddie.

They were going to hit! She threw one arm up in front of her face. The black car swerved. A thud jolted her back and forth like a pinball in an arcade game. The clang of metal screeched as she closed her eyes. Despite her foot on the brake at full force, she felt the car skid across the road, drop a foot, and die. Frozen in her seat, her stomach continued to bounce up and down in a sickening motion.

Over the voice of the fourteen-year-old rock star on the radio came the sound of tires screeching and speeding away. She opened her eyes. Between the sharp turn of the wheel and the sedan whacking her, the car had landed in the culvert by the side of the road. She heard an unfamiliar noise.

Shaking, she clenched her fingers into fists. I’m okay. She blinked and looked at the air bag that had exploded on the passenger side. A fine light powder dusted the interior.

Figures. Wrong seat.

It took a few moments for her brain to clear. She glanced out the window. Fast Eddie had disappeared and left her stranded in the ditch.

But what else could she expect from a man like him? She could hear her mother’s shocked voice gossiping in her head, Caryn Christie is dating a man from the Sopranos!

She’d never believed Mom’s silly story. Until today. But Mom was right. Mrs. Christie’s hottie possessed no moral fiber whatsoever. He was an evil hit-and-runner.

Roselle blinked back tears. At least she had insurance and could deal with this accident. Reciting a self-pep talk, she shut off the radio and slid out. Bracing herself, she studied the ocean-blue Saturn and tried not to cry over the long dented streak where the sedan had sideswiped her.

She closed the car door and inhaled the crisp air while battling tears. Her once-beautiful two-month-old car had an ugly slash on its side. Well, legally it was the bank’s two-month-old car.

She sucked in air to calm herself. She could have the car repaired. First she needed to get out of this ditch. She wobbled back to the driver’s seat and slipped inside.

She forced her fingers to grasp the key and turned it. The engine roared to life. With relief, she put the car in reverse and stepped on the gas. The vehicle rocked back half a foot, fell forward, and refused to move. The tires spun and protested with a squeal. She was stuck.

Oh, goody. If only a little cardboard would solve this problem. And if she ever saw that Fast Eddie guy again, she’d have a few un-good daughter words to shout at him. At least her anger had chased away her shakes.

She jumped out again and studied the car. Hopeless. If only a good kick would work. She flung her foot at the tire.

“Crud!”

And pain! She hopped on one foot in a circle until the nerve ends stopped screaming.

Frustrated, she opened the door. Grabbing her purse from the seat, she found her cell phone and pressed the number for Mom. Nothing happened. Roselle yanked the phone from her ear and read No Service. Double crud! She was stuck in a black hole. She tossed the phone on the passenger seat and slammed the door.

Roselle didn’t have much choice now. She hobbled up the driveway. Ready to dodge other charming visitors, she kept an eye on each curve. A mosquito buzzed around her head. She hated bugs, flying, creeping or crawling. She batted at the air.

The roar of ATVS and the fragrance of leaves and rotting vegetation surrounded her. Her foot hurt, but she forced herself to hurry up the twisting driveway. She avoided looking into the woods, in case more insects were lurking about.

After walking forever she spied Mrs. Christie’s neat green bungalow. She loped up to the front door and stabbed the doorbell.

Silence. She pressed the button again and listened. Overhead, a dark cloud blotted out the sun while the chimes rang inside the house. Where was Caryn Christie?

She banged on the door. A cool breeze rippled through the trees in the hushed silence. Strange. A chill crept up her arms. She had a car in a ditch, a hit-and-run to report, and Mrs. Christie had a crooked jelly cabinet. She should be salivating to pull Roselle inside.

She tried the knob. The door opened. “Mrs. Christie?” Wandering into the small pine-paneled entry, she paused and gazed into the kitchen. She spied the phone hanging on the opposite wall. It beckoned to her. If Mrs. Christie was somewhere in the house, all Roselle had to do was pick up the receiver, and Mrs. C’s gossip radar would lead her to the kitchen to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Roselle trudged across to the mudroom. The stillness in the house was creepy. She rubbed her arms and hesitated on the threshold of the apple-stenciled room. “Mrs. Christie, it’s Roselle Lewis. I’m here to fix your jelly cabinet.”

No answer except the grandfather clock chiming the half hour from the other room. Weird. Her heart beat faster. Mrs. Christie had to be here. Roselle scanned the room. A rose china teapot holding pink and blue asters sat in the center of the table. Roselle recognized the sweet fragrance of the flowers hanging in the air. The pine table and chairs were probably from one of the flea market purchases that Mrs. Christie loved to brag about.

Settings for two people were laid out on the table’s lacy white tablecloth. On the far wall, two long shelves held a collection of teapots of various colors and sizes.

To her left stood the jelly cabinet, leaning forward toward a multicolored braided rug. An array of jellies and shelve slats lay on the rug. Had Mrs. Christie removed the contents to try to repair the cabinet herself? Or was she emptying it, getting it ready for return?

Her mother must have phoned Mrs. Christie and filled her in on Roselle’s visit. Where was the woman? Roselle reached for the knob of the jelly cabinet.

“What are you doing?”

She whirled around with a gasp. A tall brown-haired stranger stood in the doorway. Dressed in black spandex, he peered at her with dark, suspicious brown eyes through rimless glasses. His gloves were tucked in the elastic of his waistband.

She swallowed against the tightness closing up her throat. “I’m looking for Mrs. Christie.”

“Why are you inside her house?” He advanced into the kitchen, glancing from her to the jellies piled on the rug.

She recognized the accusation in his voice. “I’m not stealing food. I’m here to fix her jelly cabinet.” She nodded at the monster piece of furniture.

“You are?”

The two words sounded skeptical. She must explain. Offering her hand she said, “Excuse me. I’m Roselle Lewis. My mother is good friends with Mrs. Christie.”

The name must have meant something to him because the furrows over his eyebrows smoothed and the sharp look in his eyes disappeared. “I’m Vince Christie, Caryn’s nephew.”

Vince, Vince...

Roselle rolled his name around in her mind. “Ah, we first met when I was about ten.”

Immediately it all became clear: her mother’s lack of normal interrogation on her dating life, her insistence that Roselle leave immediately, and the missing Mrs. Christie. The encounter had all the earmarks of a fix-up.

But with Vince? She remembered that he worked at Clone Copiers. Mrs. Christie and her aunt Lola had taken Vince to breakfast at Kozy’s to celebrate his first day of work about a month ago. Angie had waited on them.

Now it was her turn to harbor suspicions. “By any chance, did your aunt mention me to you?”

“She did.” He grinned, revealing perfect white teeth.

Roselle smiled in relief. She slipped her hand into his for a handshake. His long fingers laced through hers in an intimate way. Surprised, she stood staring down at them.

He pulled away with an embarrassed grimace. “Sorry, ah, about the dirt under my fingernails…and hands. I’ve been riding my bike out on the trails in the woods.” He curled his fingers into his palms and pressed them against the sides of his dark spandex pants.

Unable to stop herself, her gaze zoomed to his fists. She felt foolish for staring at his hands, looking for a ring. She glanced up. Now that he wasn’t glaring, she noticed he had a wide mouth and a small scar on his chin. Behind his glasses, curious eyes stared back at her. A slight flush of embarrassment colored his face.

“Your aunt isn’t here, is she?”

He seemed puzzled. “Isn’t she? She phoned and invited me to lunch. She should be home.”

Roselle recognized a set-up when she saw one. At any moment she expected violins and guitars to burst into the romantic songs from her mother’s favorite musicals. “I’m afraid we’re victims.” She sent him a very wise and knowing smile.

“Excuse me?” A lock of brown hair had fallen onto his forehead, adding to his youthful appearance.

“Let me explain. I’m twenty-one and single, which my mother dislikes. The single part, I mean. She takes it as a personal failure on her part.” Roselle waited for this information to sink into his brain and for understanding to dawn on his face.

The confused expression faded into an aha expression.

“I’m guessing you’re single too.”

He gave her a boyish smile. “I’m twenty-four and recently broke up with my girlfriend of two years.”

Roselle couldn’t resist a laugh of triumph. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Vince. I’ll tell my mother you beat me to the cardboard.” How had she fallen for such a flimsy excuse?

He stood with his hands dangling by his sides. “I don’t know anything about cardboard, but shouldn’t we do something? Exchange cell phone numbers or dating horoscopes?”

“Thanks, Vince, but I have a very jealous ex. He’s close to stalker material. You don’t want to get involved with me.” The story was untrue, but she found it easier and more effective than explaining that she felt burnt out over the whole man-woman scene.

He gave her an understanding nod.

“Do you think you could try to push my car? I’m stuck in the culvert at the bottom, courtesy of Fast Eddie.”

“Who’s Fast Eddie?” His brow wrinkled, reminding her of a sweet pug dog.

A twinge of conscience nipped at her for using the silly nickname. “Sorry, Fast Eddie is Ed Ferrani. Your aunt met him speed-dating.”

“You’re kidding. I know Ed, but I didn’t know my aunt and Ed were into speed-dating.”

“How about that push?” she asked, hoping to distract him from the fact that she was spreading gossip about his aunt.

“Sure, lead the way.” He turned and stepped aside for her.

She glanced at the jelly cabinet. What a fool she was rushing over here to put cardboard under it. But then why were the contents on the rug?

“I bet if your aunt put her bigger jars in the back, she could level the rear leg. She reached over and yanked the cabinet door open.

Caryn Christie tumbled out.

Chapter Two

Roselle screamed and jumped backwards, but Mrs. Christie fell faster than an aging Hollywood star. She landed face down with the thud of a bowling ball near Roselle’s new white sneakers. A jelly jar lid shot past her feet and spun like a top before dying on the floor with a twang.

Rooted to the spot, Roselle looked down on her mother’s friend and first customer. Caryn Christie lay sprawled on her spotless kitchen floor, unmoving. Her pink flowered dress puddled out around her deathly-still body like a morbid joke. The white ties of her apron ended in a perfect bow behind her neck.

With arms wrapped around her middle, Roselle tried to control her trembling.

Guess Mom won’t have to worry about a return, she thought.

God, why was she thinking up a stupid crack at a time like this? She glanced up at Vince, who stood stock-still beside her.

“Aunt Caryn?” He gaped down and then dropped to his knees on the braided rug. He touched her shoulder. When she didn’t respond, he stared at Roselle with misery swimming in his eyes. “She’s not answering. We have to do something!”

Roselle swallowed. “I think she’s...” The last word stuck in her throat.

Vince grasped his aunt’s shoulder and turned her over. The apron strings of her pristine white apron that ended in the bow were twisted around her throat. She’d been strangled with her own apron. Roselle’s pounding heart fluttered with shock and panic, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman.

Short wisps of gray hair curled about Mrs. Christie’s face while her bulging brown eyes popped out, gaping up at them. Her mouth was frozen open in a contorted gasp. Her tongue, with a strange hint of blue, hung out of her mouth.

Dizziness attacked Roselle, and she inhaled large gulps of air.

Vince felt for his aunt’s pulse, and then began to cry long, smothered gasps while he clawed at the knotted apron strings around Mrs. Christie’s neck.

His cries yanked on Roselle’s nerves and ripped at her heart. She was trapped in the moment, unable to help. She searched her mind for the next step, but her brain blanked.

Think. Think.

Finally, she knew. “I’ll call the police.”

Thank God. The old brain cells were functioning again. She crossed to the phone with a strange sense that she’d been sucked into a horror flick despite the hint of a sweet tea aroma in the air. Why was sunshine pouring through the window? Could this be the same day? She pulled the receiver off the hook and punched in 911.

Doing her best to sound rational, she reported the scene and confirmed directions to Mrs. Christie’s home. She wanted to hang up. She wanted to escape. She wanted to put an arm around Vince and pull him away from his aunt. She wanted to close Mrs. C’s eyes, which kept gazing up at them.

Mrs. Christie must have been staring at her murderer when she died. How grotesque for your last memory of life to be of the person who killed you! God, this had to be murder, didn’t it? She hadn’t climbed into the jelly cabinet for a nap.

The memory of Fast Eddie zipping down the drive swooped into her mind. Was Mrs. C’s death some kind of a Mafia hit? Was it possible that the gregarious Mrs. Christie, whose hobbies had been collecting china teapots and making jelly, had been a threat to a man like Fast Eddie?

The idea seemed preposterous, but the church-going Mrs. Christie dating a member of the Brotherhood had been a strange match.

Roselle couldn’t stand listening to the 911 woman’s flat tone any longer. Besides, Vince needed more help than she did from the person on the line. Roselle snared the receiver between her cheek and shoulder and walked over to him. She tapped his shoulder and held out the phone. “It’s for you.”

He stared for a second and then took the receiver. The sound of his voice mumbling words followed her to the door. She wanted fresh air and to escape from the sight of Mrs. Christie.

Outside, the cool breeze didn’t help. In fact, Roselle began to feel sick to her stomach. She collapsed on the front steps with her head between her knees. Minutes later, the nausea receded.

Her mind cleared and whirled with questions and possibilities. If she’d arrived a few minutes sooner, she would have witnessed the murder. Maybe she’d have been a victim herself!

Uneasy, she glanced around. Was Fast Eddie really gone? She shivered. In the background, she heard the ATVs zipping through the woods. She strained forward, trying to hear the stealth of a footstep or crack of a twig. Instead, a bird chirped nearby, and above the sun continued shining. Roselle shivered. It all seemed too normal next to the terrible truth inside the house. Where was the ambulance? The ambulance would take it all away.

The hands on her watch threatened to click off fifteen minutes before she heard the blare of the siren. It grew louder as the vehicle rounded the bend in the drive and drove up to the house. A blue Stark Falls police cruiser followed and parked beside it.

Three men jumped out of the ambulance. One dressed in gray shorts and a knit shirt ran up to her. “Is Mrs. Christie inside?”

Roselle knew the man. It was Robbie something-or-other. She forgot his last name. But he’d been in her physics class in high school and had hung out with Will. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Next to jump out of the police car was Jim Myers, a local cop. Roselle and her friends joked about Myers because he was always the arresting officer in those too-stupid-to-believe cases listed in the police log of the weekly Stark Falls Free Paper. He most definitely did not, nor never would, hang out with Will.

Myers swaggered up the walk to Roselle, although his total height was five-six and he weighed about 120 pounds standing on the scale in his shoes. “I want you to tell me what’s happening here for my report,” he announced in a nasal twang.

She gulped. “It’s Mrs. Christie.”

“Home accident?” He hooked his thumbs in his belt and gave her a knowing look. “Did she trip over a cord or a cat?”

“I don’t know. She was in the jelly cabinet.”

His puffed-out chest sagged and he squinted at her. “You mean under it? Did it fall on her?”

The sound of a racing engine and the splatter of stones on the gravel drive jerked her attention to the curve. A white pickup burst around the tree-lined bend. It charged forward with a speed the ambulance driver would have envied.

Roselle’s heart thudded with shock as she watched the truck hurtling forward on a collision course with the cruiser. She couldn’t take her eyes off the vehicle. Beside her, Myers tensed.

The brake system seemed to squeal with fear as the driver slammed on the brakes. The truck lurched to a halt a centimeter from the cruiser’s bumper.

Myers swore under his breath.

Roselle released hers. She didn’t need to read the Gro Rite Landscaping sign on the side of the truck to know who was about to jump out.

Uneasy, she sidestepped away from Myers. The cab door flew open, and Will Boone leaped out.

Dressed in his work clothes--a T-shirt and jeans--he advanced across the drive. He had the build of a man who worked out in a gym, but Roselle knew his hot bod was from outdoor physical labor.

Watching him triggered new feelings. All the panic that had flowed through Roselle’s veins earlier became a strange rush of adrenaline. Why did he always cause this reaction in her? Worse, a memory was threatening to crowd into her mind. For a second she resisted, then she surrendered as the scene surged to life and blocked out her surroundings.

Roselle had been the one hurtling down the hall that day three and a half years ago. She’d quipped one too many jokes in Mrs. Johnson’s class and been sent to after-school detention. “Unfair,” she’d muttered, racing off to her prison sentence.

She’d tried to catch the top book of the pile from sliding out of her arms as she rounded the corner. She crashed into something hard. Stunned, she fell back and stared into the surprised face of a sandy-haired blond.

Then Roselle recognized him. She’d collided with the chest of the senior class bad boy, Will Boone. He practically lived in detention.

His blond hair was longer than the jocks’ and brushed the collar of his shirt. Green eyes twinkled with the hint of a secret. Roselle remembered the rumors that in the school dungeon, Will and the other bad boys had their own lounge where they disappeared to enjoy illegal refreshments.

“Ladies first.” He’d smiled a wide, crooked, conspiratorial grin, and it happened.

She fell head over heels in love with the wrong person.

Shaken, she pushed away the picture from years ago and refocused on the present.

In his scuffed work boots, Will took impatient strides down the cement walkway. As he came closer, anticipation and curiosity knotted into a ball in her stomach. She squeezed her hands together at her waist, trying to hide her frazzled emotions.

Now she could see the beginnings of a blond beard bristling on his chin. His tan face and arms gleamed against his white T-shirt, and his wide chest and broad shoulders hadn’t changed much since their fateful first collision. And she knew by heart the faded scar above his left eye. He’d acquired it when he was three and stood on the top of a slide and jumped off to try and fly.

He fixed a determined stare on her that made her stomach quiver, and heat rose to her face. He stopped a couple of feet away and nodded to Myers without taking his eyes from her face. “Are you okay, Roselle?”

Myers turned his lips up in a sour grimace. He placed his hands on his hips. “What are you doing here, Boone? You almost hit my cruiser! I should arrest you for reckless driving and interfering with a crime scene investigation.” Myers squinted at Will. “You’re not intoxicated again, are you?”

At the last question, Roselle winced and Will jerked his gaze to Myers. His lower lip disappeared beneath his upper, a sure sign of anger. Roselle tensed and wondered if she should jump between them.

Finally, Will smoothed his features. “I was working on Chief Griffin’s lawn when his wife asked me to drive over. She heard Roselle’s name over the police scanner and knew I’d be worried and want to find out if she was safe. What are you doing? Looks like you’re standing around flirting with Roselle. Want me to take a message back to the chief for you?”

“Screw you.”

“Wow, that’s a little personal for me to deliver, don’t you think? I hope that’s not what you said to Mrs. Christie or Roselle. Sexual harassment is a popular lawsuit these days. In fact, I could lodge a lawsuit for your last comment.”

Like in a cartoon, she could almost imagine steam rising from Myers’ ears. He turned to Roselle. “Don’t go anywhere. I need your statement. Boone, leave before I arrest you for trespassing or take you in for another sobriety test.” He marched off, his back ramrod straight with anger.

“What are you doing here?” Roselle asked as soon as Myers slammed the side door. “And where’d you really come from?” She shot him a skeptical look. “The chief’s lawn? I’m sure his wife discusses all the cases with the landscaper. I could have thought up a better one.”

“I’m out of practice. And I was almost at the chief’s house, only a mile away.” Will shrugged and put on his I’m-totally-innocent look. “I was minding my own business and working hard on killing poison ivy in Mrs. Locke’s flowerbed when Robbie sent me a text message that said: Emergency at Christie’s. Roselle and Myers here too.” Will shrugged. “You have to admit the last part was pretty scary. I had to come.”

“Myers is harmless. He’s so full of hot air I’m surprised he doesn’t float away.” She stepped back from Will, trying to escape the invisible force field drawing her to him. “You can return to work...at the chief’s. You know you can’t afford to lose this job.” She cleared her throat like the disapproving schoolteacher who’d once given her detention.

“I’m on break. Isn’t that your car at the bottom of the drive?”

“I had a little collision with one of the Brotherhood.”

“Myers?”

“No, the real Brotherhood, but that’s not important at the moment. The ambulance came for Mrs. Christie.” The grief rose again and clogged the back of her throat.

“What happened to Mrs. Christie?” Will asked, keeping his gaze glued on her face. “Was she in the car with you?”

Roselle swallowed hard. “No. Mrs. Christie’s dead. It was awful. She was in the jelly cabinet. Who would have guessed it was dangerous to your health?” A strange laugh followed by a cry fell out of her mouth. Roselle covered her lips with a shaking hand. What was wrong with her? She dropped her hand. “Sorry.”

Will stepped forward and touched her cheek with a soft caress. Emotion swelled in her chest. She stared at him, unable to speak. Then he slipped his arms around her. She heaved a sigh and pressed her cheek to his chest. The familiar scents of fresh grass and soap clung to him. Beneath her ear, his heart beat, strong and steady.

She soaked up the heat and comfort from his body. Closing her eyes, she felt herself slipping back in time to when they’d been a couple. God, she missed him. She leaned into him, feeling the width and strength of his body, the softness of his shirt. His whiskered chin brushed across her hair and he murmured her name, low and deep.

The caressing tone shot awareness through her. Reality tumbled back into her life. What was she doing? She forced herself out of his arms, refusing to listen to her protesting heart. Out of habit, she checked his clear eyes and caught a whiff of his fresh breath. At least he was sober.

Don’t open yourself up for heartache again, her conscience warned. Hadn’t she learned anything from their break-up?

She averted her gaze; afraid he’d read the hurt in her eyes. When would the pain of their break-up end? Numbness was all she wanted from their relationship now.

Once, she’d read that if you pretended it didn’t hurt, sooner or later it wouldn’t. But the pretense didn’t seem to work. Maybe she wasn’t good at faking it. “I should go inside.” She tried to sound cool and untroubled. “I have to give my statement.”

“Let me drive you home afterwards, Roselle.” His voice was low and husky.

For a moment she teetered back and forth on the see-saw of want and reality.

Let him.

Don’t let him.

“Roselle?”

She heaved a sigh as her imaginary see-saw thudded to the grounded world of reality. It was too late for them, she wanted to say. I’ve always needed more from you than a ride.

Instead, she gave him a weak smile. “I need to get my car out of the ditch. You could give me a lift to the end of the drive and try pushing it out.”

For a flash of a second, she thought disappointment crossed his face, but it vanished before she could be certain.

It had been a mistake for him to come to Mrs. Christie’s in the first place, Will thought. Roselle still expected him to be drunk. He could tell by the way she searched his eyes, expecting them to be bloodshot. But once he’d read the text message, not even a restraining order could have stopped him.

Maybe this was his big chance to prove to Roselle that he’d straightened out. Hell, the only reason he still hung around this town was the hope that he’d prove to her he’d changed. He hadn’t turned out like his drunken, no-good absent dad, who’d left when Will was only eight years old.

Will didn’t know who’d be more surprised--his teachers and the doctor who had labeled him Attention Deficit Disorder or the psychologist who had diagnosed that he suffered from conduct disorder. His mother had thrown up her hands and declared him hardheaded and stubborn like his father.

Resigned, he crossed the yard and noted the brown spots in the grass. Grubs, he thought in the back of his mind.

Roselle was waiting for him on the passenger side of his truck. Her shoulders sagged forward and he knew she was upset. Was it all because of Mrs. Christie or because he’d rushed over like a damn fool who couldn’t stay away? She’d made her feelings clear when they’d broken up that a complete break was the best.

“I have a chain in the back,” he found himself saying to her.

She bit her lip and glanced around the yard like she expected someone. “Thanks,” she said, barely making eye contact.

Great. This was going well. They climbed inside the cab at the same time and he started the engine. “What do you think happened to Mrs. Christie?” he asked, making a u-turn at the top of the drive.

“Someone killed her.”

“Killed!” He hit the brakes, and they jerked forward and then backward, thanks to the seat belts.

“Hey! Stop!”

Will snapped his gaze to the rearview mirror. Myers shot down the front steps and serpentined across the yard like a drunken snake.

“Is he running after us?” Roselle looked out the window.

“Yeah, and I hope he’s not carrying scissors.” Will gunned the engine and they shot down the drive. He shouldn’t let Myers get to him.

Roselle had told him he had a problem with authority. He thought his elementary school teachers were responsible for his problem. At school, he’d overheard them whispering words about him like “unsupervised” and “lack of home discipline.” They blamed his mom because she worked nights at the hospital as a nurse, and he and his sister June were on their own after school. What did they all know? His mother was the best.

“Myers will probably call the entire Stark Falls Police force out to get us,” Roselle said, turning her attention back to him.

Will grinned. “I know.”

She shook her head. “You still love trouble.” She folded her hands in her lap like a prim and proper lady. “I just want to get my car out of the ditch.”

“Guess you won’t help when the cops take me away?”

“You’ll land on your feet. You’ve finagled more second chances than Oprah has failed at diets.”

“Jealous, Funny Girl?”

“Hardly.” She rolled her eyes at him and he stopped the truck at the end of the drive.

He climbed down from the cab and she hopped out. He trudged to the back of the truck and rummaged around in it. The wariness in Roselle’s eyes when she looked at him kept flashing through his mind. It peeved him. After all, he had walked off his job for her.

Worse, his body was reminding him that he still wanted her. He’d like a repeat of her body pressed against his. That last idea threatened to drown his irritation as he surveyed her car in the ditch. He knew her body well. He missed the firm breasts, the curve of her waist, and the slight dip of her back where he rested his hand.

Most of all, he missed her smart mouth, which she opened at the wrong times, and which he loved to kiss over and over.

But they were no more.

Hell, what is wrong with me?

He didn’t need more problems. He knew damn well he’d never be what she wanted--a guy who had it all together with the suit and tie and nine-to-five job. Still, a small hope hid in his mind.

Ah, there was the chain. Might as well get the job over. “Roselle, I’ve got it.” He grabbed hold of the links. “Roselle?”

Caryn Christie was dead, really dead. She’d have to go back and talk to Myers and call her mother. She’d have to tell her story twice, she thought. Roselle’s stomach clenched.

Okay, stay cool.

She reached her car. With both hands, she yanked on the handle and opened the door. The past half hour had sapped her energy. She bent down and froze.

The cover of the latest Inquisitor Newspaper was threaded through her steering wheel. What was this? She looked closer at the picture. How did it get-

Someone had tampered with the photo. Blood dripped from a blonde celebrity’s mouth. A red noose circled her neck and the other end encircled the scrawl: Keep Your Mouth Shut.

Chapter Three

What was wrong with her, Will wondered. She was standing outside of her car with shoulders hunched forward, her head bent. “Roselle?”

The stones of the drive crunched under the soles of his work boots as he crossed to her, and he touched her shoulder.

She jumped back with a gasp.

“Whoa, it’s only me.” He held his palms up at his sides in surrender. “What are you looking at?”

With a pale face and eyes full of fear, she pointed inside the vehicle and shook her head.

He shifted his gaze to the car. This wasn’t like her. “Are you okay?”

“No!” With a gasp of exasperation, she reached inside and yanked the paper off the steering wheel. The newspaper rattled as she shoved the front page of the Inquisitor under his nose.

Uneasy, he zeroed in on the headlines and the picture on the cover. Red, childish block letters grabbed his attention. Had this spooked her? Aloud, he read, “Keep your mouth shut.”

He shot her a skeptical look and focused on the noose around the blonde’s neck. No wonder she’d been upset, but it must be a joke. “Geez, Roselle, you’re a little jealous of a celebrity, aren’t you?”

“You think I did this?” She dropped the paper to her side with an exasperated noise.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you’re unhappy with yourself, just say so.” He shrugged, hoping to downplay the picture with a tease. “I guess drawing a face on a teenage girl might be considered non-threatening therapy, but couldn’t you have tried something more productive, like yoga?”

An angry expression replaced her frightened one. Good. Now she was more like herself.

“You’re full of yourself, William Boone. I bet you think I’m all about losing it because we broke up. Wrong, big time. Someone is threatening me.” She jabbed a finger at each word. “Keep your mouth shut.” Roselle took a gulp of air. “And it’s written in blood.”

“Let me see.” Will took the paper. “Roselle, it’s lipstick. You probably dropped it out of your purse and it’s been rolling around in your car for months. Some wise guy came by, found it, and scribbled a few words as a joke.”

She wrapped her arms about her waist. “It’s not very funny.” Wrinkling her nose with doubt, she studied the paper again. “And wise guy is the key. I think it’s from Eddie Ferrani.”

“Fast Eddie?”

Roselle snapped her attention to his face. “You know him?”

“Of course, he’s part owner of the Lakes Center Dog Track. My sister got me a job as a dog handler there last summer. Remember?”

Deep lines of sadness formed around her mouth and she stared at him. “Remember your sister?” she whispered in a strained voice. “How can I forget her?”

The zing of pain mixed with guilt as it hit his chest. He struggled for calm and stepped away to regain his balance.

It’d been six months since his sister’s death, but it felt like an eternity of drowning in grief and loss. He could still see her wrinkling up her freckled nose and saying his name in that exasperated way sisters do. As the track’s bookkeeper, June had stepped up and put in enough good words for him to snag a summer job.

Concentrate on the moment, he reminded himself.

“Why do you think Fast Eddie was driving by, happened to see your car in the ditch, and decided to drop in to practice his penmanship on a newspaper in your car?”

“Gee, why don’t you say it like you don’t believe it?” She wet her lips and her eyes darted around the area like she expected Fast Eddie to jump out from behind the car bumper.

He seized her arm before she could walk away. “If you think Fast Eddie did this, then we need to talk. Later? Can you meet me?”

She froze, and he realized the words had triggered a memory. He was not immune either. The past flooded his mind, hurtling him back to the spring of their senior year.

That day he’d stood on the edge of Roselle Lewis’ property line for more than ten minutes. Pacing back and forth in the empty lot, he hoped he’d chosen the right window in the red cape cod house with the white trim.

Overhead, the late afternoon sun beat down on him. A chipmunk scurried across the Lewis’ freshly-mown lawn and the odor of the cut grass hung in the air. In the breeze, the backyard hammock swung between two white birches. All was quiet.

Her parents might be at home, he thought, but he loved the rush a risk gave him. With the control in his hands, he set the plane to taxi and then to lift off from the lot. Success hoisted his spirits as the model soared up into the clear sky. Smiling, he set it straight for his target: Roselle’s window.

She must have heard the buzz of the small motor because suddenly she was at the window, yanking it open. Leaning out, she signaled to him, then snapped her attention to the model winging toward her. Deftly he steered the plane into a semi-circle. She leaned further out as the airplane flew by and then waved her arms before disappearing inside.

Success. His black plane circled round for a landing and he could read his own words painted in large white letters on the side of the plane: Meet me tonight.

“Will?”

Mentally he shook away the memory and turned to her. “What?”

“Are you going to hook me up with the chain?”

“What?” He smiled in a teasing way. “Now you tell me you’re into S and M...”

“Forget your fantasies and help me.”

She was ready to leave him. She hadn’t changed physically during the past four years, but her feelings for him had. How had everything gotten so screwed up?

“Earth to Will you or won’t you help me? We need a chain for my car, not me.”

“Sure.” He gathered up the length of chain from the truck bed. The links clinked as he carried them to her bumper. In the distance an ATV roared and the tree branches beat in the fall wind, scattering their colored leaves.

He connected the vehicles and jumped in his cab. From the driver’s seat of her car, Roselle nodded her head. The two motors clamored to life. With a rev of the engines and a spit of mud and stones from the tires, she was free of the ditch. And free of him. The familiar ache of loss attacked him again, but he ignored it.

He cut the motor and jumped out. Gas and exhaust hung in the air. As he approached her car she lowered her window. “Roselle, if it’s true that Fast Eddie is leaving you messages, you’d better watch out for him. He’s not the type of man you want to mess around with. I can stay until the police arrive and let you leave.”

She motioned for him to bend closer. “I think he killed Mrs. Christie,” she whispered. Her eyes widened with meaning.

“Eddie Ferrani?” He stared at her, recognizing terror in her eyes while something else was nudging into the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp.

A siren stole his attention. Out on the road, a state cruiser was headed straight for them. The brakes whined as the vehicle stopped, blocking the drive and their exit. A large moss-green vehicle that looked like an ice cream truck tagged along behind it, but no cheerful music was playing. Major Crime Unit was lettered on the side, and the seal of New Hampshire was stamped on the door. A six-foot trooper with a take-no-prisoners attitude leaped out of the cruiser and marched toward them.

“Oh, great. Myers is having us arrested.” Roselle gripped the steering wheel.

“Roselle Lewis?” the trooper asked, stopping three feet away.

Will jerked his attention from Roselle to the trooper. “Why do you want to know?”

The trooper scowled at him and then directed his attention to Roselle. “Miss Lewis, I need you to step out of your car and come with me.”

“Am I under arrest?” She threw a questioning look at Will, who stepped back. Shutting off her car, she opened the door and eased out of the seat.

“Look, officer, I don’t know what you think or have heard, but Roselle hasn’t done anything wrong.”

The officer ignored him. “You found a body inside the Christie residence, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to make a statement and answer questions, ma’am.”

Myers was responsible for this. Will slid in front of Roselle, blocking her. “Officer--”

”It’s okay, Will.” Roselle scooted around him and addressed the trooper. “Let me pull my car to the side of the driveway. Will, I’ll see you later. Go finish your job.” When he shook his head, she added, “I’m fine. Thanks for the help.”

“I’ll take care of your car.” The trooper held out his hand for her keys. Another trooper jumped out of the big truck and marched up to stand beside Roselle, dwarfing her on the other side.

She shrugged. “If you want to be my chauffeur, knock yourself out.” She dropped the keys into the outstretched palm of the officer.

Will crowded closer to her. “Roselle, are you sure you want me to go? I can wait for you...”

“Are you William Boone?” Roselle’s new guardian interrupted.

“You want my autograph for the guys at the station?” He grinned his bad-boy smile.

Roselle threw him a warning glance, but he never did listen to reason.

“Sir, this is a crime scene,” the trooper announced. “Officer Myers has asked us to order you to leave or to arrest you.”

Roselle’s gaze begged him to go. “Will, you don’t want to lose another job.”

Her plea irritated him. He’d lost the other jobs because he couldn’t sober up, but he’d been fine for more than two months now.

Finally, he shrugged in anger and helplessness. He headed to his vehicle. One of the troopers signaled to the ice cream truck to move aside, and the driver backed onto the road, unblocking Will’s path.

He had to return to work. Roselle was right. He needed this job. He’d blown his other employment because of tardiness and because he was too hung-over to show up. Now he had the Gro Rite job, thanks to his Grandfather, and he was damn lucky to have one more chance in Stark Falls.

All he needed was another chance with Roselle.

With the truck in gear, he cruised out of the driveway. Maybe he’d call Roselle later. Then she could fill him in on what the cops thought happened between Fast Eddie and Mrs. Christie. Uneasy, he glanced in the rear mirror at her small shape. He held her in his view until he rounded the curve. Then she disappeared from his sight and his life.

*****

Hearing the jingle of the bell above the entrance of Kozy’s Coffee Shop, Roselle glanced up from the hot drink station near the cashier. For once in her life, she hoped a bus of little gray-haired ladies was emptying into Kozy’s for a cup of tea and a piece of jelly toast.

Monday mornings were always slow. Today, though, she’d looked forward to the routine of work and putting her hellish weekend of murder out of her thoughts. The familiar sounds of silverware, plates, coffee cups and voices filled the dining room with a comfortable reassurance.

Yesterday she’d tried to relax, but the memories of Mrs. Christie falling out of the jelly cabinet and the police interview had stayed glued in her mind. The questions and flashbacks of the murder had merged into a giant mental collage, with her father’s Johnny Cash prison songs playing in the background.

She blinked and brought herself to the present. Mrs. Regan, one of a group of customers that the waitresses called the Retired Regulars, marched past, determined to stake her claim--a booth where she could gossip with her friends. Some of her elderly companions had already gathered in the rear and joined Vince Christie. They’d taken him under their wings when they’d discovered him in his blue Clone Copiers shirt, slumped in his seat.

Roselle had waited on him, and Angie had drawn a smiley face with jelly on a piece of toast and delivered it to him. But nothing seemed to cheer Vince, and for some strange reason Roselle felt responsible for him after their disastrous meeting at his aunt’s. At least with the grandmotherly types gathered around him, Roselle could stop worrying about him.

A foot past Roselle, Mrs. Regan slid to a stop and whirled to her. “You’ve caused your mother a lot of grief, young lady.”

Roselle stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“The police are questioning everyone about Mrs. Christie. Your poor mother.” She pivoted around and shot to her booth at a brisk trot.

What did she, Roselle Lewis, have to do with the police questioning everyone? And her poor mother? Mrs. Regan was delusional. That’s what years of teaching High School Health, or Sex Ed as the students always called it, did to you.

Outside, a large hefty man stopped in front of the restaurant’s picture window. Roselle wrenched her attention to him. He had a long scar above his right eyebrow, probably from a murder gone south. Maybe he was one of Fast Eddie’s “family” members. Was he stalking her?

The man adjusted his glasses and peered into the window. Roselle tightened her hand on the coffee pot handle. Fast Eddie must have heard by now that she’d given his name to the police. Somehow she didn’t think he would send her a thank-you basket.

With her heart thudding faster than a jackhammer, she scanned the restaurant. At any moment, she expected Fast Eddie to jump out from hiding in a booth. He’d stomp to her with his cigar clamped between his teeth and his eyes burning with anger. He’d raise a hand clasping a large black gun...

Oh good Lord! She was scaring herself with these daydreams. She had to stop. What was the man doing outside?

He was studying something. Maybe he wasn’t a Mafia hit man after all. He looked a little wimpy, squinting through his black-rimmed glasses. Maybe the scar was from walking into a door. Wait, he was reading the Stark Falls poster advertising the Great Pumpkin Festival scheduled for next weekend.

She let out her breath.

The bell above the door jingled. She jumped and slanted a glance at the new customer: it was Will. Relief followed by pain shot through her. Maybe she did want Fast Eddie. At least he only scared her. Will’s presence triggered all sorts of jumbled emotions knotting and twisting her stomach. She wanted to see him. She didn’t want to see him.

And she couldn’t shake the image of them together at Mrs. Christie’s. Her mind lingered over the feel of his warm arms wrapped around her waist and the familiarity of his hands on her body. Her skin prickled with a mixture of delight and dread. She’d been tempted to call him last night. Staring at the phone in her apartment, she thought how easy it would be to talk to him with just a few punched numbers.

Then her sanity had kicked her where it hurts and she’d stopped being pathetic over a man.

But now he’d returned to torment her further. She felt like her insides had turned over. He strode through the dining room with an energy that a person with ADHD would have envied, and she was mentally thrown back to another day of senior year.

The last dance before summer vacation. He’d met her under the lights in the gym parking lot. Energy blazed around him and within a few minutes, he’d whisked her away in his ‘95 Chevy for a surprise. In no time at all, she had no idea where they were. Worse, no one else knew where she was. She’d told her parents she was going to the high school dance with her best friend, not skipping a senior function with the boy most likely to be voted class delinquent by the yearbook committee.

They’d made small talk between songs on the radio for about an hour when she saw the strobe lights. An airport, she thought. He pulled off into a field and killed the engine. Ahead, the illuminations blazed like proud guardians around the strip. Rows and rows of red lights on poles like giant road reflectors fenced in the landing field.

Outside the car, the air was warm and inviting. The sounds of crickets and the roar of a truck from the main road floated through the air. Will had hopped up on the Chevy’s hood. “Come on.”

She’d kicked off her clogs, braced her hands on the warm metal, and jumped up. The heat from the motor seeped through her short blue denim skirt. On her metal perch, she tried to study her date without him catching on. After all, what did she really know about him besides he was cute and that his mother had sent him to Catholic Elementary School to try and discipline him?

Dressed in cut-offs and a faded gray T-shirt, he looked normal enough.

His blonde hair hung over his eyes. She needed to see them. Didn’t people always check out your eyes for signs of craziness, and weren’t parents always able to read every hidden detail of your night out by staring into them?

He swept a hand across his forehead, shoving aside his hair, and revealed a clear view of his face. “What do you think?” He waved a hand at the lights.

“Where are we?” She was sure that wherever they were, they weren’t supposed to be there.

“Private airport. Cool, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” She glanced at the perimeter of red lights until they blurred together. “Looks like a punishment for running a stop light.” She blinked her eyes several times, trying to get rid of the blurry image. “How close do the planes fly to us?”

His lips curled into a grin. “This is the end of the runway, but if a plane takes off, we’ll get a good rush.”

“I bet.” She tugged her short skirt down while contemplating the wind draft and the noise of a giant mechanical metal flying machine a few feet above her head. One good whoosh and there would go her hair, and if the pilot miscalculated-

Goose bumps broke out over her arms.

“My grandfather has his pilot’s license and he’s taken me up in his ultra-light. Have you ever flown?”

“I’m more of a two-feet-on-the-ground type of girl.”

Will’s eyes lit with excitement, and his lips opened with anticipation. He focused on the sky. Suddenly he leaped to his feet. The metal of the hood creaked and sagged beneath his weight.

He flung his arms open to the sky above and tilted his head back. “Imagine flying through the night sky in a jet. The stars are shining a few feet from your window.”

A hushed excitement flowed through his voice and into Roselle. She felt it vibrating deep inside, causing her nerve endings to snap and dance.

Surprised and confused, she stared up at him. He was the most...different boy she’d ever met. She leaned her head back, trying to see whatever he saw in the night sky.

She’d been so nervous, she’d failed to notice the bright stars twinkling over her head. Now they shimmered, sending out streaks of silver. A full moon hung above, glowing.

“Think, Roselle,” Will said. “Flying so high where no one can touch you and all your problems are left behind.” He danced a few steps on the hood and lifted his arms upward. “What a great night! It feels like you can reach out and pick a star out of the sky, doesn’t it?”

Squinting her eyes, she leaned back, trying to imagine herself sailing through the night in a jet. The lights blurred and whirled in her head. She fell against the hood with a plop. “Ah, maybe not. I don’t think I want to be a Wright sister.”

“Can’t you feel it? Stand up!”

“It’s pretty,” she said, unwilling to move from her safe spot. “I’ll tell you the truth. I hate heights and have never wanted to fly.”

He crouched down beside her. The fragrance of fresh soap and Will’s supercharged energy closed around them.

All she could see and feel was Will hovering over her.

“Don’t tell me you’re a land lover?”

“Gives new meaning to the word grounded, doesn’t it?” she quipped. Her nerves jingled more the closer he leaned.

“I like you, Funny Girl.” His lips crooked into that smile that made her breath catch. “But we’d better be careful. It’s a Fool Moon tonight. Crazy things happen on these nights.”

“Fool?” she managed to say. Every inch of skin on her body hummed with awareness of him. “Are you going to do something insane like turn into a werewolf or Michael Jackson?”

His glance raked across her mouth. “Better,” he whispered.

Anticipation and jitters curled in her stomach as she understood his meaning. She held her breath, and over his shoulder staring down at her, she saw the white face of the fool moon.

She swore it winked at her before she closed her eyes.

Chapter Four

“Do you want him?”

“Huh?” Roselle’s mind clutched at the fleeting memory of Will’s mouth about to touch hers.

“Roselle?”

She jerked her attention from her daydream to Mike Kozy, her boss at Kozy’s Coffee Shop. With his dark hair and midnight eyes he looked like one of the Greek gods he loved to talk about. His real name was Kozyacropolous, but he’d changed his name to fit it on the sign on the restaurant.

He was short for a man, barely five-seven, and he was peering into her face. She had an excellent view of his bushy black eyebrows, sharp nose, and thin moustache. In his hands, he held the breakfast menus that he’d been collecting to give out again to the new customers.

“Do you want him?” he repeated, gesturing at Will who’d stopped to talk to a friend of his grandfather’s.

Was Kozy reading her mind? Her face heated, remembering her last daydream. Refocusing, she pinned her gaze on Will and wished for a moment that he could be someone else...someone she could depend on.

That was a foolish wish. Will didn’t follow rules. He would never settle down to the predictable life of nine-to-five with the little wife, the white picket fence, and a prestigious job. Will’s claim to fame was his past list of misdemeanors in the police log, which her mom liked to read and shake her head over. During those moments of mother and daughter bonding time, Roselle wanted to sink through the floor or sign her mother up for that reality show where people traded parents. Even jail sounded like a good escape route.

“I can give him to Marcia.” Kozy waved his hands in the air.

One of the other breakfast waitresses, Marcia was her mom’s age. Marcia always made a fuss over Will when he came into the restaurant. She was like a young girl, flirting and hitting on a man for a date. To Roselle’s irritation, Will loved the attention.

A pain squeezed her chest, and she struggled with the ache. Women younger than Marcia had probably been hooking up with Will. Maybe she should suggest that Angie wait on him instead. Angie was eighteen and worked the name of her boyfriend into every sentence out of her mouth. She was safe with Will.

Roselle shot a glance at Angie, who was waiting on Mrs. Regan and her two friends. Angie had taken a step back, and her eyes had flown open like a cornered wild animal’s. She’d need some decompression time after that order.

“Are you taking him or not?” Kozy pressed.

Although he sounded gruff, he was trying to be kind, a rare quality for him to exhibit. He was all about the business.

“I can handle him, thanks.” She’d come to work to forget her troubles and feel normal, and by God she was going to.

Marching to the drink station, she grabbed the full coffee pot. With a pasted bright smile on her face, she rounded the booths and tables, offering more shots of caffeine.

“More customers, more customers,” she prayed. Then she’d have little time to chat with Will.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t handling it as well as she’d like to believe.

She threw a glance at him. He was following Kozy to a booth in the rear. Dressed in khaki jeans, LL Bean boots, and a blue chamois shirt, he looked like that old cliché good enough to eat--or, better, to gobble whole. Why did he have to look so hot?

His invisible magnetic waves were drawing her to him. She closed her eyes and imagined a force like a giant vacuum sucking her up and spitting her out. With a plop, she’d land in Will’s lap.

Marcia’s laugh broke her reverie. Kozy had seated Will, and Marcia had swooped in to laugh and flirt with him.

Roselle gave Marcia a once-over. For her age, she looked¼pretty sexy. She still had a slim body, not the find-my-waist-if-you-can appearance of some middle-aged women.

Finished with round one of flirting, Marcia moved away from Will. Across the floor, she made eye contact with Roselle and sent her a poor-jilted-girl pity look.

Roselle’s happy waitress facade chipped and flaked off. She inhaled deeply like she’d seen people do in yoga ads.

Okay, pull yourself together.

She’d show Marcia that she wasn’t pathetic.

Roselle marched to Will’s booth. He was staring at the menu. Leaning toward him, she caught a whiff of his spicy aftershave. The aroma mixed with the dining room’s odors of eggs and bacon made her head spin like she’d been awarded the Food Network’s Waitress of the Year Award. She straightened to try and regain her composure. Raising the coffee pot, she inhaled and cleared her throat to ask the all-important question: “Coffee?”

He pushed his mug toward her. “Please.”

Concentrating on pouring, she felt his stare on her. “Refills are free,” she chanted.

Will caught her other hand. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft and low, but it vibrated through every cell of her body.

Will was holding her hand.

His was calloused, but the gentle touch of their hands together sent more charges through her. Suddenly tears were pricking her eyes. She blinked. What was wrong with her? She wanted to run out of the shop and sob, but she knew Kozy would dock her pay. Plus, Will had tightened his grip on her.

She shrugged and forced a smile, but her words tumbled out. “It was terrible. Why would anyone kill Mrs. Christie?”

“Did they find out if anything was stolen? Did they arrest Eddie Ferrani?”

“I¼I don’t know¼about stolen-” She stared into his brown mug of coffee. Tears jammed in her throat and spilled down her cheeks. Shoot, what was she doing? She must look like a fool. Sobbing hadn’t been in her I’m-too-cool-for-my-coffee-pouring plan.

“Come on.” He rose and removed the pot from her hand. He tugged her along to the next booth where he sat the hot drink in front of a snoozing white-haired man.

“Excuse me, sir,” Will said. “Wake up call.”

The older man peeled open a bloodshot eye.

“All the pots of coffee you can drink, special today. Help yourself.” Will smiled and nodded.

The man stuck his head forward like a turtle and peered at the full pot. “Gee, thanks! This restaurant has the best service ever. Where am I again?”

“Kozy’s, and ask for Roselle. She’s the best.” Will was already leading her toward the kitchen. He pushed through the swinging door.

The heat of the kitchen woke her from the weepy state. “Stop. You can’t be in the kitchen with me.” Shocked, she twisted around, expecting to see Kozy storming after them. “I’ll get fired. I can’t walk out at any old time to chat with a customer.”

Behind them the chef, nicknamed Baldy, arched one continuous black eyebrow. He sneered at them over a dish of sunny-side-up eggs in his hand.

She grabbed Will’s arm, dragged him into the walk-in cooler, and shut the door.

“I’ve heard of the cold treatment, Roselle, but this is too much.” Will glanced at the milks, creams, and pies lining the shelves.

She hugged her arms over her chest for warmth. Leaning in to speak, she felt the heat of his body and caught the scent of pine. The air around them thickened with tension. She longed to break it and retreated a step. “Talk fast, Will.”

His eyebrows quirked upward. “I’ve been accused of being a fast talker but not usually under these circumstances.” His lips drew into a straight line and awareness edged his gaze. “You should have taken the morning off. You found a dead person less than two days ago. You need to take it easy.”

“You used to say I was always easy.”

He didn’t crack a smile.

So much for humor. She’d try a serious tack. “I’m scheduled to work. Besides, I’d rather be here. If I sit upstairs in my apartment, I’ll think about Mrs. Christie, how she looked at me with her open, dead eyes... You can’t imagine.”

She locked her gaze on him, trying to force him to picture the horror. A lump of tears crawled up from her chest and grew into a huge choking ball in her throat.

“Take a few minutes for a break.” His arms crept around her.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the warmth and safety he offered. The fragrance of the familiar detergent clinging to his shirt acted like a shot of tranquilizer. She calmed and felt steadier. He caressed her shoulders, her neck. Beneath her cheek pressed to his chest, she felt the heat of his body.

This was where she wanted to be.

“Will, I reported seeing Fast Eddie to the police, and I’m a little worried about it.”

“I don’t blame you for being scared. He’s rumored to have connections with Mafia hit men.”

“That makes me feel tons better.” Annoyed, she pushed away from his embrace and brushed at the tears that had trickled down her cheeks and into her mouth. And I never said I was afraid.” Men! They never could offer sympathy for long. What had she been thinking?

“Listen, you need to take care of yourself. They haven’t arrested Eddie Ferrani, have they?”

“I don’t think so. The police were bringing him in for questioning.”

“You should take a vacation until he’s in police custody.”

“I’ve used all my vacation time.” He should remember. They’d flown to Florida during the winter and enjoyed the sun, the beaches, and, most of all, each other. She kicked that mental door shut with a slam.

“Come on, Roselle. Let’s go upstairs. You’re upset.”

