Jeffrey tapped his pen on the notebook. Lena could see over his shoulder that he had not written anything. He asked, "Did you ever take Sibyl her meals? In the diner, I mean."

If he was surprised by the question, Will didn't let it register. "I guess I did. Most days I help Pete out with things like that. His daddy kept a woman around to wait tables when he was running the place, but Pete," he said, chuckling, "old Pete, he can hold on to a dollar." Will waved his hand, dismissing the trouble. "It don't hurt me none to fetch some ketchup or make sure somebody gets their coffee."

Jeffrey asked, "Did you serve Sibyl tea?"

"Sometimes. Is there a problem?"

Jeffrey closed his notebook. "Not at all," he said. "Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around the diner yesterday?"

"Lord God," Will breathed. "I surely would've told you by now. It was just me and Pete there, and all the regulars for lunch."

"Thank you for your time." Jeffrey stood and Lena followed suit. Will shook first Jeffrey's, then Lena 's hand.

He held on to hers a little longer, saying, "God bless you, girl. You take care now."

"Goddammit, Lena," Jeffrey cursed, slamming his notebook into the dashboard of the car. The pages fluttered out, and Lena held her hands up in front of her to keep from getting whacked in the head. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Lena picked up the notebook off the floor. "I wasn't thinking," she answered.

"No fucking joke," he snapped, grabbing the notebook.

His jaw was a tight line as he backed the car out of Will Harris's driveway. Frank had gone back to the station with Brad while Lena had been practically thrown into Jeffrey's car. He bumped the gear on the steering wheel column and the car jerked into drive.

"Why can't I trust you?" he demanded. "Why can't I trust you to do one thing I tell you to do?" He did not wait for her answer. "I sent you out with Brad to do something, Lena. I gave you a job on this investigation because you asked me, not because I thought you were in any position to do it. And what's my reward for this? I've got Frank and Brad seeing you go behind my back like some teenager sneaking out of the house. Are you a fucking cop or are you a fucking kid?" He slammed on the brakes, and Lena felt her seat belt cutting into her chest. They were stopped in the middle of the road, but Jeffrey did not seem to notice.

"Look at me," he said, turning to her. Lena did as she was told, trying to keep the fear out of her eyes. Jeffrey had been mad at her plenty of times, but never like this. If she had been right about Will Harris, Lena might have a leg to stand on; as it was, she was screwed.

"You have got to get your head on straight. Do you hear me?"

She gave a sharp nod.

"I can't have you going around behind my back. What if he had done something to you?" He let that sink in. "What if Will Harris is the man who killed your sister? What if he opened his door, saw you, and freaked out?" Jeffrey slammed his fist into the steering wheel, hissing another curse. "You have got to do what I say, Lena. Is that clear? From now on." He jabbed his finger in her face. "If I tell you to interview every ant on the playground, you bring me back signed depositions on each one. Is that clear?"

She managed to nod again. "Yeah."

Jeffrey wasn't satisfied. "Is that clear, Detective?"

"Yes, sir," Lena repeated.

Jeffrey put the car back into gear. The tires caught as he accelerated, leaving a good deal of rubber on the road. Both hands gripped the wheel so hard that his knuckles were white. Lena kept quiet, hoping his anger would pass. He had every right to be pissed, but she did not know what to say. An apology seemed as useless as treating a toothache with honey.

Jeffrey rolled his window down, loosening his tie. Suddenly, he said, "I don't think Will did it."

Lena nodded her head up and down, afraid to open her mouth.

"Even if he did have this episode in his past," Jeffrey began, anger coming back into his voice, "Frank failed to mention that this thing with his wife was twenty years ago."

Lena was silent.

"Anyway"-Jeffrey waved this off-"even if he had it in him, he's at least sixty, maybe seventy years old. He couldn't even get into his chair, let alone overpower a healthy thirty-three-year-old woman."

Jeffrey continued, "So that leaves us with Pete in the diner, right?" He didn't wait for her answer; he was obviously just thinking aloud. "Only I called Tessa on the way over here. She got there a little before two o'clock. Will was gone, and Pete was the only one there. She said Pete stayed behind the cash register until she placed her order, then he grilled her burger." Jeffrey shook his head. "He might've slipped into the back, but when? When did he have time? That'd take, what? Ten, fifteen minutes? Plus the planning. How did he know it would work out?"

Again these questions seemed rhetorical. "And we all know Pete. I mean, Jesus, this isn't the kind of thing a first timer would pull."

He was silent, obviously still thinking, and Lena left him alone. She stared out the window, processing what Jeffrey had said about Pete Wayne and Will Harris. An hour ago these two men had looked like good suspects to her. Now there was nobody. Jeffrey was right to be angry at her. She could have been out with Brad, tracking down the men on their list, maybe finding the man who had killed Sibyl.

Lena's eyes focused on the houses they were driving by. At the turn, she checked the street sign, noting that they were on Cooper.

Jeffrey asked, "You think Nan will be home?"

Lena shrugged.

The smile he gave her said he was trying. "You can talk now, you know."

Her lips came up, but she couldn't quite return the smile. "Thanks." Then, "I'm sorry about-"

He held up his hand to stop her. "You're a good cop, Lena. You're a damn good cop." He pulled the car to the curb in front of Nan and Sibyl's house. "You just need to start listening."

"I know."

"No, you don't," he said, but he did not seem angry anymore. "Your whole life has turned upside down and you don't even know it yet."

She started to speak then stopped.

Jeffrey said, "I understand needing to work on this, needing to keep your mind occupied, but you've got to trust me on this, Lena. If you ever cross that line with me again, I will bust you so low you'll be fetching coffee for Brad Stephens. Is that clear?"

She managed to nod her head.

"Okay," he said, opening the car door. "Let's go."

Lena took her time taking off her seat belt. She got out of the car, adjusting her gun and holster as she walked toward the house. By the time she reached the front door, Nan had already let Jeffrey in.

"Hey," Lena offered.

"Hey," Nan returned. She was holding a ball of tissue in her hand, the same as she had been last night. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was bright red.

"Hey," Hank said.

Lena stopped. "What are you doing here?"

Hank shrugged, rubbing his hands together. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, and the needle tracks up his arms were on full display. Lena felt a rush of embarrassment. She had only seen Hank in Reece, where everybody knew about his past. She had seen the scars so many times that she had almost blocked them out. Now she was seeing them through Jeffrey's eyes for the first time, and she wanted to run from the room.

Hank seemed to be waiting for Lena to say something. She stumbled, managing an introduction. "This is Hank Norton, my uncle," she said. "Jeffrey Tolliver, chief of police."

Hank held out his hand, and Lena cringed to see the raised scars on his forearms. Some of them were half an inch long in places where he had jabbed the needle into his skin, looking for a good vein.

Hank said, "How d'you do, sir."

Jeffrey took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."