He aimed the car toward Walker Lakeside Bungalows.

“She wouldn’t have pulled over for Jed Draper. That makes less sense. Stay,” he ordered the dog when he pulled up just out of sight of Bungalow Five. To keep the dog where he was, on the floor of the convertible, Zane tossed Zod his tie.

Then moved quick and quiet to the edge of the drive.

He saw the shades down. Who pulled all the shades with that view? Bedroom maybe, for sleeping, but the rest of the house?

He kept moving, kept to the soft ground, searching for a chink in a shade where he could see inside.

As he circled around, he heard a man’s voice, raised in fury. “You look at me, bitch. You look at me when I talk to you. I’ll shoot you in both knees, then in your gut if you don’t give me some respect!”

Zane took out his phone, texted Lee:

Bungalow Five. He has a gun.

Then turned off his phone.

With no intention of waiting for Lee, he circled back to the front of the house. Get him outside—set off the car alarm—get him outside, rush him. Get him outside, away from Darby.

And before he reached the front, Zod began to howl.

“Good enough,” Zane murmured. He kept moving, felt the weight in his pocket, and curled his hand around the baseball.

“What the hell is that?” Trent demanded.

He moved to the front window, eased back the shade to peer out. Behind him Darby flexed, rocked.

Zod, having jumped out of the car and now tangled with Zane’s tie, lifted his head and began to howl again.

“Stupid fucking dog. I got a spare bullet for a fucking ugly dog.”

He cracked open the door, then stepped out on the porch, grinned as he took aim.

Zane stepped out from beside the pawpaw Darby had planted, winged the ball just like the boy who’d dreamed of playing short at Camden Yards.

It hit Trent’s face with a nasty thud, and as he stumbled, the gun spurted out of his hand. From behind, Darby rammed the chair into him and Zane rushed forward to finish him off. Trent was out cold.

She fell back, nearly tipping over, chair and all, as Zane rushed to her.

“T-t-triple play,” she said through chattering teeth. “Zod to Walker to McCray.”

Then she began to weep as if her heart, and every part of her, was broken.

“It’s all right now. He can’t hurt you now.” He slid the gun over with his foot, kept his foot on it as he stroked her face. “I need to get something to cut you loose, okay? I’m going to get you loose, take you away from here.”

“It’s Trent. He killed my mother. He told me. He killed my mother.”

He had no words, could only press his lips to her face. “You hold on. Just hold on. Let me get something to cut these off you.”

“He took my multi-tool. It’s in his pocket. Is he dead?”

“Here now, here’s Zod.” Zane lifted the dog, set him, trailing tie and all, in Darby’s lap. “You just hold on another minute.”

Not dead. Zane found a pulse, found the multi-tool.

Fresh rage beat inside him when he saw how deep those ties had cut into her flesh.

“I’m going to get you home, okay? Lee’s coming, then I’m going to take you home. I’m going to take care of you, of everything.”

“He killed my mother because she loved me, because she was there for me when I needed her. He killed Clint Draper, he told me. Maybe because he enjoyed it, maybe because he wanted to cause you more trouble. Because I was with you.”

“He’s never going to hurt you again. He’s never getting out again. I need to tell Lee what’s happened, and have him call for an ambulance. We want him to live, Darby, believe me, we do,” he said when he took out his phone, turned it back on. “For a long time, in a cell. Lee, he’s down. I’ve got Darby. We need an ambulance. Yes, I’ve got her.”

He slid the phone back in his pocket. “He was coming in quiet, but they’re only seconds away. You don’t have to talk to him now. I’ll take you home.”

Those gorgeous eyes of hers were huge, a little glazed, but she kept them on his. “You hit him with a baseball. You hit him in the face with a baseball. I want the ball.”

“Sure, we’ll get that in a bit. It’s gonna have to go with Lee for now. Look, there he is now, and pretty much the whole Lakeview police force.”

Lee ran toward them, gave Trent a long look. “Ambulance is coming. I’ll have another sent along.”

