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be piled on her thin shoulders.
    â€œThat bus goes to Taos and so do we,” said Harriet. “And you said the driver knows the fastest route to Taos. So it can’t be out of our way, can it?” They had reached the intersection and Harriet squeaked in between a car and a truck to make one of the world’s fastest left turns. “Buckle your seat belts and prepare for warp drive, Lieutenant.”
    The children giggled and Harriet flew down the road after the dark blue shape ahead.
    â€œIt’s not that I’m nosy,” said Harriet, once the gap between them and the bus was narrow enough to keep it in sight, “but what did you put into that suitcase? Granite blocks? Light artillery? It weighs a ton.”
    â€œOnly following orders,” said John. “Warm clothes for the mountains, light for the desert. I brought an extra pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The rest of the space is filled up with your heavy sweater. After all, I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”
    â€œAll right—one point for you. How did you know we’d need heavy sweaters?”
    â€œResearch, my beloved Harriet. Research and inquiry. It’s the foundation of all great police work. Not your line at all.”
    â€œResearch? You?”
    â€œUsing my highly developed detecting skills, I called a travel agent and asked what the mean temperature was in Taos in early May. She told me to bring a sweater.”
    â€œSmartass,” murmured Harriet, ducking his fake punch. He turned it into a condescending pat on the head. “It’s been pure hell not having anyone around to fight with.”
    â€œWhat about your friend, Kate?”
    â€œAt the moment, she’s too neurotic to fight. Or too drunk. You can have a very solemn and serious discussion with her—usually about Kate’s world view or Kate’s problems—or you can put her to bed. Those are the choices. She’s at a rather self-absorptive point in her life right now. Did I tell you she’ll be meeting us in Taos?” added Harriet, with enormous casualness.
    â€œYou intimated something of the sort. Delicately. Sounds interesting,” he said.
    â€œDo you mind?” Anxiety clutched at her again. “I’m sorry—I got cornered—trapped into inviting her. I can call her tonight and tell her it’s impossible for us—”
    â€œHarriet, darling—what’s wrong with you? What in God’s name are you apologizing for?” John shifted around in his seat and studied her taut shoulders and unhappy expression. “When did you ever worry about dumping me into the middle of your neurotic—or unneurotic—friends? I’m a grown-up, Harriet. Don’t worry about me.”
    â€œI don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She pushed the hair off her face with nervous fingers. “All day I’ve been suffering from a sense of impending doom. Every time I approached a curve on my way down here, I had a vision of a huge truck thundering along the road the wrong way, in my lane, coming straight at my front bumper. There are a lot of curves in that road, too.” She tried to laugh, unsuccessfully. “It kept me busy. And in between, I’d imagine that your plane had crashed into a mountain, or that I’d get to the airport so late that you’d given up and caught the first flight home.”
    â€œYou were wrong. I don’t fly on planes that crash, and I would have waited all night if I had to. I wouldn’t have been very happy about it, but I would have waited.” John gave her a reassuring squeeze of the shoulders. “Anyway, I’m relieved. I thought you’d turned into one of those creatures who hover, wringing her hands and worrying about what I think. And then apologizing for everything that goes wrong. I don’t think I could stand that.”
    â€œClown.” This time the laugh was real, and the anxiety faded off