'Me and Ms. Honeywell.'

'Who's Ms. Honeywell?'

'My new intern.'

'What happened to Renee?'

'She quit.'

'Why?'

'Gunfire.'

He disconnected his sister. Nadine had curled into the fetal position on the floor; her body was shaking uncontrollably. He brushed gla.s.s shards off her. She cried.

'You're okay, Ms. Honeywell. They weren't trying to hurt us, not with a shotgun. They're just trying to scare us off.'

'I'm not crying about that.'

'Then what are you crying about?'

'Because we can't go home now. A fish just took the bait.'

Chapter 21.

Book opened his eyes, but lay still. It was morning, but something wasn't right. Someone was in the room. Someone was in the bed. Someone's arm was stretched across his bare chest. Someone's face was plastered against his shoulder, covered by a mane of black hair. Someone's drool wet his skin. He turned to the someone.

Nadine Honeywell.

He remembered now. Her window had been blown out by the shotgun blast. So she had slept in his room. He had offered her the bed, but she opted for the couch. She stirred awake and realized her position. She didn't move.

'I got scared on the couch.'

'I said you could sleep in the bed.'

'I did.'

She removed her arm, peeled her face from his shoulder, wiped her drool from his skin- 'Sorry.'

-and rolled over onto her back. They both stared at the ceiling. She finally spoke in a soft voice.

'I've never slept with a man before.'

'We only slept, Ms. Honeywell.'

'I've had s.e.x, once, but it wasn't an overnight thing. It was a back-seat-in-high-school-with-a-jerk thing. I tried a few more times, but like I said, after I got my clothes off, turned out they were gay. Awkward moment.'

'I bet it was.'

'No. This moment.'

She lay silent, which made the moment even more awkward.

'Sorry, Professor. In awkward moments, I tend to over-share.'

He decided to change the subject. 'You want to run with me?'

She groaned. 'Don't tell me it's only dawn?'

'I'm afraid so. So how about it?'

'Please, Professor. My generation does not run at dawn. We stay up late and sleep late.'

'I'll bring you breakfast.'

'That egg, cheese, and ham baguette, waffle with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, Strawberry Banana Cabana smoothie, and a large coffee with real cream.'

'Fear doesn't dampen your appet.i.te.'

'A girl's got to eat.'

'I'll be back in an hour.'

'I'll be here.'

Book got out of bed; he wore long boxers. Nadine pulled the comforter over her head and said, 'Lock the door.'

An hour later, Book had run five miles around town and then stopped off at SqueezeMarfa. He bought breakfast and headed back to the hotel. He turned the corner off Lincoln Street and onto Highland Avenue and saw a Presidio County Sheriff's Department cruiser parked out front of the Paisano one block down. He broke into a run and sprinted past the front desk- 'Another night, Professor?' the desk clerk asked.

'Every night until further notice.'

-and up the stairs and down the corridor to his room. He found Nadine in the shower. Steam filled the bathroom.

'You okay?'

'Professor!'

'Sorry.'

He placed the breakfast on the kitchen counter then went next door to Nadine's room. He found Sheriff Munn standing at the blown-out window and a young female deputy digging with a pocketknife into the sheetrock on the opposite wall. Her blonde hair was pulled back but strands fell into her face; she wore a snug-fitting uniform that emphasized her curves and carried a big gun in a leather holster. She looked like Marilyn Monroe in a deputy's uniform. She smiled.

'Well, hidee there.'

She put a hand on her holstered gun and jutted her hip out. She gave him a once-over and a coy look; he wore only running shorts and shoes. He caught a faint whiff of perfume, not standard equipment on most of the law enforcement personnel he had encountered. She blew hair from her face.

'And who might you be, cowboy?'

'He's the professor,' the sheriff said from the window. 'Dig, Shirley.'

Book walked over to the sheriff, who jabbed his head in Deputy Shirley's direction.

'Niece.'

He had a jaw full of chewing tobacco. He turned back to the window, leaned into the open s.p.a.ce, and spit a brown stream outside. Book peeked down to see if the sidewalk below was clear of pedestrians.

'Well, they're d.a.m.n sure gonna have to replace this window,' the sheriff said.

'That qualify as foul play?'

'Reckon it does. Where's the gal? She okay?'

'She is. She's next door in my room.'

The sheriff's eyebrows rose; he grunted.

'No,' Book said. 'It's not like that. She was too afraid to sleep alone, so she slept with ... Never mind.'

'Overnight maid downstairs, she heard the gunshot, saw a dark pickup speed away,' the sheriff said.

'Maroon?'

'I asked. She couldn't say. I take it you talked to Billy Bob, know the color of his truck.'

'We talked.'

'You learn anything?'

'I don't like him.'

'That ain't exactly breaking news.'

'Sheriff, Nathan Jones was murdered.'

The sheriff launched another stream of tobacco juice through the broken gla.s.s.

'Maybe. Or maybe those boys at Padre's don't appreciate getting their b.u.t.ts kicked by a