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Backman.”
    When she ran into the kitchen, she pulled up sharp. “Oh my God, what happened to her? What did you do? What’s wrong?”
    He heard the growing hysteria in her voice and said very slowly, very calmly, “It’s all right. Autumn is afraid of this man Blessed. I’m trying to convince her I can handle anyone who tries to hurt her or you.”
    “I don’t think so,” she said. She pulled her daughter out of his arms abd plastered her against her chest, rocking her back and forth, kissing her hair, her small face, and kept speaking, trying not to cry with absolute relief. The animals, strangely enough, hadn’t moved much, hadn’t dashed for his bedroom as they usually did whenever a stranger invaded the house. All three of them sat on the kitchen floor, as if nothing at all were going on.
    Ethan said finally, “Would you care for some hot chocolate, Mrs. Backman?”
    “Wha-what?” She looked at him, dazed, and pulled her daughter more tightly against her.
    “I gave her hot chocolate. Autumn liked it, didn’t you, Autumn?”
    The little girl pulled back in her mother’s arms. “It’s good, Mama, real good.”
    “I used nonfat milk. To add balance, she had pepperoni pizza.”
    Autumn said, “I’m sorry, Mama, but I had to keep them away from you, and I knew this was the safest place, even though you don’t trust Ethan. He fed me, Mama, and his animals like me too.”
    “Thank you, Sheriff.”
    “You’re welcome, Mrs. Backman.”
    “I suppose you should call me Joanna.”
    Ethan nodded. “Joanna, who is Blessed?”
    She ducked her head down, her hair veiling her face. “We need to leave. I never should have come to Titusville, shouldn’t have waited for Tollie to come home. I’m an idiot.”
    Big Louie came to his feet, barked once, and stared at Joanna. Ethan grabbed him, rubbed his rich, black coat. “That took you long enough, Big Louie. Calm down. Autumn’s just saying hello to her mama, so she’s currently tied up, dude. You’ve got to stay with me a little while.”
    Autumn laughed.
    Ethan said easily, “You won my pets over, Autumn. Did you feed them until they were your slaves?”
    “Oh, no, I know better than that.”
    He heard someone knock on the cottage door. Two sharp raps, a pause, then two more, harder raps. Both Joanna and Autumn turned to stone.
    “It’s all right. I’ll be right back.”
    “No, no, Sheriff, don’t go, please—”
    “It will be all right. You two stay here.” Ethan pulled his Beretta as he left the kitchen. He called out, “Who is it?”
    No answer.
    He opened the front door—not terribly bright, he knew—but no one was there.
    He called out again, walked to the edge of the porch, and stood quietly, his eyes adjusting to the night light. He heard no other sound excerpt the night wind whistling through the trees, the crickets, an owl, and then an answer from its mate.
    He closed and locked the door, then walked back into the kitchen to see Ox, his senior deputy, a man he’d known for three years, holding Joanna back against him, his gun jabbed against her neck.
    “Well, now, I surely do believe that’s far enough, Sheriff.” It was Ox, but Ethan had never before heard him speak in such a high, piercing voice. He felt gooseflesh rise on his arms.

7
    AUTUMN WHISPERED , “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
    What did a little girl have to be sorry about? Ethan stared at Ox, knowing what he was seeing, not willing to accept that this manic voice he was hearing, this mad voice, was from the Ox he knew. He stood very quietly. “What’s going on, Ox? What are you doing? Put down that damned gun, you hear me? Let Mrs. Backman go and tell me what’s going on. Now.”
    Ox turned his head to the side and spit on the tile kitchen floor. He pressed the muzzle of the gun harder into Joanna’s neck. “I don’t have much time, so put your gun on the floor, Sheriff, and kick it over to me. If you don’t, I’ll kill the bitch.”
    Bitch? Ethan had never