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why—?”
    “I really don’t want to talk about it, Tricia.”
    Tricia clenched the steering wheel, squelching the urge to wrap her fingers around Bob’s throat. “Have you got an attorney?” she tried again.
    “No.”
    He really didn’t want to talk about it.
    They drove in silence for several miles down Route 101. Tricia’s gaze was riveted on the road; Bob’s gaze was fixed out the passenger-side window. When Bob finally spoke, it was to direct Tricia to stop at the grocery store’s pharmacy in Milford. It took twenty minutes for Bob’s prescription to be filled. Bob waited in the car; Tricia waited in the store. After all, she’d promised to help Bob, not babysit or keep him company.
    It was lunchtime when Tricia pulled into Bob’s drive-way. Parked at the curb was a Draper Security Systems truck. Tricia raised an eyebrow. “Having some work done, Bob?”
    “Yes.” Yet another succinct answer. Tricia wasn’t sure if she was irritated by this new behavior or if she should celebrate it.
    “Did you arrange for this while you were in the hospital?”
    He glared at her. “No.”
    Tricia leaned forward for a better look at the security company’s van. “Feeling insecure?”
    His glare intensified. “No!”
    His refusal to give a decent answer to any question was maddening. Tricia shifted her gaze once again. If he hadn’t ordered the work during his hospital stay, he must have arranged for it before then. Okay, so a couple of people had been killed—all right, murdered—during the past eight months. And there’d been a particularly vicious attack—but other than that, Stoneham was no more dangerous than East Los Angeles on a hot summer night, she thought facetiously.
    Bob opened the passenger-side door, swung his legs out of the car, and paused. Just that slight movement brought a bead of sweat to his brow. “Thank you for the ride, Tricia.”
    “You’re welcome.” Tricia gathered her purse and the pharmacy bag, got out of the car, and retrieved Bob’s overnight bag from the trunk.
    Bob waited for her. “I’ll take that.”
    “I’ll carry it to the house for you. It’s no trouble,” Tricia said.
    “No,” he said firmly, “I’ll take it.”
    Behind him, Tricia noticed the security guy waiting for Bob on the home’s small porch, and she realized Bob didn’t want her to hear the conversation he was about to have with the stranger. “I guess I’d better get going.”
    “Thanks for the ride.”
    “I’ll check up on you later. Angelica—”
    “—worries too much. I’ll be fine.”
    “Would you like me to get you some lunch, or—”
    “No,” Bob said, firmly. “I’m fine. I’ll see you later, Tricia.”
    She’d definitely been dismissed. She tried not to take it personally. After all, it got her off the hook for playing nursemaid to him for the next couple of days.
    “Fine. I guess I’ll see you around, Bob.”
    He said nothing. Just stood there.
    Tricia turned, and walked back to her car.
    Bob was still staring at her as she drove away.

FOUR

    Tricia parked her car and glanced at her watch. She still had nearly half an hour before Ginny’s lunch break, and wondered if she should walk over to the Bank of Stoneham to ask about paying off Ginny’s mortgage. It would probably be a waste of time. No doubt the manager would be away from her office during the noon hour. Still . . . .
    A minute later, she walked into the bank and asked the receptionist if she could speak to someone about a mortgage.
    “Sure. I’ll tell Billie you’re here. She’ll be glad to talk to you.” Tricia watched as the woman headed for a cubicle at the back of the bank.
    It was said that Billie Hanson, manager of the Bank of Stoneham, was named after Billie Burke, the actress who played Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz . Not that she looked like that icon of the silver screen. She didn’t have long, frizzy red hair, nor was she tall. In fact, Billie, short and squat, reminded Tricia of