Upstairs? To her little apartment? The two of them? Images flashed in her head. Will and herself shedding clothes¼stumbling toward the bed¼locked together in hot, sticky sex. She shivered but not from the cold.

“How about it, Roselle?”

Since forever, she’d longed for him to appear and magically say those words. Pathetic. She should have an extreme make-over.

“Kozy will understand,” he whispered.

“Kozy!” She plunged back into reality, shoving at the lingering memory. A new picture popped in her mind: Kozy doing a Donald Trump imitation, yelling at her, “You’re fired!”

No! What was wrong with her? Her relationship with Will was over. She was strong enough to refuse him without the threat of Kozy. Yes, she was. Will’s offer to go upstairs was nothing more than a polite gesture.

She was a sad, hopeless person.

“Are you okay?” He tipped her chin up with his thumb. “What are you really thinking? Fess up.”

“Forget it. I’m too selfish to share. Get your own thoughts.” She swatted away the hand before his touch stirred up more feelings. “I’m going back to work because I’m a dedicated professional.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “We can’t even agree to talk to each other?”

“We can talk, just not on my shift. You order and eat when I’m on the job.” She pulled open the door, and Angie gave a gasp and jumped away.

“Sorry, Kozy should put a bell on the door to announce someone is on the other side about to pass through.”

The younger girl nodded but her eyes widened more as Will walked out. “Wow, I wish my boyfriend Karl was in the walk-in. He’s sweeter than pie.”

“Sorry, I’m Roselle’s dessert.” Will stepped out of the walk-in.

Irritated with the whole scene, Roselle shut the walk-in door with more force than needed.

“And she won’t share.” Will shrugged, giving Angie an apologetic glance.

Ignoring them and Baldy’s glare, Roselle continued across the kitchen floor and through the swinging door into the restaurant. Let Will flirt with Angie. She didn’t care.

She picked up another coffee pot from a station, aware that Will was returning to his booth.

In the dining room everyone was ordering, eating, chatting. No one had missed her. “Reality therapy,” she muttered.

She made the coffee rounds and then picked up an order and delivered it. When she reached Will’s booth again, it was empty. Only a five-dollar bill lay on top of the full mug.

He’d left without drinking his coffee. The ache of longing returned and throbbed in her chest. Tears stung and she brushed a hand over her eyes. What a blubbering, hormonal idiot she was today. It was damn unfair that she still cared about a man not worth caring about. Time to give it up.

She reached across the table to take the unused menu. Underneath lay a small manila envelope with the words A Tip For You printed on the outside.

Will had left her a gift? Five dollars and a gift? Wow, had he really come to make up and she’d chased him away? The present must be a sign that he wanted to get back together. He’d been sober today.

Her heart thumping with hope, she picked up the envelope. She yanked open the flap. A small white box was inside. Jewelry? It felt more like money, she thought, squeezing the box with hope.

Eagerly, she fumbled with the lid. Finally she had it open and stared down at a roll of pink.

What...?

She pulled it out and screamed.

Chapter Five

Pink slime squished in her fingers. “Eww!”

Get rid of it, her mind shouted. She flung it in the air.

The whatever-it-was went flying and landed with a plunk on Mrs. Regan’s plate. She squinted at it over her glasses.

“Roselle, what happened? What’s wrong?” From his post as the greeter, Mike Kozy loped across the floor to the rear of the restaurant.

She shivered. “That...thing.” Unable to look, she pointed in the general direction.

A plate of steaming pancakes in her hand, Angie crept closer. “Something landed on Mrs. Regan’s food.” The waitress blinked several times. “I wish my boyfriend was here to help us.”

“See what it is, Angie.” Kozy put an arm around Roselle’s shoulder. “Take a break. You had a rough time over the weekend with the jelly cabinet and Mrs. Christie and all.” He guided her toward a seat.

Vince was standing beside the booth, looking helpless. “Can I do something?”

Roselle forced a smile. “Thanks, Vince. I’m fine.”

“Go sit down and tell the others it’s okay,” Kozy ordered in a low voice.

“Yes, Vince, please do what Kozy says.” Roselle nodded in encouragement.

Vince stuck his hands in his jean pockets and headed to his booth. Roselle started to slide into the green vinyl seat when she saw a folded sheet of paper lying near her feet. It must have fallen out of the box when she’d ejected her present. Blah.

Sweeping it up off the wooden floor, she read the large block letters: People with loose tongues end up in a box.

“Fast Eddie,” she whispered. Sick dread clogged her throat, and she sank into the seat.

“Who’s Fast Eddie?” Mike Kozy glanced at the paper clutched in her hand. “Someone who works at a fast food store?”

“You don’t know Fast Eddie?” Marcia asked, creeping up on them. “He’s an owner of the dog track and a Mafia hit man. Fast Eddie snuffed out his own son-in-law at a family Fourth of July barbecue when the son-in-law burnt the hot dogs.”

The swinging kitchen door swooshed open and Baldy stepped through with a carving knife gripped in his hand. A frown tugged at his mouth, and he searched the dining room with a scowl. “Thought someone was complaining about my food. I heard a scream.”

“We’d better move into the kitchen,” Kozy announced. His gaze skittered around the room at his gaping customers.

Roselle shifted her attention. Customers were staring at her like she was the dreaded health inspector.

“Come on.” Kozy took her elbow and helped her stand.

Roselle clenched the note in her hand as they all retreated into the kitchen and stood in a cluster. The stifling heat from the dishwasher and stove encircled them.

“I heard another rumor that his son-in-law was alive and had moved to California because he was a wannabe movie star,” Marica announced, picking up the conversation. “He feared his father-in-law would blame him for his wife’s new make-over at Lu’s Salon. She looked kinda slutty with poofy hair and lots of eyeshadow and red lipstick.”

“I heard he ran off to Australia,” Angie interjected, “because he borrowed big bucks to build a shopping mall in Stark Falls and then lost all the money. Or maybe it was Manhattan...”

“I don’t know this Eddie guy,” Baldy said, narrowing his eyes. “Did he complain about my cooking?” He tightened his fingers on the handle of the knife.

“Everyone loves your cooking.” Kozy waved his hands in the air like he could erase any complaints. “You never burn anything, Baldy, and you never shed a hair in the food.”

“Good, then pick-up for Marcia.” The chef retreated across the tiled floor, his knife pointed downward.

“Personally, I think the son-in-law has gone to the great beyond. The California move was the cover story for putting out the kid’s lights.” Marcia nodded her head like a wise sage while she walked backward towards the waiting food sitting under the warming lights. “I wouldn’t want to be Roselle if she’s offended a member of the mob.”

“I don’t know anything about his son or the mob, but I found a note that must have fallen out with the¼gift.” Roselle held up the folded piece of paper.

“You’d better have it fingerprinted with colored powder, like on the TV show,” Angie said. “My boyfriend Karl once had his fingerprints taken and couldn’t wash it off for a week. They must have used a permanent marker.”

“Maybe we should start asking all the customers questions.” Marcia stopped by them, balancing three plates of bacon and eggs in her hands. “Somebody might have seen something. Maybe Will did. Where’s he? You don’t think he had anything-” She broke off, staring into Roselle’s face.

“Are you hinting something about Will?” Roselle made a grasp at her rising temper.

“We only ask the customers what they want to eat or drink,” Kozy ordered. “Nothing else. We don’t question our patrons like pollsters before the first primary election.”

“Will might have been an unwilling messenger, like those people who take suitcases from strangers on airplanes and they all blow up. My boyfriend Karl told me a story about a smuggler who put dynamite in a peanut. How do you think anyone could squeeze an explosive into a peanut shell? I bet Will could tell us.”

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Roselle heard the anger in her voice, but couldn’t stop herself. “Will would never take a gum wrapper, never mind an envelope, from Fast Eddie.” She swallowed the lump of rage and fear threatening to close up her throat. “I guess we should call the police.”

Angie edged closer. “I heard Fast Eddie did something to Mrs. Christie.” The young girl’s eyes widened and her lips trembled. “Was she his moll?”

“His mall? What was she, a shopping queen?” Kozy winced. “Never mind, what’s the letter say, Roselle?”

At the squeak of the swinging kitchen door, Roselle went on alert and snapped her attention to the new person in the room.

“Excuse me.” Mrs. Regan stood a foot away on the tiled floor. In her lime-green running suit, she seemed to glow against the tan kitchen tiles. She held out a plate. A pink tongue lay on top of a slice of uneaten buttered toast. “When did you start serving delicacies?”

Roselle’s stomach rolled. Please don’t let me be sick...

“Tongue.” Mrs. Regan raised her plate and looked over her glasses at Roselle. “Cow’s, if I’m any judge. Though the way it flew through the air it looked more like a bird’s-”

“It was just a sample, Mrs. Regan.” Kozy removed the dish from her hands with a yank. “Roselle didn’t realize we were taste-testing the changes for the new menu and was surprised. Do you need fresh coffee?”

“No thanks.” She made a grab for the dish, but Kozy moved it out of reach. Mrs. Regan made a disapproving sound. “Hmph, some customers are treated like second-class citizens while others get delicacies like tongue. And you call this service?” She whirled on the heels of her hightop sneakers and stomped from the kitchen.

Roselle hunched her shoulders, trying to control the revulsion racing through her. “Yuck!”

“It was only part of an animal, honey.” Marcia laid a hand on her shoulder.

Roselle shuddered. She hoped her mother never heard about the flying tongue. She’d start in on a new gripe: what a dangerous job waitressing was, and how if she would study to become a doctor, she’d only have to deal with tongue depressors.

Marcia leaned closer. “If you need a safe house away from that gangster, I have a second cousin who lives in Trenton, New Jersey. You could stay with her for a little while--as long as you don’t mind the tolls you have to pay driving down there.”

“Thanks, Marcia. I’ll be okay living upstairs without tolls.”

“All right, ladies.” Kozy clapped his hands together. “Marcia, deliver your food.”

Marcia threw Roselle another look of pity and left with the plate.

“Here’s my plan,” Kozy spoke without moving his lips.

Was he afraid someone was spying on them? Roselle wondered, crowding closer. Across the room, Baldy was frying eggs, cooking bacon, and managing orders of sausage. No one else was about.

“We can’t alarm the customers any more today. They stopped eating when Roselle screamed.” Kozy’s eyes slid back and forth, eyeing the imaginary eavesdroppers. “And only one of my waitresses is working. All bad for business. Angie, check for pick up,” Kozy continued. “Roselle, make your phone call to the police and do whatever you have to do without creating a spectacle. I’ve got it. We’ll offer the cops free coffee and donuts to cover up the real reason for their visit.”

“We’ll need to tape off the booth where Roselle found the cow part,” Angie suggested. “It’s a crime scene. I saw that in a movie last week when I was at my boyfriend Karl’s house.”

Kozy raised one dark brow and nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped Roselle. Here was another reason she loved Stark Falls. Friends were always ready to help.

Marcia came back through the swinging door and Kozy told her the big plan.

“I’ll ask the customers if they saw anyone besides Will in the booth.” Marcia raised a hand when Kozy started to protest. “I’ll tell them we were stiffed on an order and we’re tracking down the offender. Roselle, honey, I know you don’t want to think about this, but maybe Will left the gift for you. After all, you did break up with him and broke his heart.”

“What? I broke up with him? It was a mutual agreement by consenting adults!” Where did Marcia hear such garbage?

The older waitress held up a hand like she was ready for a karate chop and waved it back and forth. “I know, later you changed your mind and he wouldn’t take you back.”

“I never asked for a second go-round.” Roselle felt her temper flowing through her system, taking control.

“Oh, sure, honey.” Marcia’s eyes rolled around in her eye sockets in disbelief.

“Get to work.” Kozy flicked his hands at the women. “I’ll put the¼evidence inside the walk-in cooler.”

Smarting from Marcia’s comments, Roselle stomped into the dining room and paused to cool down in front of the crime scene.

Kozy joined her and studied the booth.

“Won’t taping off the area cause a problem?” Roselle glanced at the customers, who had twisted their heads in their direction.

“I’ll take care of it.” Kozy pivoted on his heel and Roselle was left alone with all the patrons throwing her covert and curious looks. She wanted to pick up the menu and hide her face in it. At least Kozy had taken the “tongue” with him.

He reappeared in a few minutes. “I’ve put away the evidence.” He scooted between the seat and the table, slapping a Pumpkin Festival sign on the table. “I had extras in the back room.”

Turning over the poster, he drew a pen out of his shirt pocket and wrote: “Waitress-in-training booth.”

Then he pulled a roll of tape out of his pants pocket. Clearly, Mike Kozy should be a scout leader. He was always prepared.

“That will keep them away.” He ran a hand over the taped up poster. “You should make a report to the police department in private, upstairs.”

She nodded, gathering her courage to walk past the customers, who were watching and getting ready to gossip about her once her back was turned. She forced a smile and said in a louder voice, “I’ll take my break now.”

She took a step and froze. Customers’ heads moved up and down like they were bobble dolls in the rear window of a car. Their gazes fixed on her while Kozy went into automatic chatter, refilling coffees. The patrons seemed much more interested in her than in their next free refill.

Roselle tilted her chin up and marched across the floor and out the connecting door to the hallway. She raced up the steps to the safety of her snug little abode.

Inside, she pulled the detective’s card out of her wallet and punched in the number on the old-fashioned land phone.

A thin high voice stated that she’d reached the answering service for the Stark Falls Police Department. All lines were busy, would she please hold or push the known extension for her party.

Hold? What kind of a department was this? They only had two lines anyway. Making a swift decision, she pressed the number for Detective Cusato’s voice mail. She left her tale of woe, all the while thinking she could do a better job running the station.

Then she hung up and stood alone in the silence of her kitchen. On the wall, the kitty clock ticked away her workday. Well, now what should she do? Should she call again and ask to speak to Myers?

Would Kozy’s dream of tricking the customers into thinking the police had stopped by for a donut and coffee work? In her mind, she pictured the arrival of a SWAT team charging into Kozy’s Coffee Shop. They’d stand around in their team jackets over bulletproof vests wearing their helmets at the waitress-in-training booth. Roselle would stand on a chair with a coffee pot in one hand and a plate of donuts in the other. In cryptic words, she’d try to explain to the SWATers the tongue incident so the customers weren’t distracted from spending their money on food.

She closed her eyes. “Holy sh- I mean, holy cow, what a day!” Opening her eyes, she sighed. Downstairs, business continued as usual. Nothing had changed. She might as well try the police department again.

This time a live person answered the phone. The receptionist, or whoever answered cop phones, had difficulty understanding why a cow’s tongue at a restaurant needed an investigation.

After five more minutes of explaining, Roselle hung up. She’d be lucky if Myers showed up to investigate.

People with loose tongues end up in a box.

Fear streaked up her spine. She looked around her apartment. Was she safe? Her stomach began to twist with fear. It was claustrophobic and too quiet upstairs. She’d be better off outside and less of an easy target.

Grabbing her purse and keys, she ran out of her apartment and locked the door. She wasn’t about to sit around waiting for Myers to fit her in between barking dog complaints and jaywalking tickets.

In a few minutes, she’d breezed into the coffee shop and explained to Kozy she needed a breath of air before returning to work.

He trailed her to the door, whispering loudly, “What about the police?”

“I called them, and they’ll show up. Some time. You can report everything if they arrive before I get my head on straight.”

“Good idea. You’re distracting my customers.” Kozy grabbed more menus and moved away to greet three women who’d entered.

“See you soon.” Roselle burst out the door and to the sidewalk. The sun shone over her head and the fall nip had disappeared from the air.

Wow, what a beautiful day. She clicked into a better mood and strolled to her car in the rear parking lot. In less than three minutes, she was zipping down the road away from Kozy’s.

Mixed feelings of relief and guilt attacked her. She’d felt this way on Senior Skip Day and had ended up staying home all day to ease the guilt. But not today, she vowed.

Okay, she needed a destination, and then she’d feel better. The idea hit her in an aha moment.

Will’s house.

She zoomed free of the small town center with its two-story fronts of brick and clapboard. Although Stark Falls was a New England town, it reminded her of the towns in the old cowboy series her brother had watched on Saturday mornings.

Around her, single-family houses and apartments clustered together, hugging the edge of town. She drove past the side street with the new brick police station that had taken three town meetings and three years to approve, and considered stopping for a nanosecond. Nope. She was looking for r-e-l-i-e-f.

Roselle took a left at the light, leaving the traffic headed for the small mall on the outskirts of town. Split-levels and old Victorian homes mixed together in this neighborhood. Slowing the car, she pulled into the blacktop drive of a peeling white two-story house. An old electric stove sat on cinder blocks on the front lawn. Will couldn’t be normal and have a junk car like other people.

His truck was nowhere in sight. If he’d been home, he would have parked in front of the garage. He never used it. She bet the garage was locked up tight, the way he’d left it the day his sister died.

She turned off the engine and let the car door slam behind her. Standing for a moment, she stared at the two-story building, holding and focusing the memory in her mind until it sharpened clearly.

It was the summer after high school graduation. She could see herself standing in front of the double garage doors. The white paint had been fresh, and the odor lingered in the humid air. She wore her favorite khaki shorts and blue halter-top. Heat rose up from the drive and cooked her blue flip-flops and the air around her.

Will stood on the edge of the lawn in cut-off jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with Fly Boy printed across the chest. He danced a couple of impatient steps in his bare feet. “Ready?” He’d spent the past two months in the garage working. “I can’t wait to show you.” A light of anticipation blazed in his eyes.

“Is it better than a double cheeseburger?”

“It’s like a triple cheese with supersized fries.” He did a hot trot across the drive to the garage door. His hand hovered over the doorknob and his energy of anticipation shot across into her.

“I’m set.” Eager, she rose up on her toes, leaning toward him. “Open it already. I want to see it.” She faced the door and squeezed her fingers into a fist to control her excitement.

“Miss Roselle Lewis, may I present to you...” Will pulled up the door. The metal clink of the garage door rollers sounded like a drum roll.

Roselle held her breath.

“Ta da!” Will smiled in triumph and flung open both his arms.

Chapter Six

A sharp pain hit Roselle and drew her from the past back into the present. She rubbed her chest although she knew it wouldn’t stop the ache. Turning, she eased into the car and backed out of the drive. She’d been foolish to drive to Will’s house for a break. It was better to go where she was really wanted. Home.

Twenty minutes later Roselle was in the family’s driveway. Her sister Alicia appeared at the front door.

Swinging it open, she yelled, “I thought you had to work until one. Never mind the explanations.” Alicia held up her hand when Roselle, trudging up the steps, opened her mouth to answer. “Come in. Mom’s having a minor meltdown over a dress for Mrs. Christie’s funeral. At least she stopped talking about how worried she is about you at that job where criminals can find you.”

“Great!” Her mom was probably going to lecture her again about working for an Al Capone boss like Kozy. Mom didn’t understand the difference between Greeks and gangsters. Why had she wanted to come home again? Unhappy, Roselle dogged Alicia’s heels into the kitchen.

“Mom’s decided you should take a leave of absence. I told her waitresses don’t get such benefits,” Alicia tossed over her shoulder in her all-knowing voice.

Roselle gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t let her sister bait her the minute she arrived. Thanks to the advice of one of the Saturday morning regulars who was a retired psychologist, Roselle now understood Alicia’s need to challenge her younger sister.

“Let’s talk about Mom’s dress,” Roselle suggested.

Alicia shot her a disdainful look. “She’s worried about what you’re wearing, too.”

“Too bad Mom can’t get a job as a professional worrier. She’d be rich.” Roselle crossed into the kitchen. The stark contrast of the white cabinets against the purple walls always jolted her. She blinked several times before focusing on her mother in the captain’s chair at the end of the long maple table. Here she could command and navigate the family ship over the seas of danger.

“Roselle? I’m glad you’re home.” Mom folded her hands together next to a carafe of hot water and a cup with a saucer. “Do you know what dress you’re wearing to the funeral?”

Roselle shrugged and stared at the drink in alarm. Uh-oh, Mom was big time stressed. “You didn’t tell me she was hitting the tea,” she hissed to Alicia. Mom only drank tea during times of extreme stress.

“It’s been rough,” her older sister observed. “Mrs. Christie was her best friend.”

“They barely chatted once a month!”

“Stop talking about me,” Mom reprimanded with a shake of her head. “I don’t have a problem.” She took a swig of the drink and closed her eyes while the hot liquid traveled down her throat. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of a hand. Her eyes popped open and focused on Roselle. “You must have one suitable dress for the wake and the funeral.”

“Sure.” Roselle inched around the table with questions buzzing in her mind. Her mother had been too distressed earlier to discuss her friend. “Mom, do you know why Eddie Ferrani would hurt Mrs. Christie? Did they have a fight?”

Mom cupped her hands around the teacup and stared into it as though it held the answers. “Caryn wanted to break up with Mr. Ferrani when she found out people gambled at the track.”

“Mrs. Christie didn’t know the dog track involved betting?”

“She didn’t get out much.” Mom narrowed her eyes. “Roselle, let’s talk about your dress for the funeral.”

“I’m putting on something dark,” Roselle hedged and dropped into a chair. Truthfully, she hadn’t given any thought to mourning clothes. Hmm, did most people have their funerals in the morning?

“Dark?” her mom shrieked. “Roselle, you must wear black to the wake and the funeral.” Mom’s cup hit the saucer with a sharp crack of disapproval. “I heard Mrs. Regan is planning to wear a gray suit. Can you imagine?”

Roselle propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. She could hardly wait until Mrs. R. told Mom about the flying tongue at the restaurant. “Disgraceful!”

Mom met her gaze with a steely glance. “You can laugh at me, but Mrs. Christie--God rest her soul--would want you to wear the proper clothing to her funeral. To dress in any other color but black demonstrates disrespect for the deceased.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you. I agree with you. Mrs. Regan should wear black.”

Mom lifted her eyes heavenward and sighed. “When you walk through a funeral, hold your head up high.”

“Carousel,” Roselle said, trying to grab brownie points by identifying the source of the misquote. “But the line’s a little different in the song.”

Mom arched a brow of disapproval and looked like she wanted to wipe out Roselle’s imaginary points. “Don’t be silly. Next you’ll tell me that Carousel had a merry-go-round in it. And I do remember a funeral in the play.” She poured another cup of hot water from the carafe.

“New Yorkers never have a problem with clothes for a funeral.” Alicia perched on the edge of a chair. “They wear black all the time and probably have closets full of clothes. They can go to a funeral at a moment’s notice. They are so lucky.”

“Go borrow a dress from someone in New York, then,” Roselle said, feeling glum while her sister sat at the other end of the table like a princess.

Alicia covered her heart with her hand. “Roselle, this is a serious problem and you make inept jokes about a service for Mom’s poor friend.”

Great, another lecture from big sister. An idea hit Roselle. “Alicia, don’t you have a black skirt to lend me?” Her sister hated sharing clothes.

“I donated that skirt to a naked person in a third-world country.” Alicia flipped her streaked blonde hair over her shoulder, shoved back her protesting chair, and bounced over to the cookie jar on the fake marble counter.

“Why would a nudist need your skirt? Isn’t that the whole point of being one?” Irritation chomped on Roselle’s patience. She hated when Alicia flaunted the fact that she could eat anything and everything and not gain an ounce.

“Roselle, you and I will buy new clothes together.” Mom rose and moved the kettle to the front burner of the stove.

“More hot water, Mom?” Alicia asked, staring at the teakettle simmering on the stove. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one day?”

“I need it.” Mom pressed her lips together and her hands shook.

Sure she did, and shopping with Mom was as exciting as dining with a diet consultant. Roselle opened her mouth to protest on the grounds of poverty when she had a better idea. “The Gap is having a giant sale. I can drive over now and pick up a little outfit for the wake and the funeral.”

“You can’t buy clothes for a funeral at The Gap.” Alicia waved her cookie in the air. “Gap clothes are¼fun clothes.” Alicia dropped the hand with the cookie to her side. “Mom, you’re not shopping at The Gap, are you?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Steam started to float up into the air from the teakettle while Mom stood entranced by it.

Roselle walked to the cookie jar and reached past her annoying sister for a sweet. She’d skip supper tonight to make up for the extra calories.

“Whenever you make that black tea, it reminds me of the play Teahouse of the August Moon,” Alicia said, gazing off into space with a faraway expression.

Roselle bit into the cookie even though she automatically gained five pounds with one bite. Yeah, sure. Alicia was such a suck-up. Now she was trying to earn all the brownie--or should it be cookie--points.

“Roselle,” Mom announced, ignoring Alicia, “you can shop with me at The Perfect Daughter Store.”

The Perfect Daughter Store? Was she caught in a nightmare? The shop might as well hang a sign out front that read Old Lady Clothes Sold Here.

Roselle pushed away from the counter. “I just remembered. I have the darkest black dress from Ellin & Liam’s.”

Alicia shot her a dubious look. “You must be making a lot of tips to shop at that store. Besides, you borrowed money from me last week to buy gas. How did you pay for the dress, and where’s my money?”

“It only takes one happy customer to get a nice tip.” Roselle sent Alicia a big grin.

A strange look came over Mom’s face and Roselle felt her stomach tighten in warning.

“What’s wrong?”

“Roselle, is it true that Will Boone was at Mrs. Christie’s the day she died?”

“He wasn’t there when I arrived.” Uh-oh, Mom wasn’t suggesting Will was guilty of murder, was she? Roselle edged to the doorway. She’d had enough quality time with the family. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’m expected back at work.”

“Hey, what about my money?” Alicia yelled. “I can’t believe you shopped instead of repaying me.”

Roselle made a break for it. So home wasn’t exactly everything it was supposed to be. Outside, she inhaled the fresh air of freedom.

Since Alicia hadn’t followed her to the car, Roselle dug out the cell from her purse and called the police again. The woman on the other end told her that Detective Cusato had arrived at the station. Roselle informed the woman that she’d be there in a few minutes and hung up before the woman could protest or hit the hold button.

At last, the lurking lump of fear in the back of her throat began to lighten. The detective would answer all her questions.

In a few minutes, Roselle had cruised to the station and parked. Unsure how appointments with detectives worked, she grabbed her purse, jumped out of the car and ran to the front desk to inquire about a meeting time.

She was in luck. Detective Cusato could spare a few minutes for her immediately. The office was just a cubicle with a desk and two file cabinets crammed into the small space. The odor of paper and ink hung in the air, and the mumble of voices and coughs from the other cubicles floated around the space.

Detective Cusato had short black hair, dimples and a quick friendly smile. A cutie, Roselle thought. Like most detectives, he’d come up through the ranks as a state trooper; that explained his height when he stood up to shake Roselle’s hand.

He motioned her to a seat in front of what appeared to be a secondhand desk. He opened up a file and droned on, repeating facts Roselle already knew...until he mentioned Eddie Ferrani.

Roselle straightened in her chair and slipped the handle of the purse off her shoulder. How had Fast Eddie explained his hit-and-run and the dead Mrs. Christie? Had he already been arrested?

“I hate to report this, but-”

“He refused to admit his guilt? He refused to answer and cited the fifth? He resisted arrest? He-”

“He’s refused all requests to come to the station.”

“What? He can do that?” How could a man wanted in a murder investigation refuse to comply? She fell back against the wooden slats of the chair, her mind digesting the information.

Detective Cusato cleared his throat. “Now about the complaint of food mishandling at Kozy’s this morning...”

Roselle blinked to alertness.

“Officer Myers visited Kozy’s today to investigate the tongue complaint. The officer interviewed the customers and has filed his report.”

The detective pulled out another file from his desk drawer. The final conclusion stated that the waitress Roselle Lewis had planted the tongue in a serving dish as a sick joke on a customer by the name of Will Boone.

“What? Of all the stupid reports I’ve ever heard...” She leapt to her feet and thumped a finger on Myers’ report. “This is total bull. I mean nonsense. I’ve served up many a tongue-lashing in my job, but never a cow tongue!”

“Hold on, Norma Rae. I’m reading the report, not agreeing with it. If you like I can carry on my own investigation for you.”

Roselle’s temper ebbed. Was he lying or placating her? “All right, but I can tell you that Fast Eddie sent me the tongue as a threat. He doesn’t want me spreading the news that he’s Mrs. Christie’s killer.”

“It might be best to refrain from calling him a murderer for lawsuit sake.”

“Sorry, I should say alleged killer.”

Cusato winced. “We like for our witnesses to remain silent and not give away any information to the suspect.”

“Sure, but someone should have told me that a little earlier.” She grabbed her purse from the side of the chair. “I’m off to work.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Yeah, right. She dragged herself away from the detective. The bottom line: Fast Eddie had indeed pulled a fast one and would probably never be arrested at this rate.

Recalling the detective’s words as she drove, Roselle raged over Myers. Joke? What an idiot Myers was.

She forced herself to ease up on the gas pedal and practiced deep breathing. By the time she pulled into the restaurant parking lot, calm had settled over her.

Inside, Kozy met her return with a Greek tongue-lashing for the long break and absence during Myers’ interrogation.

The boss’s words bounced off her invisible wall of protection while she promised to work extra hours during the week to make up for lost time.

The rest of the week passed without major incident. Everyone at work talked about Mrs. Christie’s murder. Roselle flinched and studied any packages customers brought inside. And Will was nowhere around.

Finally the day of the wake arrived. Everyone was talking about it. By eight that evening, Roselle was dressed and checked herself in the bedroom mirror.

Angie’s loaner skirt dipped to mid-calf. Roselle rolled up the black waistband and wrinkled her nose over the bulge of fabric around her middle. Would people think she ate too many cookies?

Shaking her head, she pulled a black sweater over her navy top and buttoned it down over her hips to hide the rolls of material. It’d pass for a few hours at the wake tonight.

Satisfied, she slipped into a pair of black slides and was off. If she arrived toward the end of calling hours, she’d miss Mom since Mom would no doubt arrive exactly thirty minutes after the doors opened and leave precisely thirty minutes before the doors closed.

Roselle arrived on schedule at The Sleep Well Funeral Home, a large white Victorian structure sitting on a hill on the road to Manchester. Inside, she walked down a narrow hallway and was greeted by a man with lots of white hair and dressed in a black suit. He directed her to the line that stretched down the narrow hall and disappeared through a door into another room.

She stepped into the queue and hoped Mom stuck to her schedule. Fifteen minutes later Roselle entered the dimly lit rectangular room with the family, mourners, and coffin.

The fragrance from the numerous baskets and vases of flowers posed on the floor and wall shelves sweetened the air and teased her nose. With her nose twitching, she snaked ahead in the line to Mrs. Christie’s family.

At the end of the mourners stood Vince. She couldn’t glimpse who else, but she guessed it was Mrs. Christie’s elderly aunt Lola. The closed casket rested to one side. Roselle prepared to step up when she suddenly found arms locked around her waist.

“I’m very sorry,” Roselle mumbled into the woman’s thin shoulder. But wait, the shoulder was red. Roselle jerked up her head and discovered Mrs. Christie’s aunt was wearing red at the wake!

The gray-haired relative bobbed her head, and released Roselle. Reeling with surprise, Roselle inhaled a bracing breath of sweet air and watched Mrs. Christie’s aunt grab the next mourner. How would Mom handle this breach of etiquette? It was almost worth waiting around to find out. Almost.

Vince stepped forward and gave Roselle’s hand a squeeze. Misery glowed in his red-rimmed eyes. “Thanks for coming. Can you go with me after the wake for a bite to eat?”

Had she heard him correctly? Did grieving people talk like that in funeral homes? It sounded¼sacrilegious.

“Sure, I guess.” If eating with Vince made him happy, she could at least force a few bites of lettuce down her throat.

“Thanks.” He turned to the next mourner.

Okay, not the small talk she’d expected, but she’d take it. Uneasy, she wandered back toward the opposite end of the room. Her mother’s elderly neighbors were walking by arm in arm like they were strolling through a park. They pinned shocked looks on Roselle’s waist.

She glanced down and saw that the bulge under the sweater had slipped to an early-pregnancy level. Oh, well, nothing she could do about it--or the future bets on the sex of her child.

Stepping into the hall, she couldn’t escape from the cloying hot air in the building. Dizzy feelings began to attack her. Maybe she should have eaten supper before she came. She peeked back into the room at Vince. An oversized mourner had swallowed him up in large arms.

From the length of the line, she’d have to wait a while for Vince to be free. She crept down the hall past the Wake Greeter. At the opposite end of the gold carpet, she spied an exit.

A few minutes outside would help. She wished she could take off, but she’d promised Vince. Roselle sped down the hallway toward escape. The door swung open with one push. She stepped down onto the tar pavement into a six-by-six area surrounded by a tall wooden fence. The sound of cars passing on the street side drifted over the barricade, and a streetlight splashed a yellow beam into the confine. Two green dumpsters sat to the left against the building. She adjusted herself downwind from the odor of the trash. What kind of garbage did they have at a funeral home?

A chill crept up her spine over the question. Forget about it. The dumpster was probably empty since today had been trash pick-up day. At least she didn’t have to worry about anyone joining her. Did she? Okay, either she stayed inside with the grievers or she was stuck outside with the garbage.

Above, dark clouds blotted out the night sky, and the wind carried a chill that brought goose bumps to her arms despite the knit sweater. Maybe she could leave and come back to meet Vince.

The creak of the door hinges startled her. She swung around toward the sound. “Hello-?”

The rest of the words froze in her mouth. Fast Eddie stood in the doorway, blocking the exit.

Chapter Seven

Roselle couldn’t move.

Fast Eddie blocked her only means of escape and fastened a threatening glare on her. She’d never realized how large he was. He could swallow two men whole. Maybe he already had.

One of his hands was stuffed inside the protruding pocket of his overcoat. Did he have a gun? She tried to pull her gaze from the bulge and focus on his face.

Play it cool, said a warning voice in her head.

Involuntarily, she retreated a step and something soft squished beneath her foot. A rotting odor permeated the air, sending a wave of nausea shooting through her. Stepping to the side, she felt something sticking to the sole of her shoe and heard the rattle of plastic. She grimaced and glanced down at the white bag with the printed Thank You attached to her foot with an unidentifiable brown glob.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Fast Eddie growled in a gravelly voice.

Forget the bag. Look at Fast Eddie, her mind shouted.

“And now that I’ve found you, we’re going to have a little talk.”

Stand firm. Stare him down.

She squared her shoulders, inhaled deeply, and croaked, “Me?”

“You’ve been saying things about me. Things that aren’t true. I’m a respected businessman. I operated the Lakes Center Dog Track, but I had to take a leave of absence until my name was cleared of your accusations!” He shadowed her as she sidestepped.

“I heard you disappeared. Ran off,” she dared to say.

“Would you show your puss if everyone called you a bloody murderer?” He advanced closer, and she caught a whiff of his foul breath and the darting movements of his untrustworthy eyes.

A chill swept up her spine. How could she get out of here? He had cornered her like a cow in a slaughterhouse. Could she scramble over the wooden six-foot fence? It looked rickety. Instinct shouted at her to go anywhere to get away from him.

She retreated another step. “I wasn’t badmouthing you.” Her tongue was stiff, and she had to push the words out. The metal corner of the dumpster poked against her shoulder, ending her withdrawal. Now what?

Fear fluttered in her chest as Fast Eddie closed the meager space between them. The contents of his pocket protruded forward like an eager lover--or, worse, a gun.

He paused and she could see the wheels of his mind turning, evaluating the risks of his next move.

“From now on,” he said with cigar breath and spit oozing through his yellow teeth, “you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

She wiped a hand over the spittle that smacked her cheek.

“I don’t need any problems from the likes of you...unless you’re looking for trouble.” Fast Eddie arched one long hairy eyebrow and his upper lip turned up in a snarl. “And I want to tell you, I don’t deal well with big-mouth women. Understand? Or do you need a lesson?” He jammed his pocket forward.

She gasped and bobbed her head up and down like one of those old-fashioned bobble-head dolls.

“Then I won’t hear any more lies about me visiting Mrs. Christie the day she died. Right? You were mistaken. It wasn’t me. You’ll tell the cops, too. Tomorrow.”

Imagining a bullet ripping through the fabric of Fast Eddie’s pocket and hurling straight at her heart, she couldn’t speak. Breathing occupied all her energy.

Fast Eddie’s brown seedy eyes bored into her. His wide mouth was a slash of anger.

“Right?” He raised a fisted hand toward her.

She sputtered, “Yes.”

“That’s more like it.” He smiled a twisted grin. “Now you’re going to develop amnesia,” he whispered to her. “You won’t remember anything about me from today or before...unless you’re looking for trouble.”

The dark shadow on his chin gave him a werewolfish appearance. Werewolf? No, he was nothing but a big bully.

Don’t be a wimp, her conscience whispered. Show him how well you understood, or you’ll end up like Mrs. Christie. Dead!

“Ee-yow!” She kicked her foot at his crotch. Then in a horrible flash, she realized she wasn’t close enough. For a second, she balanced on her bagged foot, and then the leg slipped a centimeter. It was all over.

She was falling. Throwing her arms out in a desperate last attempt to regain her feet, she hit the tar with a thud. Her head bounced with a crack.

“Ahh...” Pain shot through her temple. Her back throbbed.

Fast Eddie’s stubby fingers dug into her shoulders and scooped her up. He slung her over his shoulder.

“Put me down,” she managed to choke out between the waves of shooting arrows of pain. Damn, her head hurt.

For a moment the world was upside down and she was staring at pieces of broken pavement. She’d scream if it didn’t hurt so much.

He pressed down on her spine, holding her against his shoulder. She heard the clang of the dumpster lid.

What was he doing? She squirmed, trying to get in a good kick or a punch.

Fast Eddie swung her forward.

“No! Stop!” She let out a howl and fell with a plop on something slick that gave way beneath her with a crunch. The loud metal thud of the lid echoed in her head, followed by pitch darkness.

Oh God! He’d thrown her in the dumpster. Worse, he’d closed the top. Trying to get her feet under her, she crouched and crawled a foot. Something crackled underneath her shoes when she moved. Yuck. Blindly searching with her hands, she touched a plastic tie around the top of a garbage bag. The bag must have cushioned her landing. A funeral garbage bag.

She shivered and pulled her hand against her chest. “Get a grip,” she whispered. Burying her nose in her sweater as a barrier against the rotting odors, she pushed on the dumpster top with both hands. Nothing budged.

“Crud! Let me out,” she screamed. She pounded on the side and stopped and listened. Nothing. She scooted to the other end and pummeled it until her fists ached. Silence. Roselle collapsed with pain pulsing in her hands. At least now her head didn’t ache as much.

Okay, think.

Maybe screaming wasn’t the best approach. How much air was in a dumpster? When would they empty the garbage? Next week? Could she live in a metal box for seven days? A tremor rocked her.

Calm down and think.

When would they put more garbage in the dumpster? Did funeral home employees work every day? What did go into their garbage? Was she stepping on the odds and ends of something...or somebody?

Gross! She pulled the sweater up under her eyes to block out the floating molecules. Could anything live inside a dumpster? Rats? She froze, afraid to breathe, and listened for the sound of something scurrying around and gnawing. And didn’t rats have rabies? By the time they found her, she’d be drooling and crazy.

A loud bang outside the dumpster made her jump. Was someone out there? Was it Fast Eddie aiming his gun at the dumpster?

“Roselle?”

“Will! Oh my God, help me!” The sound must have been the door hitting the brick wall. “I’m over here. Let me out!”

“In the dumpster?”

She heard his footsteps heading toward her until they stopped outside the dumpster. “Roselle? Are you in there?”

“Yes, get me out!”

“Okay, hold on. Someone jammed a piece of wood in the latch.” The lid flew open and Will stood staring down at her over the rim. His green eyes were full of curiosity. He crowded closer and offered her a hand.

“Thanks.” She stretched up and grabbed his hand. Will reached over and put his other arm around her waist in an almost protective gesture. She prepared to jump.

With a wobble, she landed on her feet. Will waited until she steadied. She was conscious of his hip and firm side pressed against her. For a second she allowed herself to enjoy their physical intimacy before real life intruded. He dropped his arm to his side.

“Wow, that was the worst.” She exhaled a loud sigh and rubbed her arms, wishing she could control the goose bumps that Will’s nearness brought.

He stepped away and tilted his head, scrutinizing her. “You didn’t like the funeral so you thought you’d enjoy spending time in a dumpster? Were you praying or hiding from your mother?”

“Don’t be silly. I-”

You’re going to develop amnesia...unless you’re looking for trouble. Fast Eddie’s voice rasped in her memory.

“You what?” Will asked.

She swallowed. “I needed a change of scenery, and was looking for¼a breath of fresh air.”

“Lots of fresh something out here.” He sniffed. “You couldn’t just step out the front door and stand on the sidewalk? And how did you manage to jam the dumpster lid shut with that piece of wood from the fence?”

No wonder she couldn’t get out. “I wanted privacy.”

“Sure.” He fixed his green eyes on her. “Are you ready to stop shining me and confess why you’re in a garbage bin?”

She opened her mouth to try out another lie and caught his cynical gaze. Suddenly the truth popped out of her mouth quicker than a fast food order. “Okay, here’s the truth. Eddie Ferrani came out while I was trying for a private moment, and¼well, we didn’t get along and I ended up in the dumpster.”

“Did he hurt you or threaten you?” Will stepped closer, his fists clenched.

“No,” she lied. “I saw his hand in his pocket, though.”

The tense lines around Will’s mouth eased. “Sounds dangerous. I can understand why you jumped in the dumpster and locked yourself in.”

Annoyed, she folded her arms over her chest. She’d expected a little sympathy. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“Explain away, but can you tell me the whole truth?”

Will was right. No one, especially the police, would accept the old hand-in-the-pocket trick as proof of a gun. “I might have...overreacted a tad bit. Fast Eddie hadn’t fired even a warning shot.”

Will reached out and pulled a gum wrapper off her sweater. “I’m sure if I met Fast Eddie, I’d have jumped in the dumpster with you.” His voice was soft, consoling.

“Really?” She leaned closer, feeling the old connection with him and wow¼what was he wearing? Why hadn’t she noticed? Dressed in a dark suit, white dress shirt, navy tie and topped off with multicolored running shoes, he looked drop-dead, drop-alive handsome.

The old current shot through her heart. Did he feel it too?

“Since you and I know what Eddie did to his last date,” Will continued, “I guess he wouldn’t mind shooting a witness.”

“Geez, why don’t you make me feel better, Will?” What was wrong with him? She seethed a slow boil. Here she was thinking he was sexy and he was talking about a hit on her. “What are you doing out by the dumpster?”

“Your mother was searching for you, and I decided I might get on her good side by finding you.”

“No one has seen the good side of my mom since her last diet.” Roselle glanced at the door, expecting her parent to burst through and start a lecture on revealing her weight problems. “How long has she been looking for me?”

Will shrugged. “She put out an APB about fifteen minutes ago. It’s all I’ve heard besides how long is the line?”

“Guess I’d better go inside.” Exhausted, she sagged against the dumpster. The coldness of the metal seeped through her sweater. She didn’t even care that something sticky had taken hold on the back of the black knit.

“Roselle, why did you come outside alone when a man like Eddie Ferrani is on the loose?”

“I was trying to get some tips for the track. Chico in the fifth race is a sure thing.” She inhaled and nearly choked. “What’s that smell?” She broke away from the dumpster.

“We’re at a funeral home, and we’re standing around with their refuse.” Will’s voice took on a stern tone. “Figure it out.”

She didn’t like his biting tone, but she knew he hadn’t liked her attempt to blow off his question. It didn’t matter. She was safe and that was at the top of her life checklist. Later, she’d learn to deal with Will and their non-relationship reactions to each other. “I better go inside.”

“Sure.” He backed away like she had a contagious disease.

With pinpricks of sadness and regret, Roselle started across the broken pavement. In a few moments he’d be gone. At the door, she hesitated and whirled around to him. “Will, thanks for your help. I appreciate it. Really.”

He shrugged. “I never liked Fast Eddie, though my sister did.” He looked away but not before she’d recognized the sorrow.

“Well, um, thanks again.” The words weren’t enough but she couldn’t think of anything else to say to patch up their relationship.

“No problem. I was walking by the funeral home and thought I’d drop in and check out the garbage.”

“Sure, Will.” She swallowed, trying to control the feelings that urged her to hold onto his arm and ask him to stay with her. She couldn’t do that. “We’re still friends, aren’t we, Will? I mean, I owe you for tonight. And I have to thank you for the other day with the chain¼for pulling me out, and--”

“Okay, Roselle.” He held up both hands. “Any more gratitude and I’ll have to charge you my good deeds rate, and I’m not cheap.”

She hugged her arms to her chest. He was getting ready to leave, and the feeling of loss was a huge knot inside of her. “Guess I’ll go inside.” She shuffled across to the door. Grabbing hold of the tarnished door handle, she prepared to yank it open, but Will placed a restraining hand on her arm.

“Before you go and lie to everyone about what happened out here, remember Fast Eddie isn’t a joke. Talk to the police.”

She could see the blond whiskers on his chin and remembered how they prickled when he kissed her.

“Are you listening, Roselle?”

“Sure. Will Boone telling me to talk to the police?” She widened her eyes in mock astonishment. “Miracles do happen.”

“Roselle, I know you dislike advice, but, if you’re not going to the police, then stay away from Ferrani.”

She was about to joke that she wasn’t in the Fast Eddie fan club but noticed Will’s eyes had hardened and his jaw tensed. His fingers dug into her. This wasn’t the laidback Will she usually knew.

“I have to go,” she murmured and sent a pointed glance at his restraining hand.

He released his grip and dropped his hand to his side. Without his contact, she stood, feeling lost. She wanted to say more. But what?

For a tense moment the silence between them was a thick, impenetrable wall. Finally she forced a grin. “Don’t worry about me. I always land on my feet, like tonight.” She turned away with her heart in her throat.

She opened the door and stepped inside. The little hairs stood up on her arms, telling her that Will was trailing behind as she walked deeper into the building. She’d have preferred to walk together like a couple, but that was a foolish wish.

Instead, she wandered to the line of mourners and held her breath as Will headed for the exit and left. The sense of loss deepened and spread through her like a dead weight.

Pay attention, she ordered herself. She glanced around, trying to refocus. The waiting line now spilled out of the room with the casket and into the hallway. The buzz of hushed conversation filled the air. Was Fast Eddie anywhere inside the building or had he taken off? What if he was waiting outside for her?

And now she had another problem. How did she fake amnesia?

“Your mother was looking for you, but she left.” Mrs. Regan appeared at Roselle’s side. “She didn’t have all night to wait for you.” The older woman’s upper lip disappeared under her lower lip in disapproval. “You should call her. She’s worried about you, and she is your mother. You owe her respect.”

Roselle nodded while her conscience twinged and twanged like a stretched rubber band. She’d wanted to avoid her mother, but now she’d upset her. Damn. What had happened to the pleasure of ducking Mom? Even the thought of Mom’s discovery that Mrs. Christie’s aunt was wearing red to the funeral had lost its appeal.

What other pleasant surprise was waiting for her? Roselle turned around and spotted Vince coming toward her.

“Can you leave soon? she whispered to him. Nervously, she glanced around for Fast Eddie or her reappearing mother. “I’m not having a socially acceptable time tonight.”

“Aunt Lola is doing the line alone for a few minutes so I can have a break.” Vince blinked his eyes several times and sniffed the air. “What’s that odor?” He peered closer at her and sniffed.

Heat crept over her face. “Sorry, I stepped on a banana peel and fell into some garbage.”

“In the funeral home?”

“Ah, no, I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, but I guess I came away with stale air. Sorry.” Now was her chance to run to the parking lot with an escort. “I think a headache is coming on. Can we take a rain check on the dining thing?”

He raised his thin shoulders in a shrug and blinked his eyes again. “Sure, lots of people get headaches from a wake.”

“Thanks. Any chance you can walk me to my car? I’m a fraidy-cat when it comes to the dark.”

“No problem. Let me tell my aunt.”

Soon as he turned away, she dashed toward the front door. After her meaningful encounter with Fast Eddie, the throbbing in her head threatened to blow into a full force migraine headache. She peeked into the parking lot and saw no sign of Mr. Ferrani.

Breathing easier, she turned away from the door and waited. Questions spun in her mind. What was she going to do about Fast Eddie’s demand? Should she head for the police department and report that he’d threatened her? Would he be watching? Should she plead brain damage from the car accident at the bottom of Mrs. Christie’s drive and retract her statement? Would Fast Eddie stalk her home?

“Ro-”

Roselle jumped and spun about to discover Vince. “Oh, sorry. I’m a little nervous.” She hoped her heartbeat returned to normal soon.

He narrowed his eyes as though trying to see her fear and reached in front of her to push the door open. “Do you want me to go first?”

“No, I can do it.”

Outside, the air had turned colder. Jack Frost would soon be nipping at her nose or Fast Eddie shooting at her chest. She shivered. Glancing around the parking lot, she saw about twenty mourners’ cars left in the lot.

But, whispered her mind, Fast Eddie could mow you down like a weed patch.

Suddenly, she realized how far away the car was parked. When she’d arrived, she’d had to squeeze into a corner space. Now the lot seemed like an open shooting range and she was the target.

Roselle couldn’t wait to lock herself in the car. She needed a high comfort level at the moment. “I’m sorry, Vince. I’m not feeling well. I hope you’re not upset about the rain check?” she said as she darted across the parking lot with her head down.

At her side, Vince loped across the lot, keeping pace. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re sick.”

Relief poured through her as they neared the car. She fished through her pocketbook and found the keys. “I’d better leave before I feel any sicker. Thanks for understanding.” A streak of guilt nipped at her. She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He stared at her with a surprised open mouth. In less than a minute she was in the driver’s seat, inserting the key. Maybe she should go straight to the police department, but what was her new story?

Forget it. She’d worry about it tomorrow when she could think without pain. The ignition made a clicking noise. Come on, car, just start.

She flicked the key again. Huh? Where was the familiar strain and cough of her engine? She turned the key back and forth and heard only click, click.

A rap came on the window. Roselle shrieked and jerked to the glass.

Vince retreated from the vehicle’s door.

She shook her head while her heart pumped enough blood to supply a blood drive. “Sorry again.” She opened the door to talk to him since the automatic windows didn’t work without power. “Something’s wrong with my car.”

“Do you want me to look at it?”

She opened the door wider. “Do you know anything about engines?”

“No, but I’ll try. How hard can it be? Want me to raise the hood? That’s what they always do, but I don’t really know why.”

She heaved a sigh, trying to ignore the migraine and the frustration tightening the muscles in her body into one large ache. She’d read somewhere that deep breaths really did ease tension. But at the moment, the only person she could imagine this technique working for was an obscene telephone caller.

Mrs. Regan was coming out of the funeral home. She pulled up the collar of the blue windbreaker over her gray dress and raced across the lot without a glance in their direction.

