Page 62

W e had to park a couple of blocks down from the newly renovated Orange Grove Senior Citizens' Center, because the parking lot and on-street parking were all full. From the lively sounds of conversation and laughter we started hearing when we were still half a block away, it sounded like Aunt Celia's group was throwing a fabulous party.

I wasn't sure I was up for a party, not even a fabulous one.

I trudged down the street behind Jake and Mr. Ellison, who still clutched Daisy like a talisman against evil. Or at least against alligators.

I couldn't believe the puppy was alive at all. She must have some serious lucky streak to have escaped that monster. I realized Jake had dropped back to walk next to me when the air currents around me charged up with electricity. The man must cause miserable static cling in the winter.

"What?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "What, what?"

"What about static cling?"

Oh, crap. That was out loud?

"Nothing. Never mind. My brain – or what's left of it – is wandering. I mean, Yankee go home? What the hell is that? Why do I feel like I'm in an awful movie?"

He shook his head. "I hate to play into melodrama, but I have to agree with you, Vaughn. Somebody is out to get you, and they've hired some low-rent thugs to do it."

"Some low-IQ thugs, if you ask me," I muttered.

"Quit babbling, you two," called Mr. Ellison. "We're here."

I looked at the ramp leading up to the front porch of the center and wasn't sure I could stand to go inside. All the shakiness I thought I'd controlled back at my office washed over me again, and I nearly stumbled. Jake caught me with an arm around my waist and pulled me in close to him.

"Henry, I'm going to take December for a walk to get some fresh air. She's a little shaken up," he said.

Mr. Ellison turned around on the ramp and studied my face. "That's a good idea, Brody. You take good care of our girl."

"I will. Tell Celia and Nathan that we'll be along in a bit," he said.

I said nothing, just stood there numbly. The fact of Daisy's near-demise had brought another near-death to my mind. Mr. Ellison could have been killed. My entire body started shaking.

Jake helped me around the corner, to where a tiny park fronted Main Street. I followed, unresisting, visions of what the alligator had done to Max's office chair playing over and over again in my mind.

"What if it got him?" I looked up at Jake as we sat down on a bench near a vibrant azalea bush. "What if it ate Mr. Ellison, and all I found when I opened the door was . . . parts?" I heard myself getting hysterical and tried to stop it, taking deep, calming, azalea-scented breaths.

"What if he died, all because somebody was trying to warn me? What if Emily's kids had been outside when that person drove by with the shotgun? What if . . . w- w- what if?—"

Jake put his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, and I started crying in earnest. There's brave, and there's stubborn, and then there's stupid. Maybe if they want me gone so much, I should get myself gone.

When I calmed down enough that I was noticing how good Jake smelled, and enjoying the way he patted my back, I pulled away from him. I was still miserable, but now I was embarrassed, too. I rummaged in my purse for a tissue, and then wiped my face and blew my nose.

"I'm sorry I soaked your shirt," I said. "I'm just not used to being the potential cause of death for so many people."

That muscle in his jaw clenched again. "You're not the potential cause of anything, December. Somebody is out to warn you in a big way. We need to find out who. I've got feelers out on BDC, Langley, and Greenberg. As soon as I hear anything, believe me, you and Connors will be the first to know."

I shook my head. "I don't care. I mean, thanks, but it's not enough. What if I hurt somebody?"

I told him what I'd been thinking about Mr. Ellison and Emily's family. "These people don't care who gets hurt. What if Max had come to work first? What if . . . oh, God, what if the alligator got Max?"

I nearly started crying again, but I clenched my fingernails into my palms. "Maybe it's time to go along with their suggestions . Maybe it's time I moved back up north."

He folded his arms across his chest. "If you do that, they win," he said. "Are you really willing to do that? What about Celia and Nathan? Are you just going to leave them here, alone? What about Charlie Deaver?"

He was getting to me, as he'd planned. Reverse psychology works for a reason. But maybe not enough of a reason. "What if Celia and Nathan wind up getting hurt in the crossfire while I try to avoid a threat I don't even understand?"

