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“I know him.”
    “I had dinner with him a few times before the election. A lot of contractors do good work.”
    “Fenton did, too, back then. Now he’s wanted by the FBI and who knows who else.”
    “Ah, Grit, Marissa,” Fenton said. “It’s good that you remember me.”
    Marissa raised her voice above a whisper. “I thought you were out of the country.”
    “I wish I were.”
    “I can get you out,” Marissa said. “It’s easy. Pack up. Let’s go.”
    Fenton gave a low laugh. “Even if you were telling the truth, Marissa, Grit won’t let me go with you. Will you, Grit? You’d insist on going, too, and you’d slow me down with that missing leg of yours.”
    “Nah, the leg’s fine,” Grit said. “It’s the cold that gets me, although I think I’m getting used to it. Scary thought. You ever try tupelo honey, Fenton?”
    “What? What are you talking about?”
    “My friend Moose would have liked you before you dishonored yourself with your illegal side deals. You had your own private black market going. I found you out, Fenton. You were selling weapons, supplies, parts, whatever you could get your hands on. Think of the hardworking people doing a job—”
    “I’m just as good as you are.”
    “You were. Then you decided to cross the line, and now you’re a loser. If you don’t give up, you’ll be a dead loser.”
    “Put your gun down, Grit. Give up, and I’ll let Marissa go.”
    Marissa shook her head, adamant. “He won’t.”
    Grit gave her a slight nod but spoke to Fenton. “It’s not my gun. I didn’t come to Black Falls armed. Why would I? You meant to kill Elijah but you screwed up. You gave away your position a split second before you fired. That gave him all the time he needed to give Marissa the head start she needed to get away from you, and to keep you from getting off a second shot. Now he’s going to land on your head any second.”
    “He’s messed up. He’s not doing anything.”
    “You don’t know Elijah. He isn’t seriously injured. You can still get out of this, Fenton.”
    “What, put my weapons on the floor and come to you with my hands up?”
    “That’d do it.”
    “I know you’re trying to last long enough for reinforcements.”
    “Or I could shoot you before they get here.”
    Marissa reached for a rudimentary Molotov cocktail she’d made just before Grit had arrived, using a slender glass bottle, the gas and a flour-cloth dish towel. She whispered, “Every history teacher knows about Molotov cocktails.”
    Grit grinned at her. “Look at you.”
    She handed him the bottle. She was surprised at the steadiness of her hands. “One thing before…” Before what? She decided it didn’t matter. “I love you, Grit.”
    “Marissa—”
    “Let me finish. I started falling in love with you last November when you returned Charlie to school after he went AWOL the first time. He trusts you, and you trust him.”
    “I don’t trust Charlie. He’s a kid.”
    “You trust his instincts, his mind. You and Elijah gave him attention when we were all too distracted and busy to notice he needed to feel as if he mattered.”
    “So you fell for me because I wasn’t a jerk to your brother?”
    She smiled in spite of her fear, or maybe in part because of it. “I also thought you were attractive in an understated manly way.”
    He grinned suddenly. “That can’t be bad, right?” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “That’s just for starters. I love you, too, babe. With all my heart and soul. I’m going to tell you how much I love you every day for a very long time, but right now is it okay if we deal with this crazy son of a bitch?”
    Marissa knew they had no choice. She could hear Brian down the hall.
    The lights went off.
    He was coming.
    Grit leaped up, moving with speed and precision. The suddenness and force of his assault seemed to suck the air out of the immediate vicinity.
    Marissa didn’t breathe. Everything happened fast. There was nothing