“Any chance you’ll give me a ride?” Roselle asked. “I’ll find out if I can leave the car in the parking lot and call a tow truck tomorrow.”

“Good idea. I’ll ask for you.” Vince took off before Roselle could protest being left alone.

She glanced around for darting shadows between the streetlamps. Across Main Street a man in a yellow jacket hunched his shoulders and hurried past. The rest of the street was empty of traffic. Downtown was rolled up tight.

“Not a problem,” Vince said, returning a few minutes later. “As long as you move the car by noon tomorrow. The deceased scheduled for tomorrow afternoon has a big family, and they need every spot. They’ll let the police know so you won’t get a ticket.”

“Charming.” Myers would just love to write her up after the story about the cow’s tongue and their meeting at Mrs. Christie’s. She could still see him running wildly across Mrs. C’s lawn, chasing Will’s truck.

Roselle dropped the car keys into her purse. “Guess I’ll take that ride after all, but can we still do the eating thing another night?” A nip of guilt snapped at her for dragging Vince away from his aunt’s funeral. “Did you tell your aunt?”

“No problem,” Vince said. “Aunt Lola is talking with all her old friends. I think she’s enjoying the wake.”

The ride home was quiet, although flashes of Will in his suit mixed with those of Fast Eddie in his trench coat.

By the time she reached her apartment, all she wanted was bed. She disconnected the phone--to postpone communication with her mother--stripped and jumped into a T-shirt and a pair of old sweats, and dove under the covers faster than an Olympic diver.

Curling under the warmth of the blankets, she held off the cold image of Fast Eddie, but he lurked in the shadows of her mind...waiting for his chance to attack.

Chapter Eight

Roselle woke with a start. Was Fast Eddie in her apartment? Without moving, she scanned her bedroom. She was alone. It was only a dream. “Phew!”

She shifted deeper under the blankets, enjoying the warmth of the covers while the memory of last night’s haunting dream lingered in her mind.

She had been driving a red bumper car and Fast Eddie, laughing wickedly, had been crashing into her vehicle. Despite every turn and twist on the electric field, she couldn’t escape...

Snuggling deeper under the green plaid quilt her mother had made, she tried to stop the chill numbing her hands and feet. It didn’t take one-hundred-dollar shrink sessions to understand her nightmare. She peeked over the covers at the sunshine pouring through her window. Today was a new autumn day, a different day from yesterday.

The funeral! She shot upright in the bed and stared at the clock. The hands were closing in on eleven. The service had been at 9:30.

She fell back against the pillow with her new blanket of guilt wrapped around her. Great, now she had to worry about her mother’s next responsibility sermon. If she hadn’t disconnected the phone last night, Mom probably would have woken her up, and she could have run into the funeral half-dressed, or worn the borrowed clothes that made her look pregnant. She glanced at Marcia’s black skirt flung over the chair between the two bedroom windows.

Oh, well, time to get up and face the day. First she’d call the garage and tell them she was having her car towed in. Mom would call soon enough. Next¼she’d have to decide about Fast Eddie.

Should she call the police and reveal his threats? The vivid image of the gun’s outline in Fast Eddie’s pocket made her swallow hard. What should she do about the pseudo-amnesia he wanted her to fake?

If she didn’t call and lie about not seeing him on the day of the murder, would Fast Eddie hunt her down before he was arrested? The yin and the yang of the problem was making her feel bipolar. She needed help. But who?

Okay, she needed a lawyer. Hadn’t Will used a lawyer when his sister died? Yes, of course, she should call Will. How smart of her. The reasonable part of her personality whispered that she just wanted an excuse to call him, but she played deaf to the voice of reason.

She forced herself from the cozy spot under the blankets and was soon punching in Will’s number that had stuck in her memory like flypaper. A small thrill went through her when she heard his deep voice. Get a grip, she lectured herself. The man said hello.

Trying to sound nonchalant, she told him she wanted to hire a good lawyer and thought he knew one or two.

“What’s going on, Roselle?” Will asked. “The police don’t think you had anything to do with Mrs. Christie’s death, do they?”

Wow, this was a new angle. “Not really...I hope. Did you hear something?” What if Fast Eddie was trying to incriminate her?

“Does the lawyer have anything to do with Fast Eddie or you hiding in a dumpster?”

“First, I wasn’t hiding in the trash. It was an accident. I just fell in¼after Fast Eddie dropped me. Second, although I agree only garbage comes out of Fast Eddie’s mouth, I’m having a case of the jitters and wanted to make sure I’ve done everything right. Legally.”

What a crock, whispered that voice in her head. You wanted to talk to Will.

“I’ll be over after your shift.”

A thrill quivered through her. “Today’s my day off.”

“Great.”

“I’m having car trouble.”

“I’ll pick you up before noon.”

“Where are we going? To the lawyer’s?” She pictured leather chairs and a room full of law books.

“Better, I’m hooking up with my Posse.”

“Wow!” Roselle hung up. Their first after-the-break-up date. At eleven-thirty, the garage’s mechanic called to tell Roselle they had her vehicle. The bad news, the mechanic continued, was that the garage would close at noon, and no one could check out her car until Monday.

“It’s still a good day,” Roselle chanted to herself, hanging up the phone. She scurried to the shower and emerged a refreshed woman. She dumped her nightclothes--Alicia’s hand-me-down sleep T with Princess lettered in pink across the front and the drawstring flannel pants--into the laundry.

She heard a rap on the apartment door just as she’d finished pulling on fresh jeans and a white turtleneck. “Will?”

Her bare feet padded across the gray linoleum floor to the entry hall. The small swatch of beige remnant carpet under her feet tickled her soles, but she wasn’t laughing as she reached for the lock and hesitated. What if it was Fast Eddie? Will wasn’t supposed to come until noon. “Will?”

“It’s me, Roselle. Vince.”

Cautious, she pulled the door open a few inches. Vince hung his head, looking sheepish. He’d stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry, I didn’t see you at the funeral and wanted to check on you.”

Roselle opened the door wider. “Did my mom pay you to come over and spy on me?”

Surprise lifted his brows. “Ah, she mentioned you must have been sick since you missed the funeral this morning. Are you okay?”

“I’m better than last night.” She was being harsh. “I was a little under the weather. All the stress of the past few days finally caught up with me. Is the funeral over?”

“I ducked out a little early. Everyone was going to my great-aunt Lola’s for coffee cake and juice.”

Guilt started tearing at her conscience. She was worried about Fast Eddie and hiding out like a coward while Vince was dealing with his aunt’s death. “I’m so sorry, Vince. I should have set my alarm and gone no matter how I felt.”

“If you’re better, how about we go to lunch since we didn’t get a chance to eat last night?” He pushed the corners of his mouth up, but sadness lingered in his eyes.

“Vince, I’d like to, but--”

He shrugged his shoulders several times in succession. The nylon of his navy windbreaker scraped across the gray knit shirt, making a soft scratching noise. “It’s okay. I understand.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “You have other plans. I’ll¼I’ll find something to do. I could go into the copy center where I work. Did I tell you I get a discount because I’m an employee of Clone Copiers? If you ever need anything copied, I could get you a good price.”

“Vince, come inside.” She reached out and grabbed his arm. She couldn’t let him go away looking so sad. And to work? “I have a great idea. You can go with us.”

“Us?” His brows made little hills on his forehead.

“Will and me. We’re going to hang out with some friends, good friends, not Will’s drinking buddies.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” He took one sidestep.

“Come on, you’ll like them. They’ll love you.”

“Really?” He smiled his boyish smile.

“Sure, it’ll be great.” Wouldn’t it? Will couldn’t construe today as a date with Vince along.

That was good news, she lied to herself. Vince would be her buffer in case things went wrong.

*****

“The cabin belongs to Will’s grandfather,” Roselle confided to Vince sitting next to her in the cab of the truck.

“Cool, Will, you get to hang out at the place all by yourself?”

“I’m the caretaker,” Will explained, slowing down for a bump in the narrow rural road. “When my mother flew down to Florida with my Grandfather to check out senior citizen life, he left the place in my care. He wanted a winter home in Florida, but it’s looking as though he’ll live there year-round.”

“He must like it,” Vince said, looking out his window at the trees bordering the road.

“He says there are too many old people there...like he’s a youngster,” Will added with a grin.

The front tire hit a pothole, and Roselle felt her seat disappear from underneath her for a fraction of a second. Then she came down brushing against Will’s hip. Double crud. She hated being so close, touching him. The whole ride had put her nerves on edge.

She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d auditioned for the senior play to get a better grade in English. At any moment now, she expected the butterflies in her stomach to take flight in the cab, and she’d die of embarrassment. The seat and her stomach disappeared again as the truck hit another rut.

“The road hasn’t improved.” Will maneuvered around another ditch. “The few neighbors think the holes discourage the riffraff from coming out. That’s why I drive out to the cabin, to prove them wrong.”

“Sorry to include you, Vince, in the riffraff category.” Roselle rolled her eyes at Will. She was feeling a strange sense of disappointment over his easy acceptance of Vince. Will had slapped Vince on the back and called him “Buddy,” like he was a dog going for a ride in his truck.

Maybe Will had experienced second thoughts about their break-up date and was happy to have Vince along. She fumed. And to make matters worse, Will’s hand kept touching her leg when he shifted, sending small thrills of excitement shooting through her. It didn’t matter that he showed no signs of awareness over making contact with her.

Crud!

She’d accepted this dateless date and now she was paying the price. At least the woods were pretty. Overhead the trees stretched their limbs of colored leaves above the pavement as though showing off their finery to the passing vehicles.

Will slowed to turn up the drive. During his grandfather’s year of absence, it had served as the Posse hangout. That was until Will had dumped his friends for alcohol.

But now, it was like turning the clock backwards as he pulled to a stop next to a vintage ‘57 Chevy that belonged to his grandfather. Parked in front of them sat a navy blue truck. Clark’s, she thought.

Roselle scooted across the seat after Vince jumped out. Relieved to escape the close confines, she glanced around. The two-story log cabin remained unchanged in the middle of an open field of tall grass. To the right of the house she caught sight of the old runway, which was overgrown with weeds. Beyond were the woods hiding the one nearby neighbor.

Will and Vince were already waiting for her on the other side of the truck. She hurried over to them and they fell in together, a trio of marching denim jeans. Roselle’s white turtleneck peeked out from underneath her jean jacket to break the color wall.

She pulled the edges of the jacket together against the cool breeze. “Hope we’re not celebrating a birthday.”

“What’s wrong with a birthday?” Vince asked, keeping pace beside her.

“Roselle’s a woman and hates to age,” Will said, flanking her other side.

“No,” she protested. “The last time one of your friends celebrated, we all ended up at the police station for disrupting the peace and destroying public property.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Roselle. The destruction of property charge was bogus and dropped.”

“Can you fill me in, or shouldn’t I ask?” Vince edged forward to get their attention.

“It was a friend of an old friend’s twenty-first birthday, and Will and the Posse decided to take him out to party. Anyway, we rode over to the Hot Foot Saloon in Portsmouth to hear a country band. We were having a calm time until the second cousin’s cousin requested his favorite song.

“When the band played the song, the birthday boy changed from this quiet please-don’t-make-me-talk guy into a tabletop dancing wild man. Short story, the police came and arrested us all. Later we found out the guy had just got out of jail. You see, Will used to hang with a low-life crowd before we started dating.”

“So it wasn’t really the cousin’s fault,” Will said, leading the way around the house. “The birthday celebrant had been oppressed by the establishment and was simply enjoying his freedom.”

“He was like Jekyll and Hyde,” Roselle said, wondering how Will’s friends would greet her. At any second, she’d find out. “I had to promise my family that Will wasn’t from a band of gangsters and didn’t do jail time.” Of course they’d broken up anyway without the enticement of jail.

“Wow, is the Jekyll guy here today?” Vince’s eyes lit for the first time that day.

“I hope not.” Roselle grimaced.

“Nah, just a few of the old gang is hanging out, Vince. You’ll like them though. Right, Roselle?”

For some reason, a warning rang in her mind. “What do you have planned, Will Boone?”

“A carefree afternoon.” Will’s lips turned up in that wait-till-you-see smile.

Roselle’s stomach did a nervous bounce. “Oh, no, you are up to something, Will. Spill it.”

“We’ll have a fun-filled-time, honest. I’m ready to practice my listening skills while you talk. Come on. The guys are out back on the deck like always.”

She had to trot to keep up with him. “What’s the rush? Is there a beautiful blonde bimbo on the other side with a malfunctioning wardrobe?”

“Nah, just the usual bimbos.”

They headed round the house to the rear deck, and Roselle felt like she’d fallen into a time warp of the old days. She didn’t need an introduction to the two Posse members sitting in metal folding chairs on the pine-planked deck.

With wild, uncut dark hair flaring about their faces, torn, faded blue jeans and unbuttoned plaid flannel shirts that hung open over their stretched out T-shirts, they looked like refugees from Woodstock.

They both shot up from their metal chairs with a clang and waved their beers in the air. “Boone! Boone! Boone!” the twosome cheered.

“How long do you think they’ve been drinking?” Roselle crowded closer to Will and shot the Posse suspicious glances.

“Look, it’s Roselle,” shouted Clark. “Want to be our target?”

“Hi, Clark.” Roselle nodded to the tall, gangly young man. “Boone would love to be your target. What are you planning on using? A cannon, I hope?”

“Nah, I can’t work anything military, Roselle. We have something better.” Clark’s blue eyes glittered with excitement. “You’re in for Mickey’s special hand-built supersonic launcher.” Clark placed a hand on his shorter friend’s shoulder. “He’s created a masterpiece. Of course, it’s top secret.”

“Like NASA,” Mickey volunteered. He grinned his perfect-white-teeth smile and took a gulp of his beer.

Yeah, they looked like a couple of rocket scientists. Curious, Roselle edged closer. In the corner of the porch stood a contraption made out of what looked like black plastic pipes. “Did you roll a plumber to create your monstrosity?”

“We’re professionals,” Clark announced. “We don’t have to steal.”

“That’s right, Mickey agreed. “We beg for our parts. My uncle’s a plumber.”

“Come on, Roselle.” Will grabbed her hand and began to lead her away from the deck and his friends.

Shocked, she simply followed along. What was he doing? The warmth of his hand and the calluses from his yard work pressed into her palm. The butterflies started fluttering wildly inside her stomach, seeking freedom. Maybe this was a date.

Will pulled her toward the little pond at the rear of the property. They skirted a brush pile and stopped before a faded green rowboat.

“You brought me down here to take a ride in a leaky boat?” She sent him a doubtful look. “How romantic.”

“I thought we should talk in private.”

She tossed a glance back at the deck. Clark was shouting something at Mickey, the genius inventor, who was balancing a beer can on his forehead. The choice was easy. Stay on the deck or go in the boat. “Okay, but you have to row, and do we have life preservers?”

“Deal on the rowing. I’ll push you out. Choose your seat in the Titanic Two, Miss Lewis.”

“Great name, Will. You know how to inspire confidence in a girl.” She hesitated. “This isn’t a trick or something, is it? You’re not going to shove the boat out and leave me without oars?”

“Roselle, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“Will Boone,” she said pointedly.

He flashed his devilish smile and his eyes twinkled with delight. “True. However, I’m coming too. We’ll be marooned together if we have a problem, and the oars are in the boat.”

“This has all the earmarks of a sailor’s albatross,” she muttered and hopped in.

Will grabbed hold of the edge and pushed forward as he ran. The boat scraped across the gravel and slid into the water. He jumped into the seat with a thump and picked up the paddles from the bottom of the wobbling boat. “Satisfied?”

“Maybe.” She gripped the sides and waited until the boat steadied. “I know you’re up to something.”

“I’m as innocent as a politician.” He pulled on the oars and the boat glided out into the water.

“My grandfather used this as his fishing boat. He’d row me out on the pond and we’d stay out on the water for hours with our rods. We didn’t even talk, just sat. My grandfather called it ‘communing with nature.’ Of course, when my sister June was little she liked to yell to us to come back and get her, but she had no patience for fishing. She just wanted us to row her around.”

“Sounds like my kind of boating.” An idea popped into Roselle’s head, and she stiffened in her seat. “You don’t have those creepy crawly worms in the boat, do you?” She wrinkled her nose and did a quick search under the seat. Finding nothing, she relaxed and turned her attention back to Will. “Why did you bring me out here? Talking doesn’t sound like you.”

“I thought with other people around, we’d have to be nice to each other. Out here we can be ourselves.”

“Ah, Will, you underestimate me. I never have to be nice, I just am.” She sent him a reproachful smile.

“Roselle, I never underestimate you. So what’s happening with everything in your life?”

“Answer me one question first, Will. Why did you decide to see your friends again? Last I knew, you’d cut them off when they tried their instant messenger intervention.”

Will shrugged. “I’d like to say I was the better person and called them, but Mickey phoned and asked if I’d let them practice their secret weapon at the cabin.”

“You could have said no.”

“I wanted to see them. And you. I’ve missed you, Roselle.”

Her heartbeat picked up and her fingers curled into fists, containing her excitement. “Why have you stayed in Stark Falls, Will?”

He shrugged. “Where else can I get free rent?”

His answer blew a hole in her heart. She looked away to compose herself and her problems with Fast Eddie fell back into place with a loud mental bang. The legal question revolved again in her head, round and round like one of her mother’s old vinyl records. “I need a lawyer’s advice.”

“You’re in luck. Clark watched an old Perry Mason movie on TV yesterday.”

“I’m serious. I think I’m in trouble.”

Will stopped rowing. In the silence, a frog plopped in the water, sending out rings, and the odor of rotting leaves and algae mixed in the crisp fall air.

“It has to do with Mrs. Christie’s murder, doesn’t it?” He leaned forward over the oars. “What happened out at the dumpster last night? What did Fast Eddie say to you?”

She laced her fingers together in her lap, hoping to sound more casual than she felt. “Fast Eddie found out I’m the one who turned him in, or ‘fingered him’, in gangster talk. He wanted me to recant and suffer amnesia for the day of Mrs. Christie’s murder.”

The worry in Will’s eyes disappeared and the old spark reappeared. “Fast Eddie can go to hell. You should talk to the police about it. I’m not big on cops, but maybe--”

“I’m afraid there’s no solution.” She chewed on her lip and thought how hopeless it was. “If I change my story, Fast Eddie will walk. If I don’t, I may never walk...again.”

“Roselle, you shouldn’t be alone. You need someone around to protect you. Go to the police. At least they carry guns.”

“Talking to the police got me into trouble in the first place.” She scanned the tall grass bordering the pond. “I can’t shake this weird feeling that Fast Eddie’s watching me, listening.” She shuddered and imagined him jumping up from behind a tree with a gun leveled at her heart. Ridiculous, but she couldn’t get rid of the creepy feeling.

Will reached out and touched her hand. “I followed Fast Eddie to his house last night.”

Chapter Nine

“You went to Fast Eddie’s house? Why would you do that?” Roselle shot her arms out in the air in shock. “Are you crazy, Will? How long did you follow Ferrani? I’m sure he was carrying a gun! What if he saw you? Where’d he go? He could have shot you!”

“Chill. He was clueless that I was behind him. I knew he lived in the Manchester North End, and so I decided that since you wouldn’t tell me what was up last night, I’d tail him at a safe distance.”

“Will, the man is a killer. Don’t follow him at a safe distance or even an unsafe distance.”

“You should remember your own warning. You were the one alone with him outside the funeral home.”

“Will, you’re not in a detective movie. This is for real.” It gave her the creeps, imagining Will caught by that killer. “If Fast Eddie learns I told you anything, we’re both in for trouble.” For a second, she hugged herself with her arms to keep away the cold fear pooling in the pit of her stomach. “Did you see anything when you trailed him?”

“Not much. Eddie detoured off to the 24-hour Red Bow and Arrow Diner. I waited outside. Who knows if he met someone inside? Lots of weird people go into the diner late at night.”

“Promise you won’t follow him again. You’re scaring me. What were you thinking?”

“I thought I might confront him, and find out what he did to you. But as I sat parked in front of the diner, I calmed down.”

“Thank God, or you’d be in jail or in the ground with Mrs. Christie. Please, I don’t want to worry about you too.”

“Roselle, the only way I could stop worrying about you last night was to make sure Ferrani didn’t double back to the funeral home or your apartment.” His eyes shone with determination.

She understood then. It was his guilt. In psychobabble, he was transferring the guilt feelings from his sister’s death to her. She’d read all about it during Will’s short bout of grief counseling. “I’m not your sister, Will. You’re not responsible for me, or for what happened to June...even if you did build her ultra-light.”

“Stop being my therapist, Roselle.” He tore his gaze from her with an annoyed grimace.

But for some strange reason, his irritation amused her. “You just don’t want to pay for my therapy services.”

Her flip remark did nothing to change the set of his mouth. Time to change the subject. “Will, I’m going to hire a lawyer. You won’t have to worry about me because I’ll pay someone to do it.”

His grip on the oars tightened. “I don’t care if we’re broken up or not. I’m always going to worry about you.”

Was he telling the truth? During their break-up, she couldn’t get him out of her head. No matter how she tried to pry herself free from his emotional grip, she couldn’t. She’d never considered that Will might have the same problem. At the time of their separation, he’d simply agreed that it was over in a calm voice.

He laid a hand on her knee, drawing all of her attention to him. In his eyes, she read the truth. He still cared. Her heart went ka-boom, and she was drowning in feelings and unable to find words.

Plop! Wet spray showered on her. No, it wasn’t her heart. Something had flown over their heads and splashed into the water.

“What’s happening? Is it Fast Eddie?” Fear pushed out the words. She put her hands over her ears and another ka-boom hit the pond’s surface two feet past them. Cool water sprang up and sprayed down on them like a cool shower. “Ugh! What was that?” She shivered and glanced around, searching.

Shouts came from the deck. The Posse members were jumping up and down, and the black pipe was aimed at them.

“Will, your friends are shooting at us!”

“Don’t worry. They’ll never hit us.”

Ka-boom! A missile flew out of the pipe launcher and into the air. With goose bumps prickling her arms, Roselle tracked the flying object across the sky. It was headed straight for them.

“Look out!” She ducked as the projectile exploded against the end of the rowboat. Pieces of the bomb, cool and gunky, splattered on them.

“Gross! What kinda ammunition do they use?” She shook her head and twisted around to study the floating remnants. “It’s orange and disgusting.”

“Like guts?” Will asked, staring at the top of her head.

“Is it in my hair? Yuck.” She combed her fingers through her tresses, feeling for goo. “When I get back to land, Clark and Mickey are going to be so sorry.”

Will cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to his friends. “We surrender.”

Another orange missile flew through the air toward them, landing with a splatter a few feet away.

“Take off your white turtleneck and wave it.” Will’s face lit up.

“I will not.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Wave your own shirt.”

“You’re wearing a jacket. I won’t see anything.”

“Just row us out of range, Will.”

“Waving a flag would be easier.” He waggled his eyebrows while picking up the oars and leaning back.

“Funny, Boone. You probably planned this. What the heck are they firing?” She squinted and watched another missile flying in the air. Then it dawned on her. “They’re shooting pumpkins at us!”

“The attack of the fruit!” He pulled harder on the oars.

“Mickey and Clark are a couple of fruits. If that stuff turns my face orange, I’ll look like the Great Pumpkin at work. People will worry it’s from the food.”

“Calm down, Roselle. They’re pseudo-pumpkins. You know those little tiny orange gourds that the stores sell for pumpkins.”

“Don’t they stain orange, and¼wait a minute, those little pumpkins are fake? All these years I’ve been taken in by charlatans.” She glanced at the trio on land huddled around the pipe contraption. “They’ve corrupted Vince, too. He’s loading the ammunition.”

“They must be practicing for the Pumpkin Shooting contest on Saturday.”

“I’ve never been to the target shooting, but I can’t believe they’d shoot at live people at the festival.” Another pumpkin shot toward them. She shouted and grabbed hold of her hair as it sailed over their heads and landed with a splash.

“At the festival, they stand on the bridge and fire at a floating bulls-eye in the river.” Will gritted his teeth and yanked on the oars. “I didn’t know they were going to shoot at us, Roselle. Honest.”

“Well they’re trying for a Roselle’s-eye instead of a bulls-eye. Row faster.”

“I don’t have a motor hidden inside my arms.”

“They’re your friends so you have the right to kill them when we get to the deck.” She gripped the sides of the boat and kept her eyes focused on the mad trio.

“To think this was our reunion...”

“Maybe they are a little mad since you deleted their intervention messages.” She twisted around in her seat to see land coming up. They’d reached the opposite end of the pond in record time. The shower of pumpkin innards had stopped, but a few seeds washed up on the gravel shoreline.

“Do you think they’re waiting for us to get closer to ambush us on land?” Roselle jumped out of the boat and kept her eyes on the deck. The figures were lounging in their chairs like they were too lazy to move, never mind lift a finger to a pumpkin shooter.

“Nah, they don’t have the patience. They’re like little kids. It took all their energy to wait until we were on the pond. Of course, this means they’re fair game for us.”

“I’ll let you have all the fun.” She turned on her heel to head around the pond to the cabin.

“Roselle.” He caught hold of her arm, forcing her to stop. “We never finished our talk. I’d like to help you. I know you’re scared. I am too.”

She felt the warmth of his hand seeping through the sleeve of her jacket. She swallowed and looked up into those green eyes. They weren’t glittering with mischief. Instead they seemed darker, more serious than normal. She sensed that now was their time to make amends.

“The lawyer my mother used after June’s accident probably isn’t the kind you need, but you can call and talk to him,” Will continued. “He could refer you to another lawyer.”

She wanted to get back together with him, yet that common sense voice kept complaining that hooking up with Will would put her in the loop of trouble that always followed him. And she already was in enough trouble at the moment. Worse, the voice of reason persisted. Will couldn’t forgive himself for his sister’s death, and his guilt spilled over onto everything he touched.

Okay, she wasn’t perfect either. After all, she’d dragged him into the mess with Fast Eddie.

“Don’t worry about the lawyer,” she told him, sensing he was waiting for an answer. “I’ll ask around and find the right one.”

He tightened his grip. “You’re not scared of Fast Eddie after what happened to Mrs. Christie?”

Some perverse desire inside of her wanted him to care about her. She shrugged her shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “Will, you have enough of your own problems.” She couldn’t resist adding, “Besides, we broke up. Why do you want to help me?”

She waited, hoping against common sense that he’d confess: I want us back together. I can’t stop worrying and thinking about you. That’s why we’re together today.

“I saw the way you looked when I found you in the dumpster. You were petrified and looked worse.”

No words of undying love poured from his lips. “Are you saying I looked like a piece of garbage?” She snatched her arm from his grip. Disappointment and anger mixed together and stabbed at her conscience.

“Roselle, Roselle, Roselle!” The guys on the deck were chanting.

Feeling an awkward silence between Will and herself, she rushed to add, “Your friends are getting energetic again. I want to move out of the firing range.” She pulled away from Will when he turned to glance at the Posse.

“I think they’re tired of their game.” He spun back around and picked up his pace to catch up to her. “Give me a break, Roselle. Let me help you.”

“You don’t have a lawyer I can use and that’s all the help I wanted from you.”

He dodged in front of her, and she wheeled to a stop. “You want a lawyer? I’ll take you to one. I’ll get the phone book, and we’ll pick one out. Now.”

She felt like they were walking on ice and it was breaking beneath their feet. What was going on between them? Was he using Fast Eddie as an excuse to get back together? Did she want to get back together with him?

Stop. Why did she keep harping on that hope? She had to think. “I need to go home and check on my car and get to an appointment.”

His stern expression faded into confusion. “What appointment?”

“I’ll ask Clark or Mickey for a ride. Looks like they’re out of pseudo fruit.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Fine.” She headed for the deck. When she reached it, cheers rose up from the trio.

“Roselle, as our first target, we want you to have the honor of the last shot,” shouted Clark. “We saved one pumpkin for you.”

“Eat it. I have to go. I’ll practice with my dart set at home. Vince, are you ready?”

Vince blinked his eyes several times in surprise. “Sure.”

“We’re ready, Will.” She didn’t give him time to argue, but whirled on her heel to leave.

From behind, she heard a mixture of goodbyes and protests. It didn’t matter. She had to get away. This was no longer their place. She’d always thought that old saying about you can’t go home to Grandpa’s house was stupid. Well, it wasn’t. Why had she thought this was a date?

The ride home was as quiet as the waitresses after a bad restaurant review. Vince uttered a few words about the Pumpkin Festival contest and the gun. Roselle sat uncomfortably squished between them. When Will pulled up in front of Kozy’s Coffee, she jumped out with a polite thank you.

“Roselle!” Will called to her, but she didn’t wait.

She didn’t bother to hang around to see if Vince was following her. Sadness had taken possession of her. How much of a bimbo was she? She’d expected Will to beg her to hook up again. Instead he’d given her lectures like Mom, and his friends had shot pretend pumpkins at her. Great day.

She took the stairs to her apartment two at a time. With relief, she stopped in front of her door and searched through her purse for the key.

The door flew open.

Roselle gasped.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like company?”

Her brother Bobby stood in front of her. He clutched a bag of open chips in one hand.

Bobby. Whew. “Your face scared me. What are you doing in my apartment? How’d you get inside?”

“Mom has a key.”

“What, is she inside too?” Roselle stuck her head in the doorway and glanced around.

“Nah, she went to the second part of the funeral at Mrs. Christie’s great aunt’s house. I’m supposed to call her if you’re alive, and then she can hit an exercise class at the Y.”

Relieved, Roselle stepped inside. “Mom can’t even touch her toes.”

“She’s hoping to talk to Mrs. Regan in the class about hiring a personal shopper.” He bit into a chip. “Imagine Mrs. Regan in tights.”

“Please, I’ve had a hard day as it is.” She pushed past her brother. “Why would Mrs. Regan want a personal shopper? To buy sour balls?”

“I’ve got to call Mom and tell her you’re still breathing.” Bobby pulled a cell out of his warm-up pants pocket and hit a number.

Great, now she’d get an immediate lecture on funeral etiquette. “Tell her I’m in the shower.” Roselle glanced down at a black smudge on the carpet. “Did you track in mud?”

Bobby held up a hand and recited a message into the receiver about Roselle being alive.

Mom wasn’t jumping up to answer the phone; a good sign. Bending closer, Roselle spotted another black mark. Was this a trail? The skin on the back of her neck prickled. “Bobby, did you go in my bedroom?”

“Huh? I went to the refrigerator a few times.”

“Who tracked in the mud?” She stood on the edge of the bedroom.

Bobby wandered up beside her. “I don’t know who did it.”

Roselle couldn’t answer because of the fear gnawing her stomach and the name screeching in her brain.

Chapter Ten

Someone was banging on the apartment door. Held by fear tinged with curiosity, Roselle couldn’t budge from her spot in the bedroom to answer. The familiar white bureau and matching bed frame were normal enough, but what was that lump in the bed? No, it wasn’t quite a lump--more square-ish.

Behind her, she heard her brother talking to whoever was at the door. Will’s voice floated to her. He’d followed her, and Bobby had let him inside.

“I’m in the bedroom,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Will marched into the room. “Roselle, we need to talk.”

Her brother and Vince tagged along after Will. They wheeled to a stop at her heels.

“And I have the topic for the discussion.” She nodded toward the bed, and the guys’ mouths fell open.

“Bobby, are you hiding something or someone under my blankets?” She eyed the shape, trying to identify it, but nothing came to mind. “On another thought, are you hiding groceries in my bed?”

“Hey, I’ll admit to a few chips on the kitchen floor, but I never went inside your bedroom. I knew you didn’t keep any munchies in here.” The bag of chips rustled in his hand as he rolled down the top.

“It does look like someone’s in your bed, Roselle.” Vince stretched his head out like an ostrich.

“Only if he’s a dwarf.” Bobby peered closer.

“That’s politically incorrect, Bobby,” Will observed, stepping closer to the bed. “It could only be a little person.”

“Who’s been sleeping in my bed? Are you a politically correct stranger?” Roselle joked, but fear began to push into the back of her throat. Someone had been in her apartment, her private space.

Vince poked his head between Will and Bobby. “I don’t think it’s a person.”

“One way to find out.” Roselle started to march across the floor.

“Roselle, stop!” Will darted after her and blocked her path.

“Yeah, maybe it’s a bomb,” Vince said, falling back and with his eyes popping wide.

“Really?” Bobby’s eyebrows shot up with surprise, and he reopened the foil bag and dove a hand inside. “Why would anyone bomb Roselle?” He stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth.

Roselle dodged around Will and reached for the quilt. For the briefest of seconds, she hesitated to take a deep breath and then whipped the quilt off the bed.

A gasp rose from the spectators.

Roselle stumbled back and stood staring at the unwelcome guest. “What is it?” The black, dirty block lay motionless on her blue blanket.

“It’s a battery.” Will studied it, turning his head to examine it from different angles.

“Cool,” Bobby spat out. “Roselle, does this run your vibrator?”

“Bobby, this is serious. Someone invaded my apartment.” Brothers!

“I think there’s a note.” Will nodded at a folded white sheet of paper sticking out from underneath the battery.

Will stuffed his fists into his pockets as though he was afraid he couldn’t trust himself to keep hands off the letter. He angled closer and read, “‘This time it’s a dead battery in your bed. Next time-a dead person.’”

Roselle’s mouth went dry and fear shivered up her spine. “Fast Eddie! He was in my room.”

“Who’s Ass Eddie?” Bobby asked, dropping the bag of chips to his side.

“Fast Eddie,” Vince corrected. “He was the guy who dated and killed my aunt. People told me he belonged to the Mafia.”

“A Soprano guy dated your aunt and knows Roselle? Maybe I should listen when Mom and Alicia talk.” Bobby looked impressed. “When did all this happen?”

“When you were at football practice, and you should be there now instead of asking these dumb questions.” Roselle allowed all her fears to blend into irritation at her younger brother.

“Mom said to keep an eye on you. She heard you were acting weird at the wake, hanging out with the garbage. And you didn’t show up for the funeral today. When she hears about the dead battery in your bed, she’ll really flip.”

“Bobby, you can’t tell Mom I found a battery in my bed.” Roselle longed to shake her brother. “She’ll drive us all crazy. Have you lost your brains?”

“Maybe it’s not a dead battery.” Will tilted his head from side to side while observing the block.

“What?” She squinted at the black shape on her mattress. “How can you tell if it’s dead or alive and where- Oh, no, not my car.” Confused, she spun around and stopped in thought. “Where did I leave my keys? I have to check my car.”

“Roselle, calm down,” Will said.

“I had my car towed last night because it wouldn’t start and it cost me big bucks. If Fast Eddie stole my battery, I want him to pay my bill.”

First he sent her car into a ditch with dents and paint scratches. Then he threatened her at a wake, and now he’d stolen her battery from the funeral home parking lot.

“I’m outta here.”

Fingers dug into her arm and yanked her to a stop. “Roselle.” Will held onto her. “Don’t go anywhere yet. We need a plan.”

The heat from Will’s hand seeped through her clothes. She ignored him and clenched her hand into a fist. “Will, you’d better let go of me because I’m ready to hit someone.”

“Watch out, Will. When Roselle lets loose, she’s a killer.” Bobby raised the chip bag and stood ready to watch the scene.

“Think you’re funny, Bobby?” Roselle shot him a seething look.

Her brother took a step back. “Maybe we should tie her up in a chair until she calms down.”

“How about I replace the dead battery with my dead brother?”

Will dropped his hand. “Hold on, Roselle. Fast Eddie might have taken the battery out to get you into your car.”

“I always get in my car. He’d hardly have to trick me.”

“Maybe he wanted to attack you when your car wouldn’t start.”

She chewed on her lip, imagining Fast Eddie hiding behind the funeral home’s neighbors’ garbage cans. “Bobby, when did you arrive at my apartment?”

He glanced at his watch. “I’ve been here about a half hour.”

The stolen battery solved her amnesia dilemma. No way was she forgetting anything about that low-down thief AKA Fast Eddie. What should she do next? “Will those black stains come out of my sheets?” Crud, she only had two sets.

“Forget the sheets and call the cops,” Will advised.

Roselle narrowed her eyes at him in skepticism. “Myers and you together in one room? Isn’t one dead object enough?”

“What’s going on between Will and this Myers?” Vince asked.

“Myers is Officer Myers,” Bobby interjected. “He arrested Will for drunk and disorderly after his sister’s funeral. And he arrested Will for driving drunk on his bike, but those charges were dropped.”

Roselle felt the tension in the room rise. She could add a few more of Will’s arrests to the record, but it wouldn’t help any. Her brother wasn’t the smartest kid on the football team, but she had brought up Myers’ name.

“I’ve a better idea,” she offered. “Bobby, you guard my apartment. Don’t let anyone in, especially Mom. Vince, you can help him. Will, how about a ride to see Detective Cusato? Oh, hold the phone; let me call a locksmith first. I can’t sleep tonight without new locks on the doors.”

“I’ll stay, Roselle, but I hope I don’t have to tackle anyone. I don’t want them to see my moves until the game next week. Vince, are you hungry?”

“Remember, Bobby, you’re at a crime scene. Stay out of my bedroom.” She headed for the kitchen and heard the trio following behind. Pulling the phone book out of the kitchen cabinet, she flipped to the yellow pages. In a few minutes she had the promise of a new lock installed by tomorrow morning. Not exactly as quick as she wanted, but she could live through one night--with all the furniture barricading the doors.

“I’m ready, Will.” She headed for the entry door.

“What am I supposed to do until you come back?” Bobby asked, dogging her heels. “You’re almost out of chips.”

“There’s ice cream in the freezer.” Roselle turned to Will who had joined them. “Time to drive.” She pointed to the great beyond.

“I wish you weren’t so indecisive, Roselle. It’s hard to understand what you’re ordering me to do.” Will arched one brow at her while the teasing light lit his eyes for a second and disappeared.

“Sorry, Will, can you please take me to the police station? How was that?”

“My chariot awaits you.”

“Lock the door, Bobby, and don’t let anyone in without the password.”

“What’s the password?”

“Two words: Not Mom.”

Roselle took the steps two at a time while her mind whirled. Was the battery from her car? When did Fast Eddie remove it? During the wake? During the night? How had he entered her apartment? God, how would she keep him out?

She shivered and screeched to a halt at the building entry. “I need to go back upstairs. Bobby should barricade the door in case Fast Eddie has a key. You hear about thieves with skeleton keys all the time. Although what the heck is a skeleton key and where do crooks find all these skeletons with keys? At a key graveyard?” She was babbling but couldn’t help herself.

Will held up a finger. He removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pushed a button. “I have to call work. I promised to make a few deliveries this morning, but first¼ Bobby, move the couch in front of the door until we come back,” Will spoke into his cell. “Well, hurry and get the ice cream and then do it.” Will flipped the phone closed. “Roselle, are you sure you want to go to the police?”

“Will, I think Detective Cusato is an okay guy. Besides, I don’t have much choice. I don’t want Myers on this case.”

“Let’s go before your brother asks for directions on how to move a couch.” Will reached in front of her and pushed the building door open.

“Let’s hope Vince at least can figure it out.” Roselle had started through the door when Will grabbed her arm. “I’ve a better idea. Let’s go out the restaurant’s back door.”

“Good idea. Come on.” She led him through the dining room. One of the regulars called out to Roselle for more coffee. She grabbed the pot and poured his cup as she passed.

She nudged the pot into Angie’s hand while she was taking an order.

“Hey, Roselle!” Angie yelled. “Can you work for me next Sunday? I have a date with my boyfriend Karl.”

“She’s busy,” Will said firmly.

“Maybe,” Roselle corrected.

They went through the kitchen where Kozy was having a heated discussion with the cook over the meaning of well done versus burnt.

“Keep going, fast,” Roselle whispered to Will. They pushed open the kitchen door and spilled out into the rear lot. In two seconds, they reached the truck.

She hesitated by the truck’s passenger door with the Gro Rite Landscaping words. “I should check out my car at the Gas and Go first. The police might want to know if it’s my battery.”

“First stop will be the garage.” Will opened his door and jumped inside.

“What if Fast Eddie planted a bomb in the engine that would explode when the hood was lifted when the car wouldn’t start?” She pictured herself going ka-boom! “Never mind, Will,” she said quickly. “Don’t answer. I can wait. Really. Let’s head for the police station.”

“I want to know what Eddie Ferrani was or wasn’t up to.” Will set his mouth in a firm line.

He wanted to know? Come to think of it, what did Will have to do with anything? He was acting like they were still together. She wished she understood their relationship. Was this a “friends” type of concern? She thought about Will, analyzing their day together, trying to figure it out while he drove.

In ten minutes, he pulled up to the closed garage. Roselle spotted her car parked at the side of the brick building. Will jumped out before she had pushed down on the handle.

“Will, stop. Maybe we should call the police first.” She hurried to catch up to him.

He reached under the hood and popped the lock.

“No!” She threw her arms in front of her face.

“Yup, it’s your battery in your bed.”

She lowered her arms below her eyes. Will had pried the hood open and was looking down into her engine. “Don’t ever do that again, Will. You scared me to death.” Inching closer, she peered down at the empty space under the hood. “That lying, cheating, dirty, stealing thief! I should have assaulted him with every piece of garbage I could get my hands on when I had the chance!”

“Maybe you can borrow the pumpkin gun and really get him.”

“This isn’t funny, Will.” She folded her arms over her chest.

He slammed the hood. “Ready for the next fun part of the day?”

Chapter Eleven

Roselle stalked off to Will’s truck and jumped inside without a word. At least she didn’t look scared. Truth was, he was probably more scared than she was. The thought of spending time at the police station gave him the shakes. Since his sister’s death, he’d spent a lot of non-friendly time there.

Will hopped into the truck and started the engine. The police department was only a five-minute ride down the road, but he wished it was farther. He pulled into the street and took a left for his first return trip to the camp of his enemies, the cops.

Beside him, Roselle was silent, staring straight ahead.

His mind began to wander and--of course--it always meandered to where he didn’t want it to go: back to the day his sister had died. He remembered he was starving for supper. The blue police cruiser in his driveway had made him slam on the brakes. He parked and leaped out of his mom’s car. Curiosity and dread clawed at him as he approached the kitchen door.

Police? What were the police doing here? Sure, he’d skipped out on cutting Grandpa’s grass to spend the day with Roselle. After all, matching his and her work schedules was a rarity, and he wanted to spend every minute he could with her. But his mother wouldn’t call the cops over unmown grass! Unless she thought he’d spent the day with his old drinking crowd...

He opened the kitchen door wide enough to slip inside. What was up? His mother was hunched over the table with her back to him. A skinny cop was standing next to her. Neither was paying any attention to him.

“Mom?”

She didn’t answer. Then he heard his mom’s muffled sobs and they twisted his insides. He’d never seen or heard his mother cry. Even when his father had left them, she’d remained in control.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” He took a couple of steps toward her, then stopped, uncertain. “Did something happen to Grandpa?”

She wrenched around in her chair. Streaks of red and tears smudged her face and eyes. She blinked several times like she didn’t know him.

“What is it?” He couldn’t force his feet to move toward her.

“Oh, Will. Your sister is--”

At the pain in her voice, he squeezed his hands into fists by his sides trying to control his fear. “What?” What was she talking about? “I saw June this morning before I left. What’s the matter? Where’d she go?” Will cut a sharp glance to the law enforcement officer standing guard over his mother.

“Sorry, son.” The man in blue was moving toward him and talking at the same time. “Your sister won’t be coming home. She crashed in some kind of plane this afternoon in the parking lot of the Lakes Dog Track. Guess your sister was trying to catch up some bookwork and flew up. Looks like she attempted to land in the parking lot since the greyhound track was closed and-”

Will stared at his mother. The cop moved in front of him and continued speaking, but Will heard nothing. He charged past the man to his mom’s side.

Her eyes were full of misery, and her bottom lip quivered. “Your sis-”

But he knew the truth. His sister was dead.

And that was the day he’d started to drink¼without stopping. He knew where his grandfather always kept a stash of beer. He drank and mentally reviewed each step in building the flyer, but he couldn’t find his mistake. Later he dug a hole and buried the empty beer cans, but he couldn’t bury the guilt and pain. So he drank more, or so the psychiatrist had told him.

Will exhaled and forced the old memory away. A fresh pain was slicing him up. Why did it hurt as much today as it had more than half a year ago?

Would it ever stop?

Outside the sun was shining. On the sidewalk a young girl was laughing at the boy walking next to her. Beside him, Roselle was sitting still and quiet, her hands clasped tightly together. Roselle, the woman he wanted more than a drink.

He reached over and laid his hand over hers. The warm softness of her skin made him ache. “It’s only a battery, Roselle. Everyone is okay.”

“Mrs. Christie’s not okay.” She jerked her head toward him, tears bright in her eyes. “Mom thinks Mrs. Christie wanted to break up with Fast Eddie, but why did he have to kill her?”

“Maybe she was cheating on him.”

“Mrs. Christie? Who thought you’d go to hell if you fibbed?”

“Maybe he was cheating on her and they fought Most fights are about deception and lies.”

“Not ours,” she said. Her grey eyes met his, hitting home with the truth.

“No,” he said quietly. “Our fights were about the truth.”

“I thought you weren’t listening during our arguments. You acted like I wasn’t even there.” She stared straight ahead, her voice monotone. “That’s why I had to leave. Before I started to believe I wasn’t there anymore too.”

The hurt in her voice slashed through him like a blade. She was wrong, all wrong. “You were always there for me, Roselle.” He was the failure. He’d allowed his life to revolve around everything that was wrong.

She slid her hand out from underneath his and he wanted to grab hold of her, not let her go.

“It didn’t feel that way to me.” She shifted her body toward the door, as far away from him as she could inside the cab.

Once they couldn’t bear to part with each other. And now...

A smothering sadness spread over him. “Roselle, I never--”

“How hard was it to take out my battery?” she asked as though the question was part of their discussion.

She didn’t want to listen to him. Maybe she was right. What was the point? “Taking out a battery? Pretty easy.”

The brick police building next to Honest Abe’s car lot came into view. “I’ll park in the back.”

He drove to the rear where the sight of more blue patrol cars made his gut twist. In a flash, he jumped out and walked to the side door. Inside, a duty officer stood at the counter. Will knew the officer would stall and force them to waste time with basic information.

Sure enough, when Roselle asked for Detective Cusato, the officer told her to have a seat and wait, like they were in a dentist’s waiting room or something. Roselle sat down on a metal folding chair and looked up at Will expectantly.

He shook his head and walked up to the glass front door and watched the traffic streaming by. Nothing interesting out there. He paced back to her. Had the police done anything to find Fast Eddie? Had they issued a warrant for his arrest?

If they did arrest him, Roselle would have to testify. She was a witness. He paced back to the window. Bad things happened to witnesses when people like Fast Eddie were involved. Somehow he had to keep her safe from all of this.

Roselle shifted in her chair. “Will, if you don’t stop, you’ll be arrested for destruction of public property.” She fixed a pointed glance on the tile beneath his feet. “Wearing out the floor.”

“Sorry, this place makes me jumpy.”

“Bad memories? When was the last time you were here? At least Myers is not around.”

“I used to come by every day for a while after June’s crash.” He had hoped the cops would find a clue and explain the accident.

Roselle nodded and leaned back in her chair.

He eyed the unfamiliar young cop behind the desk. His crooked nose and small eyes gave him a sneaky appearance that didn’t inspire confidence. Why would anyone choose this profession? He felt a tug on his hand.

Roselle had edged to the end of the seat. She laced her fingers through his. Warm feelings flowed through him and the tension drained.

“I’m fine.” Roselle squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you go back to my apartment and guard what’s left of the food before my brother takes it all hostage.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like leaving you in this place.”

“I’m safe. Really. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home. Okay?”

The idea of leaving her didn’t grab him. It was like deserting her when she was surrounded by the enemy.

As if on cue, Myers walked through the door and wheeled to a stop. Recognition brightened his eyes before they narrowed. “Come to protest a ticket, Boone? Did you park your truck in a tow zone while you were picking dandelions for your work?”

Will’s free hand clenched into a fist.

“One hour.” Suddenly Roselle was standing in front of him tugging him toward the door. “Please,” she whispered, leaning up on her toes. She kissed his cheek.

His skin tingled from the touch of her lips. Touching Roselle was like flying. They both kicked his adrenaline into overdrive.

He heaved a sigh, calming himself. “Sure. One hour. And then I’m coming back. But if you need me, call my cell and I’ll-”

“Promise.” She dropped her hand. He missed the warmth of her touch but most of all, he missed the reassurance and calm that had flowed from her into him.

The truth was¼he was lost without Roselle.

*****

Will managed to fill the hour with errands, then headed back to the police station. He was glad he’d left like Roselle suggested. If he’d stayed, he might have had difficulty showing off his new improved self to Roselle.

As he neared the building, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Roselle was standing on the edge of the road. Was she using herself as bait for Fast Eddie?

He pulled onto the dirt shoulder and she jumped inside. Pressing his foot down on the metal, he heard the tires squeal and pebbles hit the underside of the truck as they took off. “Are you crazy? Why are you standing on the side of the road like a pick-up?

“Looking for a good-looking guy, what else? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Roselle, Fast Eddie could have driven by and forced you into his car.” He should never have left her.

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?”

He blew out a breath. “Okay, shoot.”

“He pulled a fast one.”

“The detective?”

“Fast Eddie. Can you believe it? The man has the nerve to threaten me, but he’s a coward who runs off at the first chance.”

“Roselle, did Myers tell you this? I’d trust his word as far as I’d trust an Enron executive telling me not to worry about my company retirement.”

“I met with Detective Cusato. He interviewed Fast Eddie, who denied any involvement in Mrs. Christie’s death. Big surprise. In fact, he insisted on a lie detector test. It was set up for today, but he never showed. The detective went to his house but couldn’t find him.

“They checked his job and co-workers. No one has heard from him or seen him. He’d taken a leave of absence but had been calling in and checking on everyone until yesterday. Then today out of the blue, Fast Eddie’s lawyer called and announced that Fast Eddie was in the hospital. Detective Cusato thinks the man’s cracked under the pressure.”

“Roselle, this doesn’t mean he’ll confess. He can leave the hospital and surface anywhere.” She really didn’t get it.

She crossed her arms under her breasts like she had a chill. “I suppose.”

“You know how I feel about the Stark Falls Police Department. I never got the answers to all my questions about my sister’s accident, and I’m sure a decent investigation could have put an end to all my suspicions.”

“Will, don’t drive yourself crazy with questions.”

