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him from the guard position she’d left him in.
    Lou was also nodding in agreement. “Excellent idea. You can search the things she left behind—see if there’s anything there that might help us.”
    “And Quent’ll be able to tell if any of it belonged to Truth—the old mofo, not the hot piece of ass who pulled the gun on you,” Fence said. He was, of course, trying to hold back a chuckle, his impossibly straight and white teeth wide in his face and dark eyes dancing. “Wish’t I’d been there to see you all walking into that frying pan,” he added, his suppressed chuckle squeaking a little bit.
    “Yeah, it was a real party. Crazy woman fucking took a shot at me,” Wyatt said flatly.
    “You sayin’ she was a little quick on the trigger?” Fence replied jovially. “Better her than you, eh, brother?”
    Wyatt snorted, and probably would have responded if they hadn’t been interrupted.
    “Good morning,” said the tall, rangy man who approached the table.
    Quent put him in his late thirties, with a handsome, rugged face that looked like it would belong on a cowboy. However, instead of a buckskin shirt and ten gallon hat covering his messy, sun-streaked hair, he wore something more along the lines of Quent’s personal assistant: a pale blue button-down shirt and worn chinos. The guy needed a haircut like mad, and could use a shave, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent and his demeanor professional.
    “Hey, Vaughn,” Jade said with a smile. “Want to join us?”
    Quent glanced at Elliott, but his friend had risen from his chair to offer Vaughn Rogan, mayor of Envy, his hand in greeting. “Have a seat,” he offered. “We’re just about finished, but could stick around for a bit so you don’t have to eat alone.”
    “A chick magnet like Marlboro Man never eats alone,” Fence muttered in Quent’s ear.
    Although Rogan had once had an eye for Jade, whatever that had been seemed to have passed and settled into pure friendship and sincere regard. Elliott had saved the mayor’s life a few weeks ago at the risk of his own, and since Jade and Elliott had gotten together, the two men had moved beyond any undercurrent of competition to become more than simple acquaintances.
    “I’m obliged,” Rogan said, and snagged a nearby chair, dragging it to the end of theirs. “It’s good to see all of you here, because I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about.”
    He did a brief glance behind him, as if to ensure that no other table was within hearing distance. A woman lingered nearby, and he waved her over for a moment to answer a question regarding a broken wind turbine—“send Jackson out there”—then turned back to the rest of them. “Coffee would be good,” he said, sounding weary.
    But Jade had already poured him a cup and settled it in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
    Rogan took a slurping sip and closed his eyes as if savoring the taste. Then he set the cup down. “Nothing’s really
wrong,
” he said. “I just have a lot of things that need to be attended to. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Aren’t you worried about your chances for reelection if you’re seen hanging out with crazy Lou Waxnicki?” asked the old man with a wry smile. “You know most of the town thinks I lost my mind during the Change.”
    Rogan nodded, his lips in a grim smile. “Their loss,” he said. Then the corners of his eyes crinkled with real humor. “Though I think you do your fair share of promoting that fallacy by talking about your nonexistent granddaughter all the time.”
    Lou laughed, his eyes gleaming behind their glasses. “Can’t be too careful.” Then he sobered. “If the Strangers knew we were on to them, we’d be fucked before we even had a chance to do anything. And since most people haven’t experienced the horrors Jade has seen and lived through, they simply can’t and won’t believe that the Strangers are interested only in controlling and suppressing us. Among