“I don’t need one.” Darby cuddled the ecstatic dog. “That’s Trent Willoughby, my ex-husband. I stopped because I saw the car, looking like it was broken down, at the shoulder of the road. I don’t know a damn Prius from a damn Toyota,” she said to Zane.

“Darlin’, a Prius is a Toyota.”

“See? He knocked me out, and I came to tied to the chair. He came to kill me, but he had a lot to say first. He told me he killed my mother, and how he did it. He told me he killed Clint Draper. I’d rather say all the rest later. I’m a little shaky.”

“That’s fine. How about Zane takes you on to our place? It’s close, and Emily’s there. I’ll be along directly.”

She started to get up, swayed. Zane plucked both her and the dog into his arms.

“Just a little shaky.”

“I’ve got you,” Zane said, then looked at Lee. “I’ve got her.”

“I see that. You take her to Emily.” He looked down at Trent as Zane carried Darby away. “I’ve got this.”

* * *

It took hours. While Emily soothed and fussed, Zane took a walk to settle himself. It didn’t work, but he had enough left to pretend it did, for Darby’s sake.

She gave her long, detailed statement to Lee, let Dave treat professionally the lacerations on her wrists and ankles, which Emily had bandaged.

Because she asked, Dave gave Darby an update on Trent’s condition.

Concussion, detached retina, broken nose, chipped cheekbone. “Nice play, slugger,” he said to Zane.

“But he’ll live?” Darby pressed.

“He’s in serious condition. Not critical. Oh, and he lost a couple of teeth, some major contusions on the backs of his legs.”

“She hit him with the chair he’d tied her to.”

“Another nice play. It wouldn’t hurt you to see your doctor.”

“It’s not my first punch in the face. I hope it’s my last.” Steadier, she rose. “Emily, I can’t tell you what it means that you were here when I needed you.”

“Honey, I promise you I always will be.”

“He took my mother from me.” Her eyes welled again. “She’d have been glad to know I found someone to stand in for her.” Breaking, she pressed her face to Emily’s shoulder when Emily pulled her in.

When Darby steadied, drew back, Emily draped an arm around Brody’s shoulders.

“I’ll never doubt your instincts again, about anyone. Ever.”

“I’m real sorry about your mom, Darby. I’m real sorry.”

“Me, too. You’re my hero, Brody.” Darby leaned over, kissed him lightly on the lips. “I have a lot of those today.”

She found more when Zane finally got her home. Her entire crew waited on the porch along with vases of flowers, casseroles, pies. A pound cake.

“We just wanted to see you for ourselves,” Roy began. “We know you gotta rest, but we just wanted to see you for ourselves first.”

He lowered his head when his voice broke.

“We got two of the sites cleaned up good.” Ralph cleared his throat. “We figured that’s the way you’d want it. We’ll take care of the rest tomorrow, ’cause we don’t want to see you on the job tomorrow, and that’s that.”

“Who’s the boss?” she demanded.

“Don’t care about that. I ever see who put those bruises on your face out in the open, he’s gonna wish I didn’t. That’s that, too.”

“How about I take you inside, get you settled down.” Hallie moved down the steps. “And these men here can take all this inside. There’s likely to be more coming,” she continued as she put an arm around Darby. “Zane, you left the door unlocked,” she added, steering Darby inside. “We didn’t feel like we should just go in. More’ll be coming,” she continued, “as word’s out about what happened. People want to help out as they can. You matter here in Lakeview, Darby.”

“Hallie, I need to go upstairs so I can have a good cry.”

“I’m gonna take you right up there. Gabe, give me one of those vases to take up.”

“This one’s from Miss Cherylee. It’s nice and showy.” He gave Darby a light rub on the back. “How about I give Zod a you-know-what, Darby. Seems he earned it.”

“Thanks, Gabe. Thanks, all of you.”

Hallie held her while she cried, then sat with her until she slept.

When she woke, she looked out the tall window at the view of the lake, the boats sailing on it, the kids jumping off the raft.

She looked at the showy flowers sent by a woman she’d only just met. Thought of the tableau that had greeted her when Zane brought her home.

Rising, she studied her face in the mirror, the bruised cheekbone, the black eye—a fairly mild one, all things considered.