“Roselle, let’s not fight. I’m worried about you. Fast Eddie has connections with people you don’t want to meet. I’ve seen his friends when I worked at the track. Scary men who could get roles in The Godfather Part Five Hundred and One.”

“I don’t see any reason for Fast Eddie to come after me. He’s got his own problems with Detective Cusato after him.” She twisted in her seat. “You might be right though about the police. I bet I could solve cases better than the Stark Falls Police Department.”

“Let’s not go there. Refocus on Eddie Ferrani. He had a job at the track, and he had a good life. Why would he give it all up? His money can buy him a lawyer who’ll run circles around our little police force.” He had to get through to her.

She slid him an annoyed look. “Then why did he threaten me? Why has he run off to hide in the hospital?”

“Cold feet. I didn’t say the guy was brave or smart, just dangerous.”

She sat, silent, seemingly lost in her thoughts for several minutes. Finally she turned toward him. “Want to give a girl a hand in putting a battery in her car?” She fluttered her eyelids.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He held up his wrench.

Chapter Twelve

“Roselle, I need to speak to you.” Mom’s voice traveled through space in a clear lecture tone.

At the kitchen table, Roselle scanned the paper searching for new information about Mrs. Christie’s death while she held the phone trapped between her shoulder and ear. “That’s why we’re on the phone, Mom. Go ahead and speak.”

“I have another customer.”

A worry flew into Roselle’s mind. “She doesn’t want a jelly cabinet, does she? Is she a cook?”

“No, she deals with out of this world experiences. She’s a psychic. Her name is Miss True.”

“Mom, where’d you meet her, Psychics R Us?”

“Shh, Roselle, she’s a seer and might hear you.”

“No, she only communicates with dead people. She can’t hear us live ones.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Mom’s voice was full of doubt. “I called because I need your help. I ordered a sundial and a pedestal for Miss True’s garden, and I have to pick them up this afternoon. I don’t want to drive to a stranger’s house alone to deliver them, especially after Mrs. Christie’s death. So how about I pick you up in fifteen minutes?”

“Why doesn’t Bobby go with you?”

“He can’t-”

“I got it. He’s at practice, going to practice, or getting ready for practice. And Alicia is studying for a final on a course she started twenty minutes ago, and Dad is having the last tooth in his head capped, pulled, or crowned.”

“Roselle¼”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t show for the funeral.”

“Pick me up in fifteen minutes.” Roselle hung up the phone with a huge sigh and a bigger case of the guilts.

Why hadn’t she checked the alarm clock the night before the funeral? Then she wouldn’t owe her mother. And it irritated Roselle that Mom assumed her younger daughter had nothing to do after work. What kind of mother was she? She could at least pretend her daughter was cool and had droves of guys.

Always punctual, Mom showed up in fifteen minutes sharp. She wore her business outfit, a navy dress with a prim white collar. Luckily, Mom didn’t make any of her usual comments about Roselle’s baggy jeans and shirt with I’m a Winner printed across the back.

They headed for Sweetie’s Gifts and Plants shop a half mile away. As usual Mom insisted she drive the short distance. After three circles around the block, she finally found the right spot to park.

Inside the store, a clerk ran up to them. He was one of Bobby’s teammates, and he brought out the psychic’s garden ornaments and carried everything to the van. Obviously he could squeeze in a few minutes of work in between practices and life as a football player.

Ready, Mom took off for the address in North Weare. North Weare was the town with Roselle’s favorite address. The joke was if you lived in North Weare, you lived No. Where. But from the firm set of Mom’s jaw Roselle decided not to bring up this tidbit of information.

The silence in the car made Roselle uncomfortable. So she’d messed up and missed a funeral. Mom didn’t have to persecute her with the silent treatment for the rest of her life.

“Roselle, have you had any luck finding a new job?”

On the other hand, maybe persecution wasn’t so bad.

How could she head off the new inquisition? What had the Guru for You website told her yesterday when she was bored? Ah, yes. When having a major difference with a person, strive for grounds of commonality.

She could do that. “You know, Mom. I was thinking the other day how we’re kinda similar.”

“What does that have to do with finding a good paying job?”

“Well, you’re trying to find one too.” Roselle smiled in triumph.

“I hardly think that makes us alike. After all, I’m married and you’re all alone.”

Yes, she was all alone, not even a boyfriend in sight and she was trapped in a car with her mother. Happy Day!

Roselle dropped the topic. Outside the window, she stared at the changing scenery. Weare had once been an agricultural town, but with the boom in housing, you never knew if you’d find an expensive house built next to an abandoned farm around the next curve.

“Do you think psychics just mentally telegraph each other when they want to meet or send a Christmas card?” Roselle asked, hoping to erase the last topic from Mom’s memory. “I bet long distance carriers hate psychics.”

“Roselle, don’t ask any of your questions when we’re at the customer’s house. In fact, don’t speak.”

“Do you want her to think you have a mute daughter?”

Mom pressed her lips tightly together and didn’t answer.

“Okay, Mom. Whatever.” Roselle decided to enjoy the rest of the day. After all Fast Eddie was out of her life--at least for the moment. Even the overcast gray clouds threatening rain couldn’t dent her feelings of freedom.

“Here we are.” Mom put on the blinker for the benefit of the one white sedan behind them and turned into a housing development of vintage 1970 split-levels.

Roselle glanced at the address on the piece of paper lying on the dashboard. The psychic lived in a split on this street? Who would have guessed? In her mind, Roselle had pictured the seer living in a little bungalow with wind chimes swaying back and forth. She’d be standing in the doorway to greet them in long flowing robes with strings of beads around her neck.

Mom pulled into the driveway of a green house. A round flower garden of mulch and mums decorated the front yard.

“We don’t have to knock, do we? With her being psychic and all?”

Mom threw her a warning look.

“Mute.” Roselle motioned like she was locking her lips with a key.

Mom killed the engine and popped the lock on the rear door of the car. Roselle unfastened her seat belt and jumped out. A cool breeze chilled her arms, and the damp air promised rain. The sounds of a truck whizzing by on the main road broke the silence.

Together they hauled out the pedestal and sundial into the driveway before Mom led the way to the front door. She rang the bell while Roselle balanced on the edge of the top step and glanced around. The neighborhood was quiet with copies of the same split-level house, but in different colors, stamped on both sides of the street.

The door sprang open and a woman in dark pants, white shirt, and graying hair stood before them.

Mom smiled her business smile. “Hi, Melinda True? I’m your personal shopper, Mrs. Lewis. We’re delivering your order right to your home.” Mom waved a hand at Roselle. “If you’ll tell us where to leave the items, my assistant and I can move them.”

Assistant? Should she take a bow like the girl in a magic act? Maybe Mom had created her own answer to the endless questions from the relatives about when her daughter was going to get a real job and a career. If only Mom would pay her assistant...

Roselle held out her hand to Melinda the Mystic. “Hi.”

Melinda slid a smooth palm into Roselle’s, and the jingle of charms tinkled in the air. At least she wasn’t a total disappointment.

Suddenly Melinda’s smile faded. She gulped and dropped Roselle’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” Mom jerked her attention to the sundial and pedestal in the drive. “Did I pick up the wrong ones?”

“No, no, my bath water is running. I have to-” With wide eyes Melinda retreated inside the house and slammed the door. The sound of a lock clicking filled the stunned silence.

“Wow, your customers are getting stranger and stranger, Mom.” Roselle stared at the bolted entry. She put a hand to her forehead and narrowed her eyes. “My crystal ball tells me she won’t call you again.”

Mom shot Roselle a disgusted look and shouted, “You didn’t tell us where to put the sundial and pedestal!”

“In the front yard,” came the muffled answer.

Sure, Miss True was too scared to make polite conversation, but not too scared to order them to lug around her heavy purchases. “I thought she had to shut off the bath water.”

“Shh, Roselle. Let’s just move the sundial and pedestal and go home.”

“Why should I shh? She’s the one who’s weird. Where did you meet her?”

“She called me,” Mom whispered. “She’d read my ad in the paper. She’s the only one who responded, and I told your father the ad was a success. Otherwise, he’d keep reminding me about the cost.”

“Did she pay you?” Roselle whispered back.

A scraping noise came from the door, and they both glanced down to see an envelope shoot out from underneath. Mrs. Lewis was written across the front in large curly script. Mom bent and picked it up.

Roselle’s stomach flip-flopped as she remembered her last envelope. “Wait, maybe you shouldn’t open it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Roselle.” Mom tore open the flap and peered inside.

Roselle squinted her eyes, wanting to see, not wanting to see.

“It’s a check. Now lets carry everything to the flowerbed.” Mom’s navy blue clogs thudded down the steps.

Roselle tilted her head up at the gray sky. “When the sun comes out, the neighbor’s pine trees will throw a shadow on the sundial.” Not that she really cared, but she didn’t want Melinda True calling Mom about a return because the sundial didn’t dial the correct time.

“She can rearrange it when she comes out.” Mom clogged down to the driveway.

Roselle began to follow when a scratching noise from the door made her stop. She turned in time to see another piece of paper shoot out from underneath. Roselle had heard of social anxiety, but this woman was taking it to a new height. Maybe she had agoraphobia, but then who was weeding the garden? Maybe she suffered from personal-shopper-phobia.

Roselle leaned down and scooped up the note. Could it be a check for her, the new assistant?

The note read: Call me. You’re in danger.

“Great.”

“What is it?” Mom asked.

“The canceled check will be her receipt.”

Mom sighed. “Come on. Get the pedestal.”

Roselle folded the warning and slipped it into her jeans pocket. With all the notes she was getting, she was beginning to wish she was illiterate.

In about five minutes the pedestal had been rolled into place and the sundial sat on top of it. “Mom, I think you should hire someone to screen your clients.”

“I can’t afford to start worrying about picking and choosing my customers.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and rubbed a smudge of dirt off her hands. “We’re finished. Let’s go home.”

Roselle ran to the car. Within minutes they were zooming away from No. Where. She began to relax when questions invaded her quiet space. Had the psychic read about Mrs. Christie’s death and Roselle in the paper? Is that why she’d sent the note about danger?

Was Ms. True truly a leech--getting her jollies by taking advantage of people’s misfortunes?

Mom was turning onto the main road when Roselle noticed a white sedan behind them. Was this the same white car that had followed them when they’d driven out to the psychic’s house? Was it coincidence or was she caught in a psychic time warp?

Be reasonable, she argued with herself. Maybe the driver had finished his or her errand at the same time. No point in telling Mom about the car and causing a false alarm.

Roselle checked the side mirror but couldn’t tell much except the driver, a male, wasn’t large enough to be Fast Eddie and looked like a skinhead.

Okay, she was starting to act paranoid. Had she caught a bad vibe from the psychic? But who could blame her with that weird “danger” message.

But...what if Melinda True was right and had foreseen a catastrophe? Roselle kept the car in her sights. It followed along at a steady speed behind them.

Mom stared straight ahead, thinking her own thoughts, seemingly oblivious to the white vehicle.

“I’m going to pick up some drain cleaner for the kitchen sink at Rocky’s Groceries.”

“What?” Roselle shifted her attention. Maybe their tail would pass them by. If he didn’t, she’d know for sure he was following them.

Within five minutes they reached the grocery store. Rocky’s was on the border of Stark Falls’ three-block downtown center with plenty of local customers. The town’s favorite mode of transportation, the pickup truck, littered the parking lot. A few stray cars were scattered in between them.

Mom pulled into a street parking spot across from the store in front of Lulu’s Curl and Twirl Salon. If you stared at the wooden sign, you could see the word Beauty under the coat of white paint, leaving Salon to stand out.

Holding her breath, Roselle waited for the white car to make its move. It zoomed past, and she collapsed against the seat with a breath of relief.

“You look exhausted. Do you want anything?” Mom unfastened her seat belt.

Roselle shook her head, enjoying the fact that she was safe and only suffering from a delusional moment. Her nerves were really getting the better of her.

Mrs. Regan puttered past in her lime green convertible and Roselle smiled. The world was normal again. Never mind psychics, pink tongues, and Mrs. Christie. Nothing could change-

No, it couldn’t be. The white car was headed back. No way! Please let the car keep going. The car crept by, and Roselle caught sight of a bald head and blue shirt.

She twisted around with fear eating at her stomach. He wasn’t going after her mother, was he? What if the message of danger had been for Mom?

The white sedan entered Rocky’s parking lot. He had come back to stalk Mom. Fear heaved up in Roselle’s chest, blocking all breathing.

The sedan pulled into a parking spot near the exit. He’d parked in a place for a fast getaway. She had to do something. What? The police wouldn’t come fast enough.

With no time to waste, Roselle jumped out of the car and ran up the concrete walkway to the glass front door and yanked it open.

Inside, the odor of perms and the hum and the heat of the dryers assaulted her senses. Padded seats that moved up and down for the customers sat in front of the large wall mirrors that magnified their every facial defect. Two attendants bent over their clients, who were pumped up to top-notch positions.

Roselle zeroed in on Louise, the owner, in her bright floral print smock. Slim and with spiked hair, Louise stood over a gray-haired customer, a curling iron in her hand.

Darting across the floor, Roselle slid to a halt. “Louise-”

Louise held up a multi-ringed hand. “Lu. I’m Lu now.”

“Okay, Lu, I’m Roselle Lewis. I was a year behind you at Stark Falls High, and I have to borrow your curling iron. Emergency!” She didn’t give Louise--or Lu--time to resist. She grabbed the hot iron from Lou-Lu’s hand. Roselle felt the tug as the electrical plug gave way as she ran for the door.

The salon clients bent forward in their seats as she sprinted past. She paused at the door with Mom’s lectures on manners shouting in her head. “Thanks, my Mom is being stalked by a crazy person at Rocky’s. I have to save her!”

Brandishing the weapon, Roselle raced out of the beauty parlor. She heard the door swing shut behind her. Near the street, she hesitated to check out the van. Mom hadn’t come out yet. Guess drain cleaner wasn’t easy to find.

Roselle jaywalked through the honking traffic and headed for the white sedan. She gripped the smooth black plastic handle tighter in her hand.

She darted to the car. Behind the wheel, the driver was playing with the air conditioner buttons. Roselle lurched for the door handle. In one motion, she raised the weapon and yanked the stalker’s door open.

Chapter Thirteen

“Get out of the car. I’m making a citizen’s arrest.” Roselle held her weapon over her head. “Call the police,” she shouted to two startled shoppers clutching plastic bags and attempting to unlock the SUV next to her.

From inside the white sedan, the stalker’s startled brown eyes fixed on Roselle.

He was young, a teenager. Surprise made her lower the curling iron an inch. Was this a Fast Eddie flunkie? His rodent-like brown eyes did look a little criminal.

“I¼I can’t get out,” he whined. “I have to go home. It’s my grandma’s car, and I promised to have it back in an hour.”

“Roselle!” Her mother was hurrying across the pavement to her.

“Mom, stay away. This man--er, kid--was following us.”

Her mother continued toward her.

Roselle gave up and whirled back to her captive. “Don’t make a move or I’ll-” She raised the curling iron higher over her head.

“Roselle, what are you trying to do?” Mom wheeled to a stop at her daughter’s heels. She lowered her head and looked into the car.

The stalker slid a hand over his bald head. “I think she wants to give me a perm.”

“You’ve got to have hair first, smart guy. Now get out.”

“Roselle, Roselle, I’ve called the police!” Lou was yelling from across the street. She jumped up and down on high-heeled shoes and waved both hands in the air while cars zipped past on the street, separating her from Rocky’s parking lot.

“The police? Citizen’s arrest?” Mom turned a startled gaze on Roselle. “What is everyone talking about? What are you doing to your brother’s friend?” She glanced around the lot at the shoppers lining up a few feet away and whispered, “People are staring at us.”

“Bobby’s friend?” Roselle dropped the weapon and checked the kid for suspicious clues. Could this be one of her brother’s useless but harmless pals?

“I’m sorry, Georgie.” Mom pasted on a smile, tilting her head down to speak to the teen inside the car. “Tell your mom I used her chicken recipe for supper last night.”

“Georgie? Bad guys are never named Georgie.” And now that Roselle looked closer, he did seem more like a follower of the ice cream truck than a Fast Eddie gang member.

In the distance, a police siren was screaming and growing louder. Out in the street, Lou was dodging cars and making her way across the road to the lot. Around them, a crowd was assembling.

Lou ran up to Roselle. “Are you okay?” She turned to Roselle’s mom. “Did the stalker hurt you, Mrs. Lewis?”

“Who? Georgie? What are you all talking about?” Mom whirled to the growing throng of shoppers. “Can anyone make sense?”

“There’s the police!” Lou pointed at the street. She waved and screamed, “Over here!”

The crowd rubbernecked to see the progress of the Stark Falls patrol car hurtling toward them. A short round man stepped out of the crowd. “Anyone need first aid? I took a CPR life saving class through the Y last month. I’ve been wanting to test it on some other dummy.”

“No one is hurt or drowning,” Mom snapped. “Roselle, I’m waiting for your explanation.”

“I thought he was following us.” She pointed a finger at Georgie. Could she have imagined he was tailing them?

“Mr. Lewis paid me twenty dollars to keep an eye on you,” Georgie blurted. “I’m to call if I see anything suspicious.”

“Dad?” Roselle turned to her mother, who looked as surprised as Roselle.

“I had no idea your father paid anyone anything.” Mom’s surprised expression melted into a smile. “It’s rather sweet...”

The police car skidded to a stop and blocked the exit. Stark Falls’ finest, Myers, jumped out. Roselle groaned.

Myers swaggered toward them, his thumbs hooked into his belt. His tight-pressed lips and an authoritative nod at the crowd forced a louder groan from Roselle.

Oh please, could a huge crater just open up and swallow me? she thought as people pushed forward and formed a tight knot around them.

“Make room for an officer of the law.” Myers took his thumbs out of his belt loops and made swimming motions in front of himself to clear the spectators out of his way.

Mom shook her head. “Life is certainly a cabaret, my shopper friends.”

Roselle thought life was more like an asylum.

“Where’s the perp?” Myers asked, stopping beside Lou.

“He’s in that car.” She flung her hand out with a dramatic flourish. “Right, Roselle?”

Cheeks burning, Roselle felt the crowd switch their eyes full of curiosity to her.

Lou reached out and removed her curling iron from Roselle’s hand. “I’ll take that, now that the police have arrived.”

“Sure. I thought he was a perp, but he turned out to only be a teenager. Who can tell the difference?” Roselle joked to Myers.

No one twitched a smile, not even a smirk. This was a disaster.

“All right, I’ll take charge of the situation. And it better not be a false alarm. That’s a crime too.” Myers bent down to Georgie and ordered, “Get out of the car and put your hands on the hood.” Myers straightened and raised his shoulders up and down. “Give me room. I’m an officer of the law, and I’m conducting an investigation.”

Georgie stepped out of the car and flashed Mom a please-help-me glance.

Roselle couldn’t stand it. She scooted in front of Georgie. “I’ve made a mistake. He’s not a stalker or anything else. Oh, well, a football player, if that counts. Anyway, it’s all my fault. Arrest me.” She turned over her wrists and held them out.

*****

Will saw the crowd gathered in Rocky’s parking lot. What was happening? He knew people in town liked to support local businesses but he’d never seen so many shoppers. It must be some sale. Could Rocky be handing out free samples or holding a shopping spree?

Will craned his neck to get a glimpse of the attraction. The customers had ringed¼Roselle.

Roselle?

He slammed on the brakes. A car horn blasted. Sorry, he mouthed to the red vehicle in the rearview mirror. He hung a U-turn into a parking spot on the side of the street.

In a flash, he’d parked, crossed the road, and pushed his way through the spectators. Roselle was holding out her wrists demanding Myers arrest her. What the- “Roselle!”

She jerked her head toward his voice. “Will?”

He pushed past a young couple that were holding hands and gaping at Roselle like they were watching a movie.

“Will, what are you doing here?” Roselle lowered her wrists.

“Me? What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing closer and breaking through the circle of townspeople. He turned to Myers. “What’s the charge?”

“You’re obstructing justice,” Myers replied. “This isn’t any of your business, Boone.”

“Will, please, I’m trying to handle this.” Roselle shook her head at him and widened her eyes in warning.

“I can answer everyone’s questions,” Mrs. Lewis announced, shifting her white plastic bag to the other hand. “Roselle mistakenly thought Georgie was stalking me.” She nodded at the lanky kid slouched next to her.

Georgie, the freckle-faced teen standing by the family car was a stalker? Will would bet his pickup truck that the kid would rather be tailing a sixteen-year-old girl than Mrs. Lewis.

Had Roselle gone off the deep end?

“My daughter’s a little overwrought from my friend Mrs. Christie’s death,” Mrs. Lewis continued. “Please, Officer Myers, take pity on her.”

“Pity!” Roselle’s eyes flashed with anger.

Mrs. Lewis whispered something to Roselle and then threw herself against Myers. The man teetered back on his heels with his arms flung out in space. For a moment, Will thought they’d crash to the payment. Then Myers and Mrs. Lewis rocked forward to a standstill.

Mrs. Lewis tightened her hold about Myers’ neck and appeared to be hanging on for dear life. The plastic bag clunked against Myers’ backbone.

Now was his chance. Will reached over and pulled Roselle to the edge of the crowd.

Melodramatic sobs came from Mrs. Lewis. “I can’t bear to think of my daughter arrested and in a jail cell. My doctor told me I needed to rest after the shock of Mrs. Christie’s death. It’s my heart, you know. I could suffer an attack if I’m exposed to much more stress. I’m getting heart palpitations...” She placed a hand over her chest and stood still, like she was counting the beats.

“Come on.” Will took Roselle’s elbow and tugged her free of the crowd. He arched his brows and asked in a cynical voice, “Your mother has heart problems?”

“Mom’s lying. She told me to run, but I don’t know how she expects me to escape in the crowd, and I’m not sure her act will work. Myers doesn’t understand heart ailments because he doesn’t have a heart.”

“My truck’s parked across the street.”

“I don’t think I should leave Mom.” She rose up on tiptoes in an effort to see above the spectators’ heads and shoulders.

“Are you kidding? I’d say your mom is doing great without you. She’s the decoy. That’s why she told you to get out.”

Roselle bit her lip and then nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

As they crossed the lot, more vehicles were pulling up. Drivers crawled past and craned their necks to see what was happening at Rocky’s. A large hairy man slowed his car and shouted out to Will, “What’s going on?”

“Big sale at Rocky’s. Everything is half price. Even DVDs!” Will yelled.

The man’s tires squealed as he did a fast turn-around and headed into a parking spot.

“Hey, they’re getting away,” someone shouted.

Roselle and Will jumped into the pickup truck and sped off. Within a few moments the grocery store parking lot faded behind them.

“The psychic was right and wrong.” Roselle twisted around in her seat to catch a glimpse of the distant action.

“You went to a psychic and she predicted a crowded parking lot at Rocky’s?”

Roselle settled in her seat. “She predicted danger.”

“But you’re with me,” he said, attempting to ease the lines of worry on her face.

She looked at him and a light lit in her eyes. “Exactly.” The corners of her mouth curved up in a teasing grin. “Okay, Myers was the real danger.”

Her familiar grin triggered pent-up feelings and he felt the words rise in his throat. For an instant, he fought them. Then he gave in¼kind of. “Roselle¼I’ve missed you.”

“Me too. I mean, I’ve missed you.”

The confession created a warm spot in his chest. For a few minutes he drove on automatic pilot, replaying her words over and over again in his head. Finally, he glanced around. His subconscious had taken him on a familiar route.

Roselle shifted in her seat. “The north end of town?”

“Do you want me to take you home first? My mom asked me to drop off some flowers at the cemetery, but...”

“No,” she whispered. “I’d like to go. It’s been a long time.”

He felt his anticipation rise as it always did when he made the trip. It was only six miles from his house, but he could have driven it blindfolded.

Avoiding the main road, he cruised through neighborhoods with children and pets. Pumpkins and cornstalks decorated the houses’ porches and lawns. A small black dog with his leash in his mouth was walking a middle-aged overweight man by the side of the road.

Driving in silence, Will’s hands dampened with nerves. Was it because of Roselle or the cemetery visit? To calm himself, he studied the route.

The houses soon became sparse and a stone wall paralleled the road. Beyond the wall, a white fence did double duty. At the opening in the wall, Will slowed the truck and turned off the pavement. The wheels bumped along the dirt lane that cut across a wide band of grass to the gravestones beyond the fence.

Town legend held that Native Americans had first buried their dead in the now grassy strip of land abutting the rock wall. Out of respect for the first inhabitants, the town forefathers had set the community’s graves at the far end of the lot. Will thought the whole idea was probably a story created by the Stark Falls Cemetery Trustees to avoid overcrowding, but no one ever suggested disturbing the patch of grass with new graves.

A few feet from the first headstone, he pulled up and cut the engine. They both got out. Will grabbed the pot of chrysanthemums from the back. With Roselle, he walked quietly toward the tree-lined boundary at the opposite end of the cemetery.

Overhead, gray clouds crowded around the sun, cooling the day. The chill reached through his denim jacket. The trees shook their leaves in the breeze and a bouquet of faded pink plastic flowers tumbled across the dying grass in front of them. The odor of summer’s decay floated on the air.

Will stopped. “Wait, Roselle. I have something else.” He whirled around and ran back to the bed of the pickup and snatched up a bottle. He loped back to Roselle and they walked to the last headstone. She stopped at the foot of the grave, but Will swerved around to the granite headstone and rested the flowerpot and bottle against it.

“Your favorite color. Mom picked it out for you. She knew you liked sunflowers.” He shrugged. “But they’re not in season. I did remember your favorite, Dr Pepper, for you though.” Even as he spoke, he felt like a liar.

The truth was he didn’t remember much about his sister. Already he had trouble remembering the way she had laughed. What did her voice even sound like?

A band tightened around Will’s chest and tears burned in his eyes. The words on the stone--June Boone, beloved daughter and sister--swam and blurred together in his vision.

He felt a touch against his hand. He jerked his attention away from the grave. Roselle was standing beside him.

“We won’t forget her, Will.”

She slipped her fingers through his and for a second he hesitated. The tightness in his chest spread to his arms and hands, threatening to make him unable to grasp her hand. The crippling voice in his head shouted that he didn’t deserve any sympathy or support.

“Will?”

He forced his stiff fingers to curl around Roselle’s. She squeezed his hand and he allowed the reassurance and strength to spread from her into him while he tried to hold on to the dimming memories of his sister.

He’d encouraged...no, dared...his sister to fly. June had crashed because of him. He had built the flyer and made a mistake somewhere.

Her death was his fault.

Chapter Fourteen

Roselle saw the van sitting in the driveway as Will drove her home from the cemetery. “Looks like Mom escaped from Myers.”

“And she brought her stalker with her.” Will pointed to the white Chevy parked in front of her parents’ house. “Guess Georgie talked his grandmother into letting him use the car for another hour.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She reached for the door handle, wishing she could go home to her apartment like a coward. “Want to come inside?”

“I don’t think your mother wants to see me today. Maybe tomorrow.”

“What makes you think tomorrow will be any different?”

“Tomorrow will be today, so it won’t be any different.”

“Forget I asked, Will.” She pushed down on the handle and grabbed her purse. Guys! They were all alike--confusing and no help in dealing with a parent.

“Roselle, until tomorrow.” He grinned.

“Will, you’re so lame.”

“I want to see you tomorrow.”

“But it will be today. And you saw me today.” She slammed the door and turned away with satisfaction at beating Will at his own word game. Her happiness faded when the image of her mother’s disapproving face and Georgie’s boyish sad eyes flashed in her mind.

Roselle slipped in the back door that led to the mudroom and then to the kitchen. Her mother’s voice, low and calm, murmured in the background. The fragrance of tasty food filled the air.

Encouraged, Roselle headed into the next room.

Mom was hovering over a bald head at the table. Roselle inhaled deeply and forced a smile on her face. “Hi, Georgie.”

Mom and Georgie whipped their attention to her. The freckle-faced teen had a chocolate ring around his mouth.

Wait a minute. Was he eating the chocolate cake her mother had promised her if she fixed Mrs. Christie’s jelly cabinet? Roselle stepped closer, searching for the remains of the cake.

“Roselle, you scared us. Don’t sneak around. Come sit down and have a sandwich.” Mom leaned forward on her toes and threw a wary glance behind Roselle. “Is Will with you?”

“Relax, Mom, he dropped me off and left.”

The lines on her mother’s forehead smoothed away. “Georgie was telling me about the nursing program at the Tech in Concord. He’s hoping to attend after high school graduation. I thought you might be interested.” The lecturing tone in her parent’s voice made Roselle cringe inside. “A new semester starts in January,” Mom added significantly.

Georgie was training to become a nurse? Sure, even he could figure out his future.

“Forget the sandwich, but I’ll take a piece of cake.” She rounded the table to plop into a chair. “Didn’t you bake that cake for me?” Might as well use the guilt trip approach in reverse.

“Georgie is taking the rest of the cake home with him. It’s the least we can do for that awful scene at Rocky’s today.” Mom patted Georgie’s hand.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Lewis. My grandmother didn’t cry too much when a member of her knitting group told her I was almost arrested as a stalker in front of the whole town. At least that’s what my mother said on the phone when I called her.”

Mom widened her brown eyes at Roselle. Guilt wrapped around her and threatened to smother her. No use trying to beat a pro like Mom at her own game. “Sorry, Georgie,” Roselle mumbled. “I was paranoid. Take all the cake.”

“It seems, Roselle, your father did pay Georgie to watch us. He thought a football player would scare off any Mafia types. Your dad meant well, so we’ll forgive him.” Mom smiled a dreamy smile that made her look young.

Roselle didn’t feel angry or guilty any more. Relief was the only emotion she was enjoying. She reached over and grabbed the uneaten part of a bologna sandwich off Georgie’s plate and took a bite. “Great lunch, Mom.”

*****

Kozy’s was buzzing with the story of Roselle threatening Georgie Thomas with a curling iron.

“Hey, Roselle, want to give me a perm?” yelled out Wayne, who used the comb-over style to hide his balding head.

“I’d love to give him a permanent lobotomy,” Roselle muttered.

“Don’t let Kozy hear you,” admonished Marcia as she grabbed a set-up from under the drink station.

Outside, the morning sun had disappeared behind a cloud and a shadow fell through the large picture window. It gave Roselle an eerie feeling. Inside, most of the Retired Regulars had arrived and were sipping their usual morning coffee.

Roselle began taking Mrs. Regan’s order when the sound of a vehicle’s squealing brakes drew her attention again to the window. A UPS truck lurched to a stop at the curb. Roselle watched the man in his brown delivery uniform hop out with a large white rectangular box in his arms.

The bell above the door sang out with news of his presence, and Kozy rushed forward to greet him. He signed for the box and exchanged a few words with the deliveryman. Turning, Kozy scanned the restaurant until his gaze fell on Roselle. He motioned her forward.

Marcia took the slip with Mrs. Regan’s order. “I’ll put it in for you. Looks like you have a secret admirer.”

“I doubt it.” Who would send her a gift?

“A package for you.” Kozy waved at the box. “Flowers. Open them now and put them in water so you can get back to work. It’s not good for the business to get personal deliveries.”

“Flowers? I don’t know anyone who’d send me flowers.” Would Will send flowers? She hoped. She scanned the card under the blue ribbon.

Thanks, Vince.

She smiled. He was so sweet. She was fumbling with the bow when Marcia held out a pair of manicure scissors. “Here you go, Sweetie.”

Roselle grabbed them and cut the ribbons free.

“Put it on the table,” Marcia urged when Roselle tried to balance the box on her knee and pry open the gift at the same time.

She glanced at Kozy, who was standing nearby like a Greek statue watching over them. The sooner she finished the more time she’d have for work—and therefore a happy boss. She shoved aside the dirty dishes and silverware from the table and slid the box on top of the empty tabletop.

“I can’t open it.” She pried the cover off with fumbling fingers. With a whoosh the lid popped off.

Lying inside were chucks of brown nuggets. “What’s this?”

“It looks like¼dog food.” Marcia poked her head over Roselle’s shoulder.

“Dog food?” Roselle sniffed. It sure smelled like animal munchies. Did Vince think she owned a pet? She reached inside and allowed a few chunks to fall through her fingers. Something flew out of the box.

“What? What was that?” With dread, Roselle jerked to wherever the creature had shot. And then another one leaped out.

“Cockroaches!” Marcia yelled.

“Holy Board of Health!” Cockroaches in a restaurant! Disaster! “No!” Breathless, Roselle leaped backward as more and more jumped or flew from the box.

“Cockroaches!” screamed Mrs. Regan. She ran with speed a track runner would admire, knocking Kozy backward into a chair as she raced past him.

Like opening Pandora’s box, the cockroaches flew out of the present, multiplying and scurrying across the restaurant floor. People began yelling and rushing for the exit.

Roselle slammed the cover back on the box, but the fleeing customers continued their exodus.

“Do I get my money back?” asked a friend of Mrs. Regan’s.

“Can you pack it to go?” inquired another man with a walker. He held his plate close to his chest, his eyes searching the floor like he expected a cockroach at any moment to leap up and rip the food from his hand.

Roselle shook her head, grabbed the box of dog food and ran for the door. “Make way!” she cried to the fleeing customers.

Ick, bugs. Creepy, crawly bugs. Roselle shook all over, and she clutched the box with trembling hands. She pushed through to the sidewalk and dropped the box on the ground with a thud. The top popped up, leaving a crack. An escape route. The bugs poured out. Roselle kicked the box toward the street. No way was she touching it again!

People were gathering around her. “Stomp on them,” yelled a man with a white beard.

“I will,” someone shouted.

Roselle heard the scream of sirens and knew they were coming for the cockroaches. Whatever good the police could do...

Outside the ring of curious gawkers, a couple of people were glued to their cell phones. They were spreading the bad news about Kozy’s Restaurant. Dread speared her and held her to the spot. Kozy would never forgive her!

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

Marcia held a small white card to her. “This fell out of the gift box.”

Roselle took the card and read the childish block letters. You didn’t forget. You louse.

“What does it mean?” Marcia whispered to her, leaning over her shoulder.

“It means it wasn’t from Vince.” Roselle dropped her arm to her side with feelings of helplessness and fear gnawing away inside her. Out on the street, more cockroaches jumped out of the gift box. “Fast Eddie sent them. He’s watching me.”

*****

Upstairs in Roselle’s apartment, the phone was ringing but she ignored it. If it was her mother, she’d send someone soon enough to check on her. The Board of Health had closed Kozy’s until further notice and she really didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

A fumigation team was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and then the place would have to wait until a state inspection could be scheduled to approve the reopening.

Roselle would have to find another place to crash for a while. Inhaling poisonous fumes wasn’t high on her list of breathing exercises. Nor was sleeping with insects. She shuddered.

The answering machine kicked in.

“This is Melinda True. Call me.”

Mom’s psychic. Roselle grabbed for the phone, but heard only the buzz of a hang-up. What could she want? Maybe her sundial wasn’t keeping accurate time and she wanted a refund. Had the psychic seen cockroaches in Roselle’s future? Had this been her “danger”?

A loud knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Bobby?” Mom must have sent her spy. She was slowing down. Cockroachgate had happened four hours ago. Roselle yanked open the door. An unfamiliar woman stood in front of her.

“Roselle Lewis? I’m a reporter for the Inquisitor.”

“This building is condemned. You’d better leave.”

“This one?” She blinked and looked around. “I’ve been in much worse. You should see my office.”

“You have my sympathy, but the Board of Health has closed the place. You’d better leave.”

“Sure. I just need one comment. Is it true that you’re an eyewitness in the Caryn Christie murder allegedly committed by Edward Ferrani?”

Roselle’s throat tightened. Who was this woman really? Maybe Fast Eddie had sent her to punish her further. “No comment.” She began to shut her door.

The woman jumped between the door and the frame. “Off the record then.”

A thought struck Roselle. “Hang on a minute. Stay right there. If you see any cockroaches, stomp on them.”

Racing through her apartment, Roselle grabbed the cordless kitchen phone, pushed a number, and ran back out. She forced the phone into Ms. Inquisitor’s hand.

“Hello?” The voice coming out of the receiver was loud and clear.

“Go ahead, she’ll talk about whatever you want.”

The woman looked doubtful but spoke into the phone, “Hello, to whom am I speaking?”

“Hi, Mom,” Roselle shouted. “You’re speaking to a reporter from the Inquisitor. Can you believe it? Your favorite paper.”

Roselle heard the loud stream of words pouring out of the phone. Smiling, she added, “Leave the phone against the welcome mat when you’re finished.” She shut the door.

Okay, one problem taken care of. She wandered to the window.

Below, she noticed a car parked across the street with a teenager inside. He was talking on a cell phone but kept glancing up at her window. His head suddenly snapped back, and Roselle realized he’d seen her looking at him.

She stepped out of view. Who was he? Was she imagining it? Was he a reporter, another Georgie, or...someone sent by Fast Eddie? A small curl of panic tightened in her stomach.

A loud knock on the door made Roselle jump. It must be the reporter again.

“Keep talking!” Roselle shouted back. “You’ll get used to her.”

“Roselle, let me in.”

“Will?” Cracking open the door, she peeked through to find Will dressed in a black and red plaid jacket. The reporter was standing to the side with wide eyes and nodding her head.

The woman pulled the phone from her ear and pointed at it. “Is this woman really your mother? She’s freaking me out.”

“That’s my Mom. Welcome to the club.” Roselle reached out and yanked Will inside by the arm. She started closing the door when she paused and shouted to the reporter, “Tell her you went to college. Mom loves college graduates.”

“Who’s the woman talking to your mother?”

“She’s a reporter for the Inquisitor. I was going to send her away when I remembered my mother loves that newspaper and would probably adore talking to her.”

Will shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Cool thinking, Ms. Lewis.”

She smiled. “I didn’t hang out with you for nothing all those years. What brings you around? Just passing by a condemned building and felt the need to drop in?”

“I heard about the cockroach gift. How’d Kozy take it?”

“He handled it with easygoing hysteria.”

“That bad, huh?”

“He was shouting and hyperventilating at the same time when the Board of Health arrived.”

“Sounds dramatic.”

“Oh, that was the boring part. When he started complaining about chest pains, they called the EMTs and the ambulance.”

“Kozy had a heart attack?”

“Marcia called and told me the doctor gave him a clean bill of health, but Kozy refused to believe him. He’s getting a second opinion tomorrow. I don’t think he knows I’m in my apartment. I’m trying to lay low before he’s discharged and can fire me. I’m hoping he’ll calm down before we meet again.”

“How about taking a ride with me? To get away from it all?”

“Works for me.” She scooped her purse off the maple coffee table. “Ready?”

“Don’t you want to change out of your uniform?”

“Nope, let’s go now.” She hadn’t given a thought to her clothes.

He nodded and they headed out, past the reporter who was asking Mom if she thought the cockroaches could have come from alien spaceships.

Chapter Fifteen

The itch had been with Will since the cemetery. Either he drove up to Belmont, or he picked up a couple of six packs. He’d fought the urge by detouring off to Roselle’s apartment but now he felt it drawing him, calling to him.

He resisted. Roselle was waiting for him to unlock the truck door in the restaurant parking lot. “I wondered if you’d like to see a special place?”

“Sure.” The locks clicked open and she hopped into the front seat of the truck. “What special place? You hate doing the mall thing, so it can’t be there.” She grabbed her seatbelt and snapped it into place.

“You’ll have to walk in the woods.” He raised his blond eyebrows. “There’s an old logging road.”

“Ah, if the woods are devoid of crawling things, I’m for it. I’ve had enough for one day.”

“The crawling things are in hibernation for the winter.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but let’s go. Are we headed to Belmont?”

His hand hovered over the key in the ignition. In the past, she always did little things to surprise him--like knowing what he was about to say. “How’d you guess?”

“I figured after the visit to the cemetery that you’d want to make your own personal trip, and I remember you haunted the Belmont parking lot after the crash.”

“Would you mind?”

“Sounds better than stomping cockroaches.” She tugged on her seat belt. “Ready for takeoff. I already know all the exits.”

Will eased the truck onto the road. The traffic was heavier than he’d expected. Leaf peepers, he thought. But even better than the beautiful fall leaves, he had Roselle all to himself. Happiness hummed inside him like a well-tuned engine.

In less than an hour, they turned off Highway 93 North and were on the back road to Laconia and the Belmont dog track. The closer he got, the more his body began to react: his throat tightened and his chest felt like the weight of a barbell was resting on his heart.

Roselle looked out her window. “Good day for a hike.”

He didn’t answer as he pulled the truck over onto the sandy shoulder about a quarter of a mile from the track. The woodsy odor hit him as soon as he opened the door. He paused while Roselle hugged her arms against the chill. North of Stark Falls, the air was cooler.

“Um...I thought there was a logging road we could drive up.” She eyed the forest in front of her.

“A tree fell across the road and blocked it. I thought you said it was a good day for a hike.”

“I meant a hike of a few feet from a parked vehicle to a maintained road and back again.” She paced and glanced up the hill.

“I’ve got a special place above the track parking lot, but...we can turn around and leave and just enjoy the ride.”

She bit her lip and then threw back her head. “Nope, Mother Nature calls to me.”

From behind the seat of the truck, he pulled out a denim jacket and a flannel shirt. “Which one do you want?” he asked, holding them up to Roselle.

“Flannel.” She took the blue and black plaid shirt, pulled it on, and looked off into the woods. “At least we have a trail. Come on.”

“Ladies first.”

She folded her arms over her chest and threw out wary glances. “Do you think the ticks are in hibernation?”

He smiled and straightened the collar of her shirt. His hand brushed against the warmth of her throat and he enjoyed a slight thrill and lift from the contact. “What’s a little tick after you faced the invasion of the cockroaches?”

“You had to remind me.” She paused at the edge of the old road. “You’re my leader, so lead on, oh fearless one.”

“You just want the ticks to get me first.”

“Don’t get ticked off about it.”

He grinned and headed around the decaying pine tree lying across the narrow logging path. In the coolness of the forest, the sound of their feet thudding upward on the pine needle trail and the cars zooming past on the road a few yards away filled the silence. Will dodged the occasional tree root spread across their path like pranksters hoping for a good trip.

Above the trail, a bird hopped in the leaves, chirped, and flew off into the branches of a pine tree. He danced on a limb, scolding them for intruding on his property.

After five minutes, Will heard Roselle stop behind him. “How far is it?”

“It’s less than a mile. We can race to the top of the hill if you like.”

“I don’t like. Losing my breath and being reminded I’m completely out of shape isn’t a great way to spend the afternoon.”

“Love your positive attitude, Roselle. Come on, you can lead. We’ll go slow.” He moved aside and she trudged past him, throwing suspicious glimpses at the ground.

In another fifteen minutes, they reached the top of the wooded hill. The clouds shifted and a shaft of sunlight shone through the treetops. Beneath their feet lay a combination of dead branches, pine needles, and leaves. “Like it?” Afraid to see the dislike in her eyes, he looked up through the treetops for the sun’s position.

“You made a cross?”

“What?” Will jerked his attention from his search for the sun to Roselle.

She was gaping at the homemade marker he’d erected a few feet away.

He shrugged, feeling like someone had shone a spotlight on an ugly scar. “I wanted something from the crash that no one would touch. I couldn’t build a cross in the track parking lot at the site. So I thought, why not up here. No one uses this old road.”

She wandered closer to the marker and peered at it. “What did you make it out of? It looks bent.” She crouched down and peered at it. “Fiberglass?”

“Not much was left of the ultra-light after the investigation, but I found this piece thrown into the field. I managed to take it when no one was around. Do you think it’s ugly?” Would June have cringed at the sight of it?

He drifted closer to Roselle, and she straightened beside him. “Your sister would like the marker. Yes,” she said, her head bobbing up and down. “She’d approve of the use of leftovers from the ultra-light. After all, you built it for her.”

Her words scratched at him and he tried to shove away the truth. Out here in the quiet, he’d hoped he could remember his sister--hear her voice, her laugh--but he heard nothing but his guilty conscience.

“Your sister was one of a kind. I could never fly two feet above the ground.” Roselle slapped her cheek. “Was that a vampire biting me?”

“It’s called a mosquito. Ready to leave?” His monster of guilt was growing inside him. He had to leave. Why had he thought he’d find comfort here?

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Will, we walked all the way up. I’d like to stay a few minutes at least.” Then her voice became hushed and solemn. “I should say a prayer.”

“If you like.” His throat tightened, closing off his air supply. He swallowed and backed away to give her privacy.

“Okay, I like.” She inhaled and faced the cross. “Dear June Boone,” she said aloud with her hands clasped together at her waist, “please excuse me if I don’t do this in the right manner. I don’t usually pray, but I wanted to tell you that Will wishes you were here and I do too.” She cleared her throat and swayed from foot to foot. “I have something special to say. It’s a secret, but I want you to know.”

Curious, Will crept closer.

She raised her clasped hands under her chin. “I miss seeing your brother every day. Since we broke up, it’s like a hole in my heart that won’t close. So if you have any influence over him, which I know you do as his big sister, please send him one of those mental smacks, tell him to smarten up, and to come back to me.”

She dropped her unlaced hands to her waist for a second and then clasped them together again.

“Oh, yeah, amen.”

She sighed and her shoulders slumped forward.

He edged closer to her. “Roselle?”

She raised gray eyes clouded with tears.

“I hurt when we’re apart, too,” he whispered, pain evident in his voice.

“Then the question is, have you smartened up?” Her tone was serious, but a teasing light shone in her eyes.

“I’ll prove it to you.” Encouraged, he leaned into her, touching her soft, warm lips.

In a few moments, he was full of the taste of Roselle: hot and spicy. The tightness in his chest disappeared. He loved the scent of her fresh-as-spring soap and the hitch of her breath as he crushed her body to his.

She slipped an arm around his shoulders. Stretching up on tiptoes, she pressed her mouth against his and such a hunger overcame him that he wanted to devour her.

Easy, he told himself. But already urgency was flowing through his blood. There was a rightness in the kiss that told him he was home with her wrapped in his arms.

He eased back for a moment, still holding her, stroking her back. Stands of her hair clung and tickled his chin. “Roselle?”

“Hmm?” She snuggled against his chest.

“You have a tick in your hair.”

“What?” She broke free of him and stared up at him in terror. “Where? No! Kill it.” She shook her head and hopped around in frustration, brushing at her hair with both hands.

“I’m kidding.” He stepped forward to swoop her up in his arms again, but she danced away from him.

“And you call yourself a grown-up?”

“Nope. Never have.”

A ringing came from Roselle’s purse. “Hold that immature thought.” She held up a finger and dug out the cell phone.

Will walked to the makeshift cross. She was going to give him a second chance!

Thanks, June. You always did like Roselle.

A vision of his sister appeared in his mind. She was laughing.

“Will?” Roselle had closed her phone and advanced to him. “My mom had a message for me from Kozy.”

“Good news?”

“He wanted to make sure I was out of the building. I’d love to give that Eddie Ferrani a piece of my mind.” She gritted her teeth.

“Remember, Roselle, a mind is a terrible thing to waste...especially on Ferrani.”

“Thanks for the public service announcement. We’d better get going. I’ll try and sneak into my apartment to pack a suitcase before I’m gassed or caught by Kozy.”

“Where are you staying until the restaurant reopens?”

“Mom invited me to stay with them. No problem.”

“You can come home with me.” His heart leaped in his chest while he flashed her a smile and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Not a chance, Will. I’m not that easy after one kiss in six months.”

He lowered his voice. “I’ll work harder then.”

She searched his face and he held his breath, hoping she’d see whatever she was trying to find and take him back. Permanently.

Roselle shook her head. “We’d better leave. I don’t know when the exterminators plan to spray the building.”

Disappointment sank like a stone into his heart. “You first.”

“You always say that,” she said, heading toward the trail. She paused at the top of the downward path. “Will...thanks for bringing me here today.”

“Sure.” One step at a time, he cautioned himself. “Let’s go before your mom sends Myers out for us.”

“We’d have nothing to worry about. He’d never find us.” She started down the path.

The return downhill was much quicker. Before Will knew it, they were at the truck. He had only a little more time with her. He’d have to speak now.

“Roselle, I want to see you again¼like old times.”

“Will...” She paused with a hand on the door handle. Her mouth was drawn into a tense straight line. “I’d like to see you, too, but this time can’t be like the old times,” she said in a broken whisper before she jumped inside the truck.

The last remnants of hope shredded with a loud rip in his heart. She still didn’t believe he was sober. He turned on the radio and let music fill the silence between them as he drove back to Roselle’s apartment and pulled up to the curb.

“Want to come in?” She didn’t look at him; a strained atmosphere had settled between them.

His disappointment was sharpening into full-fledged pain. He needed to get away from her. “No, thanks. I’ve got to pick up a couple of bushes to plant for a customer before tomorrow. I’ll call you.”

Roselle suffered an ache of longing as Will pulled away. Be careful, whispered the voice in her head. Don’t get hurt again.

She faced the restaurant. The worst was yet to come--the temporary move back home with her parents.

*****

“Roselle, bring the chair over here.”

Roselle picked up the heavy wicker rocking chair and stretched out her leg for the first huge step toward her mother. All around them sat oversized white furniture wrapped in plastic. The chair’s rockers pressed and banged against her legs. She put it down with a thud on the beige carpet in front of Mom’s customer.

Her mother threw her a look of horror.

The thud yanked the customer from her furniture trance. She glared at Roselle, who stood uncomfortably in the ranch’s living room. “Please don’t damage my furniture, and I thought the rocking chair would be in plastic.” The woman barely moved her lips when she spoke, giving her a poker-face expression.

How does she do that? Roselle wondered.

Mom rushed forward. “I left a cover for the chair in the van. I’ll bring it inside once you decide where you want the rocker.”

The woman threw Mom another blank expression.

Roselle had only been living at her parents’ for fifteen hours--with ten of those hours spent in bed--and already she wanted to yell for help. She couldn’t wait for Kozy’s to reopen. Her life was tanking. She’d do a search on the Internet, find a new job, and move out. Today.

The cell in her purse began ringing. “Excuse me.” Roselle limped over to the knit purse resting beside the white hearth.

“Is she allowed to talk on the phone during work hours?” the customer demanded from her mother.

“It’s my psychiatrist calling to see if I picked up my medications. He knows how crazy I become without them.” Roselle dug into her purse. Glancing at the cell display, she hoped to see Will’s number. Instead, it was one she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“She’s joking,” Mom was explaining. “It’s a business phone. She has to answer it.”

“Roselle, this is Vince.”

Oops, she hadn’t given Vince a thought since the giftbox with the tag with his name on it. What else did Fast Eddie know about her and her friends?

“I’d like to take you out to dinner if you don’t have plans with someone else,” Vince said eagerly.

