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came from, before he stirred up a whole lot of crap Colin didn’t need stirring.
    “How come you’re not working today?” Al asked, continuing to snoop through Colin’s workspace.
    “I did. But we let out early on account of the crew having to finish another job.”
    “It’s a good job?” More Al code for: Is the work legitimate? Are there permits? No under-the-table pay? No illegal substances on site?
    “It’s all good, Al.” God, he resented these questions.
    Al gazed up at the cathedral ceiling. “How you doing with the phobias?”
    “Great,” Colin lied.
    “You seeing that therapist?”
    “I did. But I don’t like her.”
    “Why not?” Al asked.
    “Because she judges me.”
    Al shook his head. “You do know that’s part of your demophobia, right? Feelings of inferiority. Make another appointment.”
    He sat in one of Colin’s rockers and tested the feel of it. “How much does something like this go for?”
    “Two hundred fifty. But for you, five hundred.”
    Al laughed. “How’s everything else going?”
    “Fine and dandy.” Now get the hell out.
    “What about your social life? How’s that going?”
    What social life? He couldn’t even accept a dinner offer from a neighbor. A smoking hot neighbor. “Terrific.”
    Al wasn’t fooled. “Work on it, Colin.” He stood up and paced the workshop, stopping every once in a while to admire a piece of furniture. Colin was surprised he didn’t take every piece apart. “It’s important to be part of the community. To have friends—upstanding friends.”
    Yup, he’d get right on that as soon as Al left.
    But unfortunately Al wasn’t leaving. He was still talking. “You seeing anyone?” he asked.
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Al. Of course I’m not seeing anyone. I can’t step foot in a goddamn movie theater. How am I supposed to date?” Not to mention that the kind of woman he’d want to date, wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
    Al let out a sigh. “Look what you’ve accomplished here. Give yourself a little credit, Colin.” This from the man who just moments ago had had his head down Colin’s toilet tank, looking for contraband.
    “On another note, how’s that new police chief working out?” Al asked, and Colin froze.
    The last thing Colin needed was Al making waves for him in this town. In the three years he’d lived here, he’d gotten along with the people just fine. He’d even made a few nice acquaintances. The police chief’s wife being one of them. “Why?”
    “Just curious. I remember last year he shot that meth dealer in his wife’s inn. Weren’t you the guy who found the lab in the basement?”
    “Yeah.” Colin had been helping to restore the Lumber Baron, which at the time had been so neglected that it should’ve been condemned, when he found a cache of chemicals and cooking equipment. Given his history, he’d seriously considered walking away and not telling anyone, knowing that it could come back to him. But he blew the whistle anyway, worried that someone might get hurt. Or worse: blown to bits. Rhys Shepard, the police chief, wound up killing the dealer during a hostage situation.
    “So you get along with him okay?” Al asked, watching Colin closely.
    “We’re fine. Why the third degree, Al? I’ve been behaving.”
    “Just want to make sure you’re staying out of trouble and maintaining good relations with the local law. It’s my job to babysit your ass.”
    “The chief’s father just died,” Colin blurted, not knowing why he’d felt the need to throw that into the mix. It wasn’t like it had anything to do with Al.
    But the old man’s death had hit Colin hard. Shep Shepard used to drop by the house sometimes, mostly because his Alzheimer’s made him loopy and he’d get lost. On those occasions, he’d confuse Colin for Rhys. Colin supposed that watching a guy lose his mind had helped him put his own issues in perspective. Because of the demophobia, he hadn’t been able to attend the