M iles watched Dr. Sheila Raines from across Katie’s living room speaking quietly to Sam. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t meeting her eyes. His small hands were restless, pulling on his jeans, scratching his elbow, punching one of the sofa cushions.

“He’s hardly spoken a single word,” he said to Katie, who was sitting next to him, holding Keely in her arms, the little girl was sprawled out, asleep. Miles barely got the words out. “Too much has happened to him, just too much. And we still have no idea who is after him, and why. And that’s the biggest mystery: why go through all this misery to get ahold of one little boy? Twice now they’ve come after him after he escaped them. Twice! And tonight Clancy came after him all by himself, and he was wounded. It makes no sense at all to me.

“If his kidnapping was for money, then why was there no ransom note? They had almost two days, surely that was enough time to make their demands known to me.” He paused a moment, streaking his fingers through his hair. “I was certain it was a pedophile who’d taken him, but no, that isn’t the case, and I thank God for that. And I’m as certain as I can be that no one, not even the crooks I caught when I was an FBI agent, would want revenge against me this badly. And if someone did, then why not just shoot me? That would be easy enough to do. Why then, for God’s sake?

“Jesus, this whole thing is over the top. And look at Sam, silent, his eyes blank like he’s really not here, like he doesn’t want to be here because it’s too scary, and he has all this terror locked inside him.”

Katie touched his shoulder. “It’s a terrible thing, what he’s been through,” she said. “But you know, Miles, even with the short time I’ve known Sam, I know he’s resilient. He’s a very strong little boy. Be patient. Sheila is very good. Have some faith.

“Now the motive. There is one, you know that, Miles. There always is. It’s just not obvious to us yet, and just maybe we wouldn’t necessarily understand it, but there is a motive, obviously a very strong one to the person or persons who had Sam kidnapped, given all the lengths Clancy and Beau have gone to. We’ll keep digging and we’ll find it, I promise you.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “And it’s not over,” he said, still looking toward his son, “not by a long shot. Clancy is dead, and with him the name of whoever is behind this. But they’re still out there, I know it and you know it, Katie. And they’ll try again, you know that, too. Why stop now?”

“To be honest,” Katie said after a moment, “I don’t think Clancy would have said a word. Didn’t you tell me that you were certain he planned to kill you after he had Sam again?”

Miles nodded. He began rubbing Keely’s foot in its bright pink sock, so small, just like Sam’s.

“Even so he still wouldn’t tell you who hired him to do this.”

“No.” Miles happened to look down. Katie was still barefoot, wearing only jeans and her nightshirt with Benedict Pulp: Nonfiction printed across the front.

He looked down at his own bare feet and saw several cuts. He hadn’t even noticed until now. He’d see to them, but not yet, not just yet. Her feet were cut, too. Who cared about feet? He looked again at Sam and Dr. Raines. His boy wasn’t moving. He just sat there, looking at nothing in particular, moving his hands.

Savich and Sherlock arrived ten minutes later. Both of them hugged Sam, met Dr. Sheila Raines, then left them alone again.

Sherlock said, “You guys tell Savich what happened while I take care of the bloody feet in this room. You got a first-aid kit, Katie?”

Katie looked at her, face completely blank. She repeated, “First-aid kit?”

“Yes, so I can clean up your feet. Both you and Miles.”

Katie blinked, reminded of the cuts on her feet, and shook her head at herself. “Yes, in the kitchen, in the cabinet above the fridge.”

A few minutes later, Sherlock looked up to see Katie walking gingerly into the kitchen.

“Where’s Keely?”

“I gave her to Miles. I think it helps him to hold her. It’s bad, Sherlock, Sam isn’t speaking at all. But I trust Sheila, she’s got a gift, particularly with kids. She’s able to clue right into what they’re feeling-their fears and where they’re lurking, and how to lessen them. She’s really good. Plus I’ve known her all my life. She’s loaded with common sense-” Katie’s voice caught and tears filled her eyes.

Sherlock looked at her a moment, put down the first-aid kit she’d just pulled down from a top shelf, and held out her arms. “Come here, Katie.”

Katie walked into her arms. It was silly, really, particularly since she was bigger than Sherlock, but it felt good to be held, to know that Sherlock understood what she was feeling, it made a difference. She whispered against Sherlock’s hair, “I’ve killed two men-two-since last night. I’ve been sheriff of Jessborough for three years now and I’ve never shot anyone before. Our idea of local crime here is shoplifting and maybe twenty-five DUIs a year. Mainly we herd Mr. James’s cows back into his pasture, pull Mr. Murray out from under the tractor that fell on him, tug Mrs. McCulver’s rat terrier off the postman, and keep traffic smooth on the Fourth of July. I’ve never seen a murder or a kidnapping, at least not here. This is a peaceful town. Now this.”

“I know,” Sherlock said, stroking her hair. “I know it’s been a shock, not only to you but to all of us. But you did exactly what you had to do to end it. You saved Sam, I mean you really saved him. Just think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been with Sam. Do you think now that you had a choice? In either case?”

Katie shook her head against Sherlock’s face.

“Good. Now, I expect Sam to always be there for you. He owes you his life. He can push your wheelchair or help you dodder around when you’re old and drooly.”

Katie laughed, despite herself. “The image of that,” she said, straightening, “makes me want to both laugh and cry.”

Sherlock cupped Katie’s face between her hands. “The realization that you, no one else, just you, put an end to someone’s life-you have to just look at Sam to know you did the right thing when it counted.”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Sherlock?”

“No, I haven’t, but I wanted to once, real bad. Someday I’ll tell you about Marlin Jones. Dillon has, and he told me it dug right into his gut. There was one time he wasn’t sorry at all, when he shot a real madman, Tommy Tuttle. But you see, he got over it because he realized that a law officer has to be able, intellectually and emotionally, to get the job done.” She paused a moment, and looked disappointed. “I’m really sorry we weren’t here to help you take care of Clancy.”

Katie smiled. “Yeah, I wish you’d been here, too. He managed to break the locks on the back door, came right up the stairs and I didn’t hear him. None of us believed it could happen. Do you know that Clancy actually got into the bedroom where Miles and Sam were sleeping? A fat guy who’s quiet as a mouse-that’s scary. The deputies didn’t see or hear him either, even when he snuck up on them. He had both Miles and Sam out of the house before I heard them.” Katie wiped her hand over her eyes, blew out a breath. “Thanks, Sherlock. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’ve known you for only a very short time, Katie, but I am very certain of one thing: You’re a good person and an excellent sheriff. Now, it’s after midnight, your feet are a mess. Come on, let me fix you up. Dillon needs rest, but that won’t happen until he’s satisfied that everything’s under control.”

Katie, trying for a stab at humor, said, “Maybe I can be an excellent patient, too?”

“We’ll see about that,” Sherlock said. She smiled up at Katie, who was five foot nine if she was an inch, took her hand, and walked her back to the living room.

Once she had a bowl of hot water, soap, towels, and the first-aid kit, Sherlock was ready. She sat on her haunches in front of Katie, holding her ankle firm. When she finished washing each foot, it was time for the iodine. “Hold still, Katie, this is probably going to sting.”