“No, no, it’s okay.” He went to the table and took a seat, feeling anything but okay.

Why would she run off like that? Had something come up on the case? If so, why didn’t she share whatever it was with him?

Whatever it was, why hadn’t she shared it with him?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Excusing himself, he went outside and dialed John Mancini’s number.

“John, it’s Sam. Have you heard from Fiona today?”

John hesitated for just a beat too long.

Sam didn’t give him time to respond. “What’s come up on the case that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing’s come up on the case, Sam,” John replied.

“Fiona was here, in Nebraska, with me. She left at the crack of dawn. Are you telling me you haven’t heard from her this morning?”

“I’ve heard from her, yes.”

“So where is she?”

John took his time answering. “There was an emergency. She needed to be somewhere.”

“John, cut the cryptic crap, will you? Where did she go?” Sam had to work at not sounding as desperate as he felt.

“She’ll have to discuss that with you herself, Sam. It isn’t my place to-”

“What kind of bullshit is this? Is she on some kind of secret mission or something?”

“It’s a personal thing. If she wants to tell you about it, she will.” John sighed. “Sam, we all have our secrets. If Fiona wants to share hers with you, she will. Right now, I suspect she’s having a very hard time, so respect that, will you?”

“Sure. Thanks a lot.”

“She did ask that we send some backup out there, so you can expect a few more agents to show up before the day is over.”

“Well, they won’t exactly be backup, now, will they? Since there’s no agent here to back up?”

Sam disconnected the call and walked back into the kitchen, an uneasy feeling spreading through him. What had been so important that she’d leave without telling him? He’d thought they’d forged a bond, not just the night before, but over the past week. Why would she just walk out?

“Everything all right?” Tom asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Sam said.

“Here’s your coffee.” Kitty handed him a cup and pointed to the chair next to Tom. “Sit down and help yourself before it gets cold.”

“So what’s on the news this morning, momma?” Tom asked his wife, who’d been watching one of the early morning TV shows on a small set on the counter since dawn.

“Oh, the usual. The president is giving a speech on the economy at one this afternoon. They found remains of a small child in the Arizona desert last night-they think it might be that little girl who went missing from Cleveland last month. Your favorite baseball team lost again. The guy who used to play the cop on that TV show set in Boston-you know the one, it’s been in reruns forever, we used to watch it all the time. Anyway, he’s in the hospital and they don’t think he’s going to make it. Oh, and a private plane crashed in Nevada, right outside of Reno. They don’t know if there were any survivors.”

Tom looked up at Sam and said, “I don’t have to watch a minute of TV to keep up with the news. I can always count on my wife to keep me up to the minute. It’s a miracle she can get breakfast on the table in the morning, she’s so glued to that set.”

“I like to know what’s going on in my world when I start the day,” Kitty said, defending her TV habit. “Besides, I like the folks on this show. They always have good guests. I like hearing points of view other than the ones held by certain members of this family.”

Tom rolled his eyes, passed his brother the platter of pancakes, and with his customary sarcasm, said, “Now, little brother, tell me what your plans are for today, and how you’re going to go about making Nebraska safe for DelVecchios.”

TWENTY

Has Susanna gotten here yet?” Robert looked anxiously out the kitchen window.

Trula glanced at the clock on the oven.

“It’s barely eight o’clock in the morning, Robert. Susanna usually isn’t here until eight thirty.”

“Maybe she’s hung over,” he said. “Do you think maybe she has a hangover?”

She frowned. “Have you ever known Susanna to drink too much?”

“First time for everything,” he muttered.

“Why would you even think such a thing?”

“She went out drinking last night with that FBI guy who’s supposed to be looking for my son. Not trying to make moves on my… employees.”

Trula sighed. “Robert, they went to dinner.”

“Dinner usually means wine,” he reminded her. “And it was the third time this week.”

“Dear lord, Robert, the woman’s allowed to have a life.”

He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and Trula turned around, her hands on her hips.

“You know, Rob, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Yeah, well, you do know me better, so you know I’m not.”

Trula laughed out loud. He scowled and started to say something when they heard a car in the driveway. Trula peered out the window, and chuckled.

“Well, here comes that old drunk now. Maybe I should get out the aspirin. Maybe I should be making Bloody Marys instead of orange juice this morning.”

“Maybe you can forget the part about the hangover,” he said as Susanna breezed in the back door.

“Who has a hangover?” she asked.

“No one.” He waved off the question.

“Robert thought you might,” Trula said, ignoring the dirty look he shot in her direction. “Because you were late.”

“Why would you think that?” Susanna frowned as she poured her coffee. “And I wasn’t late. Actually, I’m early.”

He chose not to answer, pretending instead to be absorbed in the morning paper.

“So how are we this morning?” Susanna asked him.

“Fine,” he replied coolly from behind the front page.

“Did you want me for some reason, Robert?”

“No, why?”

“Because you seemed concerned that I wasn’t here.”

“I wasn’t concerned. I was just… curious, that’s all.”

A moment later, he asked, “How’s Agent Parrish?”

“He’s fine.”

“How was dinner?’

“Great. Terrific. We went to Loki over in Toby Falls.” She looked over that morning’s plate of muffins and picked one that she recognized as peach and pecan, one of her favorites. “They have a new chef. You should try it sometime. The fish was excellent.”

Robert’s reply was a grouchy hrrrmph.

Susanna smiled from ear to ear, and winked con-spiratorially at Trula.

“The new décor is lovely, by the way, Trula. All in chocolate brown and pale blue.”

“I’ll have to try it some night.” Trula smiled back. Robert was still hiding behind his newspaper.

“Let me know when you’d like to go and I’ll go with you,” Susanna told her. “I’d love to go back. Maybe we can go on Friday.”

“Maybe Agent Parrish will take you,” Robert grumped.

It was all Trula could do not to laugh out loud.

Susanna let it ride. Years of working for Robert had taught her when to change the subject. She leaned against the countertop and asked, “Robert, what’s the one thing you always said you most admire about me?”

“Is this a trick question?” He lowered the paper.

“No, seriously. What is it you first noticed about me?”

He looked her up and down, head to toe, not sure what he was being asked. “This is a trick question.”

“Robert…”

“Okay. Well, I guess your organizational skills.” Good answer, he told himself.

“Which are legendary, I don’t mind saying, but no. That’s not what I had in mind.”

“Your sense of humor?” He tried again.

“Also fine, but no once again.”

“I don’t know, Suse.” He looked up at her, wondering what she was getting at. “The fact that you know me better than just about anyone and yet you like me anyway?”

“Good one, but guess again.”

“That you’re smarter than any woman I know? That you have great legs? That you’re very insightful?”