Disappointment pricked her, and she mentally strained to push it away. She was a mature adult and could handle life’s disappointments...like a no-call from Will. After all, a kiss wasn’t a commitment and an invitation to spend the night was just an invitation for a one-night stand.

“Roselle, which customer is it?” Mom’s voice held a hopeful note.

Maybe Mom wasn’t enjoying Ms. Be My Furniture Slave either. Roselle held up a finger. “Sure, we can do that. We’re just wrapping up here. I’ll be right over, Vince.” She clicked off her phone and turned to her mother. “We have to leave right away. Crisis at the warehouse. The workers are rioting and demanding free hair care with their benefits.”

“But you haven’t finished installing my furniture!” the woman’s whiny voice complained.

“That’s life,” Roselle said with her hand already on the door. The woman could move her own furniture around the room.

“Yes,” Mom said. “The circle of our lives...”

“What is The Lion King,” Roselle snapped out like a Jeopardy contestant. Okay, it was a cross between a play and a soap, but close. Relieved to escape, she trotted out and hopped in the van. Sitting next to her mother, she studied her parent’s calm face. Maybe now was a good time to talk and do the mother-daughter bonding thing. “You know, Mom...Dad should be glad you’re out in the world giving it a try.”

“A try?”

“Sure. I mean, I know you have a degree in English and a minor in music, but you can’t really do much with those degrees.”

“I can read.” Mom shot her an annoyed look.

“Yeah, but your personal shopper business hasn’t taken off. Most people your age would have given up and stayed at home. You didn’t.” For the first time, it dawned on Roselle how brave her mother really was.

“Roselle, you might be right. Maybe I can get another job. I could apply at Kozy’s when he reopens and prove to your father I can make it in the world.”

A rush of panic hit Roselle. Even if she left Kozy’s, she didn’t want her mother following in her footsteps. How embarrassing was that!

“You wouldn’t like it,” Roselle blurted. “In fact, I’ve been searching for another job myself on the web.”

“When you find it, let me know.” Mom sighed, and Roselle decided that communication between parent and child was highly overrated.

An hour later, she had delivered her mother to her house and escaped with promises to call and check in every half-hour.

“No wonder I left home at eighteen,” she muttered to herself.

She jumped in her car and pressed the cell buttons to call Vince at his apartment.

“Hi,” she said quickly when she heard his voice. “I know a great place to eat really cheap, and it serves delicious food. Meet me at the hospital cafeteria in half an hour.”

She clicked off before he had time to protest. Humming, she put the car in gear. Now she could kill--she should say bag--two birds with one meeting.

She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital. “Fast Eddie, I’m coming to ask a few pertinent questions about a box of cockroaches.”

Forget the Stark Falls Police Department.

Chapter Sixteen

She only had twenty minutes before meeting Vince. Pulling into the Yummy Ice Cream parking lot, Roselle called her mom for a quick check-in like a good daughter.

Mistake! Mom insisted on giving her the phone numbers of every person she knew on the route to the hospital in case of another cockroach emergency. Whatever. Roselle listened while she perused the list of flavors on the sign. In ten minutes, she was off again with a long mental list of phone numbers and a child-sized banana fudge sundae.

The dashboard clock told her that she had only five minutes left to get to the hospital. Crud. She put the pedal to the floor mat and prayed that no cops were patrolling the area at the moment.

Tires screeched as she rounded the corner and the car careened into the hospital parking lot. Luck was with her and she found a spot by the emergency door. She squeezed her car next to a full-sized SUV.

Roselle leaped out of the car, spooning the last of the ice cream down her throat as she ran for the door. She wanted one look at Fast Eddie. Well, really she wanted one minute to tell the lower-than-an-insect man what she thought of him and his latest trick.

She rushed through the emergency lobby and wheeled to a stop. Which way to the main entrance? She read the signs and studied the arrows. All the arrows seemed to point into empty space. Wow, maybe it was brain freeze from the ice cream.

Finally she did eenie-meenie and took off down a hall. Call me Roselle the Explorer. Hey, maybe she should work at a hospital.

“Roselle!”

She screeched to a halt. “Will?”

He paced toward her with an impatient stride. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” What was he talking about?

He searched her face. “You’re in the emergency room at the hospital. Something is wrong...or did you just drop in for an appendectomy to go?”

“I’m visiting.” Should she tell him about the dinner with Vince? Did she owe him an explanation of her life after one kiss? Their afternoon in Belmont had been like old times, and maybe--she hoped--a start toward reconciliation. “Why are you here?”

“I called your house and your brother told me you were on your way to the hospital.”

“Isn’t he a font of directory assistance. What else did he say?”

“He hung up. I think your mother found out it was me and told him to get off.”

“Probably. Our family isn’t allowed to talk to dangerous types.” She glanced around, making sure Fast Eddie wasn’t about to pop out of a hallway or from behind a hospital cart. She was getting an uneasy prickling on the back of her neck. “Why are you here? Did you run into any mail boxes lately and require emergency postal treatment?”

“Hey, I drive in a straight line, especially when I pass your parents’ house.”

“Must be tough on curves. Staying clean and sober?”

“Sober as an AA counselor and showering every day. So stop the procrastinating questions. What’s the real story, Roselle? Why are you here?”

“I’m checking out if I should go into the medical field.”

He laughed. “You can’t stand blood. Remember when you had a nosebleed? You almost passed out.”

It was a minor detail she’d forgotten. “I guess you deal with blood a lot in a hospital. I’ll cross it off my might-do list.” And she might as well confess. “I have a dinner date with Vince. I promised to eat with him the night of the funeral. I-I mean, well, I didn’t have time then, and I’m trying to make up for it now. It’s a quick meal and then we’re going our separate ways.”

“It’s cool, Roselle.” He looked away before she could read his true feelings.

Was he hurt or just thinking about what he’d like to eat for supper? Might as well gain his full attention. “I’m paying a visit on Fast Eddie.”

“What?” He jerked his attention to her. “How? Where?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. First I have to find his room number.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“I’m going with you. Let’s find out his room number.” Will turned and studied the signs that pointed between both halls. Which way to the lobby?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. But it sounds like fun. Let’s try this way.” He started off down a hall to his right.

She had to run to catch up. Why was he helping her? “Will,” she called in a loud whisper.

“Keep up, Doctor Lewis, we’re on a case.”

In a few minutes they’d reached the main entrance. Will paused beside Roselle. “We need a cover. Do you know anything about Fast Eddie’s condition or his family?”

“I don’t know anything about his doctor. Ah, Fast Eddie had a daughter and a son-in-law. I got it! You can pretend to be his son-in-law.”

“Had? Like past tense in he died? You want me to impersonate a ghost?”

“You’ve scared a lot of people at times, Will.”

“Good point.” He strode to the information desk. “Eddie Ferrani’s room number, please.” Will turned on his smile mega-wattage.

The receptionist swiveled from the computer screen to Will. She was Marcia’s age, and she tilted her head as she looked at Will. What was it about Will and middle-aged women? Never mind; it was Will and any woman.

“Happy to assist you. One moment, please.” The receptionist grinned at him and fluttered her eyelids.

“Oh, please yourself,” Roselle muttered and rolled her eyes. She sidestepped away from the obvious flirting and nervously glanced down the hallway.

A nurse, who happened to be a friend of her mother’s, was headed their way. “Oh, oh.”

The receptionist read from the computer screen. “Sorry. Only family allowed to visit.”

“I’m his son-in-law.” Will leaned forward on the desk with a huge glad-to-meet-you smile.

Geez, did he have to flirt right in front of her? Nervous, Roselle glanced down the hall again. The nurse had detoured off to another part of the hospital. Phew. They needed to get out of the waiting room before anyone else saw them.

“I’ll call his doctor and he can speak to you.” The receptionist straightened her back and a breast peeked out from under the pink blouse.

Will leaned forward and rested his arms on the counter.

The woman patted her hair. “You can wait–”

“I’ll take my husband over here while you call.” Roselle linked her arm through Will’s and yanked him away from the pathetic middle-aged woman. “Come on, honey dear, we’ll find a seat together.”

“Okay, snookums.”

Roselle guided him to the carpeted seating area. “We can’t talk to his doctor,” she whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.

Will guided her right out into the hall.

“You’re a bad actor, Will. Couldn’t you have thrown a fit and demanded the room number or something?”

“Me? You could have warned me I was your husband along with being a dead man.” He paused and his eyes lit. “Are the elevators to the right?”

“It’s the least I could do since you practically fell into the receptionist’s lap and her boobs.” She glared. “We’re not trying to get you a date.” She would have been better off without his help.

“Divorce me later. I got the room number.” He headed for the elevator at the far end.

“Where are you going?” Roselle tagged along at his heels. “How’d you get it?”

“I read it off the screen when I was looking past her decoy boob, but I’m holding out on the number as part of our alimony package.” He stopped before the bank of elevators.

“Will-”

A man with a huge balloon bouquet walked up beside them and stood waiting for the elevator.

Roselle tapped her foot until the elevator dinged. The door slid open and the balloon man joined them inside. She hoped the man would get off quickly so she could continue their discussion.

Will pushed 2 from the choice on the metal wall panel. “Floor?” he asked the deliveryman hidden behind the bouquet.

The man dodged a lemon shaped face around the balloons and checked the panel of buttons. “All set.”

Roselle and Will threw each other a glance. She gave the balloons a once-over. No message like Congratulations You’re Still Alive, or Sorry It’s A Boy and You Wanted A Girl, were displayed on the colorful bouquet.

The elevator chimed to a stop. Roselle and Will held back until the balloon man stepped out. Will hit the hold door button and they waited until the deliveryman had headed into a room and disappeared.

“Okay, Eddie Junior. Time to visit Daddy.” Roselle stepped out into the hall.

She followed Will in silence down the white waxed floor as he checked out the room numbers on the doors. Ahead, she spied a large man who might have been a clone of Lurch from the Adams Family sitting in a plastic chair in front of a patient’s room. Roselle guessed he was playing an electronic game from the hunched shoulders and the way he tapped on the object hidden in his gi-gundo hand.

Roselle tugged on Will’s sleeve and they slowed to a crawl. “I bet that’s Eddie’s bodyguard.”

“You stand by the elevators,” Will directed. “We might need a quick getaway. And what am I looking for besides a family resemblance to myself when I visit Fast Eddie?”

“I want to know how ill he is. Maybe you can even peek at his chart.”

“Only if he’s asleep. I’m ready. Go back and wait at the elevator.” Will glanced around and ducked into a patient’s room.

What was he doing? Roselle watched, not moving.

A moment later he reappeared in the hallway with a clipboard in his hand. “Call me the diagnostician. See you soon.”

He headed for Fast Eddie’s room.

She wasn’t waiting by any elevator. Was he crazy? He wasn’t even wearing a white coat like they did on medical shows. Who would he fool? Besides, she might have to shout for a doctor after Will met Lurch the Second. She started creeping along the hall, keeping Will in her radar.

He strutted up to the bodyguard who’d now risen out of his chair. Standing, he was one huge, mean-looking sucker. Crud. Roselle picked up her pace.

Lurch The Second scowled down on Will’s puny six-feet. Guttural sounds flowed out of his mouth.

She could hear Will spouting out his familial ties story, but he wasn’t getting a positive response. In fact, the gorilla-sized man had blocked the door to the room.

Roselle bet Fast Eddie was inside, feasting on ice cream or shooting craps. Double crud! She’d give the disgusting piece of slime a good piece of her mind. The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to have it out with the murderous dumpster intimidating subhuman.

Aha! The balloon man was exiting minus his bouquet. She knew what to do. She slowed and waited until the deliveryman stepped onto the elevator. Then she ducked into the room where he’d left the balloons. An elderly, thin, white-haired man peeled open his eyes when she entered.

“Health inspector. I have to check out the allergy level of the balloons before they contaminate the whole hospital.” She grabbed the bouquet and sped out the door for Fast Eddie’s room.

Chapter Seventeen

Roselle held the balloons in front of her face and peeked through the cluster of reds and greens. She was going to see Fast Eddie or bust a balloon trying.

“If you step foot inside that door, I’m going to break you.” The burly guard thumped a finger on Will’s broad chest.

Drawing closer to Fast Eddie’s room, Roselle caught sight of the set expression on Will’s face. He was ready for trouble--which meant Big Trouble.

“Look, you goon,” Will was saying, “I can see my father whenever I want and you can’t stop me. Stop wasting my father’s paycheck on trying to improve your small mind.” Will kicked the chair with the game resting on the seat, and it slid to the edge.

The guard scooped up his toy with eyes burning red and drew himself up like an angry bull ready to charge. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t believe your cock and bull story about–”

Let me get in. Let me get in. Let me get in.

She was closing in. The door was less than a foot. The guard was too busy yelling at Will and had turned his back on her, leaving an opening.

She was almost there! Roselle pushed down on the metal door handle. The guard whirled toward her. “Hey, who the-”

The door opened and she dove through the opening. The balloons rubbed against the frame with a squealing protest. She yanked them inside after her.

“Hey, stop!”

“Balloon delivery.” She’d made it! She was going to give Fast Eddie a piece of her mind come balloon disaster or-

The door banged open behind her. She heard the giant’s footsteps and glanced over her shoulder. Will was trying to drag Lurch back by his arm, but it was like a fly trying to stop a jet.

She yanked her attention to the privacy curtain pulled around the hospital bed and ran for it.

Fingers bit into her shoulder.

“Drop the balloons, lady, and don’t move.”

Something poked into her back. Was it a gun? She let the balloon strings slip through her hand.

“Turn around slowly,” the guard’s rough voice commanded.

Roselle pivoted round to face the guard. At least she didn’t see a gun. It must have been his huge finger.

Will dodged around him to stand beside her. He had a scrape on his cheek, and he cut her a warning glance.

“Get out, both of you,” the guard ordered.

She focused on the hulking form and forced the lie out of her tight throat. “I was paid to deliver these balloons.”

“Who paid you?”

A card dangled from the balloons hugging the ceiling. She couldn’t read it.

Improvise.

“Balloons, The Natural High. Who else? I work for them.”

“I don’t believe a word of it. Nobody would send Eddie Ferrani balloons. Now get your ass out of this hospital before I call security.”

She nodded, then whipped around and yanked the curtain. The rings slid across the metal bar with a rattle.

But she’d done it. A flow of excitement surged through her and accusing words jammed in her throat ready to explode.

An empty bed stared back at her.

“Where’s my father?” Will shouted.

“He’s having tests. Not that either one of you have any business knowing.” The guard stepped in front of Roselle, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him.

The bed was stripped and not ready for any patient. Eddie wasn’t at the hospital.

Will dared the guard with his glare. It was starting to look like a standoff out of an old Western movie, except they didn’t have guns and hats.

Think.

“I’m outta here,” she said. “They’re going to have to hire someone else to do deliveries to unhappy sick people who don’t give an ounce of hot air about a silly balloon. You can make sure the patient gets the bouquet,” she said to Will.

Roselle marched from the room, hoping Will would follow. Halfway down the hall, she threw a glance over her shoulder. No one exited the room. True, she didn’t want the guard to know she and Will were together, but what was happening to him?

Forcing herself to walk at a normal pace, she stopped at the elevators.

Come on, Will. Get out of there.

The elevator doors dinged and slid open. She scooted inside and saw Will exiting Fast Eddie’s room. Phew, he was okay. The door closed and the elevator cruised to the first floor.

In a few minutes, she was sitting in her car, waiting for Will. The minutes ticked by.

Where are you, Will?

When the minute hand had ticked off five, she jumped out of the car just in time to see Will loping around the building.

He dashed up to the car and hopped in the passenger’s side. “Let’s move it.”

She slid back into her seat and put the key in the ignition. “What took you so long?”

“I redelivered the balloons and reported to security that the man on the second floor was using his cell phone in a patient’s room. Fast Eddie’s bodyguard was thrown out faster than a doctor with a malpractice suit.”

The engine roared to life while she digested this information. At least Lurch was gone.

And leave it to Will to worry about the true owner of the balloons. Typical. Though, in fact, he’d never have been arrested for taking down the mailboxes if he hadn’t gone back to try and prop them up.

“You have your good points, Will Boone,” she admitted while pulling out of the parking lot.

“Well, that’s high praise. Does this mean you might forgive my evil ways?”

“We’ll see.”

What would he say if she told him the truth? She longed for him to have his evil way with her. She couldn’t stop thinking of him, dreaming of him. His every move was stamped on her brain. With him beside her, her breath seemed to come in short gasps, and if he touched her...

Hold on. What about all the dark angry days when he couldn’t sober up after his sister died? Days of arguments and worry that he’d kill himself or someone else in a drunken driving accident had driven her insane. Had he changed back to her Will?

She stared straight ahead, scared to look at him and find darkness lurking in his eyes.

“How about I give you some glasses to see the improved me?”

Hmm, sounded like he was reading her mind. “How about a spot to drop you off?”

He sat up straight. “Are you still staying at your parents? Because if you’re homeless, I’ve a great place in mind.”

“I’m living temporarily with the old folks at home.”

His smile faded. “Do me a favor while you’re at their house and keep your cell on. I’d like to talk to you, but your mom hangs up on me on the land phone.”

“Sure, Will. What do you think gives with Fast Eddie? I bet he’s in a five-star hotel and just pretending to be in the hospital so the police won’t take him in for questioning.”

“As long as he’s laying low, you’re safe.”

“Sending me cockroaches, a tongue, and stuffing me in a funeral home dumpster makes him seem pretty active above ground. I bet he was never in the hospital.”

“You should call Detective Cusato and let him know. Not that he’ll do much. Men like Fast Eddie scare everyone, especially small town detectives.”

“Detective Cusato is trying. I think his hands are tied by higher-ups though.”

“Never trust a man wearing a black or blue uniform. You can drop me off at work. I’m delivering a truckload of bushes tomorrow to a new house on Centre Street in Concord. Might as well get the plants ready to load before I go home tonight.”

She turned into the red barn that served as the headquarters for the Gro Rite Landscaping business. The fresh fragrance of the pine shavings from the open door floated into her window.

“Thanks, Roselle.” Will jumped out but hesitated before shutting the door.

Every nerve in her body was shouting to stop him. Tell him not to go. Think of an excuse. Maybe they’d meet for- “Oh my gosh!”

“What is it?”

“I forgot Vince. He’s at the hospital cafeteria waiting for me.”

“Can’t you call him and cancel?”

“This is our second attempt to eat together. I’d better show up.” She reached over and pulled his door shut. As much as she didn’t want him to go, she didn’t want to stand up Vince. The half hour lead-time had disappeared. Now she’d be late.

“Bye, Will.” She waved at his shocked face. Pushing the pedal to the metal, she kept her eyes peeled for cops. Of course, if one stopped her, she could tell him she needed to talk to Detective Cusato right away. But somehow she doubted anyone would care.

Fifteen minutes later, she was back at the hospital. What if she met the bodyguard again? Nah, he must have left. Plus he’d probably report to Fast Eddie that his hospital cover was blown.

Trying to keep the image of the monster guard out of her mind, she circled the parking lot. More cars had arrived for visiting hours. The lot was crowded. She’d have to search the emergency lot again.

Flashes of the guard’s angry face popped into her mind as she squeezed the car into a space. With a sigh she grabbed the keys and opened the door.

“Roselle!”

“What?” She whirled around to see her mother hurrying across the parking lot to her.

“Mom? Are you following me?”

“Following you? I told your father to call you from the dentist office. He was having a root canal today.” She began to wring her hands. “Bobby’s had an accident, and the ambulance brought him in a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, my God! What happened?”

“A car hit him when he was crossing the street on the walk signal!”

“I can’t believe it! How badly was he hurt? Has the doctor seen him yet?”

“I don’t know. I dropped the phone on whoever called me and ran to the van.” Mom began to shake.

“Come on.” Roselle put her arm around her mother’s waist and they headed for the emergency room. “We’ll find out together about Bobby.”

Inside, the receptionist who had flirted with Will told them Bobby was being examined. The doctor would be with them shortly. She looked through Roselle without recognition.

Roselle scanned the waiting room for a chair. It was full of teenagers. The whole football team was inside. In a corner sat a bunch of girls with smeared mascara from crying.

Mom stepped up beside her. “Do we recognize those girls, Roselle?”

She shrugged. “Someone must have called the cheerleaders...except they don’t look very cheery.” Word got around fast in the small town.

“Pretend we don’t know them,” her mom said, moving forward into the room. They’re acting like Bobby died.”

Roselle spotted a free chair next to- “Mr Hemingway!”

The principal looked up from a laptop. “Sorry about your brother, Roselle. I’m sending out an email on the school news now. Have to tone it right, though. Don’t want the PTO throwing a benefit spaghetti dinner for medical bills if we don’t need one.”

Roselle shook her head at her mother in warning and they moved away from him.

“Here comes Georgie,” shouted one of the red-faced football players. “He saw the car that hit Bobby.”

Sure enough, Georgie straggled through the double glass emergency doors. People leaped up from their seats to rush him like he’d scored the winning touchdown. The room became a jumble of questions and conversations.

“What happened to the person who hit Bobby?”

“How close did the car come to you?”

“Was the driver a man or a woman?”

“Do you think the driver was drunk?”

The receptionist left her cubicle and ordered everyone to sit and be quiet.

Mom stood at Roselle’s right arm, sighing with distress. “I need to talk to Georgie. I wish everyone would leave.”

“I can handle it, Mom.” Roselle jumped up on a blue plastic chair. Cupping her hands to her mouth she announced, “The school board held an emergency phone meeting and agreed to take money from the candy sales to sponsor food booths in the parking lot while we wait. The parent volunteers have set up free hot dogs and chili in the upper lot, and I heard that a group of students from St. Mary’s is out there already.”

Everyone knew the girls from the private school of St. Mary’s were popular with the boys--and not for their home-baked goodies.

“Free food for everyone!”

A cheer rose from the crowd. The doors flew open and people rushed through. Roselle jumped off the chair, pushing her way toward Georgie before he could escape.

“Georgie!” Roselle wove through the stampeding crowd to cut off her brother’s friend.

He swallowed with a loud gulp when he saw her. But the pause gave her enough time to lurch forward and grab his arm.

“My mom wants to talk to you.”

The cheerleaders were pushing through with squeals and giggles as Roselle pulled Georgie to the side. One of them grumbled about those private school skanks.

Roselle held firm to Georgie’s arm in the rush and didn’t release him until the stragglers made it through.

“Honest, I didn’t do anything to your brother.” Georgie paled underneath his freckles.

“Roselle, let go of poor Georgie. You’re frightening him again.” Mom’s voice traveled across the lobby and she marched forward.

“Release Georgie? Sure, Mom, my pleasure.” A few pokey kids were sauntering through the sliding glass doors when Roselle let go of the sweaty kid. “But you better tell my mother the truth.”

“Of course he’ll tell me the truth, why wouldn’t he? Honestly, Roselle, this isn’t a scene from a bad musical or a grade B picture.”

“What’s a grade B picture?” Georgie’s gaze darted from Roselle to her mother with fear.

Roselle pointed an accusing finger at him. “It’s the failing grade you earn if you don’t tell us who hit my brother.”

“I don’t remember much. It happened so fast.”

What bull. Roselle dug her fingernails into his arm.

“It was a large black car,” he blurted. “Ouch, now let go.”

“Oh, sorry, was I holding your arm too tight?” She released him again. Images of Fast Eddie with his cigar clasped between his teeth and steering the old geezer car into Bobby flashed in her mind.

“Bobby was conscious the last I knew, but he couldn’t tell you who hit him either. He asked me what happened.” Georgie rubbed his arm. “Officer Meyers took my statement at the police station. That’s why I’m late.”

“Now, Georgie, no one’s accusing you of anything. We just want to know about Bobby,” Mom said soothingly.

Georgie swallowed several times like he had a wishbone stuck in his throat. “I¼I don’t know who hit him.”

“Oh, sure.” Roselle pitched forward into Georgie’s face. “I bet Myers told you to tell everyone that story.”

“Roselle, please, where are your manners? You’ve been here too long and need a break.”

The glass doors slid open and the receptionist entered and halted in front of them. Her hair looked windblown. Her beige sweater had fallen off her shoulders. Her nametag was askew. The crazed high schoolers must have pushed her out of the hospital when they ran off for free food. “You have to move back. You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Excuse us,” Mom gestured for Georgie and Roselle to step aside.

The receptionist stomped away to her little window area.

Double phew. The woman was too angry to notice she wasn’t with her fake husband, Fast Eddie’s son-in-law.

Mom began to pace away toward the sitting area. “I wish I had some tea. And I might still have to call your father and fill him in if he doesn’t arrive in about ten minutes.”

“Want my phone, Mom? You can call the dentist and see when dad left. I’m sure he would have jumped right out of the chair when he heard about Bobby.” Roselle dug her cell out of her handbag and handed it to her mom. “You’ll have to go outside. Cells aren’t allowed in the hospital.”

“Probably because of the rumor that they cause brain cancer,” Georgie offered from his safe seat ten feet away.

As the doors slid open, Roselle saw Vince walk past the entrance outside. “Don’t go anywhere, Georgie,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Vince!” She ran out of the emergency room and met up with him on the sidewalk.

Vince stopped and gave her a surprised look. “Roselle? I was waiting at the cafeteria. Where were you?”

“My brother was in an accident. My mom’s outside, trying to reach my dad.” She waved at Mom who stood to the side of the doors.

“Oh. I thought you’d...ditched me.”

“Of course not!” Roselle said, guilt making her voice squeak. She cleared her throat. “But I think our meal will have to wait a bit.

“Was your brother in an accident at football practice?”

“It was a hit and run on the street. The emergency room doctor is with him now.”

“He’s lucky. Last time I came to emergency, I waited two hours and then the doctor just offered me an ice pack.”

Men. They could never say anything encouraging.

Roselle turned to her mom, who was marching toward them. “All your father wanted to know was would Bobby be okay to play in the game this weekend. He didn’t even ask who could have done this or how Bobby feels.” She locked her gaze on Roselle. “Who would have hit your brother and driven away without helping him? What kind of person could do such a thing in Stark Falls?”

The answer choked in Roselle’s throat.

Chapter Eighteen

The doctor announced that Bobby had cracked ribs, bruises, and a possible concussion. He prescribed a good night’s rest under observation.

After hearing the news, Roselle scratched down the phone number of Bobby’s room and stuffed it in her purse. With a promise to her mother to track down Alicia and stay away from Georgie, Roselle set off with Vince for their dinner date.

She zipped to the nearest drive through for a burger, fries, and soda. Assuring Vince of a future sit-down meal, she hit the road for his apartment.

White-faced, he gulped and told her he’d drive the next time. He looked gray by the time she slammed on the brakes and dropped him off. Cruising off, a fear in the back of her mind asked if her life would ever quiet down back to “normal.” People who led ordinary lives didn’t worry about mobsters.

Her whole world had changed because her car had brushed against Fast Eddie’s in one fraction of an instant. And where was Mr. Fast? The man could be anywhere...even her apartment. A chill tingled up her spine.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. How long had that dark blue car been behind her? Was he following her? On impulse she took the next right. The vehicle continued straight.

Crud, she was paranoid.

Get it together.

She needed to take her mind off this obsession with Fast Eddie. At the next street, she did a U-turn. In another ten minutes, she pulled into Will’s drive. She was in luck. His white truck sat in front of the garage.

Hopping out of the car, she heard the side door bang shut. Will came out and surprise and delight flashed in his eyes when he recognized her. He marched toward her with a canvas bag gripped between his hands and a sleeping bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Nice night for a camp-out,” she observed. The clear sky promised a starry evening. She rubbed her arms against the promise of the chill autumn night. “Planning a bonfire with the Posse?”

“Nope, I’m doing a solo camp-out at my grandfather’s, but if you’d like to come there’s a bed inside.”

A night with Will? Was she drooling?

Striving to stay cool, she asked, “Are you suggesting we share, Mr. Goldilocks?” Her heart beat overtime.

But is Will an answer to your troubles...or another problem? her conscience whispered.

She didn’t care. An escape was what she needed and was taking.

“I might consider coming if you offered me my own bed.”

“Consider it done. What else do you need?”

“Let me call my house. Bobby was in a hit and run and was admitted to the hospital.”

“What?” His arms dipped and threatened to drop his supplies.

“He’s okay except for cracked ribs and bruises. My dad should be with my mom by now, but I promised to find Alicia and let her know.”

“Are you going back to the hospital?”

“My parents wanted alone time with Bobby. Will, I think Fast Eddie hit Bobby. I know we’ll never know since the police seem unable to keep track of him.”

“Roselle, you shouldn’t be out alone with Fast Eddie running down your family members.”

“Hold that thought. I’d better catch Alicia up on everything.” She dug the cell out of her purse and pushed her parent’s home number. The phone rang and rang. Damn. “I’d better drive by my house to check for Alicia, but I’m up for a camping experience once I find her. I need a big break. As long as I can sleep inside away from bugs, wild animals and wild men, I’m your camper. Besides, the only bag I have says “Thank You”, unless you count Alicia’s pink Pretty Princess sleeping bag.”

“Doesn’t anyone in your house own a genuine sleeping bag?”

“Nope, and forget the pink bag. I’d rather turn into a popsicle on the ground than borrow Alicia’s precious childhood gift.”

“She saved it from childhood? Gives new meaning to the term an old bag.” He marched over to the truck and shoved his belongings inside.

She paced back and forth, debating whether she should return to the hospital and sit with her parents or go with Will.

“Roselle, ready?” Will stood by his truck, his eyebrows raised in a question.

Too late; she was going. She slid into her car and Will followed behind her. In no time at all they were pulling into her parents’ drive. A light shone in the kitchen window. Alicia must be home by now. If she’d simply left her cell with her mom, then her mother could have called Alicia herself. For that matter, they still had pay phones at the hospital, didn’t they?

Grumbling over her misfortunes, Roselle slipped out of the car. Will pulled in behind her and leaned out the open window.

“I’ll get some clothes for tomorrow and be right out.” They both knew waiting outside was safer for him on the off chance that her mother returned.

Inside, Alicia was eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream at the kitchen table. “Finally,” she complained between bites. “I came home to an empty house and no note. People aren’t very considerate. I’m starving to death. What did everyone do, go out to eat and leave me at home like a starving orphan?”

Tempting...

Roselle wiped the comment from her brain. “Bobby was in a hit and run accident. Mom and Dad are at the hospital with him.”

“What?” Alicia slammed her bowl and spoon on the blue place mat. The spoon clanged in the dish. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Aren’t I a member of this family?”

“Mom ran out of the house as soon as she heard. Dad was having a root canal, but should be with her by this time.”

“So you knew before me?”

The incredible look on her sister’s face should have made Roselle happy. Instead, unease filtered through her. This was strange. Her whole life was turning upside down. The edges of reality were slipping from her self-manicured fingernails.

Give me an intervention! Put me back in the middle child spot where I belong.

“Here.” She stepped forward and dangled the car keys from between her fingers. “Take my car to the hospital. Take a ride to the beach, to New York. Help yourself to all my gas.”

“What is this, a guilt trip?”

“Sure, take the car there too. I have other transportation.”

“This is strange.” Alicia shot her a suspicious glance.

“Do you want my car or not?”

“Sure. Free gas is free money. Are you staying home or returning to the hospital?”

“I’m going to a quiet place to think.”

“Huh?” Alicia studied her face. “Is that a euphemism for sex?”

Oh, my God, Alicia was thinking the hidden thoughts in her head. No, she thought firmly. She was not about to have meaningless sex with Will. Maybe meaningful, but not meaningless.

“You look strange. Where are you going? Are you with Vince?” Alicia started for the hall and the front window.

Roselle ran after her with a sense of helplessness. “I’m with Will,” she blurted.

“Will?” Alicia froze and then whirled toward her. “Mom will freak! She doesn’t know, does she?”

Was Alicia about to run to the hospital and tattle? “Mom has already freaked enough for the day. A good daughter wouldn’t cause her any more pain.”

“So I can keep your car for tomorrow too, right?” Alicia smiled an I-gotcha grin.

“Only if you fill the tank.” A sister could only take so much. Roselle headed for the door. “Call my cell if you hear any news about Bobby while you’re at the hospital.”

“Sure. Maybe I should buy him flowers or something.”

“Get him a can of peanuts. He loves those beer nuts.”

Roselle tripped down the steps and hurried to Will’s truck. “I’m ready,” she announced, jumping inside.

“You’re leaving your car? You trust my one-way transportation?”

“Alicia pimped my car.”

“Alicia?”

Roselle glanced around the drive. “Are we camping at your grandfather’s or in my parents’ driveway?”

“I’m ready if you are.” He smiled and backed out of the drive.

Inhaling a deep breath, she watched him shift gears and noted how close his hand was to her knee. In the close confines of the truck, his body heat melted into hers. Warm tingling sensations rushed through her.

He kept his gaze focused on the road. She couldn’t read his face. Maybe that was good. Sometimes she could see the recklessness in his eyes and knew disaster was about to follow.

Don’t let tonight be a fiasco, she prayed.

But something must have driven him to the woods. It was his escape hatch, and now it was hers, she reminded herself.

Overhead, the stars popped out. The rising three-quarter moon was shining almost as bright as the sun. Few cars passed by them and no one trailed behind.

“Not many people out tonight.”

“No.”

Roselle snapped her head toward Will. He stared at the road.

Why wasn’t he talking? Forget talking. What would happen when it came time to sleep? She felt like she was walking on the edge of a dangerous ledge. She laced her fingers together in her lap while her stomach jumped and did belly flops.

Unable to stand the silence, she gushed, “I remember when you camped at the quarry and the police arrested you.”

“I told them I wanted to practice for the Olympic Night Diving Competition Team from the ledge, but they didn’t believe me.” He smiled his I-love-trouble grin.

Hot sensations tingled through her raw nerves. She glanced out the window, trying to get a grip. Why had she agreed to spend the night with him? It was like locking a chocoholic in a candy shop or an alcoholic in a bar. The hospital would have been a better place to stay than on her own temptation island.

“Roselle?”

“Yes?” She jerked her attention to him.

“My mom wrote me a letter.”

“That’s strange. Doesn’t she always call? Was she okay?”

“She wants me to find a realtor and get an estimate to put the house up for sale right away. She was waiting for the insurance settlement in my sister’s death, but I guess she decided to wait down in Florida.”

Uneasy, Roselle shifted in her seat. Any mention of June’s death usually put Will in a dark mood. “But you’re fine with it, right? You’re moving to your grandfather’s?”

He shrugged. “I’m not homeless and out on the street. Besides, I have a job.”

“Rub it in, but my loss of employment is temporary. Soon I’ll be back to saying, Can I take your order even though you never tip?”

“How about serving me up something special tonight?” His voice hit her deep and low.

Anticipation jingled through her nerves. “Nothing you can afford,” she answered, aware of the suggestive meaning. “Is there wood at your grandfather’s?”

“Changing the subject? My chainsaw is in the back. I’ll let you have first dibs with it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“How else do you want to stay warm?”

Danger. Danger.

“I’m sleeping inside, remember?”

“I’m hoping to tempt you with a huge heat source known as–”

“Will?” She arched a brow of doubt at him.

“I was thinking of a bonfire with s’mores for you.”

“The bribery part works.” She was getting herself in trouble, but it’d been a long time since she’d flirted with Will.

The truck bumped along the dirt road leading to the house. Roselle’s stomach dipped with nerves. It’s only Will, she reassured herself. And without a car, she couldn’t pick up and leave when she wanted. What had she done? Panic curled in her chest.

They pulled up the dirt driveway. Will parked the truck and for a moment stared at the cabin. “Honey, we’re home.”

“I’m sure you’ve decorated for your living pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” Will gathered his bag from the back.

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t be flirting. She’d change the subject. “My mom would like me to be a real estate agent. Sometimes I think she wants me to be another person too.”

“I don’t think I could take another one of you.”

“Funny.” She punched his shoulder. “Speaking of my family, I should call the hospital and check on my brother.”

“Sure. I’ll start the bonfire. Since my grandfather left the brush pile near the pond we’ll have plenty of fuel.” He opened the cab door.

She jumped out and walked to the log cabin’s porch where she dug out the cell and the hospital phone number. She punched it in. Within a few minutes, she was connected to her brother’s room.

“Hello.”

Guilt lurched from its hidden crevice. She swallowed. “Hi, Mom. How’s Bobby doing?”

“Roselle, I’m glad you called. Your brother’s resting and will be home tomorrow. Your sister called and told us you’re on a date!” Instead of sounding reprimanding, her voice had that hopeful give-me-grandchildren tone.

“I’m helping Will deliver some things to his grandfather’s house. Nothing big. And by the way, don’t plan on me coming home. I’m all set for tonight.” God, she’d never confessed to staying overnight at a guy’s. Her throat tightened with nerves.

“You’re staying with Will?” Condemnation weighted each word.

“Gotta go, Mom. Have to move a couch or refrigerator or furnace or something. Bye.” Roselle hit the end button.

Wow, she’d told her mom the truth about Will. She was getting brave or mature. But then, why had she told her she was moving furniture? She’d been babbling at the end.

Turning, she saw that the night had settled around her. Bright stars shone overhead, and the three-quarter moon had risen and glowed a bright yellow.

Will came around the corner of the house and twisted back to glance up at the sky and then back at her. “Ready to light the fire?”

“Did you bring marshmallows?”

“No, but I have hot dogs.”

Only Will could make those words sound sweet. “What a host.”

Together they rounded the cabin. Their legs synchronized in pace. His arm swung close to hers. She wanted to reach out and take his hand like the day at the cemetery, but couldn’t. The whole situation tonight was different, awkward. An invisible wall of tension separated them now.

No holding hands tonight. She wasn’t into the girlfriend-boyfriend action. Damn, what the heck was their relationship?

“Ready?” Will came to a halt in front of a huge brush pile.

“You’ve outdone yourself. This could burn all night or for days. How long are you staying out here?”

“I’ll remind you that you’re staying as long as I’m staying, since I drove you. Watch my Boy Scout skills.” He dug into his jeans pocket.

“If you’re going to rub two sticks together to start the fire, I’ll be moving inside for real heat.”

“I have a much easier method. I poured gasoline on the brush like an arsonist.” He flashed her a smile.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” She started backing up, searching for the gas can. Was he crazy? “How far are we from the fire department? Got the number for a taxi?”

Will dug out a matchbook, struck a match, and flung it on the pile. Flames whooshed up with an orange flare. Will retreated beside her. The flames reflected in his bright eyes. “I earned my badge.”

“Your incendiary badge.” She was with the reckless Will. Unease mixed and knotted with her tension.

“Relax, Funny Girl.”

They stood together watching the flames lick the air, listening to the crackling of the dry wood. The odor of smoke floated on the clear night air. The heat from the bonfire warmed her face and hands while the scent of gasoline drifted away like her troubles with Fast Eddie.

“It’s a beautiful night.” She stuffed her fists into her jean jacket and followed the smoke spiraling upward until it became invisible in the night.

“Did you ever feel sad that you missed out?” Will turned to her.

“On what?”

“We didn’t do the typical high school activities. Like the prom.”

“You’re kidding. You at a prom!” She wanted to laugh. “Are you serious? You weren’t interested in a dance and dressing up.”

“What’s that mean? Do you think I have two left feet? A challenge! Madame.” He clicked his work boot heels together and whipped his hands into foxtrot position. “May I have this dance?”

She searched his face. The wild look was lurking in his blue eyes, making her hesitant. “I’m not sure...”

He stepped forward, snatched up one of her hands and slipped his behind her back. “Ready?” He stepped forward, and her world turned upside down as he dipped her.

“Will!” The stars and moon looked down at her. She grabbed hold of his shoulders with a laugh and a fear of being dropped.

“Wait until you see my other moves.”

Her stomach danced with new excitement. “Have you been watching the Dirty Dancing marathon again?”

“Baby is my idol.”

He flipped her back up and began to sway with her in his arms. His deep voice hummed a tune she couldn’t grasp. The pressure of his hand on her spine held her firm against his solid body. She wondered if he could feel her heart beating crazily. Their legs brushed against each other’s, and the heat from his broad hands seared her palm and spine. Breathlessness made her feel giddy.

“Almost a Fool Moon,” he said, breaking away to twirl her. The twigs in the fire snapped and crackled as if delighted.

Overhead the stars twirled with her. The dizziness spread from her head to the world beyond. He pulled her to his chest and she dared, “Hit me one more time.”

He dipped her, holding her off balance, totally dependent on him. The moon over his head had risen to its full height and shone down over his shoulder. The glow in Will’s eyes deepened, matching the glow of the stars.

“Do you know something, Roselle?”

“Yes, you’re better than John Travolta.”

“No, do you want to know the real reason I stayed in Stark Falls?”

“For free real estate?” She felt her heartbeat quicken and all her senses sharpened in anticipation.

“Because of you. I love you.”

Chapter Nineteen

Will died a thousand deaths when Roselle didn’t answer. Silent, she searched his face. He could see reflections of the bonfire’s flames in her eyes, and he could read uncertainty flickering in them. Maybe she’d never believe in him again.

“Love?” she said the word like she was tasting it, trying it out.

He settled her on both feet and dropped his arms to his sides.

“Thanks, I need my footing on solid ground for this discussion.”

“I’ve missed you, Roselle. I want us back together, the way we were.”

“The old us weren’t good together.” Sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why we broke up.”

“To quote an old cliché, I’ve changed.”

When she didn’t answer, desperation began to eat at him. “Roselle, I’ve kept my job at Gro Rite. I’ve sworn off drinking. The fights, the arguments with people, they’re all over. I have it under control and won’t slip. I’ll prove it. Give me a chance.”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “I believe you. You’re sober as a funeral director and will stay that way.” She dropped her hand.

“You believe me?” Was she really forgiving him?

“But...a woman likes a little romance with her proclamations of love, Will, not true confessions.”

“Romance?” Was this code for get back together?

“Yeah, a little…courting.”

He smiled, unable to resist teasing. “Ah, I understand. Let’s not rush it. Step outside my bedroom, my love.” He took her hand and led her a few steps into another imaginary chamber.

“My love? You get right into it, don’t you?”

“My woman’s wish is my command.”

She tilted her head back, a gleam in her eyes. “Now you’ve got the idea.”

“I bet a woman loves fine scenery, too. Voila, another wish granted.” He flung out a hand at the fire. “Only the best in early burning wood decor.”

She faced the fire and inhaled. “I admire your fine taste in bonfire scents.”

“And look up above.” He waved his arms out toward space. “A delightful canopy for your viewing pleasure. If you want less, we can add a few clouds.”

“How thoughtful of you. Ah, could you adjust the heat, Mr. Romance? I’m feeling a trifle hot in the romance room.” She fanned her hand in front of her face.

“My pleasure.”

“I hope not only yours.”

Smiling, he reached down and unbuttoned the top of her jean jacket, revealing the v-neck of her sweater. “For your pleasure.” He bent his head and trailed kisses along the edge of the fabric, tasting her warm salty skin.

She shivered.

“And for you….” Spreading his hands, he ran them up her shoulders and slipped his fingers underneath the arm openings of her jacket. In one swift movement he tossed it back where it clung to her elbows. “A slight malfunction. May I remove the rest of your garment, Madame?”

With a slight inclination of her head, she agreed. He tugged off the first layer that stood in his way and tossed it over his shoulder. The garment fell to the ground with a plop.

“Next.” He raised her small hand to his mouth.

She stared at him with large inquisitive eyes.

Bringing the warm hand to his lips, he nibbled her palm and then wrist. Beneath his lips, he found her pulse, beating faster and faster. Her eyes half closed, she leaned her head back. Her lips were drawn in a half smile.

Encouraged, he pushed back the sleeve of her sweater and his mouth moved up the soft skin of her arm.

What else would be romantic? Ah, he knew. “Quero tu, Mamma,” he whispered.

Her eyelids flew open. “You want my mother?” She snatched her hand away.

“I was trying for hot foreign words. Though I thought I was asking for spaghetti sauce, and you’d never know it.”

“You dropped out of Spanish, remember, Boone? And you’re killing the mood.”

“We’ll forget the talking part.” He reached out and folded his fingers over the top of her jeans and pulled her against him. Her thighs melted into his legs with a hot heat. Under her sweater, he ran his finger across her soft skin above the waistband with a teasing promise.

She sighed.

He slid his other hand upward and underneath her bra and cupped a breast, and then he began to stroke it. A murmur of delight escaped from her lips, triggering a shiver of lust to run through him.

Needing more, he unbuttoned her jeans, providing room for caressing her warm skin. His hand slipped lower and lower to the elastic of her thong. “Nice panties,” he whispered.

“Wal-Mart,” she mumbled, pressing closer. Her fingertips skimmed his cheek and traveled up through his hair. “Will...”

He sighed. “I know, no talking.”

“Will, forget the romancing part.” Roughly, she pulled his head down. She rose up on tiptoes, her hot mouth met his, and they tumbled to the ground in a mad desperate passion.

*****

The stars had finished spinning in the sky when Will’s sanity returned. Roselle snuggled against him, and he wrapped his arm around her. He edged closer and felt a sharp pain.

“Roselle, hold on a minute. I’m lying on something.” He arched his back and yanked out his belt from the mismatched mound of clothing underneath them.

She pulled out her sweater and spread it like a short blanket over her. “How long do you think we have before the cold and reality set in?”

“Looks like lots of wood, so hours. But to be honest, my feet are cold.”

“Okay, that does it.” She sat up and yanked their clothes out from underneath them. “You’ve killed the mood.” But even as she spoke, her eyes danced with amusement.

“Does this mean I’m still sleeping alone tonight?”

“If you plan on the ground for your bed, you are.”

“Not a chance.”

Her head popped through the top of the sweater. “Did you plan this, Will Boone?”

“Since you came to my house unexpected, I’m thinking you planned to seduce me.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Subconsciously.”

“Hmm. I like my subconscious. Remind me to be extra friendly to it.”

“What about tonight, Roselle?” He leaned over to bite her neck.

She leaned away from him. “You don’t think I’m sleeping on that piece of cloth, do you?” She eyed the rolled up sleeping bag to the side of the fire.

“We should have used it a few minutes ago. But don’t worry. We’ll sleep inside. Ready?” He jumped to his feet and held out a hand.

“That’s what I like about you, Will. When you focus, you are totally motivated.” She grabbed his hand and rose in one swift motion to her feet. “What about the bonfire?”

“We have a hose.” He marched to the side of the cabin and followed the green tube to the outside faucet. His heart beat with excitement. Roselle was here; they were together and not just for the moment. If he had his way, tonight was the beginning of their future.

*****

“You’re such a good cook, Roselle.” Will watched her shake out corn flakes into a bowl.

“Sugar?” she asked from the chair next to him. Her hand hovered over the bowl on the center of the forest green tablecloth.

“I love it when you call me pet names.”

She pushed the bowl toward him and he dished two spoonfuls of sweetener over his cereal.

Will sat posed with the spoon in hand. “I’ve been thinking, Roselle.”

“When did you have time for that last night?” She raised her brows and put on a horrified expression.

“While you poured the cereal, I gave the idea a lot of thought. How about you stay here at my grandfather’s place until your apartment is ready? No family, lots of bonfires, me and…me.”

“Omit the bonfire and I’m yours. My hair still smells like smoked ham this morning, even after a shower.”

He snapped up his head and the mischievous gleam sparked in his eyes. “I love ham!”

“I know.” She laughed as he leaned over and attacked her throat with a series of kisses that made her giggle.

The ringing of her cell made her pull away.

“When did you put your phone on?” Will paused to ask.

“After I called the hospital five minutes ago to check on Bobby’s condition. You were in the shower.” She picked up her purse from the ladder-back chair and dug out the cell. Her parent’s number flashed in the small window. She headed out to the porch and the crisp air. “Hello.”

“Roselle,” Mom’s voice shrieked. “Thank God. Where are you?”

“I’m at Will’s. I told you.” Was this a test?

“Your father drove over to Will’s and you’re not there. He checked, and we called you all night at his house.”

“I’m sorry, we’re at his grandfather’s cabin.” She should have told her mom.

“You never mentioned his grandfather. Never mind. Roselle, have you seen your sister? Is she with you?”

“What? Alicia? I talked to her yesterday and told her about Bobby. Didn’t she visit him?” What was with the perfect sister?

“She’s disappeared. She never showed up at the hospital, and she’s not at the house. We’ve called the police. Your father went to Will’s home and you weren’t there.”

Was her mom suffering from deafness or senility to keep repeating herself?

“Where are you?” Mom persisted. “We thought you were missing.”

“Mom, I told you.” So much for congratulating herself on telling her parents the truth.

“You told me you were at Will’s last night and now at his grandfather’s house. I don’t know where you are. You mentioned a delivery of furniture to his grandfather’s but I never thought you were spending the night!”

“I’m fine, Mom.” She must have been too upset about Bobby to hear her last night. So much for speaking as an independent adult.

“Is your sister with you?”

Roselle grabbed at her patience. “Mom, get a grip and tell me everything that’s happened.” Stress was making her mother irrational.

“We don’t know where Alicia is! She called the hospital and told us she’d be right over. She never arrived.” Her mom’s voice cracked with emotion.

“Alicia was at home yesterday. I saw her in the kitchen after her class. In fact, I gave her my car to visit Bobby at the hospital last night.”

“She told us she was driving over in your car, but she never came.”

“Do you think she’s visiting someone? Did she leave a note somewhere?”

“I’ll call you back.” Mom hung up.

“That was strange.” Roselle headed inside, trying to understand her sister’s odd behavior.

“What happened?” Will asked between crunches. “Did your dad flip out at the dentist or Bobby confess secret plays in his sleep?”

“No, Alicia never showed up at the hospital and no one has seen her.” She settled the phone on the table by her chair.

“Maybe she had a study group,” Will suggested.

“She always tells someone where she’s going. But then, my mom didn’t remember I was at your grandfather’s. My dad drove over to your mother’s house looking for me and flipped out when I wasn’t there.”

“Last night? Good thing he had the wrong house.”

Where would Alicia go? Who had her parents already called?

“They’ll find her, Roselle.” Will reached over and took her hand.

“But I can’t think of anywhere she’d spend the night, especially in secret.”

“Maybe she left a message and your parents missed it.”

“I’m sure Mom will check it out,” Roselle said, trying to reassure herself.

“What now? Do you want to go to the hospital or to your parents’?”

“Drop me off at the hospital. Someone will show up who can drive me home later. I know you have to work.”

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Roselle, I don’t like leaving you alone. What if Eddie Ferrani’s bodyguard returns to stroll past your brother’s room?”

“I’ll call hospital security. Really, I’ll be fine.”

He threw her a doubtful look.

