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"Daddy, Andy's looking!" Christa said.

  "I was not!"

  "You were too! I saw you turn your head when he started peeing."

  "Hey, cut it out," Vic said. "Both of you."

  The sulks were forgotten a few moments later as they rode toward Denke with the wind in their faces and the sun on their limbs. Nolan eased up on the accelerator as they reached the outskirts of town, and Vic could feel the attention in the car shift to their immediate surroundings.

  "No paved roads?" Nolan said in dismay. "Is this the right place? I didn't see a sign or anything."

  "No stoplights either," Christa observed. She nudged Andy. "Look. This is where we're going to live."

  "Not exactly," Vic said. "According to the lawyer, Dad's place is about ten miles from town."

  Nolan glanced at him. "I thought you'd been here before?"

  "I never said that. I was born here, that's all. Dad always met me in Wichita."

  "At Aunt Chula's," Christa said. "I was real little, but I remember the time I saw him. Andy was just born."

  "Vic," Nolan said. "Does this place smack of Mayberry or what? Look at it."

  Vic was looking. Denke was small, white, and so clean as to be almost picturesque. Flowers bloomed in front of every house, and every lawn was short and evenly cut. Only the shutters and trim of individual houses varied from the sparkling white. Vic guessed it was some kind of town covenant with cleanliness, which was okay by him. What was not okay were the stares of the people sitting on random porches. After a few minutes the girls stopped waving as they cruised down the street. No one was waving back.

  "There's a stranger in town," Nolan drawled under his breath. "Hand me my six-shooter, Maw."

  Vic grunted and stared back at the vacant faces until they reached what passed for the business district. There was a grocery store, a shoebox-sized hardware store, a doctor's office, a beauty parlor, a barber shop, a gas station and garage, and finally a glass-paned place with a sign that called it Jinx's Diner.

  "Let's stop here," Vic said.

  Nolan glanced over his shoulder and winked at the girls. "I think we should hold out for a McDonald's... in the next state."

  The girls giggled as he turned off the main street and pulled up in front of the diner.

  "But maybe they'll have some sarsaparilla here," Nolan hammed as he turned off the ignition. "You girls ever had any sarsaparilla?"

  "What is it?" Andy asked.

  "Lizard spit," Nolan said. "See, they keep these lizards in—“

  "No it isn't," Vic broke in. "It's a soft drink made from the roots of a tropical plant. They won't have any here, Andy. Nolan's just teasing you."

  "I knew that," she said.

  Nolan removed his cell phone and mouthed a silent curse. “I thought there was service everywhere. Seriously, the commercial for this thing said so.”

  “Missing those calls from Carrie?” Vic said, and Nolan smiled suddenly.

  “Best excuse ever. No service. Let’s go see about getting served.”

  The interior of Jinx's Diner was red, white, and hot. A single fan in the center of the ceiling circulated the grease-laden air and provided only a hint of a breeze. The long Formica-topped counter seated twelve, and in front of the glass windows sat four tables with mismatched chairs. The place was empty. The only movement was that of the fan and a few flies buzzing over the tops of the ketchup bottles placed every few feet along the counter.

  The four shuffled in and approached the counter. Andy immediately tested one of the red stools to see if it spun. It did. Before she could give it a second spin Vic lifted her up and sat her down. "Don't spin, Christa, sit down."

  "Anybody home?" Nolan called as he sat on the stool beside Andy.

  A head immediately appeared in a doorway at the left end of the counter. "You folks lost?"

  "Just thirsty," Vic answered. "Are you open for business?"

  A long, thin body followed the head out the door. He was sixties, with a bald, freckled head, an eggplant-purple nose, and the skinniest arms Vic had ever seen. He looked like one of Andy's crayoned stick men…with glasses.

  He took his spectacles off and used the front of his white apron to wipe some of the grease off the lenses. Then he replaced his glasses and leaned over the counter to tweak Andy's nose. "What can I get for you?"

  "Got any beer?" Nolan asked.

  The man frowned. "Don't serve it before five."

  Nolan glanced at his watch. "It's five now."

  "Not on that clock." The man pointed to a yellowed clock on the wall behind the cash register. "Says five to." He turned his attention back to Andy. "How about a big glass of lemonade? Does that sound good?"

