NINE

FEBRUARY 24, 1999

"You're in my way, you know." Cassie gently nudged the German shepherd-collie mix to one side so she could open the bottom drawer of the storage chest.

Max whined softly and sat down, watching her with bright, attentive eyes. After a couple of nights and days together, they were growing accustomed to each other, but the young dog was clearly worried by the fact that Cassie was spending so much time digging through drawers and closets. Not that he could be blamed for that, since his original owners had abandoned him when they moved away.

Cassie spared a moment to stroke his head and murmur reassuringly. She had tried explaining that she would not leave him as his former people had, but discovered not only that canine minds were unreadable – at least by her – but also that it was difficult to explain verbally to a dog that she was only sorting through her aunt's things, boxing up what was to be thrown away, given away, or stored.

She wondered if Abby was having an easier time with the full-blooded Irish setter she had fallen in love with.

"Well, maybe I've done enough today anyway," she decided. "There are those boxes full of papers downstairs – I can go through them tonight and it probably won't upset you too much. In the meantime, why don't we go fora walk?"

The magic words lifted Max's head eagerly, and he preceded her out of this spare bedroom and downstairs. Cassie didn't put the dog on a leash; she had already discovered that he'd had basic obedience training and, besides, he tended to stick quite close to her when they were out.

She got her quilted jacket off the stand by the front door. It was only three in the afternoon, but the forecast was for snow and both the icy air and low, thick gray clouds said that the weather bureau might have gotten it right this time.

It was the kind of weather Cassie loved. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and struck out across the fields near the house, walking slowly as she divided her attention between Max's happy exploration of every rock and hole in the ground and the spare, naked beauty of her surroundings.

It was easy to forget about… other things.

The killer had remained quiet these last days. As far as they knew, he had not killed again – and Cassie had not gotten so much as a whisper from his mind.

That was a silence she could only be happy about.

If the investigation was making progress, she didn't know any of the details. The sheriff had not been in touch. Ben had called the previous afternoon, to check on her he said, and he was relieved to hear she had adopted a dog. He hadn't been able to tell her anything about the investigation; another tricky case was keeping him in court more than he had expected, and he'd gotten little opportunity to talk to Matt. He had sounded tired and a little restless.

The newspaper hadn't had much to say either beyond a few stark facts. Becky Smith had been buried, but funerals for the other two victims were postponed indefinitely while the search for evidence continued.

Probably smart of the sheriff, but the lack of closure was not helping the mood of the townspeople. With two bodies lying in refrigerated storage at one of the local undertaker's and a visibly increased police presence throughout the county, no one was going to forget the potential threat. No curfew had been declared, but the newspaper reported unusually quiet streets after dark and women traveling in pairs, groups, or with male escorts virtually at all times.

If Cassie had been an optimist, she might have brought herself to hope that the killer had left and moved on to other hunting grounds. She was not an optimist. And she was more than half convinced the sheriff was right, that this killer was local, someone born and bred in the area. And still there. Somewhere.

Realizing what she was doing, acknowledging silently that it was not, after all, so easy to forget, Cassie pushed thoughts of the killer firmly from her mind. "Enough," she said out loud.

Max dashed up to her with a stick, and she spent the next fifteen minutes or so throwing it for him. She tired of the game before he did; he was still carrying the stick in his mouth when Cassie started back toward the house.

He dropped it the instant he saw the Jeep parked in the driveway, and his full-throated barks rang out across the field, oddly hollow in the cold, still air. Cassie saw Ben come down the steps from the porch and look in their direction, and caught Max by the collar to keep him by her side.

"Max, heel," she told him firmly. He stopped barking but was growling low in his throat by the time they got within a few feet of the visitor.

"Hi," she greeted Ben.

"Hi." He was eyeing the dog. "Well, he's big enough. Does he bite?"

"I don't know yet, though the shelter said he was gentle as a lamb the whole time they had him." Cassie glanced down at the still-growling dog. "Abandoned by people who apparently just didn't want to move him along with the furniture."

"It happens, sad to say. At least our shelter doesn't put them to sleep."

"That's what they told me." And that the younger Judge Ryan had been partly responsible for the shelter's policy of never euthanizing healthy animals – an interesting insight into his character. "Abby adopted one too, did you know?"

"Matt mentioned it." Ben smiled. "A very large Irish setter who loves to sleep with Abby. Matt wasn't entirely happy about that."

"I'll bet." Cassie wondered if Abby had confided in the sheriff about the prophecy but decided not to ask.

Max's growl got louder.

"You'd better introduce us," Ben said.

Cassie had little experience with dogs, but knew instinctively how it needed to be done. She told Max to sit, keeping one hand on the dog, and gestured for Ben to step closer. When he did, and after only the slightest hesitation, she reached out and took his hand. It was very warm, even on this cold winter day.

"Max, this is Ben," she said steadily. "He's a friend." She guided Ben's hand close enough for the dog to sniff. Max either liked the way this new person smelled or else accepted Cassie's reassuring touch; his tail thumped against the frozen ground and the growling stopped.

Ben petted the dog with a casual yet experienced ease and spoke to him kindly. By the time he straightened, Max was completely relaxed.

"So far so good," Cassie said. She released the collar, and they watched as he went to investigate the tires of the Jeep.

"We'll see how he greets me next time." Ben paused. "Does he sleep with you?"

Cassie decided not to take the question too personally. "He has a bed of his own beside mine. So far, he's stayed in it."

Ben nodded. "I'm glad you got him."

"So am I." It was the truth. She had discovered it was pleasant to have an attentive and undemanding companion who listened when she talked. And it had surprised her how much she had talked to the animal.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you without calling." Ben's voice held that same restless note she had heard when he had called the previous night. "But I was out this way, and – "

Cassie allowed the silence to last only a moment. "It's cold out here. Why don't we go inside? It'll just take a few minutes to warm up the coffee."

"That sounds good. Thanks."

Max left off investigating the Jeep to accompany them, and as usual followed Cassie into the kitchen.

"He sticks close," Ben observed from the doorway.

"So far." She glanced at Ben, reading more tension in his posture, and said, "I was planning to light a fire in the living room fireplace. How are you at getting them started?"

"Fair." He smiled.

"Then you get the job. It always takes me way too much newspaper and kindling."