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director, deals with death. As a sheriff, Bill does, too. I hate to say this, but maybe Bill had to handle an accident this morning. He did mention Aiken, something might have happened over there.”

    “You don’t think it has anything to do with me?”

    “No,” I replied with more confidence than I felt. “Aiken is fifteen miles from Summerset. We don’t know anyone there, so what could happen in Aiken that would affect us?”

    Later, I’d regret asking that question.

     

    After work that afternoon, I hurried home. I’d promised Tink that we would take the dogs for a run out at Roseman State Park. After whipping into the drive of my Victorian cottage, I ran to the curb and opened my mailbox. I pulled out the mail and thumbed through it.

    Gas bill, electric bill, a new credit card offer, Tink’s subscription toSeventeen. Nothing too interesting here. Then a letter with a Minnesota postmark caught my eye. It was from an attorney’s office in St. Paul.

    Jason Finch, Tink’s uncle and former guardian, lived in Minnesota.

    Her former guardian who still had legal custody.

    Five

    I noticed my hands were shaking, and I felt icy fingers of fear squeeze my heart.

    What if this letter was to notify us that Juliet, Tink’s aunt, had been released from the mental hospital? But a moment later I realized that wasn’t possible. A year ago Juliet had killed a man and been declared legally insane. I couldn’t see the legal system letting her out anytime soon. Then I wondered if Jason’s attorney was writing us to renege on our agreement that I raise Tink. The thought left a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Tink was such an important part of my life that I couldn’t imagine it without her. And it would kill Abby if we lost her.

    Stop it, Jensen, said a little voice inside my head.Open the letter and read it.

    Taking a deep breath, I tore open the envelope with trembling fingers. Quickly, I read the letter and let out a whoop of joy. The attorney proposed, on the request of his client, that Jason permanently surrender custody of Tink, clearing the way for me to start adoption proceedings. He also stated that a trust, containing the funds Tink had inherited from her deceased mother, would be set up. Our friend from Minnesota, Rick Delaney, and I would be named as the trustees.

    The relief I felt was so strong, I almost dropped to my knees in the middle of the driveway. Clutching the letter, I tore into the house, searching for Tink. I found her in the kitchen making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Lady, T.P., and my cat Queenie watched with rapt attention, just waiting for something edible to drop on the floor.

    I grabbed her in a fierce hug, causing the knife in her hand to clatter to the floor.

    “Ophelia!” she squealed. “What’s gotten into you?”

    Releasing her, I quickly explained the contents of the letter. Her reaction disappointed me. She didn’t seem to share my elation.

    “This is great news, Tink! Aren’t you happy?”

    “Yeah,” she said, bending to pick up the fallen knife, which by then had been licked clean by T.P. Tossing it in the sink, she turned and faced me. “It’s a lot to absorb.”

    “I know, but now we can make this arrangement permanent.” Uncertainty hit me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

    “Sure.” Her voice sounded noncommittal. “I thought we were going to Roseman State Park?” she said, changing the subject.

    “Umm, yes, we were.” My eyes darted to the clock. “Give me five minutes to change, okay?”

    In my room, I quickly changed out of my linen slacks and blazer and into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. As I tied my tennis shoes, I thought about Tink’s reaction. Obviously she didn’t want to tell me her feelings right now. Maybe after we reached the park, I could get to the bottom of what was bothering her.

    We drove to Roseman without talking. Lady and T.P. sat in the back. I’d opened the windows a crack, and they both