Addison Winston sat on the hood of his Porsche, dangling his legs as he engaged in a staring contest with the wary stray, trying to win over a dog with his professional smile. The lawyer shrugged and turned to Oren. "I've got a great lawsuit to pitch to my client. Did you see those news broadcasts? He can get millions from the TV station and the California Bureau. But Hannah won't let me inside."

"The CBI agent had nothing to do with what happened last night."

"Sally's interview incited the-"

"That was no interview. That was an ambush."

"Why let the truth get in the way of a tasty lawsuit?"

Oren climbed the steps to the front door and leaned down to pet the yellow stray. "Don't press your luck with any more cops. That bogus settlement in LA might come back to bite you."

"We had a deal, Oren."

"Your client is the wild card. I think he's putting it together all by himself. When Hannah barred the door, she probably did you a favor."

News of attempted vehicular homicide traveled fast.

The judge and Hannah were sitting at the table when Oren entered William Swahn's kitchen. Their conversation suddenly stopped.

That was a clue.

His father winked at the housekeeper, and then looked up with a pretense of shock. "I heard Belle Winston tried to run you down."

Hannah smiled. "Never dull, is it? I love this town." She rose from the table to fetch another cup and pour him some coffee.

Oren thanked her when she set it down in front of him, and then he let the two of them sit and wait. The judge was foiled by his own policy of never asking an obvious question, such as why would the Winston girl try to kill him? Oren sipped his coffee-slowly-and slowly he set down his cup to gaze out the window and watch the clouds roll by-while listening to his father's tapping foot beneath the table.

Finally, he said to no one in particular, " Alice Friday moved to Coventry a year after Josh disappeared. She knows Mrs. Winston, but she didn't recognize the daughter."

"Well, Belle's only been back for a few months," said Hannah. "I guess she's never been to one of Alice 's séances."

"But over all these years…" He splayed his hands to ask how this lack of recognition was possible in a town the size of a postage stamp.

Hannah countered by holding up three fingers. "In all that time, Belle's only made three visits home that I know of. And I don't think the girl ever stayed a whole day."

So Isabelle Winston had been another exile. Had she also been sent away after Josh vanished? Or had she run away?

Cable Babitt's jeep rounded the last curve on the way to his house. He spotted the CBI agent's Taurus parked in the turnout just beyond his driveway. Her black sedan slowly pulled into the road and drove off.

That bitch! She had waited for him. She wanted him to see her.

He left the jeep's door hanging open and ran to the back of his garage. The cordwood was still neatly stacked against the rear wall, and there were no signs of disturbance among the individual logs. But he had to know for certain if the knapsack was still there, or he would get no sleep tonight. One by one, he pulled down the logs and flung them away. At last, he uncovered the bright green canvas wadded up inside the plastic bag. Perhaps it had been a mistake to move it from his former hiding place in the toolshed.

The cellar would be better, safer from Sally Polk. She'd never get in there without the proper paperwork, and that woman had burned her bridges with warrants in this county.

Half an hour later, he opened the storm doors that led him up to the light of his backyard, and he emerged from the cellar a satisfied man. Josh's knapsack was safe in its new resting place under piles of storage cartons and suitcases.

"Oh, goddamn."

He caught sight of the wind-whipped hem of a flowery dress, just a flash of material from behind the back wall of his garage. That bitch!

He rounded the corner and there was Sally Polk, standing in the middle of his cast-off firewood. The logs he had strewn all about the yard now advertised something once hidden in the woodpile and removed with great haste-and fear.

But the damn woman only made cheerful small talk while he sweated on a cool morning.

26

The judge sat in a wooden armchair beside Hannah's empty porch rocker, and the yellow stray stretched out at his feet. The man and the dog had been napping in the sun. But now the animal raised his floppy ears, and his eyes opened. Henry Hobbs also heard the sound of a car's engine.

The CBI agent parked her black Taurus in front of the house. She stepped out of the car with a wave of hello. The dog pronounced her harmless when he laid his head down on his front paws and closed his eyes. The judge was not so charitable in his view of this woman.

Harmless indeed.

Sally Polk approached the porch, and the judge stood up, as he would for any woman, lady or sociopath. And his tone was civil when he addressed her. "So you've come to vandalize the rest of my house."

"Oh, no. Today I'm on best behavior." Slinging her purse strap over one shoulder, she climbed the steps and paused to glance at Hannah's rocking chair. She waited for a nod from her host, and then she sat down. "Judge, I know you pulled the strings to take those homicides away from me."

"You don't know anything of the kind." And now that he had called her bluff, he matched her smile and made his wider. He remained standing, a pointed suggestion for a short visit.

She settled her handbag on her lap, a sign that she was not leaving anytime soon. "I know you've got a vested interest in a backwoods investigation."

"You mean Cable? He's the one with jurisdiction. The state of California has no interest here. My son's grave is on private land-a county matter."

"Only because Mrs. Straub's government lease was rescinded. I hear the paperwork to kill those old mineral rights went through in one day. Well, let me tell you-that gave heart attacks to a pack of bureaucrats down in Sacramento. They've never seen paper fly so fast. I'm guessing that's thanks to you. Oh, and Addison, too. He seems to be everybody's lawyer this week."

"I'm sure the sheriff will make a competent investigation."

"We both know that's a lie." She opened her purse and pulled out a photograph. "Maybe you forgot. Your son shared that grave with someone else." She held out the picture, leaving him no choice but to take it. "That's Mary Kent. A common name-easy to forget."

He looked down at the face of a girl-so young-with long blond hair, immortal when she smiled for the camera, smiling down a long hallway of doors opening, life unfolding. At this frozen moment, she could never have imagined her death.

"That's an old passport photo," said Sally Polk. "She was in her mid-thirties when she died."

"But you thought this photo of a youngster would make a much better inducement for cooperation."

"No, that's not it. I couldn't find any family albums with a more recent picture. There's no family. No close friends, either. So you got lucky, Judge. No one's gonna care if Cable Babitt screws up this case. Mary Kent's got nobody to fight for her."

He handed the picture back to Sally Polk, but the CBI agent waved it away.

"No, sir. You keep that." She settled back in Hannah's chair, rocking slowly, and the floorboards creaked. "The County Sheriff 's Office has a team of investigators, but Cable's working this case on his own. That's the way you wanted it, right? A bumbling idiot in charge? That smells of collusion. It reeks." She looked out over the meadow, rocking, rocking. "What pretty wildflowers." In the same harmless tone, she said, "I think you're protecting Oren. I've seen his Army record. He's more than just a world-class cop. That boy knows how to kill."