They had a sarsaparilla in a mock saloon, and joined the other tourists to watch the drama.

She flinched as one of the bad guys fell, and her stomach suddenly revolted.

For a moment she was back....

She turned away.

"Mommy?"

Harry's face was confused. Uncertain.

She straightened up. 'This is make-believe'!

"I'm okay," she said.

He stared at her for a moment, then seemed to relax and turned back to the action.

She glanced around at the other tourists. Families. Children. All enjoying the fictional recreation of an American legend. Did any of the others have cold, clammy hands?

'This is for Harry.'

She forced herself to stand through the rest of the performance. The sound of gunfire. Blanks. She knew they were blanks, but...

Someone reached out and she found herself jerking away.

"Are you all right?" someone asked.

An older woman with a kind face and an elderly gentleman stood there with three children.

"Yes, thank you. The heat..." It wasn't heat at all. A flashback. It wasn't the first time.

They insisted that she and Harry accompany them into a restaurant, where she ordered iced tea for herself and Harry a root beer. She held her hands in her lap so no one would see them shake.

Mr. and Mrs. Dan Weston were taking a two-week trip with their grandchildren. They chattered about their adventures as she finally managed to steady the fingers of one hand enough to bring a gla.s.s to her lips without dropping it. Harry eyed the western hats the grandchildren wore with envy but thankfully he was unusually silent, awed probably by the older boys.

Thirty minutes later, they were going their separate ways.

She went into a souvenir shop and purchased a cowboy hat and sheriff's badge for him.

"Now I'm just like Sher'f Doug," he said, his small chest puffing out.

"Yes, indeed, you are."

"I wanna be a sher'f."

"A fine ambition." But her heart pounded a little louder. How would he feel if he ever discovered his mother was a fugitive? That some day she might even be charged with murder? She shuddered inwardly at the idea.

"I think we had better go home and see Caesar," she said. "He's going to miss us."

"I miss him, too," he said, putting his little hand in hers.

She looked down at him. He was bursting with excitement. He loved his blue jeans and his T-shirt that said "Little cowhand." And now he beamed from under the new hat.

She was glad for her son's sake that they had come here today.

But she hadn't realized how much it would affect her, how it would be a vivid reminder of something she wanted to forget. She knew now that she never could.

She felt a sudden relief from the sun and looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were moving in, one eclipsing the sun.

A shiver ran through her body even though the air was still hot.

A sense of foreboding filled her.

Because of the mock battle she'd just witnessed?

Or something else?

*Chapter Twenty-one*

'NEW ORLEANS'.

Meredith put her pain pills in the medicine cabinet and took several aspirin instead. After all that had happened, she didn't want to sleep too soundly.

Just before she went to bed, she tried to call Gage, but his cell phone was apparently off.

She left a message. "Thank you." If it hadn't been for him, she probably wouldn't be alive tonight.

She took the phone off the hook to avoid reporters who had been calling. Her friends could still reach her on her cell phone. Then she made sure her revolver was next to her. She invited Nicky up on her bed; she needed the comforting presence of the dog.

Gage's face was the last thing she remembered until the first light of dawn woke her. The moment she moved, Nicky started to lick her. He obviously wanted to go outside.

Meredith groaned as she moved and hit her wounded arm against the side of the bed. Then Nicky's tongue reached out and licked her again.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. She looked at the clock. Six A.M.

Then everything flooded back. Her father's death. Mrs. Starnes. The funeral. Rick Fuller pointing a pistol at her. The crack of gunfire.

For a moment, she wanted to sink back into bed and close her eyes. But she had things to do today.

First, she had to see her mother and make sure that the private duty nurses knew their services were to continue despite her father's death. She wanted to make sure someone was with her mother every second.

Then she would see Gage. She knew he would be exonerated from any fault but she also knew that suspension wouldn't be his biggest problem. She would never forget that look of anguish on his face when he almost willed Fuller to breathe again.

She rose, carefully protecting her arm. She looked outside and saw a car in front. Someone was sitting in it. Whoever it was wasn't trying to hide.

