“Only yellow farmhouse in the county. Only yellow farmhouse with a door that shade of blue in the state, or so Kitty insists. She could be wrong, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her that.”

Sam continued past the front porch to park near the barn.

“Later, when there’s more light, I’ll show you where the old sod house stood,” he told her. “If you’re interested, that is.”

“Minored in American history,” she replied. “Of course I’m interested.”

They got out of the car and Fiona stopped once to inhale deeply.

“It smells so good here,” she said.

“Smells like home.” He took a deep breath, too, before walking toward the house.

“Don’t you ever miss it?” She caught up to him. “It’s so beautiful here. I don’t know that I’d ever want to leave.”

“I do miss it sometimes,” he admitted. “Not enough to move back full-time, but yeah, I do miss it. Life is very different here than any place I’ve ever been.”

“How often do you come back?” she asked as they reached the porch steps.

“Not often enough.” A tall man stood in the open doorway. Within seconds he’d crossed the porch to embrace Sam. The two men held on for a long moment, then pushed back from each other. “I couldn’t believe it when Kitty said you’d called and that you were on your way home.”

“So you got my message?”

“Sure, I got it.”

“Why didn’t you call me back?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t figure I had to. I knew you were coming. You knew you were coming.” Tom DelVecchio looked past Sam to Fiona, who stood on the top step. “Hey, who’s this? Sam, you brought a woman home with you?”

“Ahhh, Tom, this is Fiona Summers. She’s working with me on a case.” Sam stepped aside to allow Fiona to step onto the porch. “Fiona, meet my brother, Tom.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tom said. He turned back to Sam. “I thought you said you left the FBI.”

“I did.”

“Then what case-”

“Let’s go inside, Tom. That’s what we’re here to talk about…”

Tom’s wife, Kitty, a diminutive gamine with short curly dark hair, was already up and had coffee on. The four sat around the worn round table in the kitchen and Sam spelled out what brought Fiona and him to Nebraska. When he finished, Tom sat drop-jawed across the table from him.

Kitty was the first to speak. “You are seriously freaking me out, Sam.”

“I have to admit to being a little freaked out myself,” he replied.

“You think someone is killing all these people to get back at you for something?” Tom said incredulously.

“It looks that way.” Sam nodded. “Actually, with this latest murder, I’m thinking the killer is someone from around here. Someone we know.”

“Here?” Tom’s eyes went wide.

“That’s crazy, Sam.” The coffeemaker beeped and Kitty got up from the table. “I can’t think of one person who would want to harm you.” Her head was shaking side to side emphatically as she grabbed mugs from a cupboard and placed them on the table. “And those other things you said this killer has done… uh-uh. No one around here would do something disgusting like that.”

“Kitty, it’s been my experience that you can never count anyone out. It seems like it’s always the guy you’d least expect. The friend you trusted for years. The next-door neighbor who was always so nice, maybe mowed your lawn when you were away. Someone always says, ‘I can’t believe it’s him. He was always so nice.’ Or, ‘He was such a good boy.’ Believe me when I tell you that you cannot tell the good guys from the bad guys just by looking at them.”

“So what do we do?” Tom still appeared bewildered.

“The first thing we do is figure out how we’re going to keep you and the kids safe until this is over,” Sam said softly.

“I thought you said the killer was after you.” Kitty froze halfway to the table, the coffeepot in one hand and a pitcher of cream in the other.

“I think I’m his ultimate goal,” Sam told her, “but he still has two more ‘acts’ to go. I figure he’s saving the last one for me, but I can’t rule out him trying to get to someone I care about for the sixth victim.”

“We need to call Andrea.” Kitty placed the pot on a trivet on the table and grabbed for the phone. “She and Pete need to be warned.”

“Warned about what?” Tommy, her oldest son, came into the kitchen, all legs and shaggy hair, in baggy shorts and a bright green tank top. “Hey, Uncle Sam.” He shook Sam’s hand, then did some sort of elbow bump thing that Sam would still be trying to figure out an hour later.

Sam introduced Fiona, and Tommy acknowledged her with a nod. “FBI lady. Cool.”

“Mom, are we going to have breakfast? I have football practice at seven thirty and if I wait too long to eat, I’ll be spewing eggs all over the field.”

“Thank you for that visual, Thomas.” Kitty moved away from the phone to the refrigerator. “Of course we’re having breakfast. Sam? Fiona? Bacon and eggs all right with you?”

“Better than all right.” Sam nodded.

“Tell me what I can do to help,” Fiona said.

“Nothing, really. Sit.” Kitty pointed to Fiona’s chair.

“I’ve been sitting for hours. At least let me set the table. Or make toast or something.” Fiona added, “I can make toast.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Kitty pointed to a nearby cupboard. “Plates are in there.”

“So what are we being warned about?” Tommy asked.

“There’s been a murder in Henderson Falls.” Sam chose his words carefully. He’d been hoping that his nephew would have forgotten what he’d heard when he first came into the room.

“No sh…” Tommy caught the look his mother shot from across the room. “No fooling? A murder?”

“I’m afraid so,” Sam told him.

“Anyone we know, Dad?”

“I didn’t catch the name,” Tom said. “Sam, do you know who the victim is?”

“A man named Perillo. Jerry Perillo.”

“That name familiar to you, Kitty?” Tom asked. “Jerry Perillo?”

“I think there’s a kid named Perillo in school. I think he’s a freshman. Jody would know,” Tommy said thoughtfully.

“Jody’s in high school already?” Sam frowned. “How did that happen?”

“Sam. It’s been more than two years since you’ve been here,” Kitty reminded him.

“I can’t believe it’s been that long.” Sam shook his head.

“Wait till you see how big Gil is now. It won’t be long before he’ll be almost as tall as you,” Tom told him.

Over the next ten minutes, the other two children-fourteen-year-old Jody and ten-year-old Gil-joined them in the kitchen. There was a lot of chatter amidst the passing of platters of eggs and bacon and toast, one spilled glass of juice and several refills of the coffeepot before Tommy stood and announced that he had to leave.

“I’m not ready,” Jody complained.

“Me, either,” Gil said.

“Then get ready if you want a ride with me,” he told them. “Else wait for the bus.”

“I can’t wait for the bus,” Jody whined as she dashed out of the room. “I have cheerleading and besides the bus is always late…”

Her voice trailed behind her as she raced up the steps.

Gil shoveled one more forkful of eggs into his mouth before following his siblings from the room.

“Tommy.” Sam followed him into the front hall. “What we talked about before… let’s keep it between us for now. I’m not sure it’s out there yet.”

“Okay. Sure.” The boy nodded.

“In case the family… you know.”

“Gotcha. I won’t say anything to anyone. Not even Jody.” Tommy grinned. “Especially Jody.”

“Thanks.” Sam slapped him lightly on the back before heading into the kitchen.

“Hey, Uncle Sammy,” Tommy called to him. “We have an open practice this afternoon. That’s where people can come and watch us practice. We’re going to be good this year. Coach thinks we could even win our division.”

“That’s great, Tommy. Good luck.”

“They moved me to wide receiver, just like you played.” Tommy went uncharacteristically shy for a moment. “Maybe you could come and watch this afternoon.”