"I hope so," I said, feeling hesitant. Somehow, I hadn't foreseen this crowd and all these eyes fixed on me. "I'm Harper Connelly, and Parker was shot when someone tried to kill me. I'd like to thank him. This is my friend Manfred Bernardo, who's driving for me today while my brother's in the hospital."

"Oh, you're the young woman," Beverly Powers said, looking at me with a lot more interest. "I'm so glad to meet you. You understand, there are all kinds of stories going around about why you and my husband were out there together, and I very much hope you'll tell me exactly what happened."

"Of course I will," I said, surprised. "There's no big mystery about it."

She waited, her eyebrows raised to indicate she was ready. I was taken aback, since I realized she meant me to tell her here and now.

Everyone around us was listening, though they were all trying to look like they weren't. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Manfred had retreated to a spot against the wall. He was standing with his hands folded together, his eyes on me and his stance alert. He looked like an undercover operative of some kind. I was sure that was his intent. The man was a chameleon.

"My brother had been shot two nights before," I explained, trying to pick my words carefully. "And Detective Powers came to the scene then. He and Rudy Flemmons. Detective Flemmons came to see me at my brother's room in the hospital the next day to give me some information, and then last night, when I went back to my hotel, your husband was there. When I told him I was going for a run, since I'd been cooped up with my brother in his hospital room all day, he said he'd run with me, since he wasn't convinced the shooter had actually meant to hit my brother." There was definitely no point in mentioning Powers's avid eyes. "He thought the person who shot Tolliver might have been aiming for me, and someone had called in a death threat for me that day. I guess neither one of us took that seriously enough, which was our big mistake-and for that, I'm so sorry. My only excuse is that I've gotten threats before, and they were always nothing. Your husband said he had his running clothes in his trunk, and he changed in his car, and we started out running. He got winded pretty quick-excuse me, he just hadn't run in a long time, I guess." To my surprise, my audience had relaxed considerably while I was telling Beverly Powers how her husband had come to be shot, and when I described how winded he'd gotten, a few people actually laughed, and a smile flickered across Beverly Powers's face.

I suddenly understood: Mrs. Powers and Parker's fellow officers had thought I'd been having an affair with him. My no-frills explanation had dispelled that suspicion. They weren't really amused; they were relieved.

"We were running up and down the aisles of that big bus depot across from the high school on Jacaranda." I saw some nods out of the corner of my eye. "We heard a car come into the lot, and Detective Powers and I both thought it was after us, but then it sped away. We decided we better go back to the hotel, and we were walking on the street going back. This guy jumped out from behind some bushes and fired. I don't know if he was trying to hit me or your husband, but Detective Powers shoved me aside real quick. That meant he caught the bullets. I'm really sorry. He was so brave, and I feel awful about him getting hurt so badly. I called 911 as soon as I could."

"That saved his life," Beverly said. Her face was round and sweet, but her eyes were another matter. Whatever sport she'd played, this woman had been a ferocious competitor.

I was profoundly glad I hadn't been having an affair with her husband.

"Please, come see him," Beverly said.

"Is he conscious?"

"No," she said, and I understood by the way she said that one word that there was a good chance Detective Powers would never be conscious again.

Taking my hand, the tall woman led me to a glass-walled room, and I looked at her husband. He looked awful, and he was out of it. I didn't know if it was the medication, or if he was in a deep sleep, or if he was maybe in a coma.

"I'm sorry," I said. He was going to die. I'm not always right-death can hang over people like a shadow without ever descending-but with Detective Powers, I was pretty sure. I hoped I was wrong.

"Thanks for giving me a little longer with him," she said. We stood for a moment in silence.

"I've got to get back to my brother," I said. "I appreciate your talking to me, and letting me see him. Please tell him thanks for what he did for me."

I patted Beverly 's shoulder in an awkward way and eased my way through the crowd over to Manfred, who took my hand and pressed the elevator button. The door opened immediately, and we stepped into an empty elevator. I was praying for the doors to shut out the painful scene.

"I'm glad you came with me," I said. "That must have been pretty nerve-wracking for you."

"Oh, no, I love going into a pen of lions wearing a sign that says Edible Lamb." Now that we were alone, Manfred's bland mask relaxed into a face that was just as relieved as mine must have been.

Our hands were gripping so tightly that I could feel his bones against mine. Even as I realized I was in pain, he eased his hold on me.

"That was an adventure," he said, in a more normal voice. "What next? Alligator wrestling?"

"No, I thought we'd go eat lunch. Then I need to go back to Tolliver's room and sit with him." We were in the car and driving over to the hotel when Manfred asked, "Did the doctor say when Tolliver would be released?"

"He'll get out tomorrow. I'm sure I'll have to do some nursing. Maybe I should see if I can get a suite at another hotel, instead of the room I've got now. We might be there for a week or so, because the doctor said Tolliver had to stay quiet. He'll be in the bed a lot, and I don't want to bother him."

"You're definitely settled with Tolliver, then? He's the one?" Manfred asked, his face suddenly serious.

"He's the one," I said. "He's been the one since I met him. Of course, you were always my fallback position." I tried a smile. To my relief, he returned it.

"I'll have to cast my net wider," he said dramatically. "Maybe I'll haul in a mermaid."

"If anyone could find a mermaid, you'd be the one," I said.

"Speaking of mermaids, are you checking the mirrors for tails? Or are you just scared of my driving?"

"I'm hoping I can tell if someone's following us. That's happened here, and for the life of me, I can't spot anyone. It's good I don't want to be a detective." Manfred tried to watch, too, but he didn't notice a car that was doing everything we did. In Dallas traffic, that wasn't decisive, but at least I felt a little better.

