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keep his expression neutral. “Who?”
    Amity shook her head. “Rebekkah.”
    “Rebek—”
    “You’ll feel better if you make sure she’s home safe.” Amity slid the credit-card slip and a pen over to him.
    “How did you—”
    “People talk, Byron, especially about you two.” Amity’s expression was unchanged. “Just so you know, though, she doesn’t talk about you ever. When you were away and she visited, Maylene introduced us and we got to know each other, but she’s never once mentioned you.”
    Byron stared at the credit-card slip for a moment. He wanted to ask if Amity still talked to Rebekkah, to ask if Rebekkah knew that he and Amity ... Not that it matters. He shook his head. Rebekkah had made herself perfectly clear years ago, and they hadn’t spoken since that night. Byron signed the slip and shoved his copy of the receipt into his pocket.
    He looked at Amity. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”
    “You and I don’t exactly talk much, Byron.” She grinned.
    “I’m s—”
    “No, you’re not ,” she said firmly. “I don’t want words, Byron, especially empty ones. I want the same things you usually offer. Don’t stop coming to see me just ’cause Rebekkah’s home.”
    “Rebekkah and I ... We’re not—”
    “Come see me,” Amity interrupted. “But not tonight. I already told Bonnie Jean I might need a ride. Go on.”
    Byron stepped up to the bar, reached out, and pulled her close. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
    “Your aim’s off.” Amity tapped her lips.
    He leaned in and kissed her. “Better?”
    She tilted her head and gave him a look that, most nights, would’ve meant that they didn’t make it to her place after they locked the door. “Closer. Definitely closer to better.”
    “Next time, Ms. Blue.” He picked up his helmet.
    He was at the door when she answered, “I hope so, Byron.”

Chapter 8
     
    R EBEKKAH STOOD AT THE BAGGAGE CAROUSEL. T HE AIRPORT WAS MOSTLY empty at this hour, shops closed and gates vacant. She wasn’t quite alert, despite several cups of the nastiness the airline passed off as coffee, but she was upright, awake, and moving. At this point, that was about as much of a victory as could be hoped for.
    Cherub, unhappy to be in her kitty carrier, mewed plaintively.
    “Just a little longer, baby,” Rebekkah promised. “I’ll let you out when we get ...” The words dried up as she imagined going home and finding it empty. Tonight there would be no rose-scented embrace to make everything less bleak: Maylene was gone. The tears that Rebekkah had kept in check the past few hours slipped down her cheeks as she watched the baggage carousel. Maylene is gone. My home is gone. The few short years Rebekkah had lived with Maylene, and the next nine years of visiting her, had made Claysville home, but without Maylene, there was no reason to come back here.
    Rebekkah leaned against the faded green wall and stared blindly while the rest of the passengers got their bags and left. Eventually hers was the only bag circling. The carousel stopped.
    “Do you need help?”
    Rebekkah looked up at a man in an airport uniform. She blinked.
    “Is that your bag?” He pointed.
    “It is.” She stood up. “Thank you. I’m fine.”
    He stared at her, and she realized that her face was wet with tears. Hastily she wiped them away.
    “Why don’t you let me—”
    “Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words and walked over to heft her bag off the carousel.
    Looking unconvinced, he walked away.
    Rebekkah extended the handle of her bag, picked up Cherub, and headed toward the rental-car desk. One step at a time. A few minutes later, keys in hand, she turned away from the counter and almost dropped Cherub.
    A man in a pair of jeans, boots, and a well-worn leather jacket stood in front of her. His hair was a little longer than usual, brushing his collar, but the familiar green eyes watching her warily hadn’t