  Andy looked at Vic, who nodded. "Make it three, please."

  Nolan opened his mouth, but the old man ignored him and went about filling three glasses with ice. "Don't get many visitors out here. Denke's a ways off the beaten path, if you know what I mean."

  "Sure is," Vic said.

  "Are you Jinx?" Christa asked.

  "More like Goober," Nolan muttered under his breath.

  The old man turned and handed Christa her lemonade. "I'm Jinx all right, honey. What's your name?"

  "Christa. And this is Andy."

  Jinx's face creased into a smiling frown. "Andy? What kind of name is that for a pretty little girl?"

  Andy's grin was shy. "My name's really Andrea."

  "I shoulda guessed," the old man said as he retrieved the other drinks. "And this must be your daddy," he said with a nod at Vic. "You both look just like him. And he looks like someone else I used to know. You wouldn't be a Kimmler, would you?"

  "Yes, Vic said as he took his lemonade. He was a bit surprised. "Did you know my father?"

  "Everyone knew Darwin. Sorry to lose him, too. He was a good man."

  "Excuse me," Nolan said.

  "Ain't five yet," Jinx snapped. He turned back to Vic. "I heard you were comin' out, but I didn't know anything about these two precious little darlin's. Darwin never spoke of 'em, and I can't imagine why. You're just a couple of cuties, aren't you?"

  Christa frowned and looked away from him. "You want a drink of my lemonade, Uncle Nolan?"

  "No thanks," Nolan said. "It's five o'clock and I believe I'll have a beer."

  Jinx looked at him for the first time. "Are you kin to these folk?"

  "Coors, if you have it," Nolan replied.

  Vic heard the warning note in his voice. Nolan was about to get pissed.

  "I'll have one too, Jinx," Vic said. "It's been a long drive."

  Reluctantly, Jinx moved down the counter to a top-loading cooler and withdrew two bottles of Coors.

  "You headin' straight out to Darwin's place from here?" he asked Vic.

  "We planned on it.”

  "Well say hello to Myra and Cal for me. I haven't seen 'em in a while."

  Vic reached over to hand his beer to Nolan when it looked like Jinx wasn't in a hurry to move that way. Jinx promptly handed him the other beer.

  "Who?" Vic said.

  "Myra and Calvin Callahan. They live in a trailer on your dad's place. He never told you about 'em?"

  "No," Vic said. "Did they work for him?"

  Jinx leaned against the counter. "Myra's husband did. He got kicked in the head and died about a year and half ago. Darwin kinda took her and the boy under his wing after that. Believe Myra kept house for him—" He paused to wink "—if you know what I mean. Hear he left her a tidy little sum as well. She's been havin' some trouble out there lately, though. If Ed Kisner knows what he's talkin' about, she fooled around and let someone get off with the horses, every last damn one of 'em."

  When Vic's intake of breath was judged sufficient, Jinx leaned even closer. "Ed's the elected law around here, and the way he tells it, she wasn't near as upset as he reckoned she shoulda been. He's suspectin' some kind of conspiracy. Once she collects that twenty grand, we all figure her to be gone. And who knows? Maybe there'll be some horses where she's goin'…if you kno
w what I mean."

  Vic slid off his stool and dug into his hip pocket for his wallet. "How can I find this Ed Kisner if I need to talk to him?"

  Jinx smiled. "Just go in for a haircut. He's the barber."

  “And probably the circuit judge too," Nolan said.

  "Pardon me?" Jinx said. "You sure like to talk, young fella. I don't believe I caught your name."

  "Nolan Wulf," Christa volunteered. "He's our friend."

  The muddy brown eyes behind Jinx's glasses narrowed. "So you ain't no kin?"

  Nolan smiled. "You sure like to snoop…old fella."

  Vic lifted his wallet. "How much do I owe you, Jinx?"

  "Seven dollars even, Mr. Kimmler."

  Nolan's hand dropped to his pocket, but Vic left the money on the counter and told him to come on. Once in the car, the two men sat and stared at the windshield. Finally Nolan said, "Nosy old bastard. What do you think about his story? Gossip or gospel?"

