“She lives there, too, and she knows those people,” Mom pointed out. “And she can take care of herself.”

“I’ll say.” I chuckled. “She’s a little naive, but physically she’s tougher than most men I know.”

“Now, Brooklyn, Crystal Byers is a lovely girl,” Mom proclaimed, then added under her breath, “Big-boned, but lovely.” She tasted her wine, then smoothed a wrinkle out of the tablecloth. “You know, she and Melody come by here every few weeks to buy apples, so I keep up-to-date with them.”

“But they already grow apples out at their place,” I said, confused. “Why do they come here?”

“Their orchards only produce Gravensteins so they come here to buy my varieties.”

“Ah.” Mom liked to experiment with all sorts of apple varieties—Gala, Fuji, two different types of Delicious, Granny Smith. She didn’t sell her apples commercially or at the farmer’s market, so she wasn’t under the same constraints as the farmers whose apples were their main source of income. Apple-wise, Gravensteins were the biggest moneymakers in our area.

“Of course, I didn’t realize I was subsidizing her jewelry business when I sold her my beautiful apples,” she said, laughing.

“Maybe you can work out a deal,” I said. “Dried-fruit earrings for every occasion.”

“There are my girls,” said a cheerful male voice.

We both turned as Dad and Derek walked across the terrace. They each carried wineglasses and looked happy to see us.

Mom sighed. “Have you ever seen such a handsome sight, Brooklyn? I’ll take the cute, rangy one on the right.”

I laughed. “Fine with me. I’ve got dibs on the dark-eyed, dangerous one.”

“A fine choice.”

“I think so,” I murmured. Derek’s eyes never left me as he approached, set his glass down, then sat down next to me. I snuggled up close and was instantly warm and cozy.

Dad leaned over and kissed Mom. “What’ve you two been plotting?”

“Sit and relax, and we’ll tell you.”

“I’m more interested in what you two have been plotting,” I said. Ever since I found out that Dad had played a prominent role in Max’s disappearance, I’d been grilling him for information. He’d filled in some of the blanks on Solomon, but I hadn’t known until Crystal mentioned it that the man was a member of the Ogunite church. I had no idea what significance that held, if any. Dad didn’t know, either.

Derek said he’d make a note to look into the group’s background; then Mom gave an abbreviated rundown of our conversation with Crystal that morning. I added comments here and there.

“I don’t know those boys, Stefan and Bennie,” Dad said.

Mom reminded him that Benjamin Styles had been in London’s high school class, and Dad nodded. “Now I remember him. He’s been in some trouble before. Arrested for attempted burglary. Road racing. Idiot stuff.”

“That goes along with what Crystal said about him, although she never mentioned he’d been arrested.”

“So Solomon has Bennie teaching him to load ammunition,” Derek mused. “Interesting choice of chums.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” I said, smiling at his use of the word chum. What a perfectly darling word. I was going to use it from now on.

I stared at my half-full wineglass and wondered if I’d had too much to drink. I didn’t think so, but, then, I didn’t often wax lyrically over a bit of British slang.

“Becky and I are friendly with several survivalist families who have moved in together down in the Hollow,” Dad said. “But those people maintain sober, vegan homes and are relatively harmless.”

“I doubt Solomon is one of that ilk,” Derek said.

“He’s far from harmless,” Mom agreed.

“Well, I guess the term harmless is relative,” Dad said. “After all, even the nicest families in the Hollow have arsenals in their basements that rival Fort Ord.”

“Is that right?” Derek said, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be sure to look into that.”

Later that evening as we took a circuitous route up the mountain to Jackson’s house, Gabriel was in a somber mood, so we avoided discussing anything too heavy. I tried to lighten things up by regaling Derek and Gabriel with a description of Mom’s roundabout tour of the countryside in her attempt to avoid being followed the other day.

They were both chuckling as we walked to the door, then sobered up as I knocked twice and used my key. They both drew their weapons as I pushed open the door and walked inside. Max stood in the living room with the rifle pointed directly at me.

“All rightie, then,” I said, and held up the shopping bag I was carrying. “I’ve brought dinner.”

“Let’s talk first,” Max said.

“Let’s eat first.” I was no fool. Men were way calmer after they had some food in their stomachs. So was I.

Fifteen minutes later, we were gathered around the dining table with plates in front of us. Mom had insisted on supplying us with her famous taco casserole, thinking we’d been ordering pizza every night. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Max was a fantastic cook and we’d been eating well almost every night. I heated up her casserole and tossed the salad she’d made with the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers she’d picked from her garden that morning.

The men ate heartily but silently for a few minutes; then Max threw down his fork and glared at Gabriel. “So?”

Gabriel looked up, gave Max a long, steady stare as he slowly swallowed his last bite. “Emily wasn’t home, man. There were no signs of foul play, but it looked like she hadn’t been home in more than a week.”

“She could be on a trip,” I said lamely.

“Where could she have gone?” Max stood up and walked away from the table, then turned and muttered, “Forget it. I have no right to know.”

“Don’t make me hit you,” I said mildly. The sad tone of his voice caused me to worry, and I hated worrying. “You have every right to worry about Emily’s safety. Now finish your dinner.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, but at least he was half smiling. I really did sound like my mother sometimes, which probably turned off most guys. I glanced at Derek to see his reaction and caught him grinning at me. Proving once again that he wasn’t like most guys.

Max sat and took a few more bites, then threw down his fork again. “Okay, just tell me. Is someone else living there with her?”

So that was the bug that had been crawling up Max’s butt. He’d been worried that Emily might have moved on and found a boyfriend—or, worse, a husband. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned.

“She lives alone,” Gabriel said.

Max’s jaw clenched and he nodded briefly. “Okay.” He took another bite, then frowned at Gabriel. “Just for my own information, tell me what you look for when you go through someone’s house.”

Gabriel shrugged, then sat back in his chair. “The first thing I want to determine is how long it’s been since someone was in the house. There are clues to look for. Dates on milk cartons. Postmarks on a stack of mail. Dishes left out or washed and put away. Emily’s place was neat and tidy. That indicates she didn’t leave suddenly. The mail was postmarked over a week ago, but there was no mail stacked up in her mailbox, which means she arranged for someone to collect it. There was no indication that she left in a hurry or was abducted. She planned to go away.”

Max looked impressed. I know I was. Gabriel was way too good at this sort of thing.

“So for all we know, she could be on a cruise ship somewhere,” I said.

“Possibly,” Gabriel said. “I looked for signs of that, too. Women packing for a vacation often leave clothes hanging out on a doorknob or thrown on the bed. They try on various outfits, then leave the rejects hanging there.”

I stared at him. “You know far too much about women.”

“That’s my job,” he said, grinning.

“What sort of job might that be, mate?” Derek muttered under his breath. Gabriel just smirked.

“So now what?” Max said.