“When we discovered Brady, you said, ‘They did what they came to do.’ You were referring to his attackers, correct?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” he lied. “But, yeah, I was referring to whoever did it.”

“You used the plural because there were two sets of footprints.”

“Yeah.”

“So if this man who quarreled with Brady was the culprit, he must’ve brought along an accomplice.”

“Looks like.”

“Did you mention that to Deputy Rawlins?”

“Slipped my mind. And, anyway, he’s the detective. He should’ve thought of it himself.”

“Hmm.” She nodded agreement. “At the time you said that, it sounded as though you had an inkling of who they might be.”

“I didn’t. Still don’t.” That was true.

“Or that you had an idea of what their motive was.”

“No clue.” Also true.

Her doubtful gaze held steady on him and, becoming impatient with it, he said, “I don’t remember saying that, and I don’t remember what I was thinking. I was talking off the top of my head. Rambling.”

She gave a skeptical laugh. “You have certain character traits which become immediately obvious to anyone who meets you. Rambling isn’t among them.”

She continued looking at him as though trying to will him to say more. When he didn’t, she turned away and went through the automatic doors. They closed behind her.

His gut felt hollowed out.

He was hungry, was all.

The elevator arrived. Marlene White alighted, dangling a key fob. “It’s parked in the lot across the drive,” she told him. “Second row. Blue Honda. If you press this button—”

She broke off when she realized that his attention wasn’t on her or the fob, but on Brynn. She climbed into the passenger seat of Wilson’s car. As they drove away, Marlene said, “Such a sweet young woman.”

“Yeah.” The taillights disappeared into the fog. He came back to Marlene. “I mean, I don’t know her. But she seems okay.”

“It’s a miracle how well she turned out, considering her daddy.”

“I heard mention of him. Wes?”

“Quite a character.”

“He’s well known by everybody in the sheriff’s office. Is he a cop?”

Marlene White looked at him, stunned. “Cop? Goodness no. He’s a convict.”

Chapter 10

7:29 a.m.

Brynn and Deputy Wilson were among the handful of diners in the only café in town that was open that morning. A temporary sign taped to the door had notified potential customers that breakfast would be served from seven until ten-thirty and then the café would close for Thanksgiving.

A younger man was slumped in one of the booths and appeared to be nursing a hangover. Brynn linked the loner at the counter to the semi that was parked on the shoulder of the highway. She overheard a man in another booth ask the waitress what the special Thanksgiving breakfast consisted of. She told him that a slice of apple pie was added to the Going Whole Hog menu item. Both he and his companion placed their orders for that.

Except for the waitress, Brynn was the only woman in the place, making her feel conspicuous, and even more so for being seated with a uniformed sheriff’s deputy. She was aware of speculative glances cast their way. Even the young man with the hangover roused himself long enough to look them over.

She toyed with a stack of pancakes and watched Wilson demolish three sunny-side-up eggs and a half-pound slab of smoked ham.

Their meal took all of twelve minutes off the clock.

As the deputy pushed his plate aside, Brynn said, “You don’t have to wait with me. I don’t want to keep you from any plans you have for the day.”

“My ex has the kids. They’ve gone to her mother’s. Actually, I’m relieved to be missing that.”

She smiled across at him, because that’s what he seemed to expect.

But he did look down at his wristwatch and add, “It probably wouldn’t hurt if you called him before nine o’clock. He’s a nice guy, and I feel sure he’ll be willing to help you out. But I’m betting he would just as soon get the business over and done with before the ball games start.”

Brynn figured that it was Wilson who would just as soon have the business concluded before the kickoffs. “I would like to get underway sooner rather than later.”

“So you’ve said. And Dr. Lambert stressed how time-sensitive those blood samples are.”

He eased back and looked under the table to where she’d sat the box on the floor when they’d claimed the booth. “You think one of them will match good enough to be a donor?”

Unlike his partner, Rawlins, Wilson had pleasant features and a benign smile. His interest in the samples seemed sincere. Brynn experienced a twinge of guilt over being less than completely straightforward with him.

In all truthfulness, she said, “We’re hoping for the best possible outcome.”

“Must be tough, being a doctor, having a patient you can’t cure.”

“Tougher than you can imagine.”

“I guess it’s like me having an unsolved case. It gnaws at you.”