She felt tense. Before this summer she had never interacted with the police, and now she felt like that was all she did. They made her nervous, but if she could get through tonight, James Harris would no longer be her problem. All she had to do was convince the police that he was a drug dealer, they’d start looking into his affairs, and all his secrets would come spilling out. And she wasn’t doing it alone; she had her book club.

Patricia wondered what they would have said if she told them that she thought James Harris was a vampire. Or something like that. She wasn’t sure of the exact terminology, but that would do until a better name came along. How else to explain that thing coming out of his face? How else to explain his aversion to going out in sunlight, his insistence on being invited inside, the fact that the marks on the children and on Mrs. Savage all looked like bites?

When she’d tried to perform CPR on him he had looked sick and weak and at least ten years older. When she saw him the following week he’d positively glowed with health. What had happened in between? Francine had gone missing. Had he eaten her? Sucked her blood? He’d certainly done something.

When she got rid of her prejudices and considered the facts, vampire was the theory that fit best. Fortunately, she’d never have to say it out loud to anyone because this was just about finished. She didn’t care how they ran him out of town, she just wanted him gone.

She went downstairs and jumped when she saw Kitty waving at her through the window by the front door. Slick stood behind her.

“I know we’re a half hour early,” Kitty said as Patricia let them in. “But I couldn’t sit around at home doing nothing.”

Slick had dressed conservatively in a knee-length navy skirt and a white blouse with a blue batik vest over it. Kitty, on the other hand, had apparently lost her mind right before she got dressed. She wore a red blouse bedazzled with red rhinestones and a huge floral skirt. Looking at her made Patricia’s eyes hurt.

Patricia put them in the den, then went to make sure Korey had her bedroom door closed, then checked the driveway, and walked back into the den just as Maryellen opened the front door.

“Yoo-hoo? Am I too early?” Maryellen called.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Patricia hollered.

“Ed went to pick up the detectives,” Maryellen said, coming in and putting her purse on the den table. She took two business cards out of her day planner. “Detective Claude D. Cannon and Detective Gene Bussell. He says Gene is from Georgia but Claude is local and they’re both good. They’ll listen to us. He can’t promise how they’ll react, but they’ll listen.”

They each examined the cards for lack of anything else to do.

Grace walked into the den.

“The door was open,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Do you want some coffee?” Patricia asked.

“No, thank you,” Grace said. “Bennett is at a heart association dinner. He won’t be back until late.”

“Horse is at the Yacht Club with Leland,” Kitty said. “Again.”

As July had gotten hotter, Leland had convinced Horse to put what money he could scrape together into Gracious Cay. Then the Dow had surged and Carter had cashed out some AT&T shares Patricia’s father had given them as a wedding present and he’d put that money into Gracious Cay, too. The three men had all started going out for dinner together, or meeting for drinks at the back bar of the Yacht Club. Patricia didn’t know where Carter found the time, but male bonding seemed to be the in thing these days.

“Patricia,” Grace said, pulling a sheet of paper from her purse. “I wrote all your talking points down in an outline just in case you needed to jog your thoughts.”

Patricia looked at the handwritten list, numbered and lettered in Grace’s careful calligraphy.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Do you want to go over it again?” Grace asked.

“How many times are we going to hear this?” Kitty asked.

“Until we have it right,” Grace said. “This is the most serious thing we’ve ever done in our lives.”

“I can’t keep hearing about those children,” Kitty moaned. “It’s horrible.”

“Let me see it,” Maryellen said, reaching toward Patricia.

Patricia handed her the paper and Maryellen scanned it.

“Lord help us,” she said. “They’re going to think we’re a bunch of crazies.”

They sat around Patricia’s kitchen table. The living room had fresh cut flowers in it, the furniture was new, and the lights were just right. They didn’t want to go onstage until it was time. No one had much to say. Patricia went over her list in her head.