He touched my cheek where the tears had probably made horrible track marks. (I never was a delicate crier; another reason I tried not to do it.) "December, I can't tell you what to do. Decide how far you're willing to let them push you."

I narrowed my eyes. I hated to be pushed. My dad had been the champion of pushing-December-around all my life. Now that I'd finally learned to stand up for myself, it rubbed me raw to think of buckling under to a cowardly, anonymous threat.

Stupid? Probably. But there was still time to leave. I just wanted to make a couple of phone calls first. I looked up at Jake. "I think it's time for me to push back."

We stopped in the bingo social, intending only to say hi and stay for a few minutes, but Mr. Ellison had spread the tale of the alligator escapades far and wide. Aunt Celia came running up and threw her arms around me, then burst into tears.

This made me get choked up again, and I hugged her back as fiercely as I could. Nathan walked up and cast a sideways look at Jake. "Sometimes you've got to let them get it out."

Jake nodded. "Yep."

Uncle Nathan pointed at Jake's soggy shirt. "Looks like you've been doing a spot of comforting yourself."

Jake nodded again. "Yep."

"Guess we'd better have a talk, son."

"Yes, sir," Jake said, and then he followed Uncle Nathan down the hall toward the rec room.

I pulled away from Aunt Celia, patting her on the arm, and stood staring after them. "What in the world was that about?" I asked her.

She patted her face off with a lace handkerchief she'd pulled out of a pocket. Celia, unlike me, was the epitome of a delicate crier. She got glowy. I got soggy.

"Well, of course Nathan is going to ask the boy about his intentions, dear," she said, except this time she was the one who patted my arm.

I yelped. "What? Aunt Celia, this is the Twenty-First Century. We don't ask men their intentions. Anyway, he works for, well, with me. It's not any romantic thing," I said, starting after them.

Celia gently caught my arm and stopped me. "Except he's always around when you need him, isn't he? And we've noticed the way he looks at you. Let the boys have their little chat. If your young man can't stand up to Nathan, he's not worth much, is he?"

"He's not my young man," I mumbled, but I was talking to empty air as she bustled off to make sure everything at the party worked according to her usual perfection. The air didn't stay empty for long, though, as people crowded around to hear about the alligator. I plastered the best smile I could muster on my face.

"Mr. Ellison? Oh, yes, he saved us all," I said. Then I spent the next hour and a half eating barbecue and playing Bingo and telling the story of Henry Ellison the Alligator Slayer over and over and over.

By the time Jake finally rescued me (he'd won Bingo twice, the turd, and worked his way through three plates of barbecue and two slices of pie), I thought my head might explode.

Exactly the right frame of mind to do some pushing of my own.

J ake followed me home, then headed off on some mysterious errands of his own. He promised to keep an eye on my house, and I wasn't stupid enough to refuse. Not after somebody had wanted to threaten me enough to deposit a live reptile in my office. Mr. Ellison had volunteered in a gruff voice to keep Daisy an extra night, since I probably had a lot of work to do. I hadn't wanted to say yes, because I was really getting attached to the little fur ball, but I'd seen in his eyes that he wasn't quite past his scare that she'd died. I'd thanked him and asked if he'd like to keep her till Monday, but I'd also added quickly that I'd get her for two whole days then.

He'd grinned and agreed, relief all over his apple-cheeked face, and I'd barely resisted the urge to hug him.

It had felt like the right thing to do, then, but now I looked around my empty house and felt the echoes of silence resonate in the scared corners of my mind. More than likely, anybody who'd wrestled an alligator that morning had to be too tired to do much harm by afternoon, right? So a nap would be pretty safe. Just a quick power nap. Then I'd get to work on Charlie's case again and try to figure out exactly what BDC might be covering up.

Or so I told myself, as I fell over on my bed, clothes still on, and sank immediately into a dreamless sleep. When I woke up, it was Sunday.