"Sorry. I'm supposed to ask."

Bud settled back into the chair, arms crossed over his chest, slightly mollified. "All right, then."

"When you came close to the bloody area of grass, did you notice anything else?"

Bud nodded, his ire suddenly cooled. "Yeah. The blood was still warm."

Steven's brows came together. "I thought you said you didn't touch anything."

"I didn't. I could smell it. I slaughtered pigs on this farm for fifty years, boy. I know the smell of warm blood."

Steven drew in a breath and let it out. So close. Bud Clary must have stumbled on this clearing less than an hour after Pal was stabbed. At least they could pinpoint the time. Given twenty minutes from his house to the clearing, Bud would have arrived at twelve-thirty-five. That meant Samantha had still been here at eleven-thirty. "That's helpful, Bud." He pulled a business card from his pocket. "If you remember anything else, can you give me a call?"

Soberly Bud took the card. "I will. Please find Samantha, Agent Thatcher. This is a small town. There's not a soul around that doesn't love Samantha Eggleston or her family. She baby-sits my great-grandbabies." Then he bitterly added the phrase Steven heard far too often. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen in Pineville. We're a peaceful town."

Too bad evil people sometimes live in peaceful towns, Steven thought. His job would be so much more uneventful if all the evil people congregated together, killing one another instead of innocent people.

Steven was walking back to the grassy area when his cell phone jangled. One glance at the caller ID told him it was his assistant. "Nancy, what's up?"

Nancy Patterson had been his assistant since he'd been at his post. She'd been secretary to the special agent before him and the one before that. She was a computer whiz with invaluable experience and Steven trusted her as much as he trusted any woman.

"You've had several calls from one of Brad's teachers."

Her tone and his own growing worry over his oldest son made Steven stand straighter. About a month before, almost overnight, Brad had changed from a warm, happy boy to a sullen stranger. Any attempt to breach the wall Brad had built was met with sarcasm and anger. They'd been through teenage rebellion, years before. This was different. And now his teachers were seeing it, too. He forced his heart to calm. "What's wrong?"

"She wouldn't tell me. She insists on speaking with you in person. She's called twice already since lunch. She's very… insistent."

Steven looked around him. They were still gathering evidence and he needed to stay. But his son needed him more. "Did she leave a number where I can call her back?"

"Just the school's main number. The first time she called on her lunch break, the second time between classes. She said she wouldn't be free again until four o'clock."

Steven glanced at his watch. He could just about finish up here and make it to Brad's school by four. "Can you call the school and leave her the message that I'll meet her in the lobby at four?"

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you, Steven?"

"Story of my life," he responded grimly.

"Steven!" Harry yelled. "Come here!"

Steven looked over to where Harry stood next to the road.

"Nancy, I have to go. Tell Brad's teacher I'll meet her at four o'clock. Call me back if she says no. Oh, and, Nancy? Which teacher is this?"

"Dr. Marshall. She's his chemistry teacher. Steven, are you okay?"

Steven's mouth flattened. "Tell Lennie I'm fine," he said grimly. "I'm not planning to freak out and blow the investigation."

"He doesn't think you will, Steven," Nancy admonished gently, making him feel like a truculent child. '"He's worried about you. So am I."

Steven sighed. 'Tell him I'm fine. But if I feel stressed I'll go to Meg. Okay?" Meg was the staff psychologist who had continually pestered him to meet with her after Nicky. He'd finally gone, just to get the infernal woman off his back. But she'd helped. A bit. Offering to see her at this point should make Lennie Farrell a happy supervisor.

"Okay. I'll call Brad's teacher. Dr. Marshall," she added, reminding him. She knew him well.

"Thanks." Committing the name to memory, Steven slipped the phone into his pocket and carefully made his way to where Harry impatiently waited, holding a syringe in his gloved hand. "Damn," Steven muttered and looked back to the flattened grass, the shape of its perimeter clean. "That would explain no evidence of a struggle."

"We'll get it back to the lab along with the hair." Harry gestured to where Kent was examining the trail of blood leading back to the house. "Kent wants to watch the vet swab the dog's teeth."

Steven sighed. "I just hope we find a lead in a hurry. We're running out of time."

Friday, September 30, 3:50 P.M.

"So, did you call Brad's dad?"

Jenna looked up from cleaning lab tabletops to find Casey standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Kind of. He was out in the field, so I talked to his secretary. He's coming to meet me in"-Jenna checked her watch-"ten minutes."

Casey's brows scrunched. "Out in the field?"

"He's a cop."

"Hmm."

Jenna paused mid-scrub and looked up. Casey looked thoughtful and that was always a dangerous sign. "What?"

Casey smiled and sent a chill down Jenna's spine. "I don't know. Cop, widower. Brad's a pretty good-looking kid, so Dad's got to have some good genes…" She shrugged. "Possibilities."

Jenna shook her head, feeling a familiar tightening behind her eyes. Casey considered finding Jenna a mate one of her personal goals. Jenna walked to where Casey stood, deliberately towering over her. "Don't go there, Casey," she warned. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Casey stared up defiantly. "You're taller today."

Jenna's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm wearing these damn shoes you convinced me would be perfect with this suit. My feet hurt and I don't have time for this right now. Promise. No contact with Mr. Thatcher. That includes telephone, telegraph, fax, sticky note, and smoke signals."

Casey sulked. "I promise. Dammit."

Jenna backed away. "Good." Gathering her papers into her briefcase, Jenna glanced over her shoulder to find Casey looking thoughtful again. Seeing Jenna's stare, Casey brightened.

"I almost forgot. I have a date tomorrow night with Ned and he has a friend. I-"

"No." Jenna cut her off with a shudder. Ned was adolescent on his best behavior, but his friends were worse.

Casey frowned. "Why not?"

"I'm having dinner at Allison's tomorrow night."

Casey made a grumbly sound. "Blow her off. Ned's friend is really cute."

"I can't just cancel on her. She'd be hurt."'

"She has the hide of a rhino," Casey muttered. "You couldn't hurt her with an elephant gun."

Jenna huffed a chuckle. "She's a lot more tender than she looks." Then she remembered the purpose of Allison's dinner and grew serious. "I can't cancel on her. Next week is the eighth of October."

Casey put her small hand on Jenna's arm and squeezed gently. "I know what month it is," she said softly. "That's why I don't want you staying home by yourself. It's been two years since…"

Jenna pulled her arm free, suddenly irritable. "Since Adam died. You can say the word. D-i-e-d. As you've pointed out, it's been two years. I'm over it. I wish everyone else would be, too."

"I don't think you are, but there's nothing I can do about your being stuck in denial."

Jenna shoved her desk drawer closed with far more force than was necessary. "I'm not in denial," she hissed. "Adam's dead. I was there holding his hand when he breathed his last, two years ago October eighth. I am not in denial."

Casey set her lips in a firm line. "You're only thirty. You need to start living your life again."