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you home, Sherry. And I want you to promise me that you won’t go anywhere alone. Nowhere.”
    “Clint, you’re scaring me.”
    “Good,” he said. “Then maybe you’ll listen to me. Come on.” He straightened and reached for her arm, but she stepped back.
    “Clint, I’m not going with you!”
    “Yes, you are!” he rasped. “Now come on! And keep quiet.”
    Sherry suppressed her rising sense of panic as Clint reached for two white hard hats and handed one to her. “Stuff your hair up in this and pull it low over your face.”
    Nervously, she obeyed, then followed him down the dim corridor. She felt his hand trembling as it looped around her waist, heard the heavy, rhythmic sound of his breath, tasted apprehension rising like a lethal flood to drown her senses. Before they were out of the building, he stopped and pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses out of his pocket, put them on, and set his hard hat on his head. “Now, walk fast,” he told her. “And don’t say anything until we’re on our way.”
    She nodded. Swallowing the fear flooding her throat, she took temporary refuge in his arm as it wrapped protectively around her. They walked at a fast gait to the Bronco, and he let her in his side and slid in next to her. The engine rumbled to life, and Clint backed out of his space.
    Five minutes had passed before Sherry found her voice. “Clint, you know you’ve just scared ten years off my life, don’t you?”
    Clint glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, Sherry. I didn’t think this would happen.”
    “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
    Clint only stared at the road ahead, swallowed, and glanced in the mirror again. In a voice racked with frustrated despair, he said, “I don’t even know where you live now.”
    Sherry gave him her address on a street he was familiar with, then tried again. “Clint, are you in some kind of trouble?”
    “First, let me get you home, Sherry,”
    “Then you’ll answer my questions?”
    “Then you can ask them,” he said.
    Several more explosively silent moments passed as Clint wove through the streets leading to Sherry’s house. “I’m going to park in that shopping center a couple of blocks behind your street. Do you have a back door?”
    A cold, nauseous feeling began to take hold of her, and Sherry glanced through the back window. “Why do I have the feeling that any minute now a SWAT team is going to surround us and start shooting?”
    “Do you have a back door or not?”
    “Yes, I have a back door,” she whispered.
    “Then we’ll have to come up through your backyard and go in that way so we won’t be seen.”
    “Clint, people see me going in and out of my house all the time and nothing’s ever happened before.”
    “Things have changed, Sherry,” he said.
    “Why?”
    The heel of his hand landed violently on the steering wheel. “Because I came back to town!”
    The Bronco whipped into the crowded parking lot at the shopping center, and threaded through the spaces until it stopped. But Sherry didn’t care where they were, for her eyes were set on Clint, seeing the haze of truth for the first time since he’d come back. She had wished there were some deeper explanation for his leaving her, and now she was sure there was. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know it, after all.
    When the engine was dead, Clint turned and gazed into her eyes. Through his mirrored glasses she saw only herself, blurry blue eyes full of fear and turmoil, a face growing paler by the moment. “If I’d just listened …” he began, but then he just shook his head helplessly and opened the door. “Come on. Take the hat off and we’ll get you home.”
    They crossed streets like lovers on a stroll, stole through yards like prowlers in the night, and approached her back door like escaped convicts waiting to be caught. “Where are my keys?” she whispered when they reached the house.
    “I gave them to That was your house key too?” His impatient