“Will, if I have to worry all the time where I am, I won’t be able to function worrying about you worrying.”

Tightening his grip on her hand, he offered, “Let me call work and leave a message that I’ll be late. Once I check out the hospital, I’ll feel better.”

She should protest, but his concern was a comfort. She nodded and stood. A sense of loss plummeted through her. Their personal time was over. Now she had to focus on her brother and sister.

Will disappeared to another room with his cell, and Roselle picked up the uneaten breakfast food and bowls. Funny how fast life could change. Only minutes ago was a happy time and now zap, she felt nothing but this huge weight on her heart. Not even her burning memories of last night could ease the burden.

The cell rang, and she jumped and dropped the glass in her hand. It hit the oval braided rug with a thud, but didn’t break. Roselle put a hand to her heart and thanked the glass gods for their protection.

She swiped up the cell from the table.

“Roselle?” It was her mom, and she could tell by her parent’s unsteady greeting that Alicia had not been found.

“What’s the news? Anyone know anything about Alicia?”

“No, your father called the school and they’re checking but it doesn’t look good. Can you come right home? The police are here and want to speak to you.”

Not Myers again. She groaned silently. “Sure, I’m on my way. Anything else you need?”

“Just come home.”

Roselle pushed the end button, and her mind whirled and clicked with facts. She had been the last person to see Alicia before giving her the car. Her car! “Oh, no.”

“What happened?” Will stood in the doorway with his cell in hand.

“Will, what if Fast Eddie did something to my car again? Oh, God, I should never have loaned it to Alicia.”

Will’s face blanched. “I’ll drive you home right away.”

Chapter Twenty

The blue police cruiser in the Lewis’ driveway sent warning signals spiraling in Roselle’s stomach. She put her hand on the knob of the truck door and gave Will her promise to call him as soon as the interrogation was finished.

Will’s mouth flattened in disapproval. “I should come in. You shouldn’t meet with Myers alone.”

“No, I’m a big girl. You need to work. We’ll get together later.” She pushed on the handle.

“Roselle?”

She jerked back. “Wha-”

Will met her lips with a long, lingering, hot kiss. Breaking away, he whispered, “You forgot something.”

Wow, how could she have blanked out time for a kiss? “I don’t think I’ll forget again.” She couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“I don’t think you should go inside looking so happy.”

“Thanks.” She punched his shoulder and jumped out of the truck.

Before she could open the front door, her cell rang. Roselle answered it quickly.

“Miss Lewis, this is Melinda True. You must listen to me. It involves great danger.”

No doubt Miss True was psychic enough to take advantage of people’s emotional crises.

“I can’t listen or speak now.” Roselle clicked off the phone and entered the house. In the kitchen, her mother sat at the head of the table; Myers was scribbling notes on a mini pad of paper. He pointed with the pencil to an empty chair and ordered her to sit. She slipped into a seat next to Bobby, who was sitting in a chair full of pillows.

“Bobby, glad you made it out of the hospital.”

“It was either come home or have Mom sit beside me at the hospital all day.” He cringed.

“Good choice.”

Myers sent them a snarl. “I’m trying to conduct an investigation.”

“Bummer that you can’t get it done.” Roselle blinked with innocence at Myers.

“Now, on the day of the accident, Mrs. Lewis, where were you?”

“Where’s Dad?” Roselle whispered to Bobby, eyeing her mom in the other captain’s chair.

“He’s out hiring a private detective.”

“Do they have them in Stark Falls?”

“Dad found one in the yellow pages with an office in Manchester.”

Roselle sneaked a peek at her mother who was supposed to answer Myers’ question.

“The show’s never over until the fat lady sings.” Mom pushed her hands together like she’d recited a prayer.

“Who?” Myers stopped writing and glanced at Mom. “Is this fat lady a witness or a suspect? How’s your heart?”

Mom shook her head and rose from the chair. “She’s neither, and I’m taking it easy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must put on the kettle for tea.”

Myers tapped his pencil on his pad and zoomed a glare on Roselle. “Next.”

She could do this. Yes, she even held her patience when Myers asked her where she lived and for how long she’d worked at Kozy’s Coffee Shop. Finally, she was allowed to tell him about talking with Alicia in the kitchen yesterday around six.

“Who else was present, any witnesses?”

“In our kitchen? No.”

“What about William Boone? Was he in the neighborhood during your meeting with your sister?”

“Will was not in the kitchen or in any room in the house.” Uneasy, she shifted in the chair.

“How well did your sister and William Boone know each other?”

“Exactly what are you saying?” Anger bubbled into her throat.

“A neighbor reported sighting a white truck with a Gro Rite Landscaping sign in your driveway early yesterday evening. The driver fit William Boone’s description. We might consider the fact that Mr. Boone was stalking your sister.”

“If Will was stalking anyone, it’d be me.” Roselle flattened her hands on the table and pushed herself out of the chair until she caught sight of her mother’s horrified expression. She sank back into the seat.

A stunned silence filled the room. Everyone stared at her.

Now she was in trouble. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. Will was waiting in the drive for me. We’re back together again.” She turned up the volume on her smile.

“No kidding, you and Will aren’t broken up any more?” Bobby asked. “Is that why he was at your apartment the other day?”

“Yeah, we’re fixed up--or whatever the opposite of broken up is. It only happened yesterday, though.”

“Now I know what moving furniture means for you young people.” Mom leaned against the arm of the counter like a rag doll. Her brows were puckered together and she looked stricken. “It means having sex, doesn’t it?”

Too much information. Roselle wanted to put her hands over her ears. She shot out of her chair. “I just remembered an appointment. Mom, can I borrow your car?”

“Isn’t this how your sister got into trouble, by borrowing your car?” Myers aimed his pencil point at her.

“Cute analogy, Officer.”

“Roselle,” Mom said, crossing the floor with a tea bag string laced through her fingers. “Where on earth do you have to go right this minute? Your work is closed.”

Was Mom hinting she didn’t have any friends or places to go? But who would she have to visit at this very moment?

Aha! “Miss True is expecting me.”

“Who?” Myers dropped the pad of paper on the table. “Is this someone I should interview?”

“Miss True is one of Mom’s clients, and she has a complaint I must take care of. We’re satisfaction guaranteed, right, Mom?”

“Miss True didn’t like her sundial?” Mom’s eyes filled with disappointment. “Oh dear, it never rains but it showers. Should I go with you?”

As much as Roselle hated lying to her mom, this seemed like the best escape hatch. “Miss True sent me a text message about her purchase. Don’t worry, Mom. I can handle it. Where are your keys?” She scoped out the kitchen area and spotted the van keys next to Mom’s purse on the fake marble counter.

“Why did she send the message to you and not Mom?” Bobby’s brow wrinkled with thought.

“Because she’s also a psychic and knew mom had enough problems.” It could be true...

Unable to take the inquisition any longer, Roselle lunged toward the keys and swiped them up. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Don’t leave town,” Myers shouted after her.

“She was born, raised and works in Stark Falls. Why would she run off?” Mom was asking as Roselle raced for the door.

The van was parked outside. Three cheers. The engine purred to life and Roselle saw Bobby hobble out of the house toward the vehicle.

“What are you doing?” Roselle asked when he yanked open the door and fell into the passenger bucket seat.

“Mom doesn’t want you traveling alone and made me come. Can we stop and pick up a snack? My carbs are low and I’ve got practice in a couple of hours.”

“Can you play already?”

“I’m watching.”

“Oh, and you need carbs to watch. Sure, I understand.”

“Watching wears me out with boredom.” He turned the radio knob back and forth and seemed to give up on the music.

Roselle zipped up the street to Rocky’s groceries and kept the van running while Bobby did an unhurried lope to get his snack. Ten minutes later they were on their way, with Bobby munching on vinegar chips and guzzling a two-liter sport drink.

“You don’t believe mom’s customer is really a psychic, do you?” Bobby spat out between bites.

“I’ve no idea, but she’s been leaving me messages, and I’ve nothing else to do on a nice perfect sunny fall day. A clue is a clue, wherever we find it.”

“Can she give us Powerball numbers or tell me the odds on the school winning the championship against Goffstown this year?”

“I don’t think she’s a bookie, Bobby, but we’ll see.” Roselle glanced in the mirror. No one seemed to be following them. Still she couldn’t help but flash glances in the mirror as often as she could peel her gaze from the road. A feeling that someone was watching or tailing them kept her ready to hit the pedal. And the idea that they might be driving right past Alicia on the way kept her searching for signs of her sister.

“What are you looking for?” Bobby asked in between chomps of potato chips.

“Fast Eddie.”

Bobby choked and coughed out a mouthful of chips.

“Geez, I thought you learned how to eat last week.” Roselle eyed the disgusting mess on the floor mat.

“Do you think he wants to kidnap us?” Bobby opened up the glove compartment and grabbed a napkin to clean up his mess.

“I think he wants me.” She smiled at her brother. “But you’ll protect me, right?”

Her brother twisted round in his seat. “Isn’t there a mask or something you can wear to hide your face?”

“Sorry, I left it at the last guy’s house I was hiding from. Besides, it’s a little hard to hide Mom’s car. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious and if we spot anything, we’ll call…Dad.”

“Right, Dad will scare him or bore him to death trying to sell him a computer.”

“Now you have the spirit.” She pushed the pedal to the metal and they sped down the road. In another fifteen minutes, she pulled into Miss True’s driveway.

Roselle hopped out. The sundial sat in the middle of the flowerbed near the road. Someone had moved it. Had Miss True emerged after dark?

At the door, Roselle pushed the buzzer and waited. After all, Miss True didn’t expect them, but Roselle needed some clue of Alicia’s whereabouts, even a psychic one.

“What time did she want you to come over?” Bobby yelled from the car.

She ignored his question. “Can you see a car in the garage?”

A white truck rattled down the road and pulled in behind the van. Will. He must have been following her. A sense of relief swept over her for one second. In the next, she felt irritation that she hadn’t realized he was behind them. She’d thank him and send him off to work.

Miss True’s front door blew open with such speed, Roselle nearly fell over from the velocity effect, if there were such a thing. Recovering from surprise, she stared at the mysterious Miss True.

She wore a light green floral dress with a matching shawl slung over her shoulders like she was attending a garden party. Several strands of pearls encircled her throat.

“You’re late. Come inside.”

Who was late? Will? Bobby? Herself? None of them had an appointment. Unsure, Roselle stepped into the entry. She heard Will shout for her to wait, but she ignored him. “I’m Roselle Lewis who delivered the--”

“I know who you are. Come in.”

She stepped inside. To Roselle’s left was a gray brick divider topped off with trailing plants. In the corner at the far end sat a card table and the open doorway to another room.

Miss True paused at the table. “I like to work in this room unless you’d rather sit on the porch and be closer to nature.” She turned large brown eyes on Roselle.

The porch would provide a faster getaway if she needed it.

“Roselle?” Will paused in the doorway.

“Come in, come in. Don’t keep us waiting any longer.” Miss True pulled out a chair for him.

Will shot Roselle a questioning glance and walked toward the chair.

“Are we staying for a while?” Bobby stood framed in the doorway.

“I wasn’t expecting you too, but come inside.” Miss True waved him forward.

Some psychic, Roselle thought. Still, Miss True must have some psychic ability to know she’d show up.

Roselle wandered closer to the table. “Miss True, I have questions to ask.”

“They’ll have to wait.”

“Huh?” Roselle threw Will a help-me look.

Will stepped beside Roselle and she felt his reassuring presence. “You might not read the paper, Miss True, but Roselle has been involved in a death and with a suspected mobster.”

“The newspaper is full of bad news that I avoid. But Miss Lewis will have to wait her turn, young man. Your sister wants to speak to you.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“Wow, she’s good!” Bobby swallowed and then grinned. “Have you ever talked to any dead football players? I know. How about The Gipper? Can we talk to him?”

“Football is a violent sport. I never allow such spirits in my house.”

“Bummer.” Bobby eased into a chair with a wince of pain.

Miss True pulled out the head chair and slipped into it.

Will exchanged a look with Roselle. She was twisting the strap of her purse and sending him a sorry message with her eyes. “Miss, I think Roselle needs help with her problem more than I do.”

Miss True shook her head. “Your sister haunts my dreams. She must speak to you, and I promised her you’d come.”

“But you called me!” Roselle protested.

“Wrong number.” Miss True twisted round in her chair. “Blame June. She gave me the number.”

Will felt a quiver go through his gut at the mention of his sister’s name. “Any news on Alicia?”

Roselle shook her head and blinked rapidly as though keeping back tears.

“This sounds kinda scary.” Bobby sprawled in a small wooden chair that disappeared beneath him. “I don’t think Mom would like it, either.”

“Mama’s boy.” Will punched Bobby’s arm.

Bobby flinched and cried, “Ow.”

Will settled in the chair Miss True had indicated. “Tell my sister she still owes me for ordering her favorite pizza.”

“Men always think about food. They can ask anything about the mysteries of the universe, but instead it’s food.” Miss True joined hands with Will at the table. “Please join us, Miss Lewis.”

Roselle inched forward. “I came about Fast Eddie.”

“Another time.” Miss True raised her chin up in the air and held out a hand.

“Come on, Roselle.” Will kicked a chair out toward her. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

“This is no show, Mr. Boone, and unless you’re prepared to take this seriously, I can’t help you.”

“I’m as serious as can be.” He waved a hand in front of his face, changing his expression to deadpan.

Roselle sat down, and he laced his fingers through hers. Miss True took Bobby’s hand and he grasped Roselle’s. The circle was complete.

“You were following me, Will,” Roselle accused under her breath.

Her fingers were stiff, and he’d bet the warmth generating from her hand was from her temper and not normal body heat. “I plead nolo.”

“I require silence,” Miss True lectured. “This isn’t easy for me since it takes huge concentration to reveal and understand these messages.”

“I thought Will’s sister was talking to you in your sleep.” Bobby cocked his head to the side. “Were you concentrating in your sleep?”

“Bobby, be quiet,” Roselle ordered. “Maybe Will’s sister spotted Fast Eddie driving around and can tell us where he is.”

“That’s right. She has a different view from the rest of us,” Will affirmed, trying to keep the mood light. Inside his stomach was churning. “We’re all ready.” He raised both his linked hands.

Miss True nodded a glum face. “I’ll begin. Your sister told me you’re in danger.”

“O-kay.” He wouldn’t take this strange woman seriously, but he could play along. “Is it a danger from a person, thing, or vegetable?”

Miss True swallowed and exhaled a large breath. “She told me you needed to beware a man who washes a lot.”

“Huh? I guess cleanliness isn’t next to Godliness.” He grinned, but none of Miss True’s facial muscles moved upward a centimeter.

“This man is flying around near you.”

At the word flying, Will’s muscles tightened. “Describe what you mean by flying.”

“Wait a minute.” Roselle leaned forward. “I thought we were going to speak to Will’s sister personally, not secondhand through you. What kind of a séance is this?”

Miss True squinted her eyes and frowned. “I relay to you what I dream. I don’t play those silly party séance games.”

“Then why are we holding hands?” Will asked, suspicions feeding his doubts.

“I was afraid you’d run away or would keep interrupting. This is the best way of keeping control.”

“We’re not a bunch of wild football players.” Roselle dropped Will and Bobby’s hands with a plunk. “Come on, Will. Time to go.”

He remained planted in his chair. “Just a minute, Roselle. What else did my sister say, Miss True?” Maybe Miss True was a fake, but it didn’t hurt to ask a question.

“The man is flying around like a bird, flapping his arms and he lands near the water and starts throwing detergent into the lake. Your sister watches him.”

“Great, if it’s a lake around here and has too much phosphorus the conservationists will all be after him. Do you have any more questions, Will?” Roselle was poised to run.

“That was the first dream,” Miss True continued as if Roselle hadn’t spoken. “Then for the next three nights I dreamed your sister visited me in my living room and told me you had to hear about the dream. It was a matter of life and death.”

“Does the man have a football or a helmet?” Bobby asked. “Is there a goalpost near the water?”

“Bobby, let’s go.” Roselle dug her keys out of her bag and let them dangle from her fingers.

Miss True shook her head. “Sorry, it’s an odd dream, but your sister insisted I get in touch with you.”

“Next time use the phone.” Roselle’s keys jingled from her fingertips as she headed for the door.

Will stayed firmly in his seat. “Miss True, do I owe you any money for this…non-séance?”

“I like to use my gift to help. I don’t charge.” She closed her eyes like she was going into a disagreeable trance.

Bobby inched forward. “Can I bring a bunch of guys over so you can tell us if the hot cheerleaders will-”

Will grabbed Bobby’s arm and pulled him along.

He cried out in pain. “Watch the ribs.”

“Don’t bother the woman any more,” Will ordered.

“Maybe if I tell Miss True about a cheerleader, she’ll dream about one.”

“I don’t think it works that way, Bobby. And if we keep your sister outside any longer, she’ll be cranky.”

“She’s only cranky around Alicia.” Bobby limped toward the door.

Roselle was leaning against Will’s truck with her arms folded across her chest. “Maybe she’d look happier if we could find Alicia,” Will pointed out.

They marched to Roselle, and Bobby held up a hand. “Sorry. I’ll wait in the car. Toss me the keys so I can listen to the radio while you hash it out.”

Roselle handed Bobby the keys while Will studied her sober face. “So should we go looking for a washing machine by the lake?”

“Will, you’re tailing me.”

“That sounds kinda detective-like.”

“It gave me the creeps because I sensed someone was behind me.” She rubbed her arms.

“But you’re not mad...” Was she?

The frown disappeared from her face. “No, I’m glad you came, but what about your job?” She pushed away from the door of the truck. “Will, if you lose your job because you’re following me around, I’ll…I’ll-” She bit her lip and looked around the yard like the word was out there hanging in the air.

“You’ll what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but you can’t afford to lose your job. Please, go and start digging and transplanting or whatever you do right away.”

“I’m leaving.” He edged in front of her and yanked her to his chest.

She let out a soft “oh” of surprise.

“Kiss me, woman.” Before she could answer, he swooped in to taste her smart mouth.

But nothing was simple with Roselle. What he’d meant to be a quick good-bye started to turn hot. Her tongue slipped between his lips, and she pressed her body against his chest. He could feel her firm breasts, her long legs, her soft moist-

“Hey, cut it out, you two.” Bobby’s voice sliced through the building tension. “I have to get to practice. Roselle! Will! Control yourselves. I’m an impressionable teenager.”

Unwilling to let her go, Will loosened his hold on Roselle. “I’ll call you later when I get a break. Keep your cell on.”

“Whooo, phone sex?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Count on it.”

“Can I record it and sell it?” Bobby yelled.

“Did you hear me say Mom wants to hear about your hot cheerleader?” Roselle shouted.

“Can’t hear or speak.” Bobby slouched down in the front seat of the van. “But I need to get to practice. Mom insisted I go, even with Alicia missing.”

“I’m on it.” Roselle broke free from Will.

“Hey.” Will grabbed her arm for a second. “Alicia will be found. Don’t worry.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Will, for the good faith.”

He released her and jumped in his truck, eager to get to work so he could finish and return to Roselle.

*****

Will had planted four rhododendrons and two bayberries, and picked up and delivered a truckload of saplings to a garden center by seven o’clock. Dirty and tired, the idea of a cold beer drifted into his mind and took hold. It latched onto his imagination just beyond his vision, teasing and tempting him. His mouth watered, and he licked his lips.

No, he didn’t need a beer. Life was good without it. He searched his mind for a better replacement, and her image popped bright and clear. Roselle! Ah, yes. He allowed her shape to grow larger in his mind.

She’d been unhappy with him when he’d shown up at the so-called psychic’s house. He’d followed her because he’d been unwilling to let her go. They hadn’t settled anything last night. Talk had been the last thing on their minds. It’d been like old times...except the divider between before June’s accident and after the accident remained in his head and between them.

Since the first day they’d met, when she nearly knocked him off his feet, Roselle Lewis had blown him away. She’d become the center of his life until it fell apart. And he knew the separation was his fault. He’d allowed his problems to overwhelm and take control of his life. Funny, he had hated men like himself. Like his father. Failures.

For a long time after June’s crash, he’d fought the feelings of anger and depression, but he’d lost the battle. But after all the nights alone, he’d finally put himself together and pulled in the last missing piece that kept him whole: Roselle.

Today, in the light of sanity, he realized he needed to hash it out, hear her confirm that they were a couple again. He didn’t want to fall back into the black days.

The work hours passed without incident. After work, he drove home, imagining Roselle in her white lacy bra and matching panties. Grinning, he sped along. He made it home in record time and hopped out of the cab. Maybe by the time he called Roselle, Alicia would have turned up.

He pushed open the front door and saw her jacket in the kitchen area. “Roselle?”

“Upstairs.”

Eager, he started to cross the floor when he saw a path of black two-inch rectangular plastics scattered round the edge of the room. “What’s with the plastic?” he shouted, bending over to scoop one up.

“Ant traps,” she answered.

He dropped it to the pine floor with a plunk. “Couldn’t you use flower petals to lure me upstairs?” He began to follow the trail of traps to the steps.

“Sorry. I saw an ant in the hallway. Ever since the cockroaches,” her voice carried down the stairs, “I can’t bear anything crawling near me.”

“Good thing I’m walking on two legs,” he announced, climbing the stairs. Was she near his bedroom? He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder.

He moved his fingers down to his belt, smiling as he anticipated Roselle’s expression when she saw him. Maybe the shower would be better than the bed this time.

“I found spray, too.” Dressed in her jeans and a brown knit sweater that showed off the curves of her body, Roselle appeared at the top of the stairs. In her hand she held an orange can and stopped to squirt liquid across the bathroom threshold. “Okay, now I just have to check under the kitchen sink.”

She started down the steps.

Will paused, sending her his best I’m-all-yours look.

Roselle slowed and glanced at him up and down. “No news about Alicia. I cleaned the shower. Hop right in.”

He caught her arm. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips quivered for a moment before she forced a smile. “Oh…well…I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “Give the ants a reprieve for a few minutes.”

With the spray in her hand, she leaned toward him on her tiptoes.

Pounding sounded on the front door. She snapped back to the balls of her feet.

Irritation bit at Will’s patience. “Don’t go. They’ll leave if we ignore them.”

The banging continued.

“We’re not expecting your mother or any one else from your family, are we?” he asked, fear threading through him.

“It might be news about Alicia.” She slipped away from his arms. “If it’s any of my relatives without news, they’re history like the Fuller Brush Man.” Resting a hand on the door handle, she turned sideways and promised, “I’ll be right back.”

A bad feeling spiraled around in his gut. “Roselle, don’t-” She flung open the door and his warning died on his lips.

The tall giant who’d guarded Fast Eddie’s hospital room stood in the doorway frame.

“You!” Roselle gasped.

“Roselle!” Will shouted.

She could hear Will racing toward her. Swallowing the horror in her throat, she demanded, “Where’s Fast Eddie, you…you…bad man! Where’s my sister?”

At her heels, Will skidded to a stop. “Roselle, get away from him.”

The guard growled something and tipped forward. His hands splayed in the air to choke her.

Terror streaked through her. Roselle raised her can of insect spray and fired. For a moment, he stood staring at her. Then he pitched into her arms. She screamed and dropped the can as she staggered backward.

From behind, Will shot his arms out and braced her.

“Oh, my God, Will!” she cried, trapped against his chest and with the giant in her arms. “Did I hurt him?”

“I’ve got him.” Will steadied her and then lowered the man on his side to the pine planks. His eyes stared straight ahead. Will felt for the pulse in his neck.

“Is he...dead?” Roselle bent over with fear on her face.

Nothing moved under Will’s fingers. “Dead as an ant.”

Chapter Twenty-two

“Oh, my God, Will. I’ve killed him. I killed a human being.” Shocked, Roselle bent over the prone man, looking for a moving part or flicker of his body. “It’s the body guard from the hospital!”

“Stay here.” Will opened the door and scanned the area.

“Do you see anything or anyone?”

“There’s a blue sedan parked next to my truck.”

“It must be his car.” She threw out a hand at the dead man. “I doubt he walked to the cabin.”

“That’d be my guess, too. Of course, anyone who worked for a slime ball like Eddie Ferrani probably knew a slime ball who could have driven him to the cabin and pitched him out.”

“You make it sound like a game of baseball.” She knelt on her knees and picked up the bodyguard’s wrist. “Maybe he fainted. How could a little bug spray kill someone?” How much spray had he inhaled? Desperately she searched for a pulse, a hint of life. Nothing.

“Roselle, where did you get this can?” He gave the orange label a once-over.

No pulse anywhere…oh, God. But then, she never could find her own when she’d watched the aerobics tape and thought about exercising. “I found the spray in the bathroom.”

“How many bugs did you kill with this stuff?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just aimed, sprayed, and the ants ran away. What’s in it? Something deadly?” She cringed.

“It’s air freshener.” Will held the label out to her with his thumb under the two words on the label.

“Are you sure? It was with the floor cleaner and polishes under the sink. It looked like a bug spray can.”

“The label reads, ‘Deodorizes and freshens your house.’ My uncle used it to freshen up the bathroom. Maybe the shock of being around clean air stunned the guy to death.”

“Air freshener! Thank God. That means I didn’t kill him, doesn’t it?” She bit her lip, waiting to be declared innocent.

“I doubt you’re a murderer.”

Relief poured over her as she stood up. “He must have had a heart attack on his own and not from me. You don’t think the air freshener could have scared him to death, do you? Maybe he was allergic to it.”

“Good bodyguard. Guess I should have sprayed Fast Eddie’s hospital room with lemon scent.” Will knelt down and put his fingers to the man’s throat. “Deader than Al Capone.”

“Why would he come here, and how would he know where I was?” Mentally, she replayed the knock on the door, opening it, and- “Will, what were his last words? Sounded like ‘Phil.’ I asked him where my sister was and he said something like Phil.”

“Maybe he said ‘Will’.” He met her gaze with a questioning look.

“Your name? He came to talk to you? Why would he do that unless he was trying to threaten you?”

“Since it’s his job, he could have come to punch me out after our meeting at the hospital.”

“Do you think he’d go to all that trouble to track you down?”

“He’s an overachiever bodyguard?”

“I’ve another idea. Fast Eddie and the bodyguard had a fight.” She began to pace the small entry space as her mind lit with thoughts. “And to get even, the guard came here to spill what he knows about Fast Eddie.” She wheeled to a stop. “What else did he say? It must be a clue.” Excited, she laced and unlaced her fingers together. “It sounded like ‘next aisle’. What does that mean?”

“Who knows? He was mumbling. Maybe it was text, something like a text message.” Will was patting down the man’s body.

“Does he have a gun?” She backed away, a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Seems clean.” Will finished searching the dead man.

“We’re going to look like the murderers, Will. Everything gets worse and worse.” She let her fists dangle at her sides.

“Roselle, chill. We’re not killers.” He stood up and dusted off his hands. “Care to do the honors of calling the police?”

“Guess we have no other choice.” Where was her cell?

Take a big breath.

“Do you have a gun or any weapons in your house in case someone else knocks on the door?”

“Sorry, Roselle. I don’t belong to the NRA.”

“Maybe I could use a poker like in the horror movies. They always hit the murderer with one during a thunderstorm and the electricity is out.” She grabbed her cell from the table. For the first time, she was anxious for the police to appear. Someone with a weapon would be useful.

“The weather report called for cool and clear today and tonight.”

“If the lights go out this evening, I’m asking the police for a jail cell. It sounds safer.”

“I’m sure Myers will offer us one even with our lights on.” Will paused in the open doorway. “I’m going outside to look around.”

“No!” Snapping her head up, she pinned a horrified gaze on Will. “Don’t you know the procedure? You have to wait for the police. You can’t go outside and traipse around. Important evidence might be destroyed. I mean, don’t you watch TV? Will-”

She didn’t see him crossing the room. The next thing she knew, he was crushing her in his arms. “Roselle, I’m fine, but I’ll stay with you if that’s what you want.”

His warm embrace and the rhythm of his heart quieted her frazzled nerves. “It’s just that I’ve found two dead people, and the last one died right in front of my eyes. Are you sure it wasn’t a heart attack?”

He held her at arms’ length and met her gaze. “Working with Fast Eddie would have done him in a long time ago if his heart was that weak. But I’m no Surgeon General.”

“This all started with Fast Eddie. How could Mrs. Christie have ever dated him?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever know.” He kissed the top of her head and loosened his hold. “Do you want me to call the police?”

“I’ll do it.” She stepped away and punched in the numbers of the police department that she now knew by heart. Keeping her voice even and low, she reported the murder. After ten minutes she broke the connection and reported to Will that the Major Crime Unit was on its way. “Detective Cusato was at the other end of the county. He won’t be able to come for some time.”

“With all these suspicious deaths, the town should hire another detective.”

“I’m sure it’ll pass at the next town meeting. A detective for the price of a weekly six pack in taxes can be our slogan.” She forced her lips to turn up in a grin although her stomach was threatening to heave.

“I’d like to say I’m reassured the police are coming, but I’m not.” Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Myers will show up and make matters worse.”

She glanced at the dead body and felt her own chill. Why had he come to the cabin? Was he asking for Will? What else did he say? Next house, Will? That made no sense.

Or was it a warning? Was he telling her something about Will? What? Was he in danger? Goose bumps prickled her skin, and she resisted a shudder.

She had thought things couldn’t get worse but within half an hour when Myers drove up with the Major Crime Unit, she knew the worst was to begin.

She was right. Within ten minutes, Myers was accusing them of conspiracy to commit murder.

“So you went to the hospital to see a man you suspected of murder like you were paying a visit on your Aunt Millie.” Myers hooked his thumbs into the front of his belt and leaned forward on the balls of his feet.

Roselle slipped a glance at Will sitting at the end of the square scuffed table. He was staring at Myers with a blank expression.

Uh-oh. Will’s lack of expression could mean anything...like he was ready to explode or ready to laugh. Either way, he was hiding his true feelings, which probably was for the better.

“I don’t have an Aunt Millie, so I couldn’t tell you,” Will answered, tipping back on the chair’s rear legs.

“You visited a man you believed was a murderer without any protection.” Myers paced back and forth in front of the table. “Didn’t you?” He whirled to Roselle who blinked as Myers whipped an accusing finger at her like a pistol.

“Protection as in condoms?” Will asked innocently.

“Think you’re funny, Boone?” Myers moved to an inch from Will’s face. “This is a murder and right now from where I stand, you’re a suspect.”

“Then stand someplace else.” Will let the chair fall on its four legs.

“Ah, I had balloons.” Roselle waved her hand in the air, hoping to distract Myers.

The cop swiveled toward her. “Balloons? What do you mean?”

“I borrowed them for a few minutes to hide my identity from Fast Eddie.”

“Did the bodyguard see you?”

“He did, eventually.” She glanced at the state troopers still studying the body. “Was it a heart attack?” she raised her voice, hoping they’d answer her.

“So,” Myers continued, focused on Will again. “What hid your identity? Or were you carrying balloons too?”

“Nothing.” Will shrugged.

Myers whipped out his notebook and scribbled in it.

“Can’t one of the troopers take our statement?” Roselle asked. Someone who wouldn’t act like they were interviewing Bonnie and Clyde.

Myers closed in on the table. “You want me to believe that you went to see a man you thought guilty of murder with a bunch of balloons? What was your real plan? Tell the truth. Attack him? Beat him?”

“With balloons?” She almost slipped off her seat. What was Myers talking about? Did he have a clue?

Myers scratched his head and his blue hat, which he never took off, moved back and forth. “You stated you wanted to know the truth about Mrs. Christie and Fast Eddie and you went to the hospital.” The officer reread his notes.

“Do I have the right to request a stenographer?” Will asked.

“Seems to me like you’re not telling everything you know.” Myers’ upper lip disappeared beneath his lower one. “Why would a bodyguard come out to the middle of the woods to drop dead at your door?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to tell us.” Will shrugged. “You’re the investigator.”

“I’ll tell you this. Most victims know their killer.”

“What are you suggesting?” Will gripped the edges of the seat. “Roselle and I would never have anything to do with him or his death.”

“Your record’s not clean, Boone. Last time I picked you up, you’d stolen a golf cart and were trespassing on the Hole In One Golf Course, riding around drunk on the greens shouting ‘Tally Ho’.”

“I had my sports mixed up. I should have been yelling ‘Fore Ho’.”

Roselle jerked her attention to the ambulance pulling up to the door. The beep-beep noise sounded like a death chant. The EMTs were about to load the body on the stretcher.

The ring of her phone tore her attention from the scene. She reached down for her purse leaning against the leg of the chair.

“Don’t answer that!” Myers ordered.

Ignoring him, she pulled out her phone. It could be Alicia.

“Roselle?”

“Bobby! Did Alicia come home?”

“No, but can you drive over to the house? Mom needs you.”

“Did she hear about the bodyguard?” Mom would be a mess if she heard about another death.

“I don’t know any guards. Roselle, your car showed up today. Alicia was nowhere near it. And the police think Fast Eddie skipped town.”

“I’ll be right over.” She clicked off the phone and threw it in her purse. “I’ve gotta go, Will.”

“What?” Myers’ jaw dropped open. “You can’t go anywhere. We’re in the middle of an investigation of a dead man.”

“The dead man won’t mind.” She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Will, my car’s been found, but no signs of Alicia. And Fast Eddie’s still off the radar screen. I think Mom’s flipping out.”

“Want me to come too?”

“They found your missing car? Why wasn’t I notified?” Myers demanded. He slapped the notebook on the table, and his pencil bounced off the cover and rolled to the floor.

Roselle spotted the white stretcher at the front door and her stomach rolled. “You’d better stay, Will. I’ll go out the back. Mind if I take the truck?”

He pulled the keys out of his jeans pocket and handed them over. “Stay safe and call me as soon as you get to your house.”

“Promise.” She raced out the rear. Behind her Myers was shouting something about crime scene investigation.

Outside the ambulance was loading at the front door. She hopped in the truck, and the engine purred to life. She turned the radio on high to drown out her thoughts and took off down the road.

At the edge of town she heard the cell ring. She turned down the radio. Great. Her purse with the phone was in the back seat.

She cruised to the side and grabbed the bag and phone.

“Roselle, what took you so long to answer?” Bobby complained.

“Well I like to keep my eyes and attention on the road when I’m driving. What’s up now? Did they find Alicia?”

“No, you’d better detour to the hospital. Dad took mom there.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Sitting in the hospital waiting room, Roselle attempted to read the article “How to Tell if He’s Cheating on You with His Mother”.

Bobby gave a huge sigh and swayed over the magazines like a critic trying to pick the best one. He hadn’t sat since they’d arrived.

“Bobby, sit down. You’re driving me to a prescription for seasick pills.”

“You know what really triggered mom’s attack?”

Roselle fastened her gaze on the page again. She didn’t want to see the accusation in his eyes. “I hope you’re not going to say it’s my fault.”

“What do you mean?” He stepped toward her with that dumb jock expression on his face. “Oh, you mean that Fast Eddie stuff. She’s over it.” He moved in front of her, forcing her to look up.

Sure, Mom was over it like Scarlett was over Rhett. “Okay, Bobby, give me your best diagnosis. What caused mom’s attack?”

“She thinks we’ll never find Alicia, like most of those people on the milk cartons.”

Never see Alicia again? Roselle’s stomach jerked up and down with painful cramps.

“Good news.” Dad stood in the doorway of the waiting room. His white shirt was hanging over his belt, and his brown hair was standing on end like he’d been running his fingers through it. His glasses were perched at the end of his long nose.

Roselle dropped the magazine into her lap. “What is it? Was it a heart attack?”

“The final diagnosis will be tomorrow when they do more tests. For the moment, your mom is resting and not in any pain.”

She jumped up from her plastic seat. “Can we see her?”

“Your mother’s sleeping.” Dad ran his hand through his hair, causing it to lean in another direction. “I’ll stay with her. You two go ahead and have a wild time.”

“Does that mean I can stay out all night?” Bobby leaped forward in eagerness.

“Funny.” Roselle elbowed her brother, who whimpered, “Watch the ribs.”

She scrutinized her father. “Are you sure, Dad, you don’t want us to stay with you?”

“Your mom’s asleep from sedatives, and you’ve been here long enough. No one can do any more today or tonight.”

Roselle kissed and hugged her dad before they headed for the elevators. As they waited for the ride down, she thought about their recent visits. They should start getting a discount from the hospital for everyone involved in the Mrs. Christie case. Kozy, Fast Eddie, Bobby, and now her mother had all visited the hospital within a few days of each other. It was like a curse.

Stepping out of the elevator, she and Bobby crossed the entry and straggled through the glass doors to the parking lot. “Bobby, where did they find my car?”

“On Eighth Street near the old railroad tracks, and here’s my theory. The person who left your car wanted to destroy it, but he or she was too stupid to know the tracks were abandoned.”

“Do you think he’s a football player?”

“Funny. Not.” They reached the landscaping truck and Bobby continued. “Good thing you have Will’s truck since the police impounded your car. Are you staying at his cabin tonight?”

This sounded like a dangerous question. “Maybe.”

“You know, Mom talked to the Pastor about you living in sin when she called around searching for Alicia this morning.”

Great. “I’m glad Mom’s worried about my afterlife. Jump in.” She motioned with the keys in her hand. “I’ll drop you off at home.”

“Are we going to Will’s? How about I go? I won’t bug you guys.”

“That’s right, you won’t, because you’ll be home like Dad told you.”

“Dad told me to have a wild time.” Bobby slammed the door of the truck shut.

“Right, that means eat all you want when you get home.” Roselle stuck the key in the ignition. “Course, you always do that.”

“I’m on your side about seeing Will again. He’s a cool guy.” Bobby pulled the seat belt over. “After all, if I want to live with a girl sometime, Mom will be used to the idea because of you.”

“I’m not living with Will.” Was she? No, it was only for a few nights. “I’m his guest until my apartment is ready. And Dad was joking. You know he never wants us to have fun. What kind of a parent do you think he is?” The truck’s engine roared to life.

“I think Dad wanted us to forget Mom’s problem by having fun.” Bobby stared straight ahead for a few seconds. “Are you planning a long visit at Will’s?”

“I’ll be at the cabin until Kozy’s opens again, baby brother. Now what girl do you want to live with? Anyone I know?” She braked at the edge of the parking lot and waited for her brother to answer.

“Nope, it’s a hypothetical situation.”

“Wow, you know big words, even. I’m impressed. Did you find it in the weekly sports crossword?” She pulled out onto the street. A light drizzle was falling and clouds had blotted out the sun. A few confused street lamps buzzed into action, thinking night was falling.

“I’m an exceptional student.”

“Sure, all C students are.” Roselle turned her thoughts to her sister. Where was she? The question touched a raw nerve in her stomach that gnawed away at her insides.

At home, she parked in the driveway and waited for Bobby to unbuckle his seat belt. “Don’t bring up Will to Mom unless you want her to stroke out and become an invalid.”

“But–” Bobby protested.

Irritated, Roselle pulled the door shut on him and heavy-footed the gas pedal before Bobby could wise-ass her. On the street she slowed and watched him safely enter the house. Then she headed to Eighth Street, although she had no idea what she’d do once she reached the train tracks.

Too bad the psychic Miss True wasn’t with her. How did she do it? Oh, that’s right, she dreamed.

Well, that wouldn’t work. She couldn’t drive to the railroad tracks and do a park and nap. Bummer.

Pressing the window button, she let the cool air wash over her to shake loose the feeling of doom. Within five minutes, she saw the railroad tracks that stretched through a marsh. They always picked the best places to send a train full of passengers in the olden days.

She slowed to study the area. Was this the spot where the police found her car? Pulling over to the side, she decided to try a long shot. She closed her eyes and pictured her vehicle sitting on the tracks.

Nothing.

She opened her eyes and stared at the spot she imagined the tires might have rested.

Nothing.

Frustrated, she sighed. If only the police would return her car. Did the interior hold any clues to Alicia’s whereabouts?

Visions of blood spots staining the bucket seats shot into her mind. A sick feeling tightened in her gut and pushed nausea up her throat. “No!” She gagged and reached for the ignition. “Damn Fast Eddie.”

She turned the key and the engine jumped to life. Yanking on the wheel, she spun out from the side of the road. First Fast Eddie killed Mrs. Christie, a good and kind person. Then he probably tried to run Bobby down, and now he’d kidnapped Alicia, a clueless smart person. Yes, she hated to admit it, but despite her rivalry with Alicia, her sister had everything to offer. But now she had nowhere to offer it.

“Double damn Fast Eddie!” Roselle jerked the wheel and did a U-turn. Maybe the police thought they’d checked everything, but from her recent experience with the police, she doubted it.

She had to do or find something to ease the force pulling her deeper and deeper into blackness. Aha! She’d pay a visit to Fast Eddie’s house. Somewhere there must be a clue, and she wasn’t going to sit on her hands any longer. Or do a drive-by search of his house either. Forget the incompetent Stark Falls police. She’d do her own investigating.

Feeling steadier, she headed to Manchester. The drizzle had stopped, but the gray clouds promised more.

At the mall on the city outskirts, she ran into the computer store and Googled Fast Eddie’s address. By the time she reached his house, her common sense had finally emerged and managed to whisper, Be careful.

The homes were a mixture of capes, garrisons, and split-levels with tidy neat manicured lawns. Slowing the truck, she made a pass and then circled back to the hilly neighborhood. Large Victorians with wraparound porches graced both sides of this portion of the road, reminders of an older time.

Only a few streets below, cars raced up and down on the busy Daniel Webster Highway--or the DW as everyone called it. Though its only claim to being a highway nowadays was double lanes.

Except for cars shortcutting through to the downtown to avoid the DW, Fast Eddie’s neighborhood was quiet. Most likely no one would notice Will’s truck. But she drove two streets over and found a compact car parked on the side of the road and pulled in behind it.

Another vehicle would make the truck look less suspicious, although she was probably being paranoid. She killed the engine and jumped out, forcing herself not to run toward Fast Eddie’s. She wished it was dark and she could hide under cover of the night.

Slowing her steps, the question buzzed around in her head: What now?

Her mind answered: Take the obvious route.

She marched to the front entrance and rang the bell. When no one answered, she raised her fist and pounded on the door.

“Come out, you coward!”

In the distance, a dog was barking, and the sounds of distant traffic carried through the damp air. No one answered. Had Fast Eddie hightailed it out of town or was he hiding inside?

She reached out and grabbed the knob and gave it a good twist. The door remained locked. She needed Will. If he was here, he could get her in.

But Will was at home and, worse, when she’d left him he was under interrogation by Myers. A twinge of guilt nipped at her conscience.

In a few minutes, she’d dug out her cell and pressed his number. The voice mail answered and encouraged her to leave a message.

“Will, I need your help. If you catch a ride to-” What street was she on and where had she parked? “Never mind, I’ll see you soon and tell you myself.”

She punched end and threw the cell in her bag. Just for kicks, she’d case the place. She slung her purse over a shoulder and trudged down the steps. The quiet of the neighborhood reassured her jumpy nerves. No one was around. Excellent.

Tracking around the house, she tried a side door. Locked. She studied it. It had a simple push in button style lock. Her parents had the same type. Hmm, the lock called to her to enter. She could do this.

She rummaged in her purse and grabbed a nail file. Shifting in front of the lock, she shielded her B and E from any possible nosey neighbors.

The lock clicked, and she opened the door. For a moment, she hesitated...but elation urged her forward. She stepped inside.

Her stomach clenched tight. What was she trying to find? Evidence, any evidence of my sister’s presence, her mind shouted. Nervous, she tiptoed forward into a large hall that ended in a kitchen with granite counters. She paused to get her bearings. Maybe she’d find a strand of Alicia’s hair or her earring.

To her right was a door. Was it a closet? Holding her breath, she yanked on the knob.

The door flew open. Empty. The sound of the clothes hanger swinging back and forth on the rod filled the quiet house and matched the rapid beating of her heart. Damn. Nothi-

The floor creaked behind her. What was-

She began to twist around when hands pushed her forward. “Ahh!”

With a shriek, she fell into the closet. From the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of a figure in black before the door swung shut. Her head and hands hit the plaster wall. She paused to gather her thoughts and wait for the throbbing in her forehead to quit. Overhead the coat hanger swung again like a pendulum.

Another door banged shut.

Roselle regained her composure, lunged at the closed closet door, and stumbled into the hall as the door fell open.

Staggering a few feet, she steadied herself and whirled to the outside door. Whoever had been in the house was running away. Alicia? Fast Eddie?

“Wait!” She ran out the door and stopped on the sidewalk, her heart beating frantically. Where’d the person go? She ran to the edge of the road. A blue car was zipping off with the squeal of tires.

Was it someone late for an appointment, or the person from inside Fast Eddie’s house?

Disappointment fell over her. It wasn’t Alicia. She’d never push her into a closet and run off.

And Roselle would never be able to identify whoever had been inside from the memory of the blurred figure. She pivoted around and stood undecided. Should she go back inside? Every nerve in her body protested, and she shivered in the raw day.

The ring of the cell broke into her confused thoughts. She pulled out the phone to see Will’s number. Relieved, she sank to the curb. “Hi.”

“Roselle, where are you? With your mom? Is she better?”

“She’s resting, and the hospital is running the tests tomorrow. I think Dad wanted quiet time alone with her. He kicked us out and told us to go home.”

“Sounds good. Are you on your way to the cabin?”

“Ah, I took a slight detour.” She glanced at Fast Eddie’s house. Had Alicia ever been here? Where was she now? Alive?

Tears of despair burned her eyes and she swatted them away.

“How’d it go with the police after I left?” She sniffed.

“Roselle, come home and we’ll talk.” His voice was quiet and firm.

She swallowed, but the lump stayed in her throat. “I’m on my way.” Trudging toward the truck, she kept an eye out for anyone suspicious. The dark car that had sped away with the mystery person from Fast Eddie’s house had disappeared. She should have been quieter. She never should have banged on the front door and given him or her a warning. Maybe the person was an intruder like herself.

Heaving a sigh, she hopped inside the truck and headed out for Will’s. By the time she reached his house, she was convinced she should head back to stake out Fast Eddie’s. The man was probably sitting at home enjoying a beer and laughing at her and the Stark Falls Police Department.

She burst into the cabin and filled Will in before he could say hold it.

“So if we go back together,” she blurted, “we might catch him and find Alicia.”

“Roselle, sit down.”

“You don’t want to do it? Will, I was hoping you’d help me, but if you don’t, then I’ll do it by-”

Will placed his hands on her shoulders. “Down, tiger.” He pressed her into the kitchen chair. “First, we need a plan. The chances are slim that whoever was at Fast Boy’s house will return. But that doesn’t mean I won’t help you. Think, what’s my nickname and middle name?”

“Trouble?”

“Billy. Billy Edward.” He flashed her a grin.

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“Billy Edward, B and E.”

“That’s reaching.”

“Okay, but I bet the Posse will like it.”

“You’re calling them?

“You bet.”

Chapter Twenty-four

The Posse arrived at the cabin before midnight. Both Mickey and Clark wore black shoes, socks, pants, and silk shirts. “Hey, dude and dude-ette,” they shouted in unison as they stepped inside the cabin.

“Nice clothes,” Roselle studied them, “especially the shirts. Who’d you buy them from, Zorro?”

“Glad you like them.” Mickey grinned a smile that made the bottom of his face disappear into a row of teeth. “Let’s show her the best part.”

Clark nodded and whipped out a black captain’s hat from behind his back. He placed it on his head where it sat on his bouffant hair like a stovepipe on a bird’s nest.

Mickey pulled out a black ski mask from his pants pocket and pulled it over his face. “How do we look?”

“You look like two-bit part players from Escape from Alcatraz.” Roselle shot Will a doubtful glance. “And Clark looks like that old time singer from the Captain and Tennille.”

“Cool.” Clark whipped the hat from his head. “It’s all about the clothes.” With a hand, he gestured in the air over his form.

Clark was interested in clothes? Were Clark and Mickey playing for the other team? Oh well, as long as they did their job and helped search for clues of Alicia.

“You guys have been watching too much Will and Grace. Think The Italian Job.” Will stretched fists out in the air. “Mickey, nice mask, but you stay in the car.”

“I know I’m the driver, but no one will recognize me in the getaway car.”

“We hope no one sees us to get the chance to recognize us.” Will raised his brows in doubt.

Roselle stepped a couple feet from the pair. “Will, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure. Clark, Mickey, think Bruce Willis in the Die Hard movies.”

Die hard was probably how they’d end up if the Posse didn’t have it all together, Roselle thought.

“What’s the problem, Roselle? Don’t you like the guys’ choice of B and E-ing clothes?”

“Are they taking this seriously?” She glanced over to see Clark wriggling his fingers through the eyeholes. “We don’t want to get arrested tonight, and if I recall, that happened in The Italian Job.”

“I’ll talk to them. They’ll be great. Just watch.”

“Do I have to?” She cringed, and Will walked over to Mickey and Clark.

“Your jobs are to be the stakeouts. If anything happens you call me on the walkie talkie. Did you bring it?”

“It’s in my car. Should I run out and grab it?” Mickey pivoted around to the door.

“Why don’t we use our cell phones?” Roselle asked, standing next to Will.

“Someone might hear the ring.

“We can put them on vibrate.”

“They vibrate?” Clark blinked. “Cool. How do they do it?”

“You’re right, Will,” Roselle said to him. “Walkie talkies are the way to go. Are we ready?”

“Ready and over.” Mickey saluted. “Do we get to say roger?”

“No, we say Will.” Clark laughed.

Roselle inhaled deeply. “Will, I’m starting to think we should cancel.”

“Roselle, we’ll be fine.” Remember, guys, you only call me if it’s an emergency, like a cop cruising past the house or a neighbor snooping around outside.” Will headed for the door.

“Got it.” Clark saluted.

“We’ll take the Posse’s special wheels.” Will stopped in front of the door to add, “The plan won’t work with a white truck.”

“What wheels?” Roselle asked him. “You didn’t mention a special car.”

“We’ve got the stake-out car.” Mickey smiled at her. “You gotta have getaway wheels.”

Will pulled open the door and there it was. Sitting two feet from the cabin was a black limo. It wasn’t quite the inconspicuous vehicle he’d expected.

Roselle pushed her way forward. “A hearse?”

“Borrowed it from Josh Duke. His uncle is an undertaker.” Mickey beamed at the vehicle.

“Won’t a hearse be a little...conspicuous?” Her voice rose in doubt.

“We can park a street over in front of the Nice Dreams Funeral Home. No one will think anything about it.” Clark pushed toward the door. “See, I’ve got it all figured out.”

“Will?” Roselle widened her eyes at him.

