Dylan had the uneasy feeling that he was forgetting something. He kept replaying conversations in his mind and going over various details again and again, and still he couldn't figure out what was bothering him.

He knew he was missing something, but what? What wasn't he seeing?

Kate noticed how preoccupied and withdrawn he had become. It didn't take long for her to catch on that he didn't want to talk— his abrupt one-word responses were a dead giveaway-and for over an hour neither of them said a word. The silence wasn't awkward, though. Had she become that comfortable with him, she wondered, that she could feel so at ease?

They had reached the outskirts of Silver Springs. When he suddenly took an unexpected turn, she asked him where they were going.

"Somewhere safe," he answered. "And quiet."

"It's quiet at my house now," she said. "We could go there."

He shook his head. He bypassed her neighborhood and continued down Main Street to the Silver Springs police station.

He drove around the corner to once again park in the back lot.

"What are we doing here?"

"I need to check in," he said.

He got out of the car and came around to open the door. "I don't understand," she said. "Why do you have to check in?"

He offered her his hand. "Even though this is a temporary assignment, I'm working for Chief Drummond, and I answer to him, so it's my job to keep him informed. I don't want to do that over the phone. I was also thinking that the chief could be a big help to you with your company problems."

"He could? How?"

"You said you wanted an investigator to check out the weasel. Drummond's got the resources, and I know he won't mind helping. You'll have to explain why you want the information, but he'll keep whatever you tell him confidential. I know how worried you are."

"It would be wonderful if I could get something in my life straightened out. Thank you," she said, overcome with gratitude.

"The chief's helping me out, too," he said. "I've already called him several times and given him names to run for me. Hopefully, he'll have something by now."

She was smiling. "You must have really impressed him. I remember what Nate told you about the chief."

"Yeah? What was that?"

"He said he was tough… or difficult… and because he was retiring soon, he didn't care who he offended."

"He is retiring," he said. "I don't know how old he is or how long he's been at the job, but I'll tell you this. He hasn't lost his edge. After I met with him to get the badge and gun and we talked, I made a couple of calls of my own. I wanted to know that, if I had to, I could trust him."

"And can you?"

"Yes," he said emphatically. "He's got an impressive record, and he's a good man. I respect him," he added, "and I definitely trust him."

"Okay. Then I'll trust him, too."

They started to cross the parking lot, but Kate turned back. "I'll need my briefcase. The chief might want to look at some of the papers in my mother's file… if he has time to help."

"He'll make time," he assured her as he retrieved the briefcase.

After he'd handed it to her, she whispered, "And you're certain he'll keep this confidential?"

"I'm certain," he said. "You shouldn't be embarrassed about-"

She interrupted. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm just trying to protect my mother's reputation. I know you think I'm being silly. My mother wouldn't care. I just don't want anyone to think less of her." They started toward the path again. "I'm glad the chief is helping you," she said.

"I'm trying to take some of the load off Nate's shoulders," he explained. "He'd do whatever I asked him to do, but he's overworked as it is. He's trying to track down Jackman, who seems to have vanished from Las Vegas, and he's also keeping a tail on Roger and the two brothers. I doubt he's asking for any outside help. He's new to the Charleston department, and I know he wants to prove himself. The FBI is focusing on the bomber, and from what I understand, they've got a couple of solid leads there. They're also searching for Jackman, and according to Nate, everyone's still tripping over everyone else. It would look real good on his record if Nate brought Jackman in." He glanced at the station and said, "It will be less chaotic here."

Chief Drummond must have spotted them from the window. The back door swung open and he beckoned to them.

"Don't you listen to your messages?" he asked Dylan in lieu of a greeting.

"I was just about to do that," he replied.

"When you do, you'll hear me tell you to call me. We've got a real interesting situation here," he announced.

He tipped his head to Kate and said, "Good morning, Miss MacKenna."

"Good morning to you too, Chief Drummond, and please call me Kate."

"All right then."

Southerners, Dylan was learning, were always polite, no matter what the circumstances.

"You have a situation?" Dylan asked, trying to get his attention.

"Real interesting," he said. He stepped out of the way so Kate and Dylan could go inside first, then made sure the door locked behind him.

"A fella came in here about a half hour ago. Said his name was Carl Bertolli."

"Carl's here?" Kate asked.

The chief nodded. "You heard right. He's here." He led the way up the stairs to the first floor.

Kate waited impatiently for him to explain, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry as he proceeded down the back hall and pushed open the door to his office.

She hurried inside and turned to face him. "Why is he here?" she asked.

"He said he drove all this way to pay you a call, Kate, but you weren't home, and so he decided to come on down here and turn himself in. Please, take a seat."

She dropped into one of the chairs facing his desk. "But what is Carl turning himself in for?" She was thoroughly confused.

Drummond made himself comfortable in his old squeaky chair. He folded his hands on his desk and said, "He told me he was responsible."

Kate looked at Dylan, who had closed the door behind him and was leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest. He seemed to be taking the news in stride. She wasn't. She was flabbergasted.

She carefully placed her briefcase and her purse on the floor next to her chair, her mind racing with questions.

"What is Carl saying he's responsible for?" she asked the chief.

Drummond shifted his weight and tilted his chair back on two legs. "That's a good question. I thought I would give him a few more minutes to settle down, and then I'd try once again to get an answer out of him."

"Settle down?" Dylan asked, not understanding.

Drummond nodded. "I want to question him, I sure do, and just as soon as I can figure out a way to get him to stop crying, I'll start in."

Kate now understood why the chief looked so bewildered. He'd obviously never encountered anyone quite like Carl.

"He's… dramatic," she said.

"Yes, he is," the chief agreed.

"And he can be temperamental. He's an artist," she hastened to add, so Drummond wouldn't think she was criticizing her friend. "He majored in drama at the university, and he's been in several local theater productions. And as I'm sure you know, some creative artists are high-strung and… emotional."

"He's emotional all right."

"How do you suppose he knew you were looking for him?" she asked Dylan.

"I'm guessing his fiancee," he answered. "The police questioned her about his whereabouts. She must have gotten word to him."

"You want to take a shot at him?" Drummond asked Dylan. "He should be calming down about now."

"I'll talk to him," Kate said.

"I don't know about that," Drummond said.

Dylan was shaking his head, but she ignored him as she stood, picked up her things, straightened her skirt, and asked the chief to please take her to Carl.