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Folsom, found a place to park and went around to Brie’s side to open her door.
    “Tell me about your growing up,” he said.
    “Not nearly as interesting as yours,” she said.
    “Let me be the judge,” he said, taking her elbow and walking her across the street toward a gift shop.
    As he maneuvered her through shops, galleries, antique stores and bakeries, she told him about life with three much older sisters who babied her, and Jack who fussed over her till she was about six, then again when he was home on leave. Her household didn’t sound terribly different from his, except that her mother didn’t cook outside, use oversize cooking pots and implements, and her father was a whiz at numbers and investing, not building or landscaping. Otherwise, their childhoods were similar—large families filled with noise and laughter, loyalty and blistering sibling fights. “The girls fought like animals,” she said. “They never fought with me—I was the baby. And Jack was threatened with certain death if he ever struck a girl, so they went after him with a vengeance, knowing he was helpless.”
    “Any chance there’s a video of that somewhere?” he asked, laughing.
    “If there was, Jack would have it destroyed by now. They were terrible to him. It’s amazing he loves them now. Of course, he had his revenge in small ways. He played tricks on them constantly—but to his credit, he never fought them physically. Fought back, I should say. Until he returned from his first hitch in the Marines, I believe he wished them dead.”
    Mike stopped walking outside a corner pub and looked at his watch. “I’ll bet you’re getting hungry.”
    “There’s a Mexican place down the street,” she said.
    “Nah, there’s not a Mexican restaurant in the world that can satisfy me now. I’m a mama’s boy. How about a hamburger?” he asked.
    She smiled. “Sure. This has been easier than I expected.”
    “We’re taking it nice and slow and you’ve been distracted by conversation,” he said.
    “That sounds so professional,” she commented, entering the pub. “And here I thought you were having fun.”
    He laughed at her. “Surely you can tell I’m completely miserable,” he said. “Of course I’m having fun. But I’m here on a mission—getting you out. If I happen to have a good time while I’m doing it, even better.”
    He directed her to a corner booth, moved her into the seat from which she could see the whole restaurant so she wouldn’t feel vulnerable, and told her to order a beer or glass of wine. There were only a few people in the pub, so she could easily see everyone having lunch. Then they ordered hamburgers and continued the discussion into the teenage years—their grades, dates, trouble they’d been in. Here they were opposites—Brie was an exceptional student, had a couple of very polite boyfriends, never any trouble. Mike couldn’t concentrate until he was over twenty, dated anyone who would have him, got into plenty of trouble—even trouble with the police, who brought him home late at night more than once, waking his parents. By the time they were halfway through their hamburgers, there was a slight disturbance in the pub. A man shouted at the waiter, “It’s unacceptable!”
    Brie’s eyes grew round and Mike looked over his shoulder. There were two couples across the room at a table; they looked to be middle-aged married couples. One of the men was irate, while the other tried to mollify him, placing a hand over his forearm and speaking quietly. Both women drew back, if not just embarrassed, then concerned. The waiter leaned down and said something to the angry man, and he reacted. He picked up his glass of beer and hurled it towardthe bar, smashing the glass, beer splattering and shards of glass flying. If the pub had been more crowded, it could have been dangerous. “Not good enough!” he shouted.
    Brie gasped and stiffened, terror in her eyes. Mike glanced at her, glanced over his