And her crew was pissed off on her behalf. Having people in your corner, even if it was only to express outrage and support, was always a bright side.

Plus her new countertops and backsplash kicked serious ass. That knocked her level of stress down several notches. The streaks and specks of warm gold, flecks of black and white against rich chocolate brown set off her cabinets. And, Jesus, her copper hardware would just pop. She’d been right, so absolutely right, to go for the waterfall edging. She couldn’t believe how long and hard she’d stressed over that. It gave the counters such presence, such authority.

Cilla ran her hand over the island as she might a lover’s warm, naked flesh, and all but purred.

“Pretty dark, especially with this half acre of the stuff you’ve got in here.”

Cilla merely looked over, tipped her head and spoke in the tone she’d use to a naughty little boy. “Buddy.”

His lips twisted, but the attempt to defeat the smile failed. “I guess it looks all right. Cabinets are nice, anyway. Got a forest of them in here, but having the glass fronts on some breaks it up a little. I’ll get your sinks mounted. Be back tomorrow after they’ve cured to hook up the plumbing, the dishwasher and the faucets. Don’t know why anybody’d want copper for faucets.”

“I’m just crazy that way.”

“Crazy some way. Are you going to help me mount these sinks, or just stand around looking like the canary-eating cat?”

While they worked on the first undermount, Buddy whistled through his teeth. A few bars in, Cilla caught herself humming with him.

“‘I’ll Get By,’” Cilla said. “My grandmother’s signature song.”

“Guess the mind wanders to her in here. Got that clamp on there?”

“It’s on.”

“Let’s test the fit then. Second time I put a sink in this place.”

“Really?”

“Put in the one you’re replacing for your grandmother. That’s been going on forty, forty-five years, I expect. Probably time for a new. That’s right, that’s right,” he murmured. “That’s a good fit. That’s a good one.” He marked the location for the mounting clips.

“Let’s lift her out.”

Cilla gripped the two-by-four clamped to the sink. “You and your father did a lot of the work around here back then.”

“Still got plenty.”

“You did a lot for Andrew Morrow.”

“That’s a fact. We did all the plumbing for Skyline Development. Thirty-three houses,” he said, taking out his drill. “That job made it so I could buy one of those houses. Lived there thirty-seven years come October. A lot of people got their homes because of Drew Morrow. I’ve fixed the johns in most of them.”

AFTER THE TWO sinks were mounted, Cilla went outside to hunt up her father. She’d kept him off the scaffolding that morning, conning him into “doing her a favor” and painting her shutters.

It looked as if he was having as much fun running the paint sprayer as he had hanging up three stories. “Take a break?” she asked and offered a bottle of water.

“Sure can.” He gave her arm a quick rub. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better since I got to work. Better yet when I stand staring at my counters with a big, sloppy smile on my face. Something occurred to me when I was working with Buddy. How he and his father did some work here. Dobby did, too. I’m wondering who else who’s working here now, or who I didn’t hire, or who’s retired, might’ve worked on the place when Janet had it. Maybe they’re pissed off because I’m changing it. It’s no crazier than Hennessy trying to run me down for something that happened before I was born.”

“I’d have to think about it. I was a teenager, Cilla. I can’t say I’d have paid much attention.”

He took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair. “There were gardeners, of course. The grounds were a showplace. I’ll ask Charlie if he remembers who she had for that. I do remember she had what you’d call caretakers. A couple who’d look after things when she wasn’t here, which was more than not. They’d open the house up when she was expected, that sort of thing. Mr. and Mrs. Jorganson. They’ve both been gone for years.”

“What about carpentry, electrical, painting?”

“Maybe Carl Kroger. He did a lot of handyman work back then. I’ll ask about that, but I know he retired some years ago. Florida maybe. I only remember that because I went to school with his daughter, and I ended up teaching her daughter. I can’t see Mary Beth Kroger-that’s Marks, now-giving you this kind of trouble.”

“It’s probably a stupid idea. Just another straw grasped at.”

“Cilla, I don’t mean to make it worse, or give you more to worry about, but have you considered that whoever’s doing this has a grudge directed at you? You, not Janet Hardy’s granddaughter?”

“For what? I’m a former child star, a failed adult actress who recorded a couple of moderately successful CDs. My only ties to this area were to her, and you. You, Patty and Angie were literally the only people I knew when I came here. And let’s be honest, I didn’t know any of you that well. I’ve dumped a few hundred thousand into the local economy. I can’t see how that would piss anyone off.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s the dolls. It’s such a direct strike at you. More than the vandalism, Cilla. Mutilating those dolls, the child you were, seems so much more personal than the rest.”

She studied him. “Are you here to paint, or to keep an eye on me?”

“I can do both. At least until school starts up. The summer’s flown by,” he said, looking past her. “I’ll miss being around here, the way I’ve been able to. We’ve made a lot of progress since June.”

You and I. She understood the words he didn’t say. “We have. Despite everything, it’s been the best summer of my life.”

FORD WATCHED WHILE Cilla hung shutters her father had painted on the front windows. The scent of the paint hung in the air, along with grass, heat and the dianthus in a big blue pot on the veranda.

“I just want to finish this off. You don’t have to hover.”

“I’m not hovering. I’m observing. There’s something satisfying about sitting on a summer day and watching somebody else work.”

She spared him a glance as he sat, at ease. “You know, I could teach you how to set a few screws.”

“Why would I need to do that when I’ve got you?”

“I’ll ignore that since you bought me that very pretty planter. And the steaks you’ve promised to grill-on the grill I assembled.”

“Corn on the cob, too, and tomatoes fresh from the roadside stand. We’ll have ourselves a feast.”

She tested the shutter, checked it with her level, then moved to the next.

“Before we move to feasting,” he continued, “let’s get less pleasant business out of the way. I went by the Hennessy place this morning. She’s not there,” he added when Cilla glanced back. “Hasn’t been there, according to her neighbor, for a couple of weeks. One supposition is she went down to Petersburg, to be close to the state hospital where they have him. That’s proved out.”

“How do you know?”

“I called the most likely hotels and motels in the area. She’s registered at the Holiday Inn Express.”

“Aren’t you the clever detective?” she replied.

“Taught the Seeker everything he knows. Or vice versa. Anyway, I considered driving down, but it struck me as a waste of time. It’s better than a hundred miles one way, Cilla. It’s hard to believe she’d drive more than two hundred miles, in what had to be the middle of the night, to pose a doll she’d shot in the damn head in your mailbox. If she wanted to get at you, why move herself so far off when she’s got a house twenty minutes away?”

He knew how to put things together, Cilla thought. Into panels that followed a logical line. “I hate that that’s realistic, that it rings true for me. Because it would be easier, simpler, if it was her. If I can’t believe that, I have to know it’s someone else. That someone else hates me.”