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and tell Greta. Cam had never delivered news of a death before and she wasn’t close friends with Greta. Her thoughts pulled back and forth like a tug-of-war.
    Across the road, Greta opened the passenger door of a small sedan in the church parking lot. The younger woman climbed into the driver’s seat and a minute later they were headed toward town, making Cam’s decision for her. She pulled onto the road after them. If they went straight home, then that was that, although they were driving away from the poultry farm. If they went out for breakfast or something, she could call Pete and tell him where they were.
    Sure enough, less than five minutes later, the car pulled into Daisy’s Donuts, the traditional donut shop that also made surprisingly good coffee. Cam pulled in, too, but parked at the far end of the lot. She watched them walk into the donut shop as she pressed Pete’s number.
    â€œPappas,” he answered tersely.
    â€œPete, I just saw Greta Laitinen come out of church with somebody who looked like her daughter. I thought of telling them about Wayne’s death, but decided you should do that.”
    â€œThank you, Cam. Where are they now?”
    â€œI followed them to Daisy’s Donuts and they went inside.”
    â€œIf they come out before I get there, can you find a way to stall them?”
    â€œSure. You know where it is?”
    â€œI do. And then stick around, will you. They’ll need a friendly face.”
    He disconnected and Cam kept her eyes on the door. The front windows were large and clean, and she could see the two women at the counter. When they headed for the exit, white cups in their hands, Cam slid out of her seat. Pete hadn’t yet arrived. She told Dasha to stay and then rushed over to the door of the shop, slowing to a normal pace as Greta and the younger woman emerged. The full aroma of coffee mixed with the tantalizing scent of fresh donuts escaping before the door closed behind them.
    â€œMorning, Greta,” Cam said.
    â€œHey, Cam. How’s it going?” The buttons of Greta’s black coat strained over her full figure.
    â€œNot too bad.” With raised eyebrows Cam glanced toward Greta’s companion as she tried to block the women’s path toward their car. Looking like a female and younger version of Wayne, the younger woman was clearly the couple’s daughter and appeared to be in her late twenties. Her light hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had Wayne’s slender, wiry build.
    â€œHave you met my daughter, Megan?”
    â€œNo.” Cam held out her hand. “Cam Flaherty. Nice to meet you, Megan.”
    â€œGood to meet you, too.” Megan smiled as she shook Cam’s hand.
    â€œGetting your morning coffee?” Cam asked. Which sounded trite, but she needed to keep them here.
    Megan laughed. “After that sermon? We both need it.” “Absolutely,” Greta said, with a fond smile for her daughter.
    â€œI thought he would never stop talking,” Megan continued. “Forgiveness instead of revenge was the topic of the day.”
    Cam tried to scan the lot while she nodded and smiled at Megan. Still no Pete.
    â€œI haven’t been to church since high school,” Cam said, grasping at a topic, any topic, to make sure they didn’t leave. “I used to go to Saint Ann’s with my uncle and aunt.” She pointed down Main Street in the direction of the Catholic Church a couple of miles away.
    â€œHow is Albert these days?” Greta asked. “He was real nice to us when Wayne started up the poultry business. Gave him a few tips on how to raise hens and on how to keep the books.”
    â€œAlbert’s doing very well, thanks.”
    Megan gently elbowed her mother. “I wanted to show you my new kitten, Mom, remember? At my apartment?”
    â€œI remember,” Greta said. She looked at Cam. “We need to get going.”
    At a crunch of