Savich carefully rose and straightened his back as best he could. “Sherlock and I will be heading back to Mother’s Very Best now. If you guys need anything, call us. Otherwise we’ll see you here in the morning.”
For the second time, Katie and Miles went to bed, Miles with Sam sprawled over his shoulder, Katie holding a sleepy Keely, who whispered, “I wanna sleep with you, Mama.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, sweetie. You won’t hog the bed, will you?”
Keely gave her a big grin. “I like to sleep sideways, Mama.”
Katie was smiling until it hit her again. She’d shot two men in two days, shot them both dead. Odd how it all felt rather distant now. She no longer felt that debilitating shock that had slammed through her earlier. Now she felt strangely detached. Was it because she’d done something that made her not quite human? No, that was the wrong way to look at it. She set her jaw. She would face this, she would settle it in her mind, once and for all.
21
When Katie woke up early the following morning, Keely wasn’t in bed with her. She jumped out of bed and came to an abrupt halt just inside the living room. There, lying on their stomachs on a blanket, were Sam and Keely, watching cartoons, the sound turned down low.
Katie looked down at her feet. For that panicked moment, she’d forgotten her sore feet. Then she thought of Miles. If he woke up he’d be wild with panic when he saw Sam was gone.
She didn’t say anything, just ignored her throbbing feet, trotted to the guest bedroom, and stuck her head in. Miles was lying on his back, the covers pushed down to his waist, his chest bare. One arm was above his head, the other hand rested on his belly. His dark hair was standing on end, witness to an uneasy night, and his face was dark with stubble. He was sleeping deeply.
She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was only just after six o’clock. Let him sleep.
She stood there a moment looking at Sam’s father, really looking at the man she’d come to trust and admire in just two days’ time, then grabbed a couple of blankets from her bedroom and went back into the living room.
An old Road Runner cartoon was playing, but the kids weren’t watching it. They’d both fallen asleep. She turned off the TV.
She pushed the kids apart, marveling at how utterly boneless they were, just like cats. They didn’t stir at all. She got down between them, and managed to get the three blankets over them. She put an arm around each child and drew them close. They snuggled in. She smiled as she closed her eyes, holding their small bodies close and safe.
An hour later, Miles woke up, realized that Sam wasn’t there, and came running into the living room. There was the sheriff of Jessborough lying on her side, her hair out of its French braid, loose and long, draped over a sofa pillow. She was spooning Sam and Keely was spooning her, and all three of them were sound asleep.
For a very long time Miles stood in the doorway, looking at them, then looking at the sheriff holding them, and knew to his gut that everything was changing. He’d felt frozen inside since Alicia’s death, but no longer. He turned and walked into the kitchen, made some coffee and pulled out his cell phone to call his sister-in-law, Ann Malcolm. He had called her Sunday morning, to reassure her that Sam was okay, but hadn’t had time to tell her much. He’d trusted Butch Ashburn to keep her informed. He wasn’t planning on telling her much this time either because there was no reason to upset her with it all. He didn’t want to be on the phone anyway. He wanted to be lying in that living room holding Sam.
“Hey, Cracker, it’s me, Miles.”
She yelled into his ear: “It’s seven o’clock on a bloody Monday morning! It’s about time you called again, you jerk!” Miles smiled and she was off.
Miles held his cell phone a good two feet from his ear until he heard her running down. Then she started firing questions at him. He pictured her in his mind as they talked. She was wearing one of her gorgeous peignoir sets, no doubt—that’s what she called them, honest to God. Whereas her sister, his wife Alicia, who had always had both feet a bit off the ground and a song always on her lips, had worn flannel pajamas. Cracker was a part-time estate lawyer, with a big mouth and a sharp brain. She loved Sam, and that was the most important thing.
“Yes,” he said, breaking in at last, “everything is okay now. I’m okay. Sam is okay. There’s lots to tell you, Cracker, but you’re going to have to wait for the unabridged version. Hey, do you know anyone in Jessborough, Tennessee?”
“Me? I’ve never even heard of Jessborough, Tennessee. What’s going on, Miles?”