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not back where it belongs—”
    “I’ll take care of it,” said the assistant.
    “Thank you. You’ll save me the embarrassment. I’m sure it’s an accident.”
    “Really?” From her expression on her face, it was obvious his dental assistant didn’t think there was anything accidental about it at all.
    Back at the chair, Osborne was relieved to see that Nancy’s bib had been slightly readjusted. He refused to check the buttons on the blouse, hoping that as he reached for an instrument his assistant would be wise enough to straighten the napkin further—which she did with a wink in his direction.
    Later that afternoon, Osborne puzzled over the woman’s behavior. What on earth could she possibly want from him? Surely Bud Jarvison was a better provider and always would be. They were a handsome couple, too.
    What became clear over the years after Christopher’s death was that Nancy Jarvison excelled at holding a grudge. In fact Mary Lee may have been one of few women to regain her friendship once Nancy had decided to shut her out of Loon Lake’s social circles. And even though she protected her ownership of her husband, she made it a habit to snipe at the man she blamed for her son’s death. Over the years, the rancor between the two escalated to a point that even Osborne’s McDonald’s coffee buddies would comment on how uncomfortable it was to be in a gathering where the two Jarvisons were together.
    But if Bud took the abuse in public, he got his revenge: the drinking, the flagrant womanizing, and snide putdowns of his wife when she wasn’t around.
    When it came to understanding why those two stayed together, Osborne felt the most telling moment may have been Bud’s joke on the last night that Osborne spent at deer camp with the guys.
    “What’s the one surefire way to lose most of your money?” Bud had asked the group while puffing on a cigar.
    “Gambling?”
    “The stock market?”
    “Build a shopping mall?” All were suggestions offered by the other hunters.
    “No, oh no,” said Bud. “Divorce.”

Chapter Eight
    “The tests show Cody’s meningitis is viral, Dad.”
    “I hope that’s good news,” said Osborne, putting an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. She had calmed down but her voice was shaky.
    “Not sure. It means no antibiotics but the most the medical staff can do is try to keep him stable. The specialist…” her voice trembled and Osborne drew her closer. Erin took a deep breath and said, “… um, the infectious disease guy said they can’t tell if he’ll make it or not.” She pursed her lips, determined not to break down. “Could take days before they’ll know… Dad?” She buried her head against his chest and sobbed softly. After a moment, she pushed away and wiped at her face. “This doesn’t help, does it?”
    Erin tried a smile and Osborne gently tugged at the long, blond braid falling over her right shoulder.
    “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, feeling helpless.
    “How about you go home and take care of things so you can come back later. Mark and I are staying here for now. I talked to Beth. She’s got Mason with her so they’re okay. Then if you will come back at six, we’ll leave and take the girls to get a bite to eat. I’ll be back by eight and stay the night. They’re putting a cot in Cody’s room. Is that okay?”
    “Whatever works for you and Mark is fine. Call my cell if anything changes. Love you, sweetie. I’ll let Father John know, too—ask him to say some prayers.”
    With Erin’s plan in mind, Osborne headed home to feed the dog. Mike was a well-behaved black lab but he did get hungry. Pulling into his driveway, Osborne glanced down through the stand of red pine bordering his property. He was startled to see one of the Loon Lake Police squad cars parked in front of his neighbor’s house trailer. Too bad, he was under the impression Ray Pradt had been on good behavior lately.
    Curious to know what was up, Osborne hurried to