  Vic shook his head. A pounding had begun in his temples. "I don't know what to think. If those horses are gone I won't be able to… Dammit, Nolan, can't anything ever…does everything have to…” His shoulders sagged and he dropped his head back against the seat. He felt as if his legs had been kicked out from under him before he'd even learned to stand.

  Nolan started the engine. "I'll tell you what I think. I think we should go see this gold-digging bitch and find out what the fuck she's up to."

  "Watch your language," Christa murmured from the back. She scooted forward to lay a comforting hand on Vic's arm.

  Andy sighed. "Does this mean we don't have any horses? Is that what Mr. Jinx said, Daddy?"

  Vic took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. "I don't know what it means, honey. But I guess we'll find out. Let's go, Nolan."

  CHAPTER 4

  Myra yawned as she tossed the last of the bloodied cleaning rags into her washer. She hadn't slept well in Darwin's bed last night. Cal hadn't slept much either. Sounds in the house and a post-traumatic wariness kept both of them wide-eyed and restless. At one point she could have sworn she heard a woman scream, but when she looked at Cal he appeared to have heard nothing. Myra chalked it up to her imagination and blocked her ears to the scrapes, creaks, and groans of the sixty-year-old house. It was the first time either of them had spent the night in Darwin's home and both hoped it would be the last.

  The cleaning of their mobile home had taken most of the day. The goat's remains were placed in a trash barrel by the barn and burned. Cal had done most of the grisly work concerning the removal of entrails and organs. The boy often hunted game with Darwin and the sight of dead things didn't affect him as it did Myra. She couldn't handle it. The expression in the eyes always got to her.

  She poured in the detergent and was ready to start the washer when she heard a shout from Cal. Without hesitation she drew the pistol from the waistband of her jean shorts and flew toward the door. She burst outside to see Cal holding the shotgun on two men in a dirty white convertible. The men did not look happy. As she neared the car she spied two dark-haired little girls in the back seat, Darwin's granddaughters.

  "Cal, its Mr. Kimmler."

  Cal glanced at her. "Are you sure?"

  The driver was out of the car and had the shotgun in his bandaged hands before either Cal or Myra could move.

  "I ought to beat your ass with this thing, kid," he said to Cal. "I'd ask you where you learned your manners, but I can see for myself."

  Myra stepped forward and the bandaged hand shot out once more to relieve her of the pistol. The driver tossed it to the man in the car, who caught it with one hand. He shoved it in his waistband and climbed out of the car.

  "Who do you think you are, lady?"

  "I'm Myra Callahan," she said nervously. "And this is my son, Cal. Are you Vic Kimmler?"

  "Yes, I am, and I hope you've got a damn good reason for making a snot-nosed kid stand guard with a shotgun."

  "I'm thirteen," Cal said defiantly. "And she didn't make me do anything. I was—"

  "Cal." Myra put a hand on his shoulder. "We have to talk, Mr. Kimmler."

  "You got that right. You've got a lot of explaining to do."

  Myra bristled at his tone. "Look, I'm sorry about the guns, but if you'll just calm down I'll explain. There's no reason to be so—"

  "I've got plenty of reasons," Kimmler interrupted. "And they start with the rumor that my father's horses have all disappeared since his death."

  "They didn't disappear," Cal said. "They were stolen."

  Myra was frowning. "Who told you, Mr. Kimmler?"

  Before Vic could answer, Andy stood up in the back seat. "Daddy, I have to go. Can we get out?"

  The blond man looked at her and groaned. "Andy, I've asked you not to stand up in the seat, dammit." He handed the shotgun to Kimmler and went to lift the little girl out of the car. The other girl climbed over the door and stood looking at Myra. "She looks like you, Uncle Nolan."

  Myra raised a brow and looked closer at him. He met her gaze and deliberately let his travel from her dusty bare feet to the skin revealed by the low cut of her cotton top.

  She pegged him in a second. Arrogance and confidence oozed from his pores. He was a player with an attitude and an ego as big as Texas. She knew the type. She had been married to one just like him.

  Darwin's son was of more interest to her at the moment. Vic Kimmler had his father's dark, probing eyes and tall, angular frame. He also had Darwin's patient, forgiving mouth, which made her feel suddenly comfortable in spite of his display of animosity toward her.

  As she watched, he handed the shotgun back to his friend and turned away to lead his daughter over the drive to the porch of the house. He paused in front of the door and fumbled in his pocket, probably for the key the lawyer had collected to send to him, Myra guessed.

