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happened to have a twin brother who wanted to take an unmarried nurse’s aide to dinner and dancing. The aide eagerly told her about the handsome couple. “He took his wife’s hand to whisper in her ear,” she finished. “It was so romantic—they looked just like Jackie and our president before…you know.”
    â€œGod rest his soul,” Mrs. Hoffmeyer said, crossing herself.
    â€œGod rest,” the aide agreed, clutching the boy to her bosom and finger-whisking blanket fuzz off his unusually large ears. “Let’s go see your folks, darling,” she cooed. “I’ll bet Daddy is telling Mommy right now how much he loves her for bringing you into his world. Oh, someday I’ll have a husband so handsome and fine, just you wait and see.”
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    â€œNo more children?” Dwight whispered through his frozen smile. “Is that some kind of joke?”
    â€œIt’s not my fault, darling,” Alice whimpered, tears welling from the pain of his thumb on her incision. “He was so turned around inside me—”
    â€œYou knew I wanted sons,” Dwight hissed. “Plural. Sons are the measure of a man. Thanks to this, I’m stuck with one. One!” His breathing was shallow, his eyes bright. “Pray to the Blessed Goddamn Virgin he’s a good one. I will not tolerate a loser. Ah, here he is now!” His sour demeanor turned sunny as he took the infant from the aide. “I name you Brady Maurice Kepp,” he cooed, waltzing him around the room. “After your great-grandfather, who came to America penniless and built a good life with his own two hands.” He planted a kiss on Brady’s furrowed forehead. “Let’s walk down the hall and get to know each other a little. Then we’ll come back and introduce ourselves formally to Mother and her friend.”
    The aide turned to Alice as they trotted away. “You’re so lucky, Mrs. Kepp. Your husband’s one in a million.” She frowned at the pallor of her patient’s face. “Are you all right? Should I get Mrs. Hoffmeyer?”
    â€œNo,” Alice breathed, patting the aide’s hand. “The incision hurts a bit, that’s all. Get me an aspirin, and I’ll make do just fine.” She watched her husband and son disappear. “It’s a wife’s job to make do.”

CHAPTER 3
    Monday, 9 A.M .
Sixty-nine hours till Emily’s birthday
    â€œVery funny,” Emily said. “You sing and dance, too?”
    Benedetti looked sourly at Branch. “This was your idea. You said she’d laugh. Thanks for getting her mad at me.”
    Branch grinned. “What are friends for?”
    â€œYeah, yeah.” Benedetti tugged at the bulletproof vest under his suitcoat. “All right, here’s what we know so far. It’s 3 A.M . Some kid’s out party hopping, stops by the cemetery to drain the lizard. He notices the wrecked race car and calls 911. Then skedaddles ’cause, well, he’s DUI and doesn’t need the hassle.” The look on his face said he was still trying to sort these cards. “Sheriff rousts me out of a sound sleep, and here I am.”
    Emily nodded, recalling Branch was telephoned by someone named Marty. “But why us, Commander? What do we bring to the party?”
    â€œI found something puzzling,” Benedetti replied. “I needed somebody to tell me what it means. Nobody smart was available, so I called Branch.” His grin showed even white teeth. “We’ve got history.”
    â€œWorking undercover on joint task forces, among other things,” Branch explained, touching the thin gray scar that half-mooned his jaw. “That’s where I got this beauty mark. You should have seen the other guy when Marty got through kicking his ass…uh…” Embarrassed at the hint of emotion he’d let show, Branch steered back to business. “Marty buzzed me,