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The leather jacket protected his arm and back. His hand is bleeding from severalscratches but he says they are no worse than what he gets at work. He’s lucky.”
    â€œNo, I’m lucky. That drill bit would have hit my head if he hadn’t flown into me.” For a moment, her imagination pictured the jagged iron teeth flying into the back of her head. She could almost see her mother leaning over her casket saying something like, “Thank God it hit her from behind and didn’t mess up her face.”
    â€œDid you see or hear anything that might help me out?” The sheriff broke into her daydream. “Did anyone say anything to you before the meeting? Did you see the truck pull away?”
    â€œNothing. I didn’t even know it was a truck. I’d been watching the clouds a few minutes before. I didn’t even notice the traffic.” Lora closed her eyes, wishing she could cry. Billy Hatcher had been hurt. Dr. Dickerson was on her way to Wichita Falls with chest pains. The Rogers sisters were wound up tighter than speed babies. They’d told their story to everyone and were now recounting it to each other. Only the reverend appeared calm. He paced slowly around the room as if looking for a clue everyone had missed.
    In fact, he’d been calm since the beginning, like some kind of robot. He’d caught the professor when she’d passed out, dialed the sheriff on his cell, talked everyone into remaining still until help came. She couldn’t help but think it strange that a brush with death didn’t affect him.
    After he’d called the sheriff, in what seemed like seconds the room flooded with people. Firemen from the station two blocks away, the sheriff, campus cops from the college and the hospital’s only ambulance. Clifton Creek might be small, but they could move when needed. She had heard talk that the sheriff ran everyone through drillstwice a year in case a tornado hit. Their practice paid off today.
    Half the town turned out to watch. Traffic was down to one lane in front of Rosa Lee’s old place. If Lora knew them, and she did, most had already made up their minds about what had happened. A few were planning punishment for the villains when they were found.
    Through the open door, she could hear Philip Price chanting like a cantor questioning why anyone would want to hurt this group of people. “Who’d want to hurt the Rogers sisters?” he asked, but didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “Or a professor? Or the preacher? Or the poor brokenhearted Whitman girl whose husband…”
    Lora ducked her head. She didn’t want to go outside. Somehow, it seemed safer to stay in here. The coolness of the house felt comforting. The dusty smells settling around her seemed strangely familiar. She looked up at Sheriff Farrington. “Why?”
    The sheriff shook his head. “Maybe just kids seeing the opportunity to break something. A twelve-foot window in an abandoned house would be hard to resist. Maybe someone who just wanted the house torn down and didn’t really give much thought that their note might hurt someone.”
    â€œBut you don’t think so?”
    â€œBut I don’t think so,” he echoed. “There’s no way anyone passing could have missed seeing the committee sitting in that bay window.”
    â€œThen why?”
    â€œSomeone doesn’t want one of you, or all of you, in this house.” He stared directly into her eyes. “Whoever threw this meant harm, Lora. To you or to someone at that table.”
    Lora covered her eyes with her palms, pretending to be invisible as she had as a child. She couldn’t think of anyone who would plan to harm her. Phil, the town crier,had been right. Who would want to hurt any of them? The only person she could think of who hated her was Dan, and he didn’t want her dead. He only wanted her to suffer. Their marriage, in and out of bed,