Nora Roberts - High Noon

"Mama's scared to death."

"I know." Nothing could be done about it. "I'm counting on you.

And I'm resting easier on that count having a nurse in residence. You're taking a lot of weight off me, Josie."

"We'll be fine," Josie assured her. "We were just talking about what we could do to keep things as normal as possible. Food, games, music. Business," she added with a quick smile at Duncan.

"I thought Essie and I could come up with a business plan."

"Good. That's good. Keep them busy, will you? And when they ask, tell them I'm with Dave. I'll be back soon. Duncan, maybe you could walk me out."

"Sure."

She waited until they were on the veranda. "It has to be said," she began. "You'd be smarter, safer and certainly saner if you went home, kept your distance. Not only from me, but from my family."

He nodded as he studied the lovely tree-lined street. "Didn't help Roy much, did it?"

"No." Blunt help, she discovered. Straight to the point. "You have the resources to go anywhere, and for any length of time. You could get out of Savannah for a while, and those resources would also ensure no one outside your inner circle had to know where you are."

"Cut and run."

"It's not running, and you'll still have your balls in Tahiti or wherever."

"Easy to say when you don't have any balls-so to speak-in the first place. I'm not going to Tahiti. Savannah's my home, and I have projects in the works I'm not prepared-okay, not willing-to put on hold. And I'm not ditching the redheads to go drink mai tais. But you knew that."

"Deduced that," she corrected. "Still, it had to be said. I also have every confidence you'll take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't worry-and you knew that. So I need to ask you to check in, every two hours. A quick call, a text message, I don't care how you check in, but I need you to do it."

"I can agree to that, if it's reciprocal."

She lifted her eyebrows. "You want me to check in with you?" Brows still lifted, she flipped back her jacket where her badge was clipped to her waistband.

"Yeah, real pretty. I call you, two hours later you call me, two hours later, back to me. That's how it works."

She tapped her fingers on her badge as she studied him. "You might be good in my line of work. That's agreed. Here." She handed him a piece of paper. "Emergency number's on there. If you could make sure everyone inside has it on both cells and the house line, I'd appreciate it." She turned, scanned the street, the trees, the cars, over to the park.

"He could be watching the house. He could be anywhere."

"Let's give him something to look at." He pulled her close, covered her mouth with his.

As he started to ease her back, she wrapped her arms tight for one hard embrace. "Don't take any chances. Zero chances. If it even seems like it might somehow be related to taking a chance, don't."

"Yoo-hoo!"

Phoebe's nerves were stretched tightly enough that even recognizing Lorelei Tiffany's voice, she laid a hand on the butt of her weapon.

But her tone was easy when she turned and waved. "Hey there, Miz Tiffany."

"Don't you two make a picture! That's a handsome man you got there, Phoebe. Few years ago, I'd've stolen him right out from under you."

Decked in daffodil yellow, with little Maximillian Dufree coordinating with leash, collar and bow tie, Mrs. Tiffany sent Duncan a flirtatious smile.

"Ma'am. When the woman's as delicious as you, I'd be the one doing the stealing."

Mrs. Tiffany let loose a girlish giggle. "Oh, you! Better keep a hold of that one, Phoebe. Maximillian Dufree and I are about to take a turn in the park, if y'all like to join us."

"I wish we could."

"Don't blame you. I'd find something more energetic than dogwalking to do if I had a handsome man like that around. Bye now."

"Normal," Phoebe murmured when the pair clipped off. "There's still a lot of normal in the world."

"Savannah's a world where a dog in a yellow bow tie's pretty normal. I saw that hairless dog humping a pink toy poodle across the way a while back. I guess that's normal, too."

"For Maximillian Dufree, it is. The pink poodle would be Lady Delovely, who carelessly seduces Maximillian Dufree-despite his lack of essential equipment-and all the other dogs-including several females of her acquaintance-with wanton regularity."

She watched Mrs. Tiffany, in bright yellow glory, breeze into the park. "I wish we could do something as nice and normal as walk in the park and watch a couple of silly-looking dogs."

Duncan ran a hand down Phoebe's arm when Dave's car pulled in. "You take care, Phoebe. We'll get down to some normal of our own real soon."

"Counting on it." She took one last look at him, one last look at the house, and walked down to Dave's car.

"Everybody okay?" Dave asked her. "Holding."

"Mr. Lucky appears to be sticking."

She glanced back, saw Duncan still standing on the veranda. "He does. I think that's one of the things he's good at. He's good at sticking. So are you," she added. "You stuck by my whole family, all these years. Which makes you a target, Dave. You're as close to me as any of my family, a hell of a lot closer to me than Roy was." o

"I'm taking precautions." He took one hand off the wheel to pat hers. "Be sure." She shifted toward him. "You've been my father since

I was twelve. The one I looked up to, depended on and, in a lot of ways, the one I've tried to emulate. If he knows me, and he must, he knows that."

This time his hand squeezed hers. "I've been proud of you since before I ever met you face-to-face. Fact is, I love you like my own. I'm not going to let him use me to hurt you. All right?"

"Yes. Yes. All right." She took in a breath, let it go. "Why did they bring Arnie in? I thought they were going to question him informally at home."

"They did, or attempted to, then hauled him in when he took a swing at one of the detectives. Little bastard put his own ass in the sling."

"Short fuse," Phoebe replied. "The man who killed Roy has a long one. Long and cold. Arnie Meeks doesn't fit the profile, Dave."

"Maybe not. Could be he has a friend or family member who does. Let's put it through the process, Phoebe. One step, then the next." He hadn't asked for a lawyer. That was to prove he was a hard-ass, Phoebe concluded as she studied Arnie through the one-way glass. It was also monumentally stupid. He'd been a cop long enough to know better, but he wanted to show that he could tough it out, this was no big deal.

He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, scuffed Nike low-tops and a surly expression. He hadn't shaved, so there was a rough stubble on his face that suited the look in his eye. The screw-you-all look.

He'd hurt and humiliated her, laid in wait for her and violated her.

She understood the knot squeezed in her sternum was a normal, natural reaction to that, to standing here looking at the man who'd bound and beaten and stripped her.

But she couldn't loosen it.

"You don't have to do this." Dave put a hand on her shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze.

"Yes, I do."

"You've already faced him down once, Phoebe. There's nothing to prove."

"I have to do this. I have to see him while they question him." Look in his eyes, listen to his voice. "It's the only way I'll know, that I can be sure, if he's the one who killed Roy. Or if he knows who did."

"I'm going to say what has to be said. You don't owe Roy anything."

"Maybe not. But I owe it to Carly. I'll be fine."

Fine might have been an exaggeration, but she got through and that was good enough. She watched Sykes and Liz double-team him, work him around, and poke and prod at Arnie's non-answers. All three knew how to play the game, she thought. But Arnie was outnumbered, outmatched. "Can't deny you've got it in for Lieutenant MacNamara," Sykes said casually.