“It’s eight o’clock,” Grace said. “Should we move to the living room?”

People pushed back their chairs, but Patricia felt like she needed to say something, give some kind of pep talk, before they committed themselves to this.

“I want everyone to know,” Patricia said, and they all stopped to listen. “Once the police get here there is no turning back. I hope everyone’s prepared for that?”

“I just want to go back to talking about books,” Kitty said. “I want this all to be over with.”

“Whatever he’s done,” Grace said, “I don’t think James Harris is going to want to call any more attention to himself after tonight. Once the police start asking him questions, I’m sure he’ll leave the Old Village quietly.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Slick said.

“I just wish there were another way,” Kitty said, shoulders slumping.

“We all do,” Patricia said. “But there isn’t.”

“The police will be discreet,” Maryellen said. “And this will all be over very quickly.”

“Will y’all join me in a moment of prayer?” Slick asked.

They bowed their heads and joined hands, even Maryellen.

“Heavenly Father,” Slick said. “Give us strength in our mission, and make us righteous in your cause. In thy name we pray, amen.”

Single file, they walked through the dining room and into the living room, where they arranged themselves and Patricia realized her error.

“We need water,” she said. “I forgot to put out ice water.”

“I’ll get it,” Grace said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

She brought the water back at five after eight. Everyone adjusted and readjusted their skirts, their collars, their necklaces and earrings. Slick took her three rings off, then put them back on, then took them off again, and put them back on one more time. It was 8:10, then 8:15.

“Where are they?” Maryellen muttered to herself.

Grace checked the inside of her wrist.

“Ed doesn’t have a car phone, does he?” Patricia asked. “Because we could call if he does and see where he is.”

“Let’s just sit tight,” Maryellen suggested.

At 8:30 they heard a car pull up in the driveway, then another.

“That’s Ed and the detectives,” Maryellen said.

Everyone came awake, sat up straighter, touched her hair to make sure it was in place. Patricia walked to the window.

“Is it them?” Kitty asked.

“No,” Patricia said, as they heard car doors slam. “It’s Carter.”

CHAPTER 21

“Did he forget something?” Maryellen asked behind her.

Patricia looked out the window and felt everything falling apart around her. She watched as Carter and Blue got out of the Buick and Leland’s BMW parked behind them. She saw Bennett’s little Mitsubishi pickup drive past the end of their driveway and park at his house, and then Bennett got out and came up her drive, joining Carter and Blue. Ed emerged from the back seat of Leland’s gold BMW in a short-sleeved shirt tucked into his blue jeans, wearing a knit tie. Rumpled old Horse hauled himself out of the passenger side of Leland’s car and hitched up his pants. Leland got out of the driver’s seat and pulled on his summer-weight, polyester blazer.

“Who is it?” Kitty asked from the sofa.

Maryellen got up and stood next to Patricia, and Patricia felt her stiffen.

“Patricia?” Grace asked. “Maryellen? Who all’s there?”

The men shook hands and Carter saw Patricia standing in the window and said something to the rest of them and they trooped up to the front porch in single file.

“All of them,” Patricia said.

The front door opened, and Carter walked into the hall, Blue right behind him. Then came Ed, who saw Maryellen standing at the base of the stairs and stopped. The rest of the men piled up behind him, hot evening air billowing in around them.

“Ed,” Maryellen said. “Where are Detectives Cannon and Bussell?”

“They’re not coming,” he said, fiddling with his tie.

He stepped toward her, to take her shoulder or stroke her cheek, and she jerked herself backward, stopping at the base of the banister, holding on to it with both hands.

“Were they ever coming?” she asked.

Keeping eye contact, he shook his head. Patricia put one hand on Maryellen’s shoulder, and it hummed beneath her like a high-tension line. The two of them stood aside as Carter sent Blue upstairs and the men filed past them and crowded into the living room. Carter waited until they were all inside, then gestured to Patricia like a waiter ushering her to her table.