He took a step closer. “Do you?’’ His voice was husky; his breath hot on my face.

I flashed back to the Golden Boy I remembered from high school. What I wouldn’t have given then to have Trey Bramble pressed up next to me, breathing heavily. Now, I turned away. Too much had happened for me to see Trey the way I used to.

“So that’s how you’re gonna be, Mace?’’

His voice had turned rough, menacing. I stepped away, but not before he snatched at my wrist. I tried to yank back my arm, but he held tighter.

“Stop it, Trey. You’re hurting me.’’

“You don’t know pain.’’ He intensified his grip. “I want to know what you need to see Belle about.’’

I’d had just about enough of Trey’s crap. I grabbed his wrist with my other hand and hissed at him through my teeth, “You’d better back off unless you want my kneecap rammed clear through your groin.’’

He looked at me in surprise.

“I’m as strong as many men, and you’ve let yourself go—physically, along with every other way. You do not want to test me, Trey.’’

Just as the pressure eased on my wrist, I heard someone call my name.

“Over here, Sal,’’ I yelled.

Mama’s sweater looked like a doll’s wrap in Sal’s big hand. His eyes darted quickly from me to Trey. I rubbed at my wrist. Trey stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at his boots.

“Everything okay, Mace?’’ Sal missed nothing.

“Fine,’’ I said. “Trey was just leaving.’’

Trey made no move to go. Sal waited a beat.

“Then I’d say he better get to it.’’ He clapped a hand onto Trey’s elbow, nearly dragging him off his feet. “Why don’t you and me take a little walk, okay pal?”

I watched the two of them move across the field, Sal three or four inches taller and nearly twice as wide as Trey. With his size, and the popularity of books and movies about New York mobsters, Sal rarely had to ask anyone twice to do his bidding. He never actually claimed to be connected, but he never denied it, either.

“What do you think, girl? Sal’s turned out to be a pretty good guy, hasn’t he?’’

Val swished her tail from side to side, chasing flies.

“Yeah, I think so, too. Mama’s lucky to have him.’’

The wind was gusting off the water again. The smell of barbecue drifted over from the park. I looked around the field. The crowd had thinned out, lured by the promise of dinner. I could nearly taste the swamp cabbage and smoky beef brisket.

I was almost finished sprucing up Val. Starting from the left, I began a once-over with a brush I pulled from the trailer. To make sure the saddle’s cinch hadn’t left sores, I stooped to check under her belly. That’s when I saw a pair of blue-jeaned legs standing on the other side of Val. They ended in tiny, mud-caked boots.

I straightened to see Belle Bramble staring at me across the horse’s back.

“Boy! You sure sneaked up on me.’’

“I photograph a lot of wildlife in the woods, Mace. It’s taught me to move quietly.’’

“I spend a lot of time in the woods myself. And I’ve never heard anyone that quiet.’’

Belle’s camera dangled from a neck strap. The afternoon sun glinted off the lens. A tiny alarm pinged in my head, though I wasn’t quite sure why.

“I saw your Mama’s boyfriend dragging Trey off,’’ Belle said. “Is everything okay? Where was he taking Trey?’’

What was it with these two?

“I don’t know, Belle. Trey went kind of loco on me when I told him I wanted to talk to you. Sal came along and figured he’d take him away for a little cooling-off.’’

“Will he hurt him?’’

“No.’’ I grinned. “Sal’s not as sinister as he looks.’’

She seemed relieved, but awfully jumpy. She looked around the field like she was waiting for someone.

“What did you want to talk to me about?’’ Belle asked.

I was done treading carefully. “Why’d you lie to me about Carlos and the photos?’’

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and then rubbed her hands up and down the front of her jeans. Her eyes darted in every direction except to mine.

“Well?’’

No answer; just more fidgeting. She ran a finger under the strap of her camera, easing its weight from her neck.

It was that camera that was bothering me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Belle. What happened to the nice leather case you had before?’’

She looked down like she’d never seen the camera before. She seemed spacey again, like she had that night we’d found her in the cypress stand. I almost felt sorry for her. Belle had issues.

“What?’’ she asked.

“Your camera case.’’ I pointed at her chest.

She took her time before answering, “I must have lost it.’’

“What’s wrong with you, Belle?’’ I could hear the exasperation in my voice. “Did Doc Abel give you some kind of drugs?’’

Her eyes jerked toward mine. “Don’t say that!’’ she nearly shouted. “Doc didn’t give me anything!’’

“Okaaaay,’’ I said slowly, wondering why she sounded so defensive.

“What about this morning then?’’ I asked. “Why’d you have me show up like a fool?’’

She bit her lip and studied the parade staging area. A CD of Kenny Chesney’s “Don’t Blink” ended, mid-song. A truck door slammed. Aside from some whooping trick-riders at the far end of the field, nearly everyone had left for the barbecue.

I felt a prickle of nerves at the back of my neck.

“Can we go somewhere to talk, Mace? I feel awful about misleading you this morning.’’

“We can talk right here, Belle.’’

“Fine.’’ She sank, cross-legged, to the ground. “I guess this’ll have to do.’’

I looked down for a moment to check the grass for horse paddies before I sat, too. When I glanced again at Belle, her green eyes burned into mine. She wasn’t fidgeting anymore.

She held a firm grip on a .22-caliber pistol. When she fired, it sounded like the crack of a whip.

“That was to get your attention,’’ Belle said.

“You got it.’’

After shooting once in the air, she’d lowered the gun. It was now aimed directly at my gut. I swallowed a couple of times, forcing my fear back down my dry throat.

“It was you,’’ I said. “You shot Doc.’’

She nodded. Her eyes, hard as jade, showed no remorse.

“You’ve known him since you were a baby, and you left him in a pasture to bleed to death. How could you do that, Belle?’’

She shrugged one shoulder, like I’d asked why she chose scrambled eggs over fried.

The black lens of her camera was like a magnet, drawing my eyes in. Suddenly, some of the disjointed images in my head clicked into place.

“The bees were you, too, weren’t they? Mama heard leather slapping before they swarmed. You had them in your case. You must have smacked it against something to rile them up.’’

She nodded, with a crazy smile. “I used a broken bottle to scrape at Brandy’s frog. I thought the bruise would sideline your mama, and maybe the rest of you, too. But then I got lucky when Wynonna suggested she ride Shotgun instead.’’

“Because he’s terrified of bees.’’

“Right.’’ Another smile. “Beekeepers have boxes all over our orange groves. All I had to do was scoop some out and trap them in my case until the time came to make them swarm.’’

An image of Mama lying still in the dirt flashed into my head.

“You could have killed her.’’ My voice sounded small.

“I didn’t want that to happen, Mace. I like Rosalee. I just did what was necessary to get you to leave. I thought the rattlesnake would be enough, but y’all don’t scare easily.’’