He pushed the door open and physically lifted his injured leg out with his hand. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, feeling an intense protest from his knee. His leg had gotten stiff from sitting in the car for so long. By the time Jeffrey stood up from the car, a line of perspiration beaded over his lip.

Pain shot through his leg as he walked toward his house. His house keys were on the same ring as the car keys, so he walked to the back of the house, entering through the kitchen. For the last two years, Jeffrey had been remodeling the house himself. His latest project was the kitchen, and he had gutted the back wall of the house one three-day weekend, planning to have it built back in time to return to work. A shooting had cut his plans short, and he had ended up buying plastic strips from a freezer supply house in Birmingham and nailing them up over the naked two-by-fours. The plastic kept the rain and wind out, but meanwhile he still had a big hole at the back of his house.

In the living room, Jeffrey picked up the phone and dialed Sara's number, hoping he could catch her before she left for work. Her machine picked up, so he dialed the Linton house.

Eddie Linton answered the phone on the third ring. "Linton and Daughters."

Jeffrey tried to remain pleasant. "Hey, Eddie, it's Jeffrey."

The phone clattered as it was dropped onto the floor. Jeffrey could hear dishes and pans in the background, then muffled conversation. A few seconds later Sara picked up the phone.

"Jeff?"

"Yeah," he answered. He could hear her opening the door onto the deck. The Lintons were the only people he knew who didn't have a cordless phone in their house. There was an extension in the bedroom and one in the kitchen. If not for the ten-foot cord the girls had put on the kitchen phone when they were back in high school, privacy would not have been possible.

He heard the door close, then Sara said, "Sorry."

"How're you doing?"

She skipped an answer, saying, "I'm not the one who got shot last night."

Jeffrey paused, wondering about the sharp tone to her voice. "I heard about what happened with Julia Matthews."

"Right," Sara said. "I ran the blood in Augusta. Belladonna has two specific markers."

He cut short a chemistry lesson. "You found both of them?"

"Yes," she answered.

"So, we're looking for the same guy on both."

Her voice was clipped. "Looks that way."

A few seconds passed, then Jeffrey said, "Nick has this guy who's kind of a specialist on belladonna poisoning. He's bringing him by at ten. Can you make it?"

"I can pop over between patients, but I can't stay long," Sara offered. There was a change in her voice, something softer, when she said, "I need to go now, okay?"

"I want to go over what happened last night."

"Later, okay?" She didn't give him time to answer. The phone clicked in his ear.

Jeffrey let out a sigh as he limped toward the bathroom. On the way, he looked out the window, checking on Lena. She was still in the car, both hands gripping the wheel. It seemed like every woman in his life had something they were hiding today.

After a hot shower and shave, Jeffrey felt considerably better. His leg was still stiff, but the more he moved it the less it hurt. There was something to be said for staying mobile. The drive to the station was tense and quiet, the only noise in the car being the sound of Lena's teeth gritting. Jeffrey was glad to see the back of her as she walked toward the hospital.

Maria met him at the front door, her hands clasped in front of her chest. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said, taking his arm, leading him back toward his office. He put a stop to her fussing when she opened the door for him.

"I've got it," Jeffrey said. "Where's Frank?"

Maria's face fell. If Grant was a small place, its police force was even smaller. Rumors traveled faster within the ranks than a bolt of lightning through a steel rod.

Maria said, "I think he's in the back."

"Go fetch him for me, will you?" Jeffrey asked, making his way toward his office.

Jeffrey sat in his chair with a groan. He knew he was tempting fate with his leg, keeping it still for a while, but he did not have a choice. His men needed to know he was back on the job, ready to work.

Frank rapped his knuckles on the door and Jeffrey nodded him in.

Frank asked, "How you doing?"

Jeffrey made sure he had the other man's attention. "I'm not gonna get shot at anymore, am I?"

Frank had the decency to look down at his shoes. "No, sir."

"What about Will Harris?"

Frank rubbed his chin. "I hear he's going to Savannah."

"That right?"

"Yeah," Frank answered. "Pete gave him a bonus. Will bought himself a bus ticket." Frank shrugged. "Said he was gonna spend a couple of weeks with his daughter."

"What about his house?"

"Some fellas at the lodge volunteered to take care of the window."

"Good," Jeffrey said. "Sara's gonna want her car back. Did you find anything?"

Frank took a plastic evidence bag out of his pocket and set it down on the desk.

"What's this?" Jeffrey asked, but it was a stupid question. There was a Ruger.357 Magnum in the bag.

"It was under her seat," Frank said.

"Sara's seat?" he asked, still not getting it. The gun was a man stopper, the caliber enough to blow a hole into someone's chest. "In her car? This is hers?"

Frank shrugged. "She doesn't have a permit for it."

Jeffrey stared at the gun as if it could talk to him. Sara certainly wasn't against private citizens having weapons, but he knew for a fact that she wasn't exactly comfortable around guns, especially the kind that could shoot the lock off a barn door. He slipped the gun out of the bag, checking it.

"Serial numbers were filed off," Frank said.

"Yeah," Jeffrey answered. He could see that. "Was it loaded?"

"Yep." Frank was obviously impressed with the weapon. "Ruger security six, stainless steel. That's a custom handle, too."

Jeffrey dropped the gun into his desk drawer, then looked back at Frank. "Anything on the sex offender lists yet?"

Frank seemed disappointed that the discussion about Sara's gun was over. He answered, "Not really. Most of 'em have some kind of alibi. The ones who don't aren't really what we're looking for."

"We've got a meeting at ten with Nick Shelton. He's got a specialist on belladonna. Maybe we can give the guys something more to look for after that."

Frank took a seat. "I got that nightshade in my own backyard."

"Me, too," Jeffrey said, then, "I want to head over to the hospital after the meeting, see if Julia Matthews feels like talking." He paused, thinking about the young girl. "Her parents will be in around three. I want to be at the airport to meet them. You're riding shotgun with me today."

If Frank found Jeffrey's word choice funny, he did not comment.