“It’ll work, Roselle. Let’s roll.” He clapped his hands together and pulled the door wide for everyone to pass through. Tonight, he hoped they’d find something besides trouble.

By the time they reached the Nice Dreams Funeral Home, Will felt Roselle’s doubts floating around in the car. What was the sentence for breaking and entering?

Hey, stop the negativity. They couldn’t fail. He’d promised Roselle to help find Alicia.

Quiet had settled over the empty street when Clark cruised past the funeral home lot. The hearse shouldn’t draw any attention parked in the corner away from a streetlight. “Hand me a walkie talkie,” Will ordered as he scanned the neighborhood.

Mickey reached down and pulled up a small white box and handed it over his shoulder.

Will closed a hand over it. “What is this?”

“I couldn’t find the walkie talkie set, so I got the next best thing. I borrowed my sister’s baby monitor.”

“Cool. But what about the babe, man?” Clark gaped at the monitor.

“The kid’s almost five, and my sister’s never having another one. At least that’s what she said last week when the kid ate the fish out of the fish tank.”

“Can we talk about your sister later?” Roselle shook her head. “A baby monitor is kinda one-way communication.”

“Roselle’s right. I don’t think we can talk to each other through this.” Will turned it over and over in his hand looking for a little button or any sign they could speak into it.

“We can listen to each other.” Mickey offered. “If the cops show up at your end, I’ll hear the siren and hightail it over to pick you up.”

Will handed it back. “I think you’d hear a siren without a baby monitor. We’ll go incommunicado. Pull over at the stop sign. We’ll get out here.”

Clark followed Will’s directions. Roselle jumped out first and stood on the sidewalk, nervously stamping her feet.

The neighborhood was quiet, but headlights were headed down the street toward them. Roselle turned her back on the approaching vehicle.

Will tensed and held out a hand. Clark reached inside his coat and handed Will the weapon. He slipped it into his pocket.

“A gun?” Roselle hissed. She stared in open shock. “When did you join the NRA?

“I took out temporary membership. Don’t worry,” Will whispered in her ear. “Are you ready?”

The sound of the passing vehicle’s motor died in the distance. She nodded. “But why do you need the gun?”

“It’s for show.” Will motioned her forward.

The hearse pulled away, and they walked at a clip across the street and up the drive of Fast Eddie’s house.

Would whoever had pushed Roselle be inside? Maybe he was in bed sleeping. The old familiar rush of excitement flowed through Will’s blood and he sailed forward. He heard her labored breathing and forced himself to take it slow.

They rounded the back of the house and Roselle pulled out a nail file.

“Wait,” Will mouthed and held up his hand in front of her. With a gloved hand he twisted the knob, and the door sprang open. He arched a questioning brow at Roselle.

She shrugged and inclined her head toward the entry.

“Me first.” He could barely wait to see what was inside.

She stuck out her tongue at him, but he cut in front of her. He drew the penlight out of his pants pocket and aimed a beam ahead.

In moments, they’d traipsed forward to a door where Roselle stopped and jerked a thumb at it.

It must be the closet she’d been pushed into. He pulled open the door and scanned the area with his light. Empty except for a hanger.

Tiptoeing across the kitchen, he saw no signs of life. No dirty dishes, no fresh food odors. The white digital numbers on the microwave glared in the darkness. He opened the refrigerator and spotted a carton of milk. Grabbing it, he gave a sniff. Fresh. A plastic tray with steak sat next to the milk. Yesterday’s date was stamped on it. Either Fast Eddie was still living in his house, or a squatter had moved inside.

Will pointed to the upstairs. Roselle nodded. They crept onward, through a living area, and finally to the steps that must lead to the bedrooms.

He put a foot on the first step, testing it for creaks. It remained mute.

Will’s energy revved up. Cautiously he led the way up the stairs. Roselle shadowed his footsteps. Whoever was occupying the house was most likely asleep.

Fear and anticipation ran together, pumping his adrenaline. His muscles tightened and he prepared to flee or fight. Fleeing wouldn’t work out too well, he noted as he reached the top step. He’d crash into Roselle.

In the upstairs hall, he glanced around. The bathroom door was open and dead ahead. Should they take a right or a left?

Roselle moved beside him and pointed to herself and then to the door on her right. He nodded and put a hand on his gun.

She snaked forward, inhaled and cracked open the door. Will crowded closer, and they waited. Nothing.

He shone the light about the room until he found the bed and focused the light. No one. An undisturbed white spread lay over the blankets and sheets.

The next door had to be Fast Eddie’s bedroom. Will leaned over until he was less than an inch from Roselle’s ear. “Go downstairs.”

She shook her head and whirled around. He reached out to snatch her arm and grabbed empty air. Damn stubborn woman.

He stole across the room. She was already opening the door to the second bedroom. He reached her and held his breath and waited. In front of him, Roselle tensed, waiting. Silence. He clicked on the flashlight and darted the beam around the room until he focused on the bed.

It was empty, but the covers were flung back like someone had left not too long ago.

Roselle pushed the door wide. “No one is here.” She held her arms out at her sides and twirled about. Then she marched to a bed stand and snapped on the light.

Will noted the shades were drawn past the windowsills and taped down. Someone didn’t want a speck of light to enter or escape.

“Let’s look in the closet.” Roselle was already opening the sliding door. She reached inside and began to examine the clothes hanging on the rack. “Dresses? How long ago was Fast Eddie divorced? I thought his wife moved out two or three years ago? Was he cheating on Mrs. Christie?”

“It’s possible. Since he killed her, I’d guess it wasn’t a very loving relationship.” Will stared at the six-inch skirt. “I can’t believe Mrs. Christie wore this!”

“Maybe Mrs. Christie found out about his girlfriend. They fought, and he killed her?”

Will put a hand over the fabric and it nearly disappeared. “What kinda woman wore this?”

Chapter Twenty-five

Back at the cabin, the Posse had collapsed into sleeping bags in front of the fieldstone fireplace. Roselle sat at the table scribbling notes in her new clue diary, which was the spiral notebook she’d picked up at Rocky’s.

The fire Will had built snapped and crackled and warmth spread through the open kitchen into the living room. Will listened to the ticking of the mantle clock. A strange unease was ticking inside of him. Maybe it was the excitement of the night, but he couldn’t sit. He crossed the floor and opened the back door.

Hunching his shoulders against the cool air, he stood outside on the deck and stared up into the night. Stars had broken through the day’s clouds and promised a better tomorrow, a good day for flying.

How long ago since he’d flown in the sky? In his mind, he heard the sound of the engine, and a vision flooded into his brain.

The engine purred like a cat. Anticipation rose in him as the wheels taxied down his grandfather’s field. The bright greens and purples above his head caught the wind and he lifted into the air as the wheels skimmed the ground and finally abandoned the earth. A rush of exhilaration shot through him. The green and purple machine climbed higher into the air. He tilted his face to the sun. The rays heated his skin, and a breeze tugged on his hair. The motor changed to a consistent hum and the sense of boundless freedom filled him, making him float higher and higher...

“Will?”

He jerked toward the door. Roselle was standing in the open doorway. Will mentally shook the clinging fragments of his daydream from his mind. “Hi, Roselle.”

Dressed in her jean jacket, she smiled her Roselle grin. “A hunky guy, a starry night, and an almost full moon. What more could a woman want?”

“A little B and E?”

“Sure, every girl wants a taste of danger in her life.” She pulled the door shut and crossed the deck to him. Stretching up on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

“You would have had to chain me in the cellar to keep me at home.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She inhaled deeply. “I love the wood smoke from the fireplace. Are you enjoying the night?”

He shrugged and searched the sky for a distraction. “I remember I bought a deed for a star at the Museum of Science in Boston. I think I was seven. But I don’t know which one it was.”

“Hmm...” She leaned against him and he slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “What color was your star?”

“Silver.” She fit against him just right, like always. He reached down and nibbled her neck.

“Did it have any noticeable characteristics?”

“It was very shiny.” He reached her chin and began to plant small kisses around her mouth.

A thought was nudging through his mind. Damn. Why couldn’t he enjoy the moment? “Roselle, I have something to tell you.”

“You’re hot for my bod.”

He grinned. “You already know that one.” Releasing her, he faced her questioning look. “This one is an apology.”

“Should I pull up a log and sit before I fall down?”

“I have to say it fast, but I mean it. I’m sorry for the day I showed up drunk at your mother’s birthday party.”

She didn’t answer. In her eyes, he could see the wheels of her mind clicking, but why didn’t she speak? He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and the memory focused as clear as a cable TV picture.

All of Roselle’s family was standing around the table singing “Happy Birthday.” Will was doing his best to stay awake and not pass out. How much had he drunk? He couldn’t remember. But he stayed awake until the end of the song. Then he’d fallen smack in the middle of the cake.

Funny, he’d never felt a single flame from a candle on that cake.

“Go on,” Roselle urged.

He wet his lips and his mouth felt suddenly dry. “I didn’t do it on purpose like your mother thought. I know you never believed me, but I was out drinking with the Posse and…lost control.”

“Is that why you and the Posse broke up for a while?”

“Who knows? I began the night drinking with them, but they had the good sense to stop and go home. Not me. I was totally to blame, not them. Do you believe me?”

“I know you’re speaking the truth, but you sound different…mature. I almost expect to find gray hairs sprouting out of your head and a pipe clenched between your teeth.”

“I only own a bubble pipe.”

“That’s my Will.” She put her arms around him and hugged him, and then she jumped away. “Oh my God!”

“What?” He spun around and looked behind him and back.

“I have the best idea. I know how to find out about Fast Eddie’s other girlfriend.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Roselle.” He put his hand over his chest. “Okay, I can almost breathe. Tell me.”

“I can find out at LuLu’s”

“Wasn’t she in a comic book?”

“We called her Louise in high school. Remember, tall, thin, Goth look and always carried a comb that she used all the time in class instead of taking notes.”

“Now I remember. Lulu doesn’t sound too Goth.”

“Her mom set her up in a hairdressing business, and she dumped the black clothes. Another woman has the license, but Lou’s mom pays her to pretend it’s Lou’s shop. Keeps her out of trouble.”

“Did LuLu know Fast Eddie?”

“No, Will, think. Where can you go to find out all the gossip in town?”

“I thought it was to you.”

“Okay, after me. It’s the beauty salon.

“Really?”

“Really.” This time, she was riding with her own posse.

*****

By midmorning, Roselle had called home and left a message that she’d pick up Bobby at noon to visit Mom. Next she called her posse, and then Detective Cusato. The detective told her that it would be a few days before they received the test results from Lurch the Second’s blood. At the moment, he was fairly certain Lurch had died from a case of poisoning. At least it wasn’t from room deodorizer.

Now at Lou’s Salon, the aroma of chemicals hung in the air. Roselle flipped a page in the magazine, waiting for Lou to finish Mr. Duke’s haircut. She couldn’t help but wonder why with his sparse head of hair he bothered paying for a cut. He could snip the few stray strands over his ears himself and be done with it.

“Roselle Lewis?” Lou was looking down at the schedule and checking off her name. She shifted the magazine to the pile of reading material on the little black table and jumped to her feet. She couldn’t wait to sit in the chair and start asking questions. It was the opposite of a hot seat.

Lou pumped up the purple chair, and Roselle peered at her reflection in the large wall mirror. Avoiding the truth about the pimple on her chin, she focused on Lou’s reflection. Her flaming red hair was pulled back in a clamp. Not too stylish, Roselle thought, though she liked the floral smock.

Lou took out the giant blue bib and flapped it in the air before she draped it around Roselle’s neck. “What would you like today, honey?”

It was like Roselle was a regular at the beauty salon, when in truth, she always visited the Haircuts for Cheapos Salon in the little strip mall on the other side of town.

“I’m looking for something new, stylish, unique.” Roselle waved both hands around her head.

“I’m so glad you came. I’ve always known just what would be right for you.”

“Really?” Why would Lou spend time thinking about a non-customer’s hair?

Lou smiled and tightened the bib around Roselle’s neck to gag level. “Whatever happened to Georgie after he followed you to Rocky’s? Did he want to go out with you?”

“Nooo,” Roselle squeaked.

“If you ask me, he should date Clark’s little sister. She’s got the cutest haircut. She went to Boston for it. Georgie should ask her out. Definitely.”

“Right. Did you ever-”

“Oh, I shouldn’t be talking about sisters, with yours missing and all. I’m sorry. Must be tough not knowing what happened.” Lou met Roselle’s gaze in the mirror. “Some people have a bet she ran off because those pre-med classes were too tough.”

A large glob of tears filled Roselle’s throat, threatening to cut off the oxygen. “Fast Eddie,” she mumbled. “Did he have lots of girlfriends?”

Lou moved in front of Roselle, blocking the view of her blemished complexion, and didn’t answer. She started combing Roselle’s hair. Guess she didn’t want to dish Fast Eddie after all, or maybe she didn’t understand mumble language. She could hear the comb and scissors traveling over her head.

“Fast Eddie?” Lou suddenly asked. “I heard he used to cruise up and down Elm Street in Manchester to pick up young girls, especially ones on the street corner with the store that sells the yummy Greek food.” Lou stopped her scissors. “I think dating Mrs. Christie was a cover.”

Could Lou be right? No one had understood why he dated Mrs. C. She was so totally his opposite.

“And I have a theory why Mrs. C dated him.” Lou started cutting again.

“What?” Roselle risked a crooked cut and tilted her head back, eager to hear.

“Mrs. C was getting on in years and realized time was short if she wanted to ever get it on again.”

“Mrs. Christie get it on?” Eeew. The conversation was going downhill fast.

“Yup, it happens. Look at your mom. How old is she?”

“Fifty.” Her mom wasn’t desperate or dating. She was married.

Lou nodded her head with an all-knowing look. “And has she been doing anything strange or different?”

“She took up personal shopping.” Wow, Lou was right.

“See, it’s a mid-life crisis.”

“I should come to the beauty parlor more often.” She’d make another appointment before she left. Who knew what else Lou could reveal? She was better than Miss True.

“Done. What do you think?”

Lou stepped away, and Roselle had a clear view of herself in the mirror. At least it must have been her reflection. She didn’t quite recognize the person staring back. Her hair was cut shorter than Will’s and teased on top like it’d been blown dry by a hurricane. Faster than a marathoner, she jumped out of the chair and paid. She kept her head down as she left.

In a few minutes she’d zoomed to the house to find a message from Bobby that he was off with Georgie. Irritated, she pressed on to the hospital and a quick visit with Mom who greeted her with, “Who butchered your hair?”

Roselle ducked out as soon as her mom’s eyes slipped closed. Hopefully, she wasn’t blinking. Next, she headed to the popular restaurant chain that Kozy always cursed and then made the sign of the cross over himself. She ran inside and spotted Marcia and Angie right away. Skipping past the hostess station, she joined her fellow co-workers in their booth.

“You already ordered your drinks?” Roselle saw Angie’s glass of milk and Marcia’s beer.

“Let’s hope Kozy doesn’t come in.” Angie bit her lips and made a wide-eyed search of the customers.

“Before we order, we’ve got something for you.” Marcia pushed an envelope into Roselle’s hands. Was it a get well card for her mom? “Thanks.” She opened it and stared at the computer made gift certificate. “What’s it for?”

“Angie and me pooled our money and hired a detective to find your sister. I met him here last week when he was asking the hostess for directions to the mall. The gift certificate is good for two hours of his services.”

Roselle’s throat tightened. “You guys…I really appreciate it.”

A young, cheery brunette in glasses stepped up to the table for Roselle’s order. When she left, Roselle cleared her throat for her proposal. “Thanks again, you guys. I hope between your detective and myself I can find Fast Eddie. And Lou gave me a tip for finding him too. It’ll involve a little undercover work on a street corner. Are you ladies in?”

Chapter Twenty-six

Roselle left a message for Will to meet her in Rocky’s parking lot after work. She hoped he’d buy into the next step of her plan.

Bobby dropped her off, and she spotted Will’s truck immediately. “Are you ready for another adventure?” she asked, jumping inside his truck.

“Are we headed to Fast Eddie’s?” He squirmed in his seat, seeming to search for a comfort level. “How about the cabin first? A little together time before we head for the big city of Manchester would make my day.” His eyes lit over his suggestion.

“Nope. I’ve got a line on an investigator and the first two hours are paid up, so I’ve got to use him. Marcia and Angie gave him to me as a present.” Roselle clicked the seatbelt into place. “I’m all strapped in for the ride. How about it?”

“Where’s this guy live?” Will asked, already starting the engine.

“Sutton. I Mapquested the directions.” She pulled the printed page from her purse.

Will glanced at the step-by-step instructions and shot up the hill to Dunbarton, a small town that retained its village charm. They zoomed past the Dunbarton store and soon crossed over into Hopkinton where they zipped onto I89. The highway drive to Sutton was a hilly scenic tour. Most of the traffic consisted of tourists traveling to Vermont. Roselle was quiet. Will imagined she was lost in imaginary confrontations with Fast Eddie and planning reunions with her sister.

In less than sixty minutes, they reached the Sutton exit. Roselle directed him to follow the signs to Kearsage High School.

“The school must be the big hot spot in town,” Will said, following the tree-lined curves. As they rounded a bend, the brown bricks of the high school came into view.

Roselle read the directions in her lap. “We take the road across from the school.”

Will slowed down, until a dirt road popped into view across from the school. “Not exactly a high business route,” Will observed. “Guess your PI can’t afford the high pay rents of Concord or Manchester.”

The truck rattled down the unpaved road. After a mile, Will spotted a black mailbox with the words Ace De Tects in white paint. A gravel driveway lay to the right of the box. Trees hid whatever building lay beyond. “Did he get his investigator’s license off the Internet?”

“I checked his website and emailed him. His response sounded normal.” Roselle edged to the end of the seat and craned her neck. “I can’t see his place.”

An uneasy feeling nudged Will, but he shook it off. He’d wanted to hire a detective for a long time in June’s death, despite the official verdict of pilot error. But Roselle’s choice wasn’t inspiring him to follow in her footsteps. “How did Marcia and Angie meet this guy?”

“At Kozy’s archrival restaurant.”

“I’d guess the restaurant is not an expensive place.” Will turned down the drive. An old green car without tires with a red Ace painted on the door sat beside the driveway. “Does he sell junk cars too?”

“Maybe he runs several businesses. Though Sutton doesn’t look like a hot hub of shoppers.”

“Hold onto your seatbelt, Roselle. We’re going in for a landing.” The truck rattled down the dirt drive. Ahead loomed a trailer. Was it Ace Detective’s home?

“Hmm, he’s like Rockford the detective and lives in a trailer.” Roselle strained at her seatbelt. “Though close up, it looks like a trailer from the ancient years of the Rockford Files.”

“Roselle, you’ve got to stop watching your mom’s old TV shows. You’re getting scary. How about we turn around right now without stopping. I’m sure if you save for another month, you can come up with enough money for another detective.”

“Who? One of the Hardy Boys? I don’t have much money.”

“Good point.” Even with both of their savings they couldn’t afford a crossing guard.

“You can stay in the car, Roselle. I’ll go inside and check him out.” Will backed the truck up to the door so they could jump inside for a quick getaway. Slamming the truck door, he faced the trailer and worried what kind of person lived in the middle of the woods in a decrepit trailer.

The trailer door swung open. A tall man ducked his head and scrambled down the wooden steps. “Howdy.” He held out a broad hand while he gave Will a questioning look.

“We’re here to talk about finding a missing person,” Will said, checking the man out. His dark hair was combed neatly to the side and everything about him was clean, at least. Dressed in army fatigues, sneakers and an orange vest, Will wondered if the man tracked people or deer.

He must have guessed Will’s thoughts because he jerked a thumb toward the vest. “Lots of hunters around here. I never go outside without my vest to remind the men with the guns that I’m a human.”

“Really? The trailer must be a big hint. After all, not many deer live in one.” Will glanced at the surrounding woods, imagining someone hiding behind one ready to ambush them. Uneasy, Will shifted toward the truck.

The truck door slammed shut. Roselle ran up beside him and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Roselle Lewis.”

The man took her hand. “Call me Skip. Skip Tracer. I had my name formally changed to match my business. Lewis? Lewis? That name sounds familiar.”

“I emailed you.”

“Yes, but it sounded familiar when I read it.”

“Ah, really? I live in Stark Falls. Was it about something that happened in town? We have a big pumpkin festival this weekend.”

“I don’t think so.” He scratched the back of his thick neck. “I got it.” He snapped his fingers.

Will felt Roselle stiffen beside him.

“Aren’t you a personal shopper? I’ve seen your name in the one of those free weekly papers.”

Roselle exhaled. “You’re thinking of my mom. She runs the personal shopper business and I assist when I’m not waitressing at Kozy’s Coffee Shop in town.”

A meow drew Will’s attention. A cat wandered out from underneath the trailer wearing something orange. “What’s with the feline?” Will peered closer. What the heck was wrapped around it’s back?

“He’s wearing a cat-sized hunting vest. A client who owed me money made them for the whole litter. The rest must be hiding underneath.” Mr. Tracer bent down and whistled, but nothing emerged.

Weird. Roselle exchanged a knowing look with Will.

“Come on in and we’ll discuss what’s on your mind.”

Will tried to push in front of Roselle without luck. “You don’t have an attack dog with an orange vest inside, do you?” he asked, reluctantly tailing Roselle.

“Nope, always been a cat man myself.” Skip pulled open the aluminum door and stood aside for them to enter.

Inside, they stepped onto a matted rust-colored carpet. A couch and chair with gold throws loomed in front of them. In the corner sat a big screen television.

“Watch the tube much?” Will threw a sideways glance at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Maple cabinets crowded the corner and lime green appliances completed the decor of the cooking area.

“Love to watch those crime shows,” Skip enthused. “I’m writing one for television. It’s ripped straight from my life.”

“Cool.” Roselle sat on the edge of the chair. “How successful are you at finding lost people?”

“I’m not called tracer for nothing.” He waved a hand in the air. “I find people who skip out or in.”

Sure. If he was so successful, why’d he live in a trailer in the middle of the woods with cats, Will wanted to ask.

“Should I presume the police have come up empty-handed in this investigation, or has it been handled under the radar?” Skip sat on a stool at the counter and faced Roselle.

“Off the radar is more like it.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned. “We’re trying to find my sister, Alicia Lewis.”

Will leaned against the door and continued to study the trailer while Roselle sat and poured out her story. Skip turned on a black tape recorder. It reminded Will of the old kind from grammar school. Hmm, the television set looked new. In the kitchen area, a dirty dish and glass sat in the sink. Was there another door or only one exit and entrance to this fire trap?

“Got it all,” Skip announced, hitting the stop button.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that Mr. Ferrani’s friends and enemies call him Fast Eddie,” Roselle added.

“Not a good omen for his love life. Did he have an ex-wife or any other girlfriends besides the unfortunate Mrs. Christie?”

Will straightened and pulled away from the door. “Eddie was divorced and spent most of his time with his drinking buddies at his house or the dog track.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Skip hit the record button again.

“The last known address was North River Road, Manchester. Sorry, we don’t have much else.” Roselle dropped her arms to her sides and leaned forward in her seat toward Skip. “Do you think you can help?”

“No problem. We’ll start with the electric bill. Utility bills are usually gold mines of information. With a little sleuthing, we’ll have all the information you want.”

“You didn’t mention your rates, but I have a gift certificate my friends Marcia and Angie bought for me. They met you at a Stark Falls restaurant.” Roselle dug in her purse and brought out an envelope.

“Your friends from the restaurant seemed like genuine ladies. They told me your story. Tough one, but I’m sure I can help you.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Roselle bit her lip and then nodded. She started to slip her hand into Skip’s.

Will couldn’t take it. He dodged between them. “We need a moment.” Will stuffed his fisted hands into his pockets. Unease made him long to escape.

“Sure.” Skip dropped his hand to his side. “Take your time. I’ll pour the cats a bowl of milk.”

“Want to fatten them up for the hunters?” Roselle joked.

“Roselle?” Will grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door and outside.

The door slammed behind them as they clunked down the wooden steps. “Will, what’s the hurry? I haven’t signed the agreement yet, and I wanted to see how many kittens are underneath the trailer.”

Will marched to the hood of the truck where he stopped to talk to Roselle. “The guy seems like a steal, but you should check out his references. And after listening to him, I think I can do whatever he’s recommending.”

“I don’t know, Will. We tried the house search and found nothing. Though I got a bump on the head for my efforts.” She wrinkled her nose at him. I’d rather pay a stranger to find Fast Eddie, and know you’re safe.”

“I just want to make sure he’s giving you the best deal. Come on.” He grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the trailer. “Tell him thanks but no thanks. Let me try again.”

“Will, let go. Please.”

He released her. “Sorry, I’m a little anxious to leave. That story about hunters and guns made me uneasy.”

The door opened and Skip came outside carrying a huge bowl of milk. He set it down on the dirt and whistled. A white and black cat followed by a gray one stuck their heads out and then scampered across the ground to the bowl.

“Skip, buddy, Roselle is unemployed at the moment so when the gift certificate expires she can’t afford to pay you.”

“I understand. In fact, I have a sliding scale for people with limited monetary resources. I use the same one as my therapist.”

“Deal.” Roselle stuck out her hand.

“Wait a minute, Roselle.” Alarm rose in Will faster than smoke. “I have one addendum to attach. You have to find Fast Eddie this week or the deal is off. What do you think?”

“No problem. I can probably find him by tomorrow for you. And as a bonus, you can take home a cat. The price is right: free.”

The dirty gray cat mewed at Roselle’s feet.

*****

“I hope you didn’t hire a flunky,” Will said, keeping his eyes on the road. “When he talked about a therapist, I started worrying.”

“Roll down your window, Will. I think Skip Junior needs deodorant.”

“You’re such a sucker. At least you could have picked one of the cuter or cleaner ones.”

“He likes me. See how attached he is to me?” Curled up in the lap of her jeans, the cat had sunk his claws into the denim jacket cuff like a security blanket.

“Roselle, I don’t trust Mr. Tracer. If he can do such a great job, why isn’t he living in a house and not a trailer in the middle of the woods? How much business can there be in Sutton, New Hampshire?”

“Maybe he helps high schoolers disappear when they’re suspended. You could have used him in high school.”

“Funny, Roselle, but I can sleuth with the best of them.”

“Yes, you can, Will. Maybe you’ve discovered your true calling, and we owe it all to Mr. Tracer.” She bent her head over the kitten. “Right, Skippy?”

“Let’s have a little bet. You owe me if I find Eddie Ferrani before Skip the Tracer, and I’m not talking money.”

“Why, Will, whatever do you mean?” She put her hand to her forehead. “I’m shocked at the mere sexual suggestion.”

He smiled. “We’ll be rocking and rolling soon.”

She put her hands over Skip’s ears. “Not in front of the baby.”

His hand slid up her knee to her thigh. “We don’t have to wait until I find Eddie, and the cat’s asleep. We can take a little detour and enjoy the countryside.”

“Sorry, Frisky. I have to get home. Girls’ night out tonight, and I’ve some errands to clear up first.”

Will slipped his hand off Roselle’s knee. “Girls night? I like girls. Maybe I should tag along.”

“Sorry, Will.” She ducked her head and stared at the cat’s backside. “No men allowed. We’ll be doing all those girly things like painting our fingernails and toes.”

He glanced down at her paintless nails. Roselle and a girls’ night out? Something was very wrong here, and he intended to find out the real story without Ace Detective.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Wow, an arctic wind blew up my skirt.” Roselle danced a few steps away on the sidewalk.

“What skirt?” Marcia asked, eyeing Roselle’s dress. “Honey, what you’re wearing is more like a handkerchief tied around your waist.”

“I couldn’t dress like that.” Angie widened her eyes in horror. She glanced down at her black skirt that ended at her ankles.

“You can attract the men who have the nun fetishes.” Marcia smiled at a car full of teens as it passed them.

“What?” Angie staggered backwards. “Guys like nuns?”

“If anyone bothers you, Angie, tell them they get none with a nun.” Roselle jumped up and down to warm her toes. “Fast Eddie’s probably holed up somewhere with a big cigar and a bottle of scotch near a blazing fire.”

“The weather feels more like January than October. I’m glad the sky’s too clear for snow.” Marcia stamped her high-heeled shoes.

A car painted with red, white, and blue stripes crawled past them, a young male hanging out the window. He made kissing noises and whistled at them.

“What was that?” Angie huddled closer to Marcia.

“The mating call of the dumb ass.” Roselle turned to Angie. “When I called, I said dress like a hottie, not like a dottie old lady. You look like you raided your grandmother’s closet.”

“I thought this dress was like a nightgown and men would find me attractive. Karl likes me in my nightgown.” She blushed.

“My boyfriends always liked me best out of my nightgowns.” Marcia nodded at another male cruising past. “Do we know what kind of car Fast Eddie drives?”

“Big, black, and sleazy, to fit his personality.” Roselle peered down Elm Street. A variety of big, small, old and new cars continued to pass, but none fit Fast Eddie’s car description.

“Maybe Fast Eddie left the state,” Angie said, bouncing up and down on the soles of her shoes.

“Lou is usually right on the gossip target,” Marcia confirmed. “If she’s heard the man cruises Manchester on Friday night, then he cruises.”

“Amen. If we can’t trust the gossip from the beauty salon, what can we trust?” Roselle wished she could pull her jacket closed over her thin sweater. But then how would Fast Eddie see what she was wearing and want to stop? Of course, she probably didn’t need to dress seductively. Fast Eddie must be looking for her if he kidnapped Alicia when he’d wanted her.

“Lu’s the one,” Marcia and Angie chimed together.

A navy blue truck pulled up to the curb. “Let’s give him a quick brush off,” Roselle whispered.

“It’s Karl. Night.” Angie ran to the curb.

“Night? It’s a little after nine. We’ve only been standing here for five minutes.” Roselle couldn’t believe Angie was deserting them. “Marcia, she’s abandoning us. What kinda friend doesn’t want to stand out in the cold on a street corner and pretend to want to be picked up by a total stranger?”

“Roselle...” Marcia pulled on the sleeve of Roselle’s jean jacket. “Look.”

Roselle yanked her attention from the rear of Karl’s speeding truck. “What, you want to go too?”

“A big, black, sleazy car just turned down the side street.” Marcia pointed to the street above them.

“Where?” Roselle searched the area.

“He turned down Orange Street. Orange ya glad we came?”

“Huh?”

“Bad joke.”

“Never mind, Marcia. Let’s go find the car.”

*****

Will knew Roselle was up to trouble. As long as he’d known her, she’d never had a girls’ night out. She’d hung out with her friends, but labeling it “girl’s night” was something her mother would call it.

Stranger still, she wasn’t answering her cell.

Suspicious, he cruised past Karl Rodin’s apartment and jammed on the brakes. Karl was jumping into his Chevy. He’d follow Karl for a bit. Somehow the idea of his girlfriend, Angie, and Roselle having fun together didn’t compute.

Will pulled over to the curb and Karl zoomed past without a flash of headlights or a jerk of his head toward Will. I’m golden, Will thought, pulling out behind Karl.

Twenty minutes later, Will changed his mind. Karl was zooming down Elm, the main street of Manchester. Well, zoom wasn’t quite the word. He was crawling down Elm. Twice Will had pulled over so Karl wouldn’t realize he was being followed.

What was Karl up to? Now that Angie was out with Roselle, was he trolling for chicks?

The man was stopping at the curb. Unbelievable. He was trolling, but the chick he was picking up was dressed like an old lady ready for bed. Will didn’t bother to pull over. Karl deserved to be caught or at the least suffer a guilty conscience. Will drove by and glared at Karl and then switched his view to the senior floozy.

Wait, that was no ordinary floozy. It was Angie.

But if Angie was in Manchester, where was….?

Will caught a glimpse of a figure bouncing down the sidewalk with a jean jacket and a skirt barely covering her ass. Roselle? What in hell was she doing? Marcia was beside her, and they’d broken into a fast trot down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Will hit the brakes and veered into a side street for a u-turn. A blue light lit behind him. For a second he debated ignoring it, but his maturity grabbed hold and he pulled to the curb. He watched Roselle and Marcia take a right on Orange Street. Damn, what if he lost them? In a split second he yanked the truck into gear, and took off past the startled officer who had left his cruiser.

So he’d get hauled into court. At least he’d find Roselle before they arrested him. He hoped.

*****

“Where’d he go?” Roselle stood teetering on her high heels.

“Hey, chicks!” A longhaired twenty-something hung out the second floor window of a brick apartment building. “Wanna come to a party? Come on up.”

“We’re looking for a heavyset large man about forty. He smokes a cigar. Have you seen him?” Marcia yelled up.

“Sure. Come up to the second floor.” The man slammed the window.

Roselle looked at Marcia. “What do you think?”

“How many large forty-year-old smoking men can there be? Besides, they must have heat.”

Heat? Roselle didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

They hoofed it up the granite steps and Roselle pulled open the front door. Inside, a yellow light bulb lit a dingy hall with a dull white tiled floor. Black mailboxes with numbers were mounted on the peeling blue entry wall.

Inside, three doors surrounded them and ahead, the steps with a curving banister beckoned them upstairs. Dust had collected on the outer edges, but the treads were clean. The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they headed up.

“I hope we don’t know anyone at this party,” Marcia complained, following Roselle. “I don’t want them to think I dress like this in the evening. I guess we can tell people we work at a night job because we need better tips and we’re in uniform.”

“That’ll work if we’re strippers. I have the feeling from the guy leaning out the window that we won’t know anyone inside.” Roselle clunked to the second floor and stopped. Three more doors surrounded them.

“Eenie.” Marcia pointed to the nearest door. “Meenie. Miney–”

“Ho! Follow the music.” Roselle strode to the door where she detected the strains of bass and banged on the door.

The door flew open and a bearded man dressed in fatigues stared at her. “You knocked?”

“We were invited.” Marcia started past him, paused and grabbed Roselle’s arm, pulling her along behind her.

They entered into a small kitchen consisting of counters littered with dirty dishes and boxes of crackers, cheese, and bologna slices. “Looks like we’re in time for the gourmet dinner.” Uneasy, Roselle scanned the food for cockroaches.

Two guys dressed in jeans and baggy shirts turned to eye them. “Did you bring the pizza?”

“No, do you know Fast Eddie?”

“Does he have the pizza?” they asked in unison.

A woman old enough to be Roselle’s mom took a cigarette out of her mouth. “The only Eddie I know would have been called Slow Eddie. He was my second husband. What’s your Eddie look like?”

“Big guy about forty or older and always smokes a cigar.” Roselle didn’t think this woman was Eddie’s type. “Someone told us he was in this apartment.”

“Come with me.” The woman led them into another room where a bearded man snored in a lounge chair. The odor of a sweet illegal drug hung in the air. In the center of the room stood a knot of high school or college age men and women.

“If these are the partiers, I think Fast Eddie might be too old to be a guest,” Roselle whispered to Marcia. “They look mostly like twenty-somethings with a few oldsters thrown in for chaperones.” Roselle spun around to give the room a good search. In the corner, a couple were making out. On the couch a drinking game was in progress.

“Roselle?”

She jerked her attention back to the corner. “Bobby?”

Marcia stepped closer. “Is that your football brother?”

“No, it’s my stupid brother.” Roselle advanced across the room, worming her way through the crowd blocking her progress and ignoring a few suggestive comments and a “Oh, the Madonna look is so over” criticism.

“What are you doing at this party, Bobby? You can get kicked off the team for being around alcohol and...whatever else.”

“What are you doing here?” He looked her up and down in shock. “Why are you dressed like it’s Halloween?”

The woman who’d led them into the room shouted above the unidentifiable CD playing and pointed at the blonde woman sitting at the end. “The blonde—might—him.” She jerked a thumb at the couch.

The blonde, who obviously could afford a good haircut but not a good face-lift, was carrying on a conversation with two young men young enough to be her sons.

“What’d she say?” Marcia yelled in Roselle’s ear.

Roselle turned and yelled to Marcia. “Something about the blonde on the couch might know Fast Eddie.”

“I think she looks like she even knows the original Adam.” Marcia winced.

Roselle stomped forward and bent toward the woman. “Excuse me for interrupting your personal conversation, but do you know a man known as Fast Eddie?”

The woman focused a bleary gaze on Roselle. “Honey, my third husband was so fast I never saw it up. Divorced him after a month.”

“Was he an Italian?”

The woman shrugged. “Does it make a difference?’

This couldn’t get much worse.

The flannel-shirted man who’d invited them up ran into the room and shouted, “The police are coming!”

Now it was worse.

“Let them come,” Marcia announced. “I’ll have a beer.

“Marcia, are you crazy?” Roselle looked around at the people already fleeing. “We’re outta here.”

“Why? We’re legal.”

“No one is ever legal with pot. Don’t you smell it?”

“Can’t we say we thought it was incense or scented candles? I did.”

“Come on.” Roselle grabbed Marcia’s arm and started for the door. The other guests were already scrambling for first dibs on the main exit.

“Hey, this way.”

Roselle snapped her head around. Bobby was waving for her to come back.

“We can take the fire escape.” He pointed toward the other end of the room.

“Sounds good. Marcia, come on.” They backtracked and followed the blonde and Bobby into the bathroom. They watched as she crawled out the bathroom window.

“I’m thinking the police might be better than fitting through that little opening,” Marcia said, watching the woman’s rear worm out the window.

Bobby motioned for Roselle to go next.

“No way I’m staying.” Roselle climbed up on the hamper and saw the blonde woman below on the rickety wooden stairs. “Here goes.” She climbed out and felt the stairway shake beneath her feet as she landed. “Why did they build a fire escape out of wood?” Roselle tossed over her shoulder to Marcia, who must have changed her mind because she was already climbing out of the window.

Roselle was halfway down when Bobby’s legs waved out of the bathroom opening. Relieved he was almost out, Roselle glanced at her surroundings. She could see the reflection of blue lights flashing in the windows of the building next door. Her heartbeat cranked up a notch.

When her feet hit the ground, she forced herself to wait near the fire escape until Bobby and Marcia reached the ground. The blonde had disappeared from sight.

Bobby headed toward the rear of the building, away from the police. Roselle and Marcia ran after him. All they needed now was to be arrested. Mom would suffer a coronary.

Roselle wheeled to a halt. Crud! A tall six-foot fence barricaded her flight. “Where’d the blonde go? Did she leap over the fence?”

Marcia stopped beside her. “Guess it’s time to use my track skills. I’ll get over and then catch you when you jump over.”

“What?” Roselle stared at her friend, who hiked her skirt even higher, making Bobby’s eyes bug out.

Marcia retreated a few steps and took off, aiming for the fence.

“Look out!” Roselle yelled.

But Marcia was already on the top of the fence and over. “I’ll never make it over with my short legs,” Roselle moaned. She might as well sign up now for the Goffstown Women’s Prison.

“I’ll give you a hand up.” Bobby laced his fingers together and bent down to give her a lift.

“Roselle!”

She jerked around and Will was striding toward her. Will?

Had inhaling the illegal fumes from the apartment make her hallucinate?

“Will, what are you doing here? The police are crashing the place. Marcia just escaped over the fence.”

“Roselle, we have to get out of this place, or I’ll get kicked off the team,” Bobby yelled at her.

“Stop. Police.” A flashlight shone in Roselle face.

“Sorry, Bobby.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

“I can’t believe you, Roselle. We all know William Boone is nothing but a walking disaster. Maybe if his sister hadn’t died, he’d have straightened out. But ever since her death, he’s had one problem after the other. I thought you had the good sense to stay away from him, but I was wrong. Now you drag your brother into your debauchery. Say something!”

Mom sank against the pillow stuffed behind her back in the kitchen captain’s chair. She’d arrived home from the hospital in time to hear the news, and Dad came home in time to bail everyone out.

Standing before her mother, guilt was eating Roselle up. In fact it was having a feast. According to her mother, she’d corrupted her brother, dated the biggest criminal in town, and would soon disgrace the family once the Manchester paper printed the police log for the week.

“Roselle?” Mom had that demanding gleam in her eyes.

“We were looking for Fast Eddie. I know he has Alicia.”

“What!” Her mom threw a hand up in the air. “No one believes you just happened into a party where drugs were present to search for Fast Eddie. I can’t believe you’d use your sister as an excuse. Eddie Ferrani would never be caught dead with such people. Mrs. Christie would never have dated a man who took drugs.”

Roselle was tempted to mention that Mrs. Christie had dated a murderer, but now didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up. Her mother’s lecture had thrown Roselle back to about the age of six. She felt helpless to defend herself.

Mom’s words were much stronger than her appearance. Dressed in a white cotton wrapper and sitting up with the assistance of a two-foot pillow, her mother looked like an invalid. Although the formal diagnosis was an anxiety attack, no one in the family wanted to contradict Mom’s own diagnosis of “heart problems” and cause her more anxiety.

Roselle swallowed the lump in her throat and decided to try a soothing approach. “Mother, no one in our family does drugs.”

“Does drugs? Is that drug talk?” Mom sat up straight, suddenly energized.

Gosh, nothing made her happy. “No one ingests illegal pharmaceutical products in our immediate family.” Roselle heard the testiness in her own voice. Her soothing approach needed a little work.

Mom shook her head and put a tissue to her nose. “Your uncle and aunt in New Jersey even know about your arrests. And who will pay the lawyer? And your brother’s football career is over. We wanted him to attend Dartmouth.” She broke into sobs.

Roselle flinched and went to her mom’s side. “I’m sorry, Mom. Honest, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll never see that awful boy again.”

“Bobby?”

“No, Will.” Mom hit a fist on the arm of the captain’s chair.

Roselle retreated a step. Thoughts shot through her mind. Never see Will again? She’d tried once and it’d been…hell. How could she stay away from him again?

“Roselle, Roselle!” Mom wheezed.

“Mom, are you okay?” Panicked, Roselle hovered over her mother. “Should I call an ambulance?”

Her mother covered her heart with a hand. “Promise,” she gasped.

Roselle whirled around and picked up her purse and retrieved her phone. She punched in 9-1-1.

Mom reached over and hit the disconnect. “No, give…me the…bag.”

“What?” A bag of what, pills? Roselle saw a line of pill bottles on the counter.

Mom grabbed a brown bag from the chair next to her. She opened it and pressed it to her mouth.

“Is your mother hyperventilating?” Dad stood in the kitchen. Creases of worry lined his mouth.

“Dad! What should I do?” Was hyperventilating dangerous to a woman with anxiety attacks?

“Come out of the kitchen.” Her father held out his hand. “I’ll take care of her while you call the doctor’s office.”

Roselle left her mom and slunk into the hall with her cell. She’d upset her mom after promising her dad she wouldn’t. And what would she do about Will? Her mother had begged her to give him up.

Her life was one big mess! The school had suspended Bobby from the team until he went to court. Then he’d be kicked off for certain. Alicia was still missing without any clues, and although Kozy hadn’t fired her, the restaurant remained closed, and she had no job. What was left?

Dad stuck his head out of the hall doorway. “Roselle, call the doctor!”

*****

Will shoveled the last of the mulch on to Mrs. Griffin’s flowerbed and stood back to examine his work. All the plants were tucked in for the winter.

“Boone, nice write-up in the Manchester police log.” Myers stood three feet from him with his hands on his hips.

Will shot a glance at the street. Why hadn’t he noticed Myers sneaking up on him and the cruiser parked only a few feet away? “Whatever you want, Myers, forget it. I’m working.”

In fifteen minutes, he had to meet Roselle. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in two days, and his insides were edgy over the meeting.

“I thought pimping was your new job.” Myers strutted closer, settling his sunglasses on his nose.

“Call my lawyer and talk to him.”

“Sorry, you can call him yourself. Your boss reported a theft of thirty burning bushes, and I have to take you in for questioning.”

Enough was enough, especially from a jackass like Myers. “What? He didn’t report the stolen poison ivy.”

“Huh?”

“Have you been itching lately?”

Myers’ hand shot up to his neck. Fear spread across his face. Then his expression cleared, and he narrowed his eyes at Will. “We’ll see how funny you think you are at the station.”

“I always thought a bunch of clowns ran that place. You don’t need me too.” Will dusted off his hands. “Oh, and by the way, we don’t sell burning bushes anymore. The state has put them on the banned list as invasive plants.” He started for the truck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Myers chased after him. His leather holster made a rubbing sound as he ran.

“I believe where I go and what I do has nothing to do with you.” Will climbed into his truck and started the engine. He’d go with Myers only if he had a court order. Until then, he meant to keep his appointment at the restaurant parking lot with Roselle come hell or police.

In Will’s rearview mirror, he tracked the Stark Falls cruiser that stayed behind him. Myers wouldn’t give it up. Will glanced at his watch. He had five minutes to spare.

The blue light and the whirl of the siren went off three minutes later. “Damn,” Will muttered, pulling over to the road’s shoulder. He didn’t bother to roll down his window to hear Myers’ accusation through the glass. “You were four miles over the speed limit.”

Damn, damn, damn. Myers was determined to play his cop games with him. Now he’d be late for Roselle. Will cursed under his breath.

Half an hour later, Will drove into Kozy’s empty parking lot with a ticket and no sign of Roselle. He jumped out and paced to the back door. Why couldn’t everything go right just for a few minutes? A strong yank on the door confirmed it was locked. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he pushed Roselle’s number again. When the voice mail came on, he didn’t bother leaving a fourth message.

He snapped the cell phone shut and paced around the building. Where was she? She wasn’t the type to ditch him, despite all their problems within the last few days. Maybe she’d been dropped off and was already in her apartment collecting her clothes. And what if she was in trouble inside? Somehow, he was going to get into the apartment and make sure she was okay.

*****

In the hospital’s waiting room, Roselle’s cell was vibrating against her hip. For a second, she considered ignoring it--but then she remembered Will. His name triggered a panic. She glanced at her watch. Oh, no, she should have met him over half an hour ago when her mother had taken another emergency ride to the hospital. Roselle bet she had tons of voice messages from him.

Wandering to the emergency room’s glass doors, she stepped outside. A cool breeze teased her hair and filled the air with the rustle of leaves making a last desperate attempt to hold on.

Will picked up on the first ring, and Roselle gulped a breath of relief. “Will, where are you?”

“I’m at the police station.”

“Where?” Police station? Was he reporting her missing?

“I was picked up for breaking into Kozy’s. I was looking for you and when I didn’t find you, I decided to investigate inside. Only Myers was stalking me and accused me of Breaking and Entering.”

The yin and yang yanked on her conscience with a painful tug. “Will, I’m sorry. My mom had another attack and I called the ambulance and…”

“I have to hang up now, Roselle.”

“Wait, do you need bail or a lawyer?”

“I’ll…never mind. Bye.”

The phone clicked off. Roselle stood holding it for several seconds, trying to dissect Will’s message. In all the excitement over her mother’s attack, she’d never called him. And now he was under arrest. Should she run down to the police station? She’d have to take Mom’s van. Both her mom and dad were inside with the doctor. She couldn’t exactly desert them. Mom would probably have another attack if she learned Roselle had left the hospital for Will.

And what about Will? He didn’t exactly ask for your help, her conscience reminded her. But how could she leave him at the police station when he hated the place? But she couldn’t leave her mother.

Standing still, she tapped her foot, trying to think. She’d call the Posse. She punched in the numbers for directory assistance and memorized their numbers.

After several minutes of calling and leaving voice messages for the duo, she sat down to think about what to do next. Vince! She’d call Vince to help Will.

Vince answered after two rings. “Clone Copiers.”

“Vince, this is Roselle. Can you escape for a bit to help Will? He was looking for me at my old apartment and Myers arrested him for breaking into the restaurant.” She paused to hear only silence. Desperate, she ordered, “Tell your boss it’s an emergency. I’d go but my Mom had one of her…spells.”

“Okay. I’ll go. Does he need bail? I only have a few dollars”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Write a check or get a bondsman or whatever you need, and I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure. Will’s been through arrests before, right? He probably knows what to do. He can tell me.”

The tight string on her conscience went twang when Vince mentioned that Will had been in jail before. “Thanks, Vince. We’ll do lunch as soon as my mother’s better. Promise.”

Clicking off, she rubbed her tense, aching neck. Her cell rang. She grabbed it. “Will?”

“Uh, sorry, Roselle, this is Lulu.”

“Hi, Lou.” Disappointment flowed through Roselle. “Guess you heard about our trip to Manchester.”

“Geez, I’m sorry, Roselle. That’s why I’m calling. I feel so bad about the whole Manchester road trip scene and the arrest.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Lou. Thanks for calling.” She was anxious to hang up and leave the phone open for Vince or Will.

“To make up for it, I have a plan to help find your sister.”

“What?” Roselle paused with her finger on the end button.

“We were all talking at the salon, and we decided to sell ribbons at the Pumpkin Festival this weekend. You can use the money for flyers or legal work or whatever.”

“That’s a great idea. Thanks.”

“I have more. The salon is offering a Three Hundred Dollar Reward for information. I’m going to talk to some of the other businesses and see if we can boost the money. What do you think?”

“That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.”

“We’ll be setting up during the pumpkin regatta on the river. Then we’ll be ready to sell the ribbons at the pumpkin weigh in and the target shooting off the bridge.”

“Thanks.” Tears clogged Roselle’s throat and threatened to burn her eyes. “Thanks, Lou. I’d like to join you.”

“You can help man the booth, and you can thank the girls too. We all thought of it. I can put up your sister’s newspaper picture at the booth if that works for your family.”

“Sure. Thanks again, Lou.” Roselle hung up with a glimmer of hope in her heart. “Can you hear me, Alicia? We’re still looking for you, and I won’t give up.”

Reluctantly, Roselle turned off her cell and reentered the hospital. Over an hour later, Roselle helped her Dad settle Mom in the bedroom at home. Thank the health gods it was only another anxiety attack. Roselle took a gulp from a bottle of Bobby’s sport drink to help an aspirin slide down her throat. Where was Bobby any way? Her cell rang and she snapped it off the kitchen table.

“Roselle?”

Will! “I’m so sorry. Did Vince help you? Can I come see you?”

“Vince came. I’m at the Village Bridge.”

“Great, don’t move.” She clicked off the cell and glanced at the closed door of Mom’s bedroom. Roselle prayed her Mom was asleep. She had to see Will and somehow make amends with him.

She dashed off a note and took off in the van for the Village Bridge, a small hole in the wall bar a block north of Kozy’s. It doubled as a lunch place during the day and a pick-up bar in the evening.

Now was the slow in-between time when the Bridge offered happy hour discounts on beers to lure customers. She parked outside the barnboard building and ran inside. Scanning the dimly lit area, she found Will seated at an old butcher-block table with a beer.

“Will!” She crossed the concrete floor toward him. A full glass of beer sat on the table. She threw a dark glance at the liquid. “Drinking?”