Meredith ran a brush through her hair, then pulled on a pair of jeans. She decided to forego a bra for the moment and put on a loose shirt. She went down to the front door, taking Nicky's leash and snapping it on his collar.

Then she walked him out the door and to the car parked in front.

The driver got out and met her. "Ms. Rawson?"

"Yes."

"Detective Gaynor asked me to look out for you today. I would have let you know earlier, but he said you'd had a bad night and I didn't want to wake you."

"And you are ...?"

"Mack Thomas. Private investigator. Used to be a cop. Gage has helped us out several times. We're only too happy to return the favor."

"When did you talk to him?"

"Late last night. He told me to get my a.s.s over here. He was stuck at headquarters."

"Do you know what happened?"

"About the shooting? Yeah. Bad stuff when a cop's involved on both sides."

He looked to be in his fifties but his body was hard and lean, and she would bet her practice that he worked out daily.

"How long did he employ you to watch me? I want to pay it."

"h.e.l.l, I wouldn't take his money. I owe him big time."

"I'd like to hear about it."

"Maybe later. Will you be staying here or going somewhere?"

"I plan to see my mother at the hospital, then I'm going out of town for a few days. I appreciate your help, but the danger may be over now."

"Gage doesn't think so."

In her heart, she didn't think so, either.

"How can I reach him?"

"I imagine he's tied up with his old friends in Public Integrity."

She nodded.

"Nice dog you have."

"He's not mine. I'm just keeping him ... for a friend." She turned to go back in. "I'll be leaving in about thirty minutes. You can take off then. I'll be all right."

She went through the door before he could reply.

She didn't want anyone else involved with this. With her. Too many people were dying. She didn't even want to go near Sarah.

But she had to visit her mother. She still hadn't told her mother that her father was dead. Would she hear her? Would her mother care if she could hear?

She recalled what her father had said. The last words he had said to her. 'She never loved me'. Why then had they married?

If only her mother could speak to her again.

If only ...

She fed Nicky, then went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and awkwardly applied a touch of lipstick. She looked terrible. Her eyes were ringed with circles, and her face looked wan. Her arm still hurt like the blazes and she feared that anything she wore might soon be stained with the blood still oozing from the wound.

Not that it mattered. To even think about herself at this moment was self-centered. 'She' was alive. Others had died.

She left the house and drove to the hospital, noting that Mack followed despite her dismissal.

At the hospital, she went directly to her mother's room. She said h.e.l.lo to the private duty nurse who stood when she entered.

"Ms. Rawson. We didn't think you would be in today." She looked down at the newspaper she was holding.

Meredith hadn't seen it. She hadn't even thought about the paper this morning. She looked now. Spread over the front page were photos of herself, Gage and Rick Fuller.

'Former Prosecutor Shot In Domestic Dispute. Renegade Cop Killed By Fellow NOPD Officer.'

She read the story, which was fairly accurate.

She handed the paper back, seeing the curiosity in the woman's gaze as it rested on her bandaged arm. "Should you be here?"

"It was just a graze."

"Well, then, would you like some time alone with her?"

"Yes. Thank you."

The woman started for the door. She turned. "By the way, someone stopped by here last night. I went to the desk and he was standing in the door when I returned. He left when he saw me."

A new frisson of fear ran through her. "Can you describe him?"

"In his fifties. Dark hair with gray on the sides. Blue jeans but they looked good on him. I only had a glimpse of his face. It was ... arresting."

"Please don't leave her alone again. Even for a few moments. She might be in danger," Meredith said. She knew how odd that must sound. Her mother was dying. But she didn't want what time she had left cut short. She still hoped her mother would know a moment of lucidity.

The nurse started to say, "I'm sorry--"

"It's not your fault. No one told you or your service. But you know my father was killed by a hit-and-run driver. I don't think it was an accident. Someone might have a grudge against this family. I just want to be extra cautious."

The nurse nodded and left the room. Meredith sat next to her mother and took her hand. It was little but skin and bones now. Her pallor was more p.r.o.nounced than ever.