When we reached the hotel, I collected my stuff and checked out, after first calling another chain hotel down the block to see if they had a suite-type room available. They did, and I booked it under Tolliver's name. The anonymous caller had known I was in this hotel, and though it wouldn't be hard to find me again, I might as well not make it completely easy. I reserved the suite for six nights, figuring I could always check out earlier if Tolliver was doing well enough to leave town. I also called Mark, to tell him where we'd be. Then Manfred drove me to the new hotel and helped me carry in Tolliver's bags as well as mine.

We went out to eat after that, to a family-style restaurant with a long salad bar. It was about time I ate something that wasn't actively bad for me, and I loaded up my plate with salad and fruit. A little to my surprise, Manfred did, too.

My companion was a great believer in conversation. Or at least, he enjoyed talking while I listened. I wondered how well Manfred fitted in with his peers, because he needed to say a lot of things out loud that he maybe hadn't had a chance to say, mostly about Xylda and how much he missed her, the things she'd taught him, the odd items he'd found stored away in her house.

"Thanks for showing up today," I said when there was a lull in the chatter.

He shrugged. He looked half proud, half uncomfortable. "I knew you needed me," he said and found something else to look at.

"I'd like you to meet some of these people and tell me what you get from them," I said. "If I can think of a way to make it look natural."

He looked all too happy about the prospect of doing me a favor.

"Of course, if you need to go home, I'll understand," I said.

"No," he said. "I do a lot of my business on the Web now, and I don't have any readings scheduled for this week. I brought my laptop and my cell; that takes care of me. What am I looking for?" The sense of fun faded from his face, and I was looking at an older person than the Manfred I was used to.

"You're looking for whatever you can tell me about these people," I said. "Someone shot Tolliver. Someone shot Detective Powers, though I guess they were trying to hit me. And I think it was one of these people. I want to know why."

"Not who?"

"Well, of course that, too. But the 'why' is pretty important. I need to know if I'm the target or not."

He nodded. "I get it."

We drove back to the hospital, and Manfred dropped me off at a side entrance, the closest to providing concealment that the hospital offered. I scooted inside and made my way to the bank of elevators off the lobby. I didn't think anyone was paying any particular attention to me, and no one seemed to be loitering. Everyone I looked at seemed to have a purpose, and no one spoke to me.

When I got back to Tolliver's room, I found him sitting up in the chair. I felt a wide smile spread across my face.

"Oh, you got adventurous," I said, beaming at him.

"Hey, I'm no slacker," he said, but he smiled back. "Hearing I might get out made me feel better than any of the drugs. How was your trip across the city with the amazing Manfred?"

I told Tolliver about our visit to Detective Powers. "Once they all understood I wasn't sleeping with him, they were all relieved," I said.

"When he gets better, you can tell him his fellow officers thought he was a real dog."

"I don't think he's going to get better," I said. "I think he's going to die."

Tolliver took my hand. "Harper, that's not up to us. All we can do is hope he pulls through."

That was such a sweet thing to say; maybe not the words so much as the way Tolliver said it. I could tell he loved me. I cried a little, and he let me without saying anything patronizing, and then I helped him back into bed because he was tired. We should have been talking about who shot him, but at the moment we were simply too flattened.

Mark and Matthew came in together an hour later.

We were watching an old movie, and we were actually enjoying it, but I switched it off to be polite. As they stood together at the foot of the bed, I noticed that Mark and Matthew were much more alike in looks than Tolliver and his dad were. The shorter, thicker build, the square faces... All three men had the same coloring, but other than that, Tolliver definitely looked more like his mom. I'd only seen pictures of the first Mrs. Lang, but she'd had Tolliver's much narrower face and thinner build.

I wondered if they wanted me to leave.

Tolliver didn't give me any signal one way or the other, and though I half expected Matthew to tell me he wanted to talk to his sons alone, he didn't say a word about it, so I stayed.

After the usual inquiries into Tolliver's recovery and when he'd get out of the hospital, Mark said, "I wondered if you'd like to come back to stay with me, at my house, I mean. While you get better."

"Your house," Tolliver said, as if he'd never heard of such a thing. We'd been to Mark's house exactly once. He'd had us over to dinner, and he'd ordered out. It was an absolutely standard three-bedroom ranch with a fenced-in backyard.

"Yeah, why not? Since you and Harper are..." Here he made a kind of indeterminate gesture, meant to indicate that we were sleeping together. "That means you can share a bed, so there'll be room."

"So, Dad's staying in the other room now?" Tolliver didn't look at his father as he spoke to Mark. He'd sure picked up on that little indicator.

"Yes, he is," Mark said. "It just made sense, since his job doesn't pay a lot, and the bedroom was empty."

"I already got us a suite at a hotel," I said. I made sure my voice was both quiet and neutral. I didn't want to make this a confrontation.

But it looked as though I wasn't going to get my wish.

"Listen," Mark said, flushing up as he did when he was angry, "you butt out, Harper. This is my brother, and I get to ask him to stay with me. It's his call. We're family."

Not only was I angry now, too, I was hurt. I didn't care if I ever got called a member of Matthew's family, but Mark and I had shared a lot of woe together. I thought we kids had been our own family. I could feel my own face reddening.

"Mark," Tolliver said sharply, "Harper is my family. She's been my family for years now. Yours, too. I know you remember how we had to stick together."

Mark looked down at the floor, conflict making his face really distressing to watch.

"It's okay, Mark," Matthew said. "I understand what they're saying. You-all did have to band together. Laurel and I weren't exactly up to making a family work. We were together, but we weren't a real family. Tolliver's right."

Overkill, I thought.

"Dad," Mark mumbled, like he was seventeen again. "You tried to keep us together."

"I did," Matthew said. "But my addictions got in the way."