  "It's open," she said.

  Kimmler turned to look at her. "Why?"

  "I…we had to sleep there last night," Myra replied. "I'll tell you why when we talk."

  His eyes narrowed, then he looked away from her and shoved open the door. The older girl followed them up the steps. Myra glanced around and saw the blond looking over his car and muttering under his breath. Cal watched him with a smirk that quickly became a nervous twitch as the man turned suddenly and spoke to him.

  "Whose shotgun is this?"

  "It was Darwin's," Cal answered.

  "Did he give it to you, or did you just take it?"

  Cal opened his mouth, but Myra stepped in front of him. "Why are you treating us like criminals? We haven't done anything."

  Gray-blue eyes leveled on her. "Don't fuck with me, lady. Vic is Mr. Congeniality compared to me. If it was my decision, I'd kick your thieving little ass right out of here."

  Myra gave Cal a shove and told him to go inside the trailer. When he was gone, she turned back to meet the hard gaze. "Don't speak that way to me again. Tell me what I'm being accused of and why."

  He held up the shotgun. "Just borrowing it?"

  "Yes," she said flatly.

  He nodded. "Well, I couldn't help noticing that it's been fired recently. At what? Or should I ask whom?"

  "I'm not going to say it twice," Myra said. "I don't know who you are, or what your connection to Mr. Kimmler is, but I have nothing to say to you. And you can keep the stupid gun for all I care."

  He chuckled. "My, my, ain't no fun when the rabbit's got the gun, is it? Why don't we go in and get this story started? I can't wait myself. It's bound to be a good one, and I'd like to have some popcorn ready for when the theatrics start."

  Myra stared at him and he stepped forward, still smiling. "Now, now, don't stand there with your scabby little mouth hanging open like a two-dollar suitcase. Let's go in and get the show started."

  "No," Myra said, backing away. "You've already made up your mind about me. For some reason you've decided not to believe anything I say. I don't know what you've heard, or who you've been talking to, but you don't know anything. Tell Mr. Ki
mmler when he's ready to talk, he knows where I am."

  She whirled and had to force herself not to run from him. She was so angry she felt the blood pounding through the veins in her head. Once inside the trailer she touched the scab on her lower lip and wanted to use those same fingers to rip out the man's cold, mocking eyes.

  "Guy's a jerk, isn't he?" Cal said from his position by the kitchen window. "Both of them are. I don't like the way they talked to you, Mom."

  Myra took several deep breaths to try and calm her. "I don't either, Cal. They've obviously heard some gossip in town and are reacting to it. Maybe he's angry about the money Darwin left us. With no horses and no way to run the farm, I don't blame him. But that doesn't explain their behavior completely."

  "The blond guy just unloaded the trunk," Cal said. "Mr. Kimmler's coming this way."

  "Alone?" Myra asked.

  "Yeah." Cal turned away from the window. "He looks a little like Darwin, doesn't he?"

  Myra nodded. "Let's just hope he has the same temperament."

  "Come on," Vic Kimmler said when she opened the door. "I need to go back to town and buy some groceries. We can talk on the way."

  "Fine," Myra said. She asked Cal to get her purse while she slipped into a pair of sandals. At the door she paused. "Will you be all right, Cal?"

  "Of course," he said. "Will you?"

  She glanced at Vic. "Of course."

  When his mother was gone, Cal wandered back outside and sat on the steps of the trailer. Within moments he was joined by the smaller of Vic Kimmler's two daughters.

  "I'm Andy," she said. "What's your name?"

  "Cal. Who owns the convertible? Your dad or that other guy?"

  "It's Uncle Nolan's car. Me and Christa are going to wash it for him when Daddy comes back. You wanna help?"

  "Not likely," Cal said with a snort.

  Andy kicked at the gravel and looked aimlessly around. "Are there any kitties here, Cal?"

  He shrugged. "In the barn. But they're wild."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means they won't let you come near them. None of them are tame."

  "Oh," Andy said, and her obvious disappointment made Cal smile. She was kind of cute.

  "We can try to tame them if you want to. Mom doesn't like it when I give them milk, but if your Dad says it’s okay then I'll show you what to do."