“It’s Vince’s.”

She could hear the irritation in his voice and see it in the ramrod straightness of his back.

“Where have you been, Roselle?”

“My mom had an attack. What are you doing in a bar?”

“Waiting for you.” His voice deepened and ended with an edge, a warning sign that he was losing it.

“Let’s focus. We have to make decisions. If my mother finds out about your new arrest after the other night in Manchester, this double whammy will do her in.”

“I don’t need another reminder about my arrest record.”

Before she could protest, Vince shuffled to the table with a grin. “Hi, Roselle.” He glanced from Roselle to Will and his smile faded. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Will ignored Vince. “Let’s talk outside, Roselle.” His voice tensed. “Do you have a car?”

“I’m driving my mother’s van.” This was not going well. The scraping of his chair across the concrete floor scraped across her nerves. She felt him bristling behind her as she led the way outside. Why didn’t he stop for a moment and consider that she’d had a bad day too?

They continued in silence until they were sitting inside the van. She heaved a sigh of uncertainty. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at Kozy’s. My mom had another attack and-”

“Roselle, leave your mother out of this for one minute. We have to talk about the two of us.” His expression clouded with anger.

“Fine. I…I stood you up. I should have at least called. I’m at fault.”

“Roselle, a minute ago you thought I was drinking.”

“Were you?”

He clenched a fist. “You don’t believe the beer belonged to Vince?”

She was making mistake after mistake. “How about you give me a break after a bad day?”

“I’ve had a bad year.”

“It’s not all about you, Will. And if my mother’s having a problem, I’m going to help her.”

“Fine, but call me next time. Then I won’t worry that Eddie Ferrani might have murdered you.”

She winced. “I apologize.”

“And it was Vince’s beer. Don’t you believe I stopped drinking?” He shifted with such force the seat squeaked in protest.

She wished she’d never noticed the damn beer. “If you say so.”

“And have you considered what will happen to me after this arrest at Kozy’s? I’ll be out on my ear without a job within a couple of days. All because you didn’t call.”

“Are you going to let it go or keep blaming me?”

“Here’s another point. Why did you start talking about how my arrest would affect your mother and not me? Are you using me like I was using drink?”

“What? You’re talking psychobabble.” She hit her thighs with her fists. “If I was being self-centered, I’m sorry. But I worry about my mother’s health.”

“Roselle, it suddenly occurred to me that if you really cared about me, you’d focus on our relationship. Instead, you wanted to talk about your mom. You’re using me to get to your mother.”

“No. No, I’m not.” She jolted round in her seat to face him. “That’s stupid. I care about you, Will. I slept with you at your grandfather’s.”

“Did you sleep with me to upset your mother?” His eyes burned into her and his shoulders tensed.

“Will, I slept with you because I wanted to get back together. Understand?” She ground out the last word.

For a second he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed calmer. “I understand. I do. I’ve done a few things in my life to irritate my mother. But it’s time to examine what you want, Roselle.” He reached for the door handle.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. Fear made her heart race in a panic.

“I’m going home. When you decide where I fit in your priorities, let me know.” He opened the door and hesitated. “I’ll let you know if it works for me. Because right now, where I stand in your life doesn’t work for me, and it looks like we’re over.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Roselle sat in the van since she didn’t know what else to do. Her head felt like it was in a vise and pressure was building on each side threatening to explode. What had happened? Had she and Will broken up before they’d had a second chance? Didn’t he realize what a mess her life was? She couldn’t even make a grocery list, never mind, prioritize where he fit in.

Letting out a ragged breath, she decided to talk to Lou at the Salon. She slammed the door and blinked back the threatening tears. She managed to make it to the salon without bursting into tears.

Lou was at the receptionist counter in her floral smock. Her hair was held back in clips. “Hi, Roselle.” Lou smiled her welcome-customer grin. “Your hair looks great since I cut it. How do you like it?”

Roselle burst into tears.

Lou ran out from behind the counter and put her arm around Roselle. “I’m sorry. We could add some pink and punk it up.”

“I broke up with Will. I think.”

“You’re crying over a break up and not your hair?” Lou furrowed a brow and then tightened her arm around Roselle. “Sit over here.” Lou led her to the black seats by the door. “She broke up with her boyfriend,” Lou confided to the two waiting customers.

She grabbed a box of tissues and dropped them in Roselle’s lap. “I didn’t know you and Will were back together, but, I’m so sorry, Roselle. And you have the completely wrong hairstyle for a break-up. The one you have says look at me, I’m cool and ready to hook up.” Lou stepped back and admired the cut.

That was a comforting thing about Stark Falls people. Even though Lou had somehow missed the Will and Roselle back together time, she got right into the supportive break-up friend role. Roselle blew her nose.

“But it’ll be the perfect cut to find new guys.”

“My hair should scream I’m a pathetic loser.”

“Oh, no, honey, you just need a time-out statement from your hair. Let me give you a free shampoo. That will make you feel better.”

Roselle sighed. This was all wrong. Lou was running a hair business, not grief counseling. “I should be with my mom. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” With the crumpled up tissues in hand, Roselle gestured to the customers staring at her. “I’m sorry to have taken any of your appointment time.”

Lou leaned closer and whispered, “Before you go, how about I add a little color, no charge.”

“Thanks, Lou, but my hair is saying let’s go.” Roselle handed her the tissue box and stood.

“Keep the box. Don’t forget about the ribbons tomorrow for Alicia. It will help take your mind off of you-know-who.”

“I haven’t forgotten. My mom even wants to get out of her sick bed to come for the afternoon.” Roselle sniffed.

“Wow, tomorrow will be super. You’ll see,” Lou gushed as she guided Roselle to the door.

“Yeah, great,” Roselle mumbled.

*****

Will had picked up the six-pack from his mother’s house after leaving the Village Bridge. He’d kept one hidden for an emergency, and today was it. Drink was the answer to the mother of a day, and he intended to use it.

Now he sat at the cabin’s kitchen table and popped a cold one. Anger was still biting at him. He’d spent most of his day in a jail cell listening to the prediction that he’d end his days in the state penitentiary. But he’d kept his cool until the argument with Roselle.

Why hadn’t she trusted him? And why hadn’t she called him and canceled their date instead of leaving him hanging? Did she really care at all about him? Ever?

His mind drifted to bits and pieces of their past, trying to analyze and see the truth. The rattle of a car coming up the drive sent him to the window. Was it Roselle? He opened the door.

In the drive, Mickey and Clark were hopping out of the ‘57 Chevy. “Hey, man!”

The duo came striding up to the porch. Dressed in their flannels and jeans, their faces lit up when they reached Will. Mickey stepped forward. “We need to try out our pumpkin boat on your pond.”

Will stood staring at them, trying to get his mind into their world. “A little late for a try out, isn’t it? The race is tomorrow.”

“We just finished digging out the insides, and then we had to drive around and find enough hair spray for the pumpkin. It keeps it from rotting. We tried to buy out Lu’s, but she wouldn’t let us.”

Will waited for them to finish. More than anything, he wanted to go inside and drink. He’d drink to the pumpkin festival. He’d drink to the pumpkin boat. He’d drink to-

“How about it? Come watch us rock.” Mickey jerked his head toward his car, and Will noticed a black trailer hitched to it with a pumpkin that the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk would have admired.

“Yeah, we don’t want to sink in public. Bad karma.” Mickey grinned his large-toothed smile. “Come on, Will, you can be the Skipper or Gilligan and sail with us.”

“Thanks, guys, but I’m busy. You’re welcome to put the pumpkin in the pond without me.” Will started to close the door.

Clark jumped forward. “Do you have any of those ribbons they’re selling for Roselle’s sister? We’re gonna decorate our pumpkin with them. Make it cool.”

“I told Clark we could tie the bows ourselves,” Mickey added. “But he thought that was cheating.”

“Ribbons and bows?” What were they talking about? Who’d decorate a pumpkin boat with ribbons and bows?

“Tomorrow at the festival, Lu and the gang from the Salon are selling them to raise money for a reward to find Roselle’s sister. Lu told us when we bought the hair spray. They bought up all the ribbon in town. I heard they had to drive to Manchester to buy more. Aren’t you going tomorrow?”

“No.” Will shut the door.

*****

Roselle was waiting for the sun to rise. She’d slept little during the night. The last few minutes with Will replayed over and over in her mind with different versions. None ended happily ever after.

Feeling exhausted, she dragged herself into the shower. After, she pulled on a pair of black slacks and a black sweater to match her mood. She hoped her mother held it together during the ribbon selling this afternoon. Maybe Mom could take an extra dose of anxiety pills.

Roselle pictured all the excitement and happy people milling about at the festival. Will might even be there in the crowd. Her stomach tightened with nerves.

Sitting on the bed, she could hear her parents moving around downstairs in their daily routine. Make the coffee, pour the cereal and milk, debate how much sugar to use, and pass out the sections of the paper. Once she’d thought she’d have a routine with Will, but...scrap that idea. It made her insides ache.

Swallowing her pain, she glanced at the clock. People would be up and checking out their shooters and trailering their pumpkins for the weigh in contest and the boat regatta. Might as well get going. She could come back for her mother later.

She clunked down the stairs in clogs and grabbed her jean jacket and purse from the hallway table. “I’ll be back in an hour,” she yelled. She ran out of the house before either her mom or dad could stop her.

With the extra set of car keys in hand, she jumped in the van and headed toward the center of the festival, the park. Jagged memories of Will flashed through her mind until the ringing of the cell pierced her consciousness.

She glanced at the number and didn’t recognize it. Her finger moved over the end button when her mind shouted, What if it’s Alicia?

“Hello?”

“Roselle, thank God I reached you!” Skip Tracer’s voice came across loud and urgent. “Where are you?”

“I’m on the road to the center of town.”

“Great! Meet me at the old mill down by the river. I’ve found something. It’s about your sister. Come right away. You have to see it before it’s too late.”

“What mill? What did you find?” Roselle tightened her hands on the wheel until they ached.

The phone static answered until the line was dead.

“No! Mill? What mill?” she shouted into the phone. Was this a cruel joke?

Think. Stay calm. Where’s an old mill in town?

There was an old textile mill by the river. Then it hit her. The bodyguard who’d died at Will’s house. What had he said before he died. “Text Phil.” What if he’d said textile mill?

Hope spun through her. She stepped on the gas and headed for the mill. At the intersection of the Manchester back road and Main, she slammed into a traffic jam. “The town has always been too cheap to install a light,” she muttered. Who’d have thought there’d be traffic at this hour? “Come on, cars, move.”

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she considered her options. Was there anything else she could do? Will? No, she couldn’t call him after yesterday.

Detective Cusato. What was his number? Praying she remembered correctly, she punched in the number with her thumb while gripping the cell.

Please answer. Please. Please.

“Stark Falls Police Dept.”

“Detective Cusato.”

“He’s not in. Here’s his voice mail.”

“No–”

The voice mail was talking in her ear. Crud.

“Detective Cusato, this is Roselle Lewis. I had a tip that there’s evidence at the old abandoned textile mill in town. I’m almost there. Meet me.”

The car crept up to the park where she’d take a left and then a quick right down to the Piscataquog River. But nothing was quick. People with pumpkins were everywhere. They cut in front of cars. They ran down the sidewalks pushing wheelbarrows, they trailered carts with pumpkins. How had she forgotten this was the meeting place for the weigh-ins and the boat regatta registration?

What if she was too late to meet Skip? What if, with all these people, the evidence was destroyed? Would any of them walk through the area around the old mill? What could Skip have found? Alicia, her heart whispered.

She glanced at her watch: seven-fifteen. It was a major one-way traffic jam. Roselle pulled out and zoomed down the wrong side of the road to the left hand turn. Glancing in the mirror, she didn’t see any blue lights. Instead other cars had followed her lead like she was the leader in a parade.

Passing the park, she anticipated the right hand turn that would lead to the old mill beside the river. Damn, parked cars blocked the road. She hated pumpkins.

She drove on, searching for another way, and took the next right. The yellow Dead End sign towered ahead. “Looks like a sign from my life.”

The digital numbers on the dashboard clock slipped another minute.

With a moan of frustration, she pulled over in the first space and killed the engine. She could walk from here. The phone rang. “Will!”

“Hey, Roselle,” Mickey’s voice crackled across the phone. “We saw you driving like you were in England, on the wrong side of the road.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the park. Come over and check out our cool pumpkin boat.”

“Is Will with you?”

“Nope. He didn’t want to be the Skipper. Want to be MaryAnn?”

“Listen, when Will shows up, tell him I’m at the old mill and it looks like a break in my sister’s case. Tell him it’s an emergency and to meet me.”

She clicked off the phone before Mickey could answer. Glancing at her watch, she saw ten minutes had passed while she’d been stuck in the traffic snarl. She hitched the strap of her purse over a shoulder and jumped out of the van. The breeze carried the war whoops of people psyched for the day.

What was the evidence? It could be something minor like a footprint. Was the mill near the train tracks? She didn’t know the area well enough to picture it. And–

Trotting around the curve, she skidded to a stop as the road ended abruptly at the next house. Hedges surrounded the yard and blocked the path. Like that could stop her. With a burst of speed she forced her way between the scratching branches. A dog barked at her.

She sprinted across the yard and saw the river ahead. The sound of rushing water and damp air floated to her. All she had to do was follow the river to the mill. Picking her way, she reached the water’s banks and took a sharp left. Ahead, she could see the brick building. It was about a quarter of a mile to go. She couldn’t spot Skip’s vehicle. An uneasy feeling bit into her.

From the corner of a house came the growling of a dog tied to a run.

“Nice doggie?” The dog wagged his tail.

Maybe she could borrow him. She ran up to the animal and released the end of the chain from the run and the dog took off. Roselle stumbled after him. At least she wasn’t totally alone and the jumpy feeling of doom felt less pressing since she was struggling to run down the narrow riverbank path behind a dog.

Abruptly, the houses dropped off, leaving weeds and broken beer bottles. She pulled in the chain and they slowed to a brisk pace.

Trotting beside her, the huge black dog tugged on his metal leash. At least she hadn’t picked a wimp to escort her. The closer she got to the mill, the more the nerves in her stomach tightened.

Finally it loomed in front of her. With her heart pounding, she skidded to a stop on the crumbled concrete walkway. Boards covered the lower level windows where vandals had shot out the glass. Above the entry, the word Death was spray painted in black on the bricks. The weathered main door stood open in front of her. She hoped Skip wasn’t waiting inside. Was she crazy coming here? What was she thinking? Her legs began to shake.

Across the river a shot fired. She screamed. Her escort howled.

The sound of voices cheering carried to her. What? Slowly the answer sank into her mind. The shot signaled the beginning of the boat regatta.

“It’s okay, boy. That must have been the starter pistol.”

The dog cowed near her legs.

“We’re fine.” She pushed herself toward the door. “Skip?” Her legs trembled and her stomach did flips as she crossed the crumbled walk. He probably couldn’t drive up to the mill either. “Skip?”

Nothing. She swallowed the salty fear in her mouth and peeked inside. If Skip was gone, so was she. Maybe she was too late. Roselle stepped inside onto the large planked wooden floorboards. Inside, the coldness of the bricks sank into her and beams of sun struggled through the cracks in the boarded up windows. The odor of mold threatened to gag her.

The dog whimpered beside her.

“I agree. Nobody here.”

She turned on her heel...and she heard it. Freezing, she strained, praying she was wrong. But she heard it again.

Someone was crying in the old mill.

Chapter Thirty

At sunrise, Will decided what he had to do. The six-pack wasn’t the answer. With sureness he hadn’t felt in a long time, he headed to his mother’s house. Inside he retrieved the key from the kitchen drawer and headed to the garage.

He was about to insert it into the garage door lock when his cell buzzed. Roselle? Glancing at the unfamiliar number, his finger hovered over the disconnect button when recognition struck him. It was the police station. He hit end.

Will retrieved the key and stood in the garage looking at his one time pride and joy, his ultra light.

He ran a hand over one of the twin seats, remembering how he’d dreamed of sitting in it, leaving this world for heights beyond. His gaze traveled upward. The red and yellow wing had never felt the lift of the wind in the early morning or climbed into the pinks and oranges of the sunrise.

Stop. What was he doing? The twin to this ultra light had killed his sister. She’d flown out Sunday morning to catch up on her bookwork and had never come back, killed on return take off. Since that day, he’d kept his oath never to fly again in honor of his sister.

Turning his back on the plane, he pushed the button to open the garage door. He’d take a ride in his truck to the festival and check out Mickey and Clark’s boat. When he came home, he was selling that piece of junk and using the garage for his truck.

The house phone rang. Hell, the police again? For a second, indecision held him, and then he raced inside and snapped up the phone.

“Will, Roselle wants you to meet her at the old mill.” Mickey’s voice came across the earpiece loud and clear. “She said it was important. No, that’s not right. It’s a…emergency.”

“The old mill? What old mill?”

“The mill by the river, I guess. Is she planning on throwing stuff at us from the bank for shooting our pumpkins at her?”

“Why would Roselle go to the mill? And she said emergency?” Had Mickey been sniffing too many pumpkin guts?

“Yup! Do you think she’s confused and at some hospital?”

“Never mind, did she say when she’d be there?”

“I dunno. Now?”

“Thanks, Mickey.” Will clicked off.

And heard it.

He stood still, straining. Was he hearing voices, now, when he was sober? It was like a whisper, but it grew until he recognized it.

He froze with disbelief. It was June! What was she saying? It sounded like “Fly.”

June was telling him to fly.

*****

“Alicia?” Roselle turned around, staring upward toward the sounds. Was it her sister? Roselle’s heart pounded with hope. It had sounded like a woman and not Skip.

The dog gave a bark and Roselle jumped. His chain ran through her clenched hand with a sharp sting as he bounded for the open door and disappeared.

“Crud!” She spun back toward the sound. The crying had stopped. Was she crazy and imagining the sound?

A loud bang echoed in the building. The sound had come from upstairs. Alicia?

Blinking Roselle stared into the dimness, wishing she could see. Biting her lip, she wavered over running away or finding the crier. If only someone was here to help. She closed her eyes and mumbled a short prayer. Then she inhaled and wandered deeper inside.

Stairs, the stairs must be somewhere. Hope drove her forward into the darkness until she found them in the corner.

She crept up the protesting steps to the second floor and stood, wavering on the top stair. Her hands had dampened and sweat permeated her top. As long as she remained on the stairs, she could still run back and escape through the open front door.

More shafts from the sun broke through the upstairs cracked panes and fragments of light spilled on the scuffed wooden planked floor. Despite the sun, cold chilled her bones. She scanned across the floor to the arched opening to the next room.

Muffled sobs drifted from the opening and across the room. Fear welled up in Roselle’s throat. She’d get this over with and find out who or what was making the sound. Then she’d run. Pushing forward, she yelled, “Alicia? Alicia?”

The crying stopped, but the sound of metal scraping and a rattle filled the air. Roselle pressed across the dust-covered planks on tiptoes. Under her feet the soft wood sagged. Goose bumps covered her arms, and a pain in her stomach warned that her nerves were vetoing the plan.

“Alicia?” She reached the opening and paused. Fear crawled up her spine as she pushed herself through the arched doorway.

Shocked, Roselle stopped. “Alicia?”

Her sister stared back with wide eyes from the corner of the room. Duct tape covered her mouth and bound her hands together. Her dirty hair was plastered to her skull. Smears of blood streaked her face like she’d been clawing at it.

“Oh, my God!” Roselle shot across the room and fell to her knees by her sister. Alicia’s eyes filled with tears.

Roselle ripped the tape off her mouth and hands. Then she noticed the ankle chain.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Roselle. Now! He’s coming back. He’ll kill us!” Alicia’s eyes were wild. Her voice was desperate. She reached over and yanked on the chain looped around her bloody ankle. The chain was hitched to the uneven floor. “I can’t get out of here.” Wrenching sobs burst out of her mouth and tore at Roselle’s heart.

“The two of us can do it.” Determined, Roselle grabbed hold of the chain and yanked.

“It won’t budge,” Alicia gasped.

“Keep trying.” The metal prongs dug into Roselle’s skin. She couldn’t hold on to the metal much longer, but she couldn’t give up. “Pull!” she screamed.

Her heels dug into the floor, and Alicia tugged at her back.

With the sound of splintering board, the metal plank popped from the warped floor. Roselle fell down on her rear. Beside her, Alicia had dropped to her hands and knees.

“I’m free!” Alicia’s jaw fell open to her dirt-smeared white blouse.

A loud thud shook the walls of the building. The downstairs door was slammed shut.

“He’s back,” Alicia whispered. Fear glazed her eyes and she crawled into the corner.

“Come on.” Roselle jumped to her feet and grabbed Alicia’s hand. She yanked her sister to her feet and tugged her toward the arch.

Heavy footsteps thumped on the creaking stairway.

“We can’t get out!” Alicia whimpered.

“This way.” Roselle ran back through the room to the next empty one. The brick wall surrounded them on three sides. Fast Eddie had returned, and they were cornered.

Roselle pointed to the side of the doorway and crept over to wait. Her breath came in short rasps and she couldn’t pull in enough air. They had one chance. She mustn’t blow it. Afraid Fast Eddie would hear her, she tried to calm her breathing.

Gripping the handle of her purse, she flung it over her back. Alicia nodded and moved into the open archway, ready as the bait.

Fast Eddie’s heavy steps echoed in the empty building. Drops of perspiration ran down Roselle’s forehead and burned her eyes. The light from the window fell across the doorway, illuminating Alicia like a spotlight.

The footsteps grew closer.

Oh, dear God, let us get out of here alive.

Alicia stood in her spot trembling. Then she stiffened.

Fast Eddie must be on the floor with them. Roselle heard his heavy step draw closer, and he shouted Alicia’s name. He’d seen her. Alicia turned and fled through the arch and into the room. The footsteps quickened as Fast Eddie gave chase.

Now! Roselle leaped out and kicked him hard in the crotch and belted him over the head with her purse. With a whoomph of pain, Fast Eddie folded over like a greeting card.

She’d done it!

Alicia ran back to her. The chain around her ankle clinked against the floor.

“Let’s go!” Roselle grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her into the next room. The sound of footsteps climbing the steps floated up to them. They wheeled to a stop. Someone else was coming.

Who?

“Will?” Roselle’s voice wobbled.

“No Will or way here.” Skip came into view and paused on the top step. His dark shades covered his eyes and his ponytail bounced as he took the last step. “You found her.”

“Thanks to you!” Relief poured through Roselle’s body. They were safe. Thank God.

“Roselle, get back!” Alicia yelled at her. She tugged on Roselle’s hand and then with a cry of fear broke free.

“What?” Roselle whirled toward her sister, who had retreated to a window in the brick wall. “It’s okay. This is Skip the Skip Tracer. I hired him to find you. And he did. We’re safe now.” Roselle smiled to ease Alicia’s fear.

Alicia lips trembled and her eyes shone with terror. “No, no, that’s Ernie Golini.”

“Golini?” Roselle turned back to Skip. “What? Is that your name?”

Grunts and moans came from the other room.

“Is that Eddie in the other room? What’d you do to him?” Skip Golini asked, staring toward the arch.

“Eddie?” Why did he call him Eddie?

“Yeah, my father-in-law.”

For a second, everything was disconnected. Then it fell into place like someone put the plug in the socket. All the circuits in Roselle’s brain leaped to life. “You married Eddie Ferrani’s daughter?”

“Yup.” Skip took a few more steps and stopped in front of Roselle.

“But you went to Hollywood. Why are you here?”

Skip pushed up his sunglasses. “The bright lights hurt my eyes.”

“Oh…you shoved me into the closet at Fast Eddie’s house!”

“I liked his house better than my mobile home in the sticks, and Eddie was at Foxwoods playing the slots. So why not?”

“He’s the one who kidnapped me.” Alicia’s voice trembled across the floor.

Roselle backed toward her sister while her mind worked on the missing pieces. Skip was the kidnapper? And he had lured her here. He had never meant for her or Alicia to leave alive.

Alicia’s panicked breath hit Roselle’s ear and sent pinpricks of fear down her arms and spine. “So you’re not a skip tracer?”

“Maybe I should be. You and your friends fell for it. All I had to do was mention my business and boom, they wanted me.” He pulled back his lips and showed his teeth in a fake smile.

“It was a set up?” What a fool she’d been, and Will had warned her.

“Roselle?” Alicia threw a look at the other room. At any minute, Fast Eddie would join them.

The only way out was the stairway. Could they rush Skip and push him down the stairs?

As if reading her mind, Skip reached inside his fatigue jacket and pulled out a gun. “Thinking of leaving so soon?”

Terror ricocheted though Roselle’s body. They had almost escaped. No, they were escaping. She twisted her head toward Alicia and pressed her mouth to Alicia’s ear. “Follow me.”

“What’s happening out here?” Fast Eddie sagged against the arch’s frame.

Skip shifted his attention toward Eddie and Roselle snatched Alicia’s hand. She was grabbing their one chance. With Alicia, she ran straight toward the window. With her head down, they burst straight through the broken pane.

Roselle’s arm scraped against a shard of glass and the sound of breaking glass filled her ears.

Like Alice down the rabbit hole, Roselle’s feet hit nothing but air. For a long second they were suspended in space, and then they were falling, down, down. Roselle closed her eyes.

A shot whizzed by her head.

Someone cried, “Look out!”

Roselle opened her eyes. Below was the gray, cold river. A man in a pumpkin boat was staring up at them with an open mouth. She screamed.

Then they hit. Roselle knocked the man to the bottom of the large pumpkin shell. Alicia landed on the side of the pumpkin in a painful split. For a second she teetered on the edge and then fell on top of Roselle.

Another shot whizzed by and hit the water. They had to get out of here. “Do you have oars?” she asked the man in the dark windbreaker lying underneath her.

“Who are you? And get off of me!”

“Here’s a paddle.” Alicia scrambled to her feet and grabbed the oar. She began paddling for her life.

A shot zinged off the side of the pumpkin.

“He’s going to kill us!” Alicia shouted.

“We’re sitting pumpkins in the water.” Roselle pushed to her feet and tore a glance at the shore. Too far. They’d never make it.

The longhaired boat owner rose and peered up at the mill building. “Who’s he? Why’s he shooting at us?”

“Because he’s insane,” Roselle yelled. “How can we go faster?”

“I was going fast. I was in the lead. Who are you?”

“Roselle!”

She jerked her attention to the bend in the river. A tall lean figure was waving from his pumpkin.

“Mickey! Help!”

“He’s aiming at us,” shouted the man.

Roselle caught sight of a slingshot underneath the man’s sneakers. “You’ve got a pumpkin gun?” She bent and tugged out the hand catapult. “Where are the bullets?

“I have hardly any ammunition with me. The contest is later.” He pulled two gourds out of the sides of his brown barn jacket. He reached over and dropped one into the little black slingshot. “Pull on this.”

“I’ve got it.” Roselle stretched the sling back and let it fly. The gourd flew through the air and landed short with a splat against the bricks.

A gunshot zinged through the air. Alicia screamed and fell into the bottom of the shell. The boat owner swayed to the side with a shout for help.

“Alicia! Alicia!” Roselle yelled.

Blood seeped through Alicia’s fingers pressed over her shoulder.

“Where are the police?” the man shouted. “That guy in the building is crazy. He’s going to kill us!”

Then Roselle saw him. At first she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t take her gaze from the sky. The red and yellow colors grew larger and larger in the air, flying closer. “Will! It’s Will!” she shouted.

From his boat, Mickey was yelling and pointing at the mill.

“How can he help us?” Alicia whispered. “He’s in the sky.”

Like a majestic bird, Will swooped down and then up in a zigzag pattern.

“Is he drunk?” Alicia gawked at the sky.

“Never. He’s making sure he’s not an easy target.”

Roselle could now make out the other figure beside Will. It was Clark.

Will zigged closer to the mill. Fast Eddie swiveled his thick body toward the ultra light and fired.

Roselle saw Clark lean out the side and fire a pumpkin.

She had one more chance. Roselle grabbed the last gourd from the captain of their boat, loaded, aimed, and fired.

Fast Eddie turned from the ultra light just in time for the missile to hit him, right between the eyes.

“Roselle, I think I’m going to pass out.” Alicia’s porcelain skin had paled to ice.

“You got the sniper,” screamed their unfriendly companion. “The man flying the plane shot him too!”

“We’re safe, Alicia.” Roselle glanced at her sister.

Alicia didn’t respond.

Chapter Thirty-one

A boat was puttering up to them with men in blue. Mickey had also caught up to them in his pumpkin boat. Will hovered overhead, giving Roselle thumbs up and down. He wanted to know how she was. What should she say?

Tears stung her eyes. She gave Will a sideways thumb. The boat docked next to them. Roselle recognized Myers and Detective Cusato on board.

The owner of their pumpkin boat was already pushing his way onto the police’s boat. “These women hijacked my pumpkin. I was winning the race until they fell into my boat.”

“Fast Eddie shot my sister,” Roselle yelled before Myers could do a Miranda reading.

Cusato pulled out his cell phone and requested an ambulance. Roselle crouched beside her sister. “Hold on, Alicia. Help is coming.”

*****

Kozy’s grand reopening wasn’t too grand unless free coffee was considered a great occasion. But all the Retired Regulars plus a handful of their relatives and friends showed up to celebrate. And Kozy had reopened in time for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday with an ad in the Stark Falls paper reminding people to eat their holiday breakfast at Kozy’s.

Now he stood at the front of the coffee shop like a proud father distributing the menus. Marcia had surprised everyone by revealing she had a “significant other” who was about thirty years older than herself. She’d met him when she visited an uncle at a Concord nursing home. Marcia had seated her new beau with Karl, who sat eyeing the man suspiciously when he picked up the bill to study it.

In between customers, Roselle ducked into the kitchen to check an order.

“When’s Will coming?” Marcia asked, loading up a tray.

“He’s not.” Roselle had been dreading when someone would ask the big question. “We’re not together.”

“You’re kidding. A man doesn’t fly out to rescue a woman in a pumpkin boat unless he’s in love with her. The whole town is talking about how romantic your Will is.” Marcia pointed a glance at Roselle’s bandaged arm. “How’s your cut?”

“Just a scratch.”

“Roselle, we’re out of cream. Get some from the walk-in,” Baldy barked.

“Really? Who did set ups this morning?” Glad for an excuse to escape, she crossed the tile floor to the walk-in. She hadn’t talked to Will since the big Pumpkin Festival two weeks ago. He’d been at the hospital after they rushed Alicia to emergency, but she’d spoken only a few strained words to him in passing. The next day she’d spent as Alicia’s personal slave until the doctor declared she only suffered from a flesh wound and discharged her.

At least Fast Eddie was safely in jail with his son-in-law.

She stepped inside the walk-in and paused to fight tears and grabbed the cream. With a shuddering breath she stepped out of the cooler.

Angie scurried to her side and took the cream. “Will’s here.”

“What?” Had he come to make up?

“I served his coffee, but I knew you’d want to wait on him. First booth by the door.” Angie gave her a smile of encouragement.

Roselle exited the kitchen with every nerve in her body knotted. Will was facing her and watching her walk across the floor to him. Crud. Was her hair a mess? She didn’t have time to find out.

At the booth, she went into remote control. “Can I take your order?”

“Thanks for talking to Kozy and getting me off the B and E bogus charge.”

“It’s the least a girl can do.” Will didn’t look very happy. His lips were drawn in a thin, hard line. “The lawyer my dad hired thinks the police don’t have enough evidence to make the charges stick in Manchester either.”

“Must be our lucky week. Detective Cusato called me down to the police station yesterday.”

“No!” Shocked, she slipped into the seat across from him. “He can’t be accusing you of anything. How could he after-”

He grabbed the hand that she’d been waving around. “Our Skip Tracer squealed on Fast Eddie in return for a lighter sentence. Fast Eddie was responsible.”

“For kidnapping Alicia? I know.”

“No, he tampered with June’s ultra light because she’d been asking questions about a fake account Eddie had set up. He used it to launder money through the track.”

“Fast Eddie and June?” Will’s explanation spun together in a mix in her brain.

“Eddie Ferrani killed my sister, Roselle. It wasn’t an accident.” A grim threatening expression took over Will’s face. The dark shadows in his eyes put Roselle on alert. Danger. This was the Will that self-destructed.

“And the bastard has the nerve to continue to lie about killing Mrs. Christie.”

His hurt and anger shot across the table and into her heart. Striving for the right words, she said, “Now you know, Will. It’s finally over. You’re not responsible. Detective Cusato came through for you. Maybe I do want to become a detective.”

“Have you lost it? That’s too dangerous a job. And my sister is never over.” He let go of her hand and tore out of the booth.

Helpless, she watched him slam the door of the coffee shop. The bell vibrated with his anger.

“Your sister is here and wants you to wait on her.” Marcia stood next to the booth. “Sorry,” she added. “About your fight with Will.”

“No problem.” She slid out of the booth, swallowing her emotions. No one could talk to Will when he went to the dark side, but all this time his sister had been murdered. It would take a while to digest this information.

Inhaling, she blinked back the frustration of tears. “Where’s Alicia? She usually pretends she doesn’t know where I work.”

Marcia pointed to Alicia, who was sitting in a front booth and tapping a manicured fingernail on the menu. What now? Roselle headed over with a coffee pot.

“Roselle!”

Wow, she had never imagined Alicia would be happy to see her.

“I’ve found the perfect gift for Mom’s birthday.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” Alicia nudged the brown mug toward Roselle and then dug into her purse. “I printed it out. It’s for sale on e-tea.” Alicia unfolded the paper and handed it to Roselle. “Isn’t it beautiful? Mom will love it. If you want to go halfs, I can order it today.”

Roselle studied the picture of a white teapot with painted roses.

“It’s hand-painted antique Spode, and it’s a deal,” Alicia was saying.

“I’ve seen one like it somewhere before.” Where?

“Probably in an antique guide.”

“I don’t browse many antique guides.” Where, where, where had she seen it?

“The price is listed below the details.”

“Details? How many details could there be about a teapot? Takes water and a teabag.” Roselle scanned down the multitude of words and hit the price. She barely choked back her gag reaction. “This is a deal?” she gasped.

“Don’t be cheap, Roselle. I’m not working, and I can afford it.”

“I’ve got it!” Roselle snapped her fingers. “Mrs. Christie has one exactly like it.” She handed the paper back to Alicia. “Maybe I can buy that one instead.”

“Do you think?”

“Sure, I can talk to Vince or his great aunt Lola. We could save on the shipping at least.”

“See if you can get us a deal.” Alicia stuffed the picture into her purse and grabbed her sweater from the seat beside her.

“Where are you going?”

“To study. Some of us have to work.”

Roselle stood with her coffeepot in hand and hoped Kozy didn’t catch on that her sister had left without an order. She watched Alicia cross the floor without favoring her bad arm.

*****

Alicia had called her five times by 1:25. Out of desperation, Roselle had called aunt Lola when she’d been unable to reach Vince. The elderly Lola seemed uncertain about the particular teapot and only knew that her niece had a collection. “Go and take a look. I haven’t been in the house since my niece died. I can’t bring myself to clean it, and I know I’ll have to take care of all the belongings. Vince is too busy at his job and hasn’t been inside either.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Don’t feel that way. Your mother was a dear friend, and I know Caryn would want her to have the teapot. The key is under the mat. Help yourself.”

Roselle wanted to protest the dear friend part, but decided not to press her good luck. She was pulling the door of her apartment shut when the cell in her purse rang.

Pulling it out, Roselle sighed, “Hello, Alicia, again.”

“Roselle Lewis, please.”

Who was this? “Speaking.”

“Oh, Miss Lewis, I’m so glad I reached you. I’ve been having terrible vibes about you for nearly a week. And after the dream last night, I couldn’t ignore the warnings any longer and called your mom who gave me your number.”

“Miss True?” This was a surprise. “I guess you didn’t read the news in the paper. I was in danger three days ago, but Fast Eddie was captured and jailed. I’m safe. Will is safe too. And now we understand about the man washing too much. Fast Eddie was laundering money at the track.”

Only June hadn’t been safe. Grief crowded the back of Roselle’s throat.

“Oh…well…good to hear… although the feelings are really strong today.”

Roselle cleared her throat. “I think Detective Cusato is interviewing Fast Eddie’s son-in-law to obtain more evidence today.”

“Listen, I dreamed that the man who stole Father Time is the one to beware. He’s a killer.”

A chill passed over Roselle. “Thanks for the warning, but really I’m safe. The interview today must have set off your feelings.”

“I’m not so sure,” Miss True answered, sounding unconvinced.

“Thanks for calling, but I’m on my way out.”

“Of course, take care, won’t you?”

“I always do.” Roselle clicked off the phone with a deep breath. Maybe Fast Eddie had broken his watch before he killed June. But he couldn’t hurt her any more, she reassured herself heading for the car.

By 2:00 she was turning up Mrs. Christie’s drive in her mom’s van. The police hadn’t released her impounded car yet. She glanced around nervously as she slammed the van door. Fast Eddie was in prison along with traitor Skip, so she had nothing to worry about. She went to the side door and peeled back the corner of the mat. Sure enough, a key was underneath.

Anyone could rob the house. She put the key in the lock, wishing it wouldn’t work, but it turned smooth as clockworks. The door opened and she peeked inside.

The memory of herself on this doorstep calling Mrs. Christie’s name hurtled into her mind. Her cell rang, and she jumped. Wow, the phone worked in the house. After her black hole experience at the end of the driveway, she hadn’t expected a call.

Glancing at the number, she knew it was Alicia.

She clicked on the phone. “I’m at Mrs. Christie’s, and I have permission from her great aunt to take one of the teapots.”

“Fantastic. Take one Mom will love.”

Roselle wanted to retort she wouldn’t take one Mom would hate, but she wanted to get in and out quickly before she was completely creeped out. “Hold on and I’ll describe them to you.”

With Alicia on the other end, Roselle felt a little braver. She marched into the kitchen and paused. All the jelly jars sat on the floor like the last time. The jelly cabinet still stood against the wall, but something was different.

The table teapot that had held the flowers was gone. It was the one that looked like the picture Alicia had printed out. “I’m putting the phone on the table while I look around.”

Roselle dug in her purse for the teapot picture. Hmm. She glanced up to scan the shelves. “Oh!” Only three teapots remained on the three shelves. Was anything else gone? She stuffed the paper back into her purse.

Silence. Nervous, she tiptoed to the next room.

The room was empty, not a stick of furniture. Something was nudging in her mind. What?

“What are you doing here?”

Roselle clutched at her jumping heart and whirled around to find Vince. “Oh, my gosh. You scared me to death.” She gulped a breath and crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “Sorry, your great aunt Lola gave me permission to take a teapot for my mother. But I think someone robbed the house! A lot of the teapots are gone and in the other room-”

“Ah, I brought my great aunt over and she pointed out the furniture she wanted. I took it to her house.” His lips curled up in a smile, but his eyes were fixed on her like he was studying a specimen.

Huh? Why was he lying? Or was his great aunt lying? “Do you think your great aunt Lola would sell teapots on e-tea?” She rummaged through her purse for the paper, yanked it out, and held up the picture.

A strange expression came over Vince’s face and he looked like he was struggling to speak. “Sorry, ah, I don’t know.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to get back to work. I don’t have much time to talk.”

Oh, my God. Time! Miss True’s warning came spiraling from space and smacked against her brain. “Did you take the grandfather clock from the other room too?”

He shrugged in his awkward, crooked manner. “I guess.”

It hit her. Vince. Vince had taken the teapots and was selling them on the internet. And the day they’d met in the kitchen, Vince had said, ‘Sorry, ah, about the dirt under my fingernails…and hands. I’ve been riding my bike out on the trails in the woods”, but she never saw one.

“Where was your bike?”

“What?” Vince’s eyes widened.

“Nothing.” Get out, her mind screamed. “I just remembered Will wanted to talk to me about his bike. That’s what he calls his ultra light.” The dirt under Vince’s nails. Was it from digging Mrs. Christie’s grave in the woods?

Sickness twisted in her stomach, and she heard Melinda True’s voice: “You’re in danger!”

“What about the teapot? Take one.” Vince reached up to the shelf and grabbed a small blue pot.

Roselle backed away. Nerves in her stomach tumbled over and over.

“How about this one?” He held it out to her with both hands, and it happened.

She looked deep into his eyes and saw it through a psychic connection, or Mrs. Christie’s ghost, or dumb luck, but somehow she knew for certain. Vince had killed Mrs. Christie.

“Roselle?”

She retreated slowly. “Keep it. I have to get home.”

“You know, don’t you?”

She froze and half turned toward him. “What?”

“It was an accident. I was a little upset because she wouldn’t loan me any money. I hardly make anything working at that copy shop, and she wasted all her money on this junk at flea markets. Really, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I put her in the jelly cabinet in case anyone showed up like you and Fast Eddie did.”

“I believe you, Vince. Maybe you just need a doctor or a confessional or drugs or something.” Oh, God, she was babbling.

He jerked toward her, and she screamed. Run.

She whirled around and pain hit the back of her head. Pieces of the teapot hit the floor around her. Falling, she grazed the jelly cabinet with her shoulder and landed on her knees. With reeling senses, she desperately tried to gather the shattered parts of her mind. What had happened? Had Vince hit her?

The sound of a jar rolling across the floor pierced her semi-conscious state. She put out a hand to push herself up when his hands came around her neck.

“Sorry, you won’t be leaving,” Vince snarled in her face. His cold fingers wrapped around her throat. They squeezed and twisted, trying to wring the life out of her.

Air…air. She clawed at his face, but he held on. God, she was going to die. Twisting, she kicked out. She hit another jelly jar.

Spots dotted her vision. In seconds, it’d be too late. He was too strong for her. God, help me! Help!

She groped with her hand for a weapon, anything. Her fingers closed around the smooth glass of a jar. Her one chance. She had to hit him hard and before–

She raised her hand and smashed the glass into his face. His nose crunched with a sickening sound.

He pushed away with a wounded cry and covered his face. Blood spurted through his fingers. “My nose! You broke my nose!” he whined.

Frantic, she scrambled to her knees and gulped air.

Vince swore and with a roar charged her. She shot another jar of jelly at him. He dodged and the jar landed with a crash. Jelly and shards of glass splattered across the floor.

Roselle scooped up jars as she stumbled to her feet. She threw another jar, hitting his knee. He howled with pain. She made it to the kitchen threshold with the jelly jars clutched in her arms. Running, she fired her glass ammunition at him.

“Come back, you bi–”

Roselle heard a thud behind her. At the door, she shot a glance over her shoulder. Vince was lying in a puddle of jelly.

The doorknob was in her hand. Screaming, she ran outside and down the driveway. She twisted her head and saw no one after her. Was it a trick? Was Vince unconscious or about to jump out at her?

Like magic, a blue cruiser turned into the driveway. Roselle ran toward the vehicle.

“Myers!” She never thought she’d be glad to see him. She raced up to the slowing vehicle.” She gulped. “Vince tried to kill me. I think he killed Mrs. Christie.”

Myers slammed on the brakes and lowered the window. “Where is he?”

“I think he slipped on some jelly.”

“Jelly?”

Roselle choked down her panic. “How did you get here?”

“Your sister called, and I was only a few minutes away. Don’t go anywhere.” Gravel spun under the cruiser’s wheels as he took off.

“Sure. I’ll just stand here killing time.” She shivered.

*****

“Roselle, you have to go to Mr. Boone’s cabin. I delivered a new wicker chair for his deck and forgot the footstool.”

Roselle stared at her mother standing on her apartment’s welcome mat. Underneath her leather jacket, Mom wore her best blue dress. What was up?

Mom turned up the wattage on her parental stare of disapproval. “You must help me. It’s an emergency. I’m late for my meeting at the newspaper. I’m putting in a huge ad this time. Bigger than last time.”

“You mean people will see it?”

“That does make me a little nervous. So if you’ll take this footstool…” Mom sidestepped, and Roselle spotted a stool with a woven top sitting behind her mother’s legs.

“Are you talking about Will’s grandfather?”

“Of course, Will’s grandfather. His mother called me yesterday long distance from Florida to find out how we were. She’d heard about the Pumpkin Festival disaster and your sister. Before she hung up, she placed an order! Can you believe it?”

“Who would guess all I have to do is nearly die and you get orders? You should score a slew when Vince goes on trial for attempting to kill me.”

“Don’t joke, Roselle.” Mom rummaged through her black purse and pulled out the car keys.

“I really don’t want to run into Will, Mom. He hasn’t talked to me in a long time.” Might as well blurt it out. “It’s kinda awkward.”

“Love isn’t love until you give it away.”

Great, Mom was back to reciting play lines. She’d recovered.

“Roselle, we’re business women, and we don’t allow our feelings to get in our way.”

It happened just like the old saying. A light went off in Roselle’s head. Here was the bonding opening she’d been wanting. “Mom, you’re right. Why, we’re like the Gilmore Girls in the early episodes.”

Mom smiled and a strange thing happened next. She hugged Roselle. “Roselle, we are similar. I think in terms of plays and you think of TV shows.”

Pressed against her chest, Roselle swallowed her surprise. Mom had a new twist on their lives and was happy about it. Roselle kind of liked the idea of comparing their lives to plays and TV programs--though she wasn’t sure that made Mom and herself alike.

“Now go to Will’s.” Mom released her and straightened her coat.

Mom never gave up. “I’ll go this one time.”

“I saw you talking to him at the police station after they arrested Vince. You’re still friends at least.”

“That was small talk, like, nice to see you’re alive.”

Mom made her exasperated throat noise. “Roselle, it’s late afternoon. Will’s at work. I saw him myself at the mall planting a row of fall saplings. You have my van for the delivery, and I don’t have time to stand here arguing. I have to pick up your father since I have his car.” Her mother leaned over and kissed the air. “I’ve made your favorite, meatloaf, for dinner.”

“Alicia loves meatloaf, not me.” But mom was already clunking down the stairs to dad’s car.

“Geez, I should charge for deliveries,” Roselle muttered. She grabbed her new fake leather jacket, the keys, and her purse. After five minutes on the road, she had to admit to herself that the drive was calming. The sun shone brightly like a happy friend joining her for the ride.

Another twenty minutes and she pulled into the cabin’s driveway and slammed on the brakes. Will’s truck sat near the house. Oh no. Now what? Maybe she should turn around. No, that was stupid and besides he might have seen her.

With nerves tightening her every muscle, she parked behind the Gro Rite truck. She’d hurry around and drop off the stool on the deck. After all, she didn’t need to talk to Will about the delivery.

With a ragged breath, she jumped out of the van with the footstool. Her small measure of composure disappeared as Will opened the front door and stood in the doorway.

Crud, now what? Nothing to do but go forward and shove the stool into his hands. Under her feet the gravel driveway crunched. The sun continued shining like it had no idea that a black cloud named Will was about to blot out Roselle’s day.

At the steps she forced a smile. “Hi, Will. Your mom hired my mom as her personal shopper for the chair on the deck. Here’s the stool.” Phew, she’d done it. She could feel sweat gathering above her eyebrows. She held out the footstool.

“Come in.” He retreated a step.

Come in? This wasn’t part of the plan. Unsure, she stepped over the threshold into the warmth of the cabin. A vase of daffodils sat on the table. “Daffs in the fall?” And now that she looked closer, the table was set with napkins and silverware...for Will, who liked to eat out of a pan.

And it was set for two. The realization slapped her. She had to get out before she lost it. She felt worse than ever.

“I’m glad you’re here, Roselle,” Will was saying. “I’d like to apologize for the day at Kozy’s opening. I was still upset about Fast Eddie and June. Now that it’s all sunk into my brain, I feel…at peace. You were right. I don’t have to keep searching for answers about my sister. In fact I bought you a little something.”

“Is it shiny?”

“A non-insulated sleeping bag for inside your apartment. You can pretend to camp.”

Roselle let out a breath. “No apology or gift necessary. I’m happy you can finally let go of the questions.” Uncomfortable, she bent and put down the stool.

Almost done. Head for the door.

Straightening, the title of the catalog lying on the table’s corner drew her closer. “Is that for the Tech school?”

He smiled. “You caught me. I signed up for a business course.”

“Wow!” Will was full of surprises. “I signed up for a course too.”

“You still want to be a detective?”

“I know you think it’s too dangerous-”

“Forget it, Roselle. I know you can be a detective and stay safe. I was in overreaction mode that day. Forgive me?”

“Ah, sure, Will.” This was stranger and stranger. “Oh, Will, my Mom doesn’t know about the course yet. It’s my birthday present for her.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m good at secrets. My sister mentioned it the other day.”

What did he mean?

Never mind, get out.

“Thanks,” she murmured through a tight throat. The last thing she wanted was to see Will with another woman. She began to backtrack. “I’d better leave.”

He shut the door behind her. “Roselle, did you set the table and bring over the meatloaf cooking in the oven?”

“The table and the meat?” She sniffed the air. The fragrance was beginning to permeate the kitchen.

Suspicion began to spin in her mind.

“Will, were you at the mall planting trees today?”

“No, I was over at the store until my mom called and insisted I be here for Grandpa’s stool.”

“Will, our moms set us up.” Roselle wanted to laugh. The idea was preposterous but must be true.

“Yours and mine?” He puckered his brow like he couldn’t understand. Then he broke into his Will smile. “Our moms outdid us? Cool.”

Encouraged, she drew in a deep breath. Maybe she still had a chance with Will, if she didn’t blow it now. “I want to apologize. I acted like a selfish jerk at the Village Bridge. I should have been more sensitive to your problems, and I know you weren’t drinking. I was putting myself and all my problems first.” She gave him an uncertain look and her stomach dropped a notch. Why didn’t he say anything? “More groveling?”

He raised his brows.

Maybe she couldn’t fix it. Maybe it was too late for them, but she had to try one more time. Nervously, she wet her dry lips. “I love you, and it was stupid of me not to put you-”

He covered her mouth with his hand. “That’s it.”

Her heart pounded with hope. Will dropped his hand from her lips and slipped his arms around her waist. Tears welled up in her eyes and she mumbled, “The stupid part or the I love you part was enough?”

“The love part, most definitely.” He pulled her closer to his chest. “Since we’re both going to school, we can cut class together like high school.” Will smiled his devil grin.

It wasn’t too late! The tears trickled down her cheeks and happiness spun in her chest.

A meow came from near her feet. She glanced down through the blur. Skip was rubbing his back against her ankles, purring approval.

Will tightened his embrace.

“I think I have better ideas for us,” she managed to answer through her bliss.

“How about you stay tonight and we work on them?” Will whispered.

Leaning against his arms, she tipped her head so the tears couldn’t fall. “Tonight’s a Fool Moon, Will. You never know what will happen.”