Bury the dead.

The dinner hour at the DelVecchio farm had been a much subdued one. The kids ate earlier, Kitty having cooked hot dogs on the grill for the agents before they took up their evening posts. At eight thirty, Sam was sitting in the kitchen with Kitty and Tom when his phone rang.

“Sam, it’s Trula. Are you near a TV?” she asked excitedly. Without waiting for an answer, she said, “You have to put on Entertainment World Today. Right now. Hurry.”

Sam watched little television and had no idea what Entertainment World Today might be, but he asked Kitty if she knew the show.

“Sure.”

“Can you put it on right now?” He covered the receiver with his hand. “Someone thinks there’s something on that I need to see.” He rolled his eyes.

Kitty turned on the TV and found the show.

“There. What’s the story?” Kitty leaned closer to the set. “Oh, my,” she said. “Isn’t that…?”

“Fiona,” he said and without thinking, hung up on Trula. He approached the set and leaned in.

“… Fiona O’Neill, who played Hugh Davenport’s daughter, had rushed to the bedside of her TV dad,” the male voice-over announced.

Fiona, dark glasses covering her face, her hair pulled back in a bun, was filmed as she left the cemetery holding the arm of a woman who was similarly dressed in black.

“Fiona, how long has it been since you’ve seen Hugh?” a reporter called out.

Then another: “Fiona, did you make it to the hospital on time?”

“Fiona, are you back in California for good? Is there any truth to the rumor that you’re going to be doing a pilot for Fox?”

Without acknowledging any of them, Fiona turned her face and got into a waiting car.

“What the hell…?” Sam said aloud to no one in particular.

“See, Tom?” Kitty punched her husband on the arm. “I told you she looked familiar.”

“Who is she?” Tom put his newspaper down.

“She was Fiona O’Neill. Remember? Little Nora on McGuire, Boston PD? You used to watch it all the time when it was on.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tom nodded. “It’s still on cable. That was Sam’s Fiona…?” He turned to look at his brother, who still appeared dumbstruck. “Sam? You look like you didn’t know, either.”

Sam shook his head. “Completely blindsided me. I had no idea. She never mentioned it.”

He walked from the room and went upstairs, where he called her number.

“You’ve reached Special Agent Fiona Summers. Please leave a message…”

Damn.

“Fiona, it’s Sam. I know your secret. I don’t give a crap about any of that. Just call me and let me know when you’ll be back so I can be there when your plane lands.” He paused, then added, “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you’re okay.” Another pause while he debated whether or not to tell her about Drew. He decided against it. She looked as if she’d had enough for a few days. There’d be no avoiding it once she returned, but for now, he skipped it. “Anyway, call me when you get this. Please.”

TWENTY-FOUR

The call came at seven the following evening, just as they were finishing dinner.

“It’s Fiona,” she said, as if he wouldn’t recognize her voice. “I’m on my way back.”

“Where and when?” he asked.

“I’m being dropped off in Brightcliffe. We looked at the map, and that appears to be the closest airport to Blackstone. If it’s too far, I can-”

“No, no, it’s not a problem. What time does your plane land?”

“A little after two in the morning. I’m sorry, it’s such an odd time, but the offer was made and I hated to turn it down and then try to get a commercial flight.” She paused. “Did you know there are no direct commercial flights into Nebraska from here? Not even into Omaha.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’ll see you soon.”

Sam waited to hear her hang up before he did, and then slipped the phone back into his pants pocket. He walked outside and looked around at the vehicles in the yard, then went back into the kitchen where Kitty was feeding the agents in shifts. She was an accomplished cook who wouldn’t hear of them driving in to town to eat.

“Luke,” Sam motioned to him from the doorway. “Could I speak with you for a minute?”

“Sure.” Luke excused himself from the table where he’d just finished eating, and followed Sam out to the back porch. “What’s up?”

“I need to use your car,” Sam told him.

“Sure. Where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to pick up Fiona.”

“No can do, bud.” Luke shook his head. “I’m here to keep an eye on you. There’s no going off the reservation.”

“First of all, I agreed to have you guys here to keep an eye on my family. I can take care of myself, but I can’t watch everyone else at the same time. That’s why you’re here. Look, I won’t be leaving until after midnight, and I’m only going to be driving for an hour.” Well, it would be closer to two, but what was the difference? “Fiona is on her way back. I told her I’d pick her up at the airport.”

“Sam, what if this guy’s watching the house? He follows you? Game over.”

“Even if he’s watching the house-which I doubt, since everyone has to sleep at some point-he won’t know it’s me driving the car. The windows are tinted. I’ll even let you loan me your spiffy jacket with FBI on the back. He won’t know who’s behind the wheel, so he’d have no reason to follow me.”

Sam sensed that Luke was softening, so he added, “Fiona and I have some things we need to talk about. I’d do it for you, Luke.”

“Are you carrying?” Luke asked.

“Not at this moment, but I have my Glock upstairs. It’ll make the ride with me.”

Luke took the keys from his pocket and handed them over. “If anything happens…”

“Nothing will. I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone.”

“If you’re not here when I get up tomorrow morning, I’m putting out an APB. And I’m telling Mancini you stole the keys.”

“Fair enough.” Sam pocketed the keys and slapped Luke on the back. “Thanks, buddy. Let’s go back in and see if Kitty is serving dessert yet. She makes one mean peach cobbler…”

The drive through the Nebraska countryside was dark but fast. The road ahead was practically a straight line through farm fields that seemed to stretch on forever. The night sky was clear and the stars as bright as he remembered. There was no other place he’d been where they’d shone more brilliantly. A very rare wave of something that was not quite homesickness washed over him. It wasn’t that he was sorry he’d left, or that he wanted to stay, he told himself, but it was good to be back, if only for a little while. He hadn’t had much of a home these past few years-only a small apartment he moved to after he moved out of the house he and Carly had shared-and he hadn’t been aware of how much he missed that feeling of warmth and acceptance and genuine affection he found when he came back to the farm, to his family. It had been comforting, and it had been a while since he’d had much comfort from any quarter.

There were no cars on the road at so late an hour, and with the company of late-night talk radio, Sam breezed along the highway at a fast clip. He remembered how, as a young driver, he’d traveled this empty stretch of road in his dad’s pickup, feeling like the only life-form on an alien planet. Somewhere in the dark there were night creatures on the prowl, but from behind the wheel of that old Ford truck on a starry night, a guy might feel as if he’d landed where no man had gone before, as the expression went.

From time to time he looked in his rearview mirror to see if anyone was coming up behind him, but no one did.

Far up ahead he could see faint lights, and he knew he was nearing the airstrip. He was early, so he slowed down, changed the station from the endless chatter about the upcoming Nebraska football season and by how many points they could be expected to best each opponent, and searched for some music. He’d been hoping for some soft rock, but settled for country, and knew he was lucky to find anything at this hour of the night.