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  “You’ll still have Doug and Brad. Leave one of the new guys to hold down the fort.”

  Wheaton didn’t have time to protest. “All right.” He pointed to Glenn Reed, who had just been sworn in. “Reed, you stay here. Finish going through those files looking for addresses or clues to where the prisoners are. And if Jimmy comes back, don’t let him leave.”

  It was five o’clock — not much daylight left. Mark hoped they’d find Jimmy on the way. If he made it to Tree House’s apartment, would he go to the door? Break in? Kill the man who’d maimed his father?

  They didn’t see him on the way. It only took moments to reach Tree House’s address — an old, abandoned warehouse that must have an apartment above it. A stairwell on the side of the building led to the upstairs rooms.

  Dread tightened Mark’s chest as he saw the boy’s bike, dropped on its side at the bottom of the stairs. Had Jimmy gone in?

  “God help him,” Doug whispered.

  They got out, closed the doors quietly, and drew their weapons. “Doug, Brad, you two split up and go around the building. Make sure any back windows or doors are covered.”

  Mark followed the deputy up the stairs. The door was open. Leading with his gun, Wheaton stepped into the doorway.

  “Don’t move!” The warning came from the boy, who stood across the barren apartment, his shotgun pointed at the door.

  Wheaton caught his breath and raised his hands, gun pointed skyward. “Jimmy, it’s me. Archie Wheaton.”

  Surprised, the boy lowered his gun.

  Wheaton lowered his, as well, and entered the apartment. “What in the blazes are you doing?”

  Jimmy dropped his gun and wilted to the floor. “I thought he’d be here. I thought I’d find him, but he’s gone.”

  “And then what?” Wheaton asked. “What did you intend to do?”

  “Shoot him. Right in the face, where he shot my pop.”

  Mark moved past Wheaton through the doorway and went to sit beside Jimmy on the floor. With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, he said, “Jimmy, you could have been killed. What if he’d been here?”

  Jimmy wiped his nose on his coat sleeve. “He’s been here, though. I saw his shoes in there. And some potato peels on the counter. They weren’t that old.”

  “Son, we’ve already been here, looking for him,” Wheaton said. “If he comes home and sees that somebody’s broken in, he’s not going to stay. You’re jeopardizing the investigation. Besides, you can’t go around shooting people, not for any reason. Your daddy taught you better than that. Now get up and let’s get out of here.”

  “Somebody has to wait here for him.”

  Mark looked up at Wheaton. The deputy was clearly moved by the boy’s grief. “Someone will, Jimmy, now that I have some men. But right now, we have to get out of here and get you home.”

  Jimmy didn’t want to go. Mark got up and pulled the kid to his feet. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.” He led the boy out of the apartment and down the stairs, his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders.

  Doug looked up when he heard them coming. “Oh, thank God you’re okay, Jimmy. You had us scared to death.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Jimmy said.

  “I can see that. But this wasn’t smart.”

  Jimmy just wiped his wet face. “Can’t you search the place? See if there’s any clue where he could be?”

  “Son, we already did. We were here earlier with a search warrant.”

  “And you didn’t find anything?”

  “We’re still looking,” Wheaton said. “We’ll catch him, Jimmy. You can bet on that.”

  Mark opened the van door, and Jimmy climbed into the back bench seat. Mark sat next to him. Jimmy stared out the windows, crying softly.

  “I know a little about how you feel,” he said in a low voice.

  “No, you don’t. Nobody knows how I feel.”

  “Trust me, I do. I know what it’s like to be so eaten up with anger that you feel like you have to do something about it or go crazy.”

  Jimmy set his jaw and kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the glass. “I just want to know why he did it.”

  “If you ask him, he’ll probably do something real attractive like spitting in your face or growling like a dog.”

  Jimmy sniffed. “He growls?”

  Mark smiled. “No. I’m just saying, he’s probably not going to have some nice, organized explanation of why he did it. He just wanted out, and he figured out a way to do it.”

  Jimmy’s face twisted as he turned back to Mark. “Didn’t he know those men had families? That people were counting on them?”

  “He didn’t care. The guy doesn’t have a conscience. That’s why he has to be taken off the streets.”

  Jimmy’s gaze moved to Wheaton, Brad, and Doug, who were still outside, talking at the bottom of the stairs. “If he’d only come home . . .”

  “Jimmy, we’re gonna find him.”

  “He’ll probably get off on a technicality. It happens all the time. Pop was always talking about how stupid the court system could be, letting killers go because they didn’t cuff them right or something.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I was an eyewitness to the shooting. I’ll make sure there’s no question that he’s guilty.”

  The three men got back into the van. As Wheaton started it, he looked in his rearview mirror. “Jimmy, I’m taking you home now. If your mama’s not there, I’m telling your grandparents to watch you like a hawk from now on. We can’t have this kind of thing happen again.”

  As Wheaton pulled back onto the street, Mark saw himself in the hurting boy — the rage with no outlet, the grief that couldn’t be assuaged, the confusion over things he could not control. And now Jimmy was embarrassed by his failed attempt to get justice. “Jimmy, it was the wrong thing this time,” he said. “But I can see that you have what it takes to make a great cop someday.”

  Jimmy didn’t answer.

  “You do your dad real proud.”

  Jimmy’s face tightened. “All I used to do was complain that he was never home. But what he was doing was important. The county needed him more than I did.” He wiped his face. “My pop is a great man.”

  “Why don’t you tell him that when you see him?”

  “I will if I’m not grounded for life.”

  “Mothers have a way of offering parole, way sooner than you think.”

  FIFTY

  AFTER MARK LEFT TO FIND JIMMY, DENI WENT HOME AND began praying in her room for the boy whose life was in danger. Her mother came upstairs and found her. “I just got back from the post office,” she said. “You have mail from Craig.”

  Deni took the letter. She could see the disapproval on her mother’s face. Her parents had never liked Craig and would have been glad if she never heard from him again. But the weary expression on her mom’s face went deeper than that.

  “Something wrong, Mom?”

  Kay shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m just worried about Beth . . . and your father . . . and Mark.”

  “What’s wrong with Beth?”

  Kay walked to Deni’s window and looked down on the front yard. “She saw Mark getting beaten, and she kind of lost it.”

  “Didn’t we all?”

  “Yeah, but . . . we can handle it. I’m not sure she can.”

  “She’ll be all right, Mom. She’s tougher than you think.” She tore open the envelope and pulled the letter out.

  Kay sighed. “So is he trying to get you back?”

  Deni saw something else in the envelope. A ticket. She pulled it out and took it to the lantern on her desk. “What is this? A train ticket?”

  Kay snatched it out of her hand. “What? Is he out of his mind?”

  “Must be.” Deni unfolded the letter.

  Downstairs, Beth called out, “Mom!”

  Kay looked at Deni. “Don’t let him sway you, Deni. You have a good thing with Mark.”

  “Mom, I know.” Deni watched her mother hurry back down the st
airs.

  Then she sat down at her desk and began to read.

  Dear Deni,

  I hope things are well with you. I’ve been very busy lately, too busy to get back to Crockett. The government is deep in the rebuilding process as you know, hoping to find workarounds to get things back to normal, or as close as they can be. Scientists who are studying SN – 1999 tell us the Pulses are getting weaker. Soon, we hope, they’ll stop altogether. At that point, we’ll undergo a massive program to rebuild our infrastructure. The president is already hiring the staff who will supervise that rebuilding. I’ve just been hired to work on one of the top tiers of that program.

  But that brings me to us. Deni, when the Pulses stop, people will depend on the government as never before. There will be good jobs for well-educated, intelligent people. If you were here, you would be on the inside track. I have the authority to hire anyone I want, and I want you. We need good communicators. The country needs you.

  But more importantly, I need you. I miss you more each day. Please give our relationship another try. We’ve both changed. I’ve been thinking a lot about your religion, and believe it or not, I’ve been going to church and praying myself. I now see the comfort you find in it. As I’ve prayed, I believe God has shown me that you are the one he’s chosen to serve our country in this way. But I also believe he’s chosen you for me.

  But I want you to come for selfish reasons too. My greatest prayer is that you’d give me another chance.

  This ticket is one way to Washington on March 1. Please use it. If you decide you can’t stay, I’ll buy you a ticket home. But if you come, I can promise you a lifetime of happiness and success doing things you never dreamed of.

  If you don’t come, I’ll come to you. I intend to win you back.

  I love you, Deni. I hope I won’t be disappointed.

  Love, Craig

  Deni stared at the letter, astonished. Craig was going to church? She couldn’t even picture it.

  She thought of the job he was offering her. It was a big deal, one she would have killed for eight months ago.

  But so much had changed. She was in love with Mark now, and there was no way she could consider going back to Washington. How arrogant for him to think he could win her back.

  Folding the letter up, she stuffed it back into its envelope and set it on her makeup table. She dropped the ticket on top of it and turned her thoughts back to Mark and Jimmy Scarbrough.

  FIFTY-ONE

  WHEATON INSISTED THAT DOUG, MARK, AND BRAD ALL go home, now that they had more volunteers to take the night shift. He dropped them all off at the Brannings’ house, since Mark’s mother was still there. But Mark didn’t plan to stay. He’d been thinking about building a solar oven for the jail. He’d stored a lot of things he could use at his father’s house. If he went over there, maybe he could find the things he needed to get started on that tonight.

  But first he wanted to see Deni and his mother.

  Mark found her sitting at the kitchen table with Kay, talking by the light of the solar lamps they’d left in the yard all day, then brought in at night. They’d stuck the pole lanterns into terra-cotta pots around the house, and it gave the rooms a sweet yellow glow. The fire in the living room added more light. It felt like a home.

  Knowing it was Deni’s home only made it warmer. He hadn’t thanked her for cleaning the cells with him. When he’d discovered Jimmy missing, he’d hurried out without a word to her. But he was anxious to see her now.

  He took off his holster with his Glock and laid it on the table. His mother fussed over him and fixed him something to eat while Kay took Doug to the garage to show him something. He was starving, but he didn’t want to take the Brannings’ food. “Mom, I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

  “Stop it, Mark. You’re injured and tired, and I bet you can’t even remember the last time you ate.” She put a plate in front of him, and his stomach reminded him that his mother knew best.

  “Where’s Deni?”

  “Upstairs. I’ll go tell her you’re here.”

  As his mother scuffed away, he ate the potato on his plate in five bites, then took a bite of the bread.

  His arm and clavicle ached, and he longed to stretch out in bed for the first time in three days.

  The door to the garage opened and Doug came back in, followed by Beth and Kay. Beth looked pale, and her eyes were swollen. She had clearly been crying. She sucked in a breath as she saw him. “Mark, are you okay?”

  He smiled. “Sure, Sparky. I’m fine. How about you? You don’t look so good.”

  She looked embarrassed and exchanged looks with her mother and father. “Did you catch the killers yet?”

  “No, not the ones who killed the deputies. Although Jimmy Scarbrough gave it a heck of a try.”

  “Jimmy Scarbrough?” Beth took a step toward him. “I know him from school. He’s in the grade above me. What did he do?”

  Mark told her how the boy had taken matters into his own hands.

  Her eyes rounded in wonder. “Wow, that was pretty brave.”

  “He could have been killed.”

  “But he’s all right?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s back at home now. His mother may never let him leave the house again.”

  Beth just stared at the air, as if running Jimmy’s heroics through her mind. Did Beth have a thing for the sheriff’s son?

  Mark took his plate to the sink and dunked it into the water bowl. Kay hurried over and took it out of his hand. “You go sit down in the family room, Mark. Let me do this.”

  He surrendered the plate and went into the family room. Doug sat in his favorite chair, and Mark took the couch. “Everything all right out there?” he asked Doug.

  Doug put his feet up. “Yeah. Just a distraught daughter. And a garage full of rabbits.”

  Mark knew there must be a story.

  He heard Deni coming down the stairs and he started to get up.

  “Sit back down,” she insisted. She came to him and hugged him. “How’s Jimmy?”

  He told her how they’d found him, and relief was clear on her face. “I came straight home and started praying for him,” she said, sitting down next to him.

  He put his arm around her and stroked her hair. “I haven’t thanked you for helping me today.”

  She smiled. “You owe me big, Mark Green. Making me clean toilets, then running out on me like that.”

  “I really am sorry.” It was amazing how much better her smile made him feel. He wanted to kiss her again like he had at the hospital. But not with her father sitting next to them.

  “If I forgive you will I have to clean more sewage?”

  “No, I promise.”

  Kay came and leaned in the doorway. “I’ve cleaned up Jeff’s room for you, Mark. You look really tired. Why don’t you wash up and get to bed? Your injuries will heal better if you’re not exhausted.”

  “Thanks, Kay, but I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

  Deni grunted. “Why not?”

  His mother came into the room. “Mark, you need rest! You’ve earned it.”

  “I know I do. But I want to sleep at Dad’s house. I have some things I need to do over there.”

  Martha looked as if she might cry. “Mark, that place feels evil.”

  “It’s not evil, Mom. It’s just a house. It’s no big deal. I have a lot of stuff over there I need to check on.”

  Clearly aggravated, Deni got to her feet. “Can I talk to you alone, Mark?”

  He stood up. “Sure.”

  She led him into her father’s study and dropped into a loveseat. “Mark, why do we have to keep going over this? You demanding to go into danger, and your mom and me begging you not to?”

  “My father’s house is not dangerous, Deni. I just want to work on a solar oven for the sheriff’s department. If I’m there anyway, I might as well sleep there.”

  “But if the neighbors see you there they might attack you again.”

  “The neighbors hav
e heard about the arrest of Grantham and his gang. No one’s going to hurt me.”

  “What about whoever broke into your mom’s house? What about Zach’s shooter? Or the escaped prisoners? They could come after you.”

  “I’ll be armed. Besides, they wouldn’t even know to look for me there.”

  Sighing, she just looked at him. “Mark, you’re so stubborn.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  She touched the skin around his stitches. “This is swollen. Does it hurt?”

  Her touch sent a current through him — grabbing his full attention. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay, maybe a little.”

  She leaned closer. “It’s okay for you to acknowledge pain, Mark. It doesn’t make you any less heroic.”

  Her breath was warm against his face. “Me? I’m no hero.”

  “Yes, you are, in every way. Everything you’ve done for the last two days was heroic.”

  He thought of the hate-filled thoughts he’d had about Grantham and his men today, before God had made him clean toilets. Those thoughts hadn’t been very heroic. He was glad she didn’t know about them.

  “You’re the one who was heroic. Never in a million years would I have imagined that Deni Branning would voluntarily clean out filthy Porta-Johns for people she couldn’t stand.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my idea. I did it for you, not them.”

  “The fact that you did it at all was major. You’ve come a long way, you know that?”

  She seemed to appreciate that. “I had a long way to come.”

  He took her hand. She brought his fingers to her lips. Fire shot through him, and he swallowed hard.

  “I didn’t much like cleaning the toilets,” she whispered, “but I did like being with you so much today. And that’s why I want you to hang around here tonight.”

  His mouth was suddenly dry again. He leaned toward her, and their lips touched. He kissed her then, a soft, slow, long kiss that melted the pain out of him, but the pain of his longing for her seared through his heart.

  When the kiss broke, he pulled back and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was beautiful. He remembered sitting in sociology class and watching her across the room. Whenever she’d catch his eye, he’d mouth some benign message to her and pretend he was planning a prank on one of their classmates. Then he’d have to come up with one. Their friendship was too important to be ruined with a crush.