The gun clattered. Daniel shoved. They rolled again, leaving the gun behind. The absence of the weapon left Campbell ’s hand free. He used it to pummel Daniel’s wounded shoulder. Pain flashed red and black. Campbell struck him until Daniel tasted blood, until the ground beneath him slanted, the trees above spun. Had it been enough time? Enough time for Cleo to get away?

A voice cut through the haze and pain. Cleo’s voice. “Get away from him.”

Oh, shit. Why didn’t you run? Daniel held his breath, waiting to feel another punch that didn’t come. The grip on his shirt loosened until he was released completely. Daniel staggered and fell, a hand to his shoulder. He blinked through a haze of pain to see Cleo standing with her legs braced apart, the revolver in her hands.

“Get up.”

Stupefied, Daniel could only watch as Campbell shoved himself to his feet.

“You won’t shoot me,” Campbell said.

“You don’t know me very well.”

She was right, Daniel thought. She’d waste the guy in a second. Then he had another thought. I’m in love.

Campbell wiped at a cut on the side of his face. Daniel was bleeding from his nose, his mouth, and his side-and Campbell had gotten off with a little cut.

“Listen, Cleo,” Campbell said. “I wasn’t really going to shoot you. You know that, don’t you?” He started to move toward her.

“Back!”

The gun wavered. In fact, it was wobbling all over the place. And then Daniel noticed that her whole body was trembling.

“Get back!” she repeated.

Daniel rolled to his knees. Then he went about the extremely unpleasant task of shoving himself to his feet.

Campbell stopped, hands up, palms out. “Why don’t we just forget about this?” He began to retreat. “I’ll go my way, you go yours. What do you say?”

Cleo’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Daniel followed the direction of her gaze.

“Stop!” Cleo shouted.

Campbell smiled.

“Stop!” she repeated. “The well!”

You could see it on his face. The exact moment she said the word well was the exact moment Campbell realized his mistake. Comprehension was followed by dismay. Then he just disappeared.

Cleo dropped the gun while Daniel fell to his knees and shouted Campbell ’s name.

At Daniel’s side, Cleo grabbed his arm and tried to urge him away from the edge. “There’s nothing we can do.” If the stones came lose, he would follow Campbell into that dark grave.

Once more, Daniel tried to get a response from the well, then he rolled to a sitting position, an elbow on his bent knee, his hand covering his face.

“We have to go,” Cleo said. “Before it gets dark.”

He lifted his head and stared wearily at her. “It’s true, what he said about those people. Those kids and their mother.”

“Do you think you’re God? Do you think you can control everything around you? Bad things happen. That’s the way it is.” A harsh truth perhaps, but the truth all the same. “We have to go.”

He sat there a moment longer, just looking at her.

“Come on.” She helped him to his feet then picked up the gun.

Daniel extended his bloodstained hand and she gave him the weapon. With familiarity, he removed the cartridge, pocketed it, then shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

He might not have wanted her help, but she helped him anyway. She looped one arm around his waist, and together they headed up the hillside, back the way they’d come.

Her legs no longer shook, and she moved with purpose. They walked, the pressure against her shoulder increasing. She heard his labored breathing.

“Not much farther,” she said, hitching her shoulder against him, tightening her grip around his waist, hoping he wouldn’t slide to the ground.

“You go,” he said, his voice a breathless rasp. “Bring somebody back.”

“I might not be able to find you.”

“I’ll yell.”

“Not if you’re unconscious. Come on. We’re almost there.”

They finally made it to level ground. The orange glow had long left the sky. Now, in the twilight, the lane lay before them, the tire ruts cutting through the weeds-twin paths to the truck.

Somehow, he managed to get inside. “Can you drive a stick?” he asked as she slid behind the wheel, slamming the door behind her.

“You’re always underestimating me.”

With his eyes closed, he said, “Like hell.”

She drove as fast as the truck could go, which wasn’t all that fast, slowing down at the edge of town where the yards were littered with blue-and-white campaign signs, and a smiling, handsome face. Re-elect Mayor Burton Campbell.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It took the police and fire department three days to get Campbell ’s body out of the well. And when they did, he was pretty much unrecognizable.

Damn him, Jo thought. Damn the prostitute-murdering bastard. Because of Campbell, Egypt, Missouri, would never again make the list of the top ten small towns in America.

Because of him, mothers would no longer let their children roam freely about town. Because of him, people would lock their doors at night, and lie in that darkness, wondering…

The weather had turned, bringing with it cooler temperatures. Jo rummaged through the jackets that hung on pegs near her kitchen door, finally finding a blue wool sweater she’d knitted a few years back. It had a collar, and deep pockets that she liked to sink her hands into.

She slipped it on, thinking it was just the right weight for her trip to the hospital to visit Daniel. She’d been to see him the previous day, and the day before that. Both times he’d told her he was no longer working for the Egypt Police Department. She figured one or two more trips and she’d change his mind.

She buttoned the sweater, then reached into the pockets, her fingers coming into contact with several balls of tissue. Always had to have tissues with you. In one pocket she felt the solid weight of something heavy. She pulled it out and stared at the object in her hand.

“Crap.”

The master key.

Daniel’s shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch, but he wasn’t taking any more painkillers.

“They finally got him out,” Jo told him, pulling her chair close to the bed.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“The body in the barn belonged to a prostitute, just like you figured. And we’re pretty certain the prostitute who was killed at The Palms was another one of his victims. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to try to talk you into staying in the department.”

“Did you really tell that asshole you hired me because you felt sorry for me?”

Her silence was answer enough.

“For chrissake, Jo. Am I that pathetic?”

“I felt sorry for you, yes, but I was also looking for a good police officer. You fit the bill.”

He shook his head, his thoughts returning to an earlier preoccupation. “Have you seen Cleo?”

“A few hours ago. I paid her the other five thousand dollars. I know she didn’t find the key, but she was instrumental in exposing Dr. Campbell.”

“You gave her money?” He swung his legs to the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She’ll leave, that’s what’s wrong!”

He ripped out several snaps and dropped the hospital gown to the floor, leaving him in a pair of pajama bottoms. His shoulder and arm were wrapped in gauze, his arm anchored to his side.

“Of course she’ll leave,” Jo said. “She’s done here.”

“What do you mean, done here? What about the key? She still has to find the damn key.”

Daniel opened a closet and pulled out the shirt Beau had brought. He realized he couldn’t put it on. He picked up a pair of jeans and realized he wouldn’t be able to get into them either. He tried to stuff his feet into a pair of stretchy blue terry-cloth slippers supplied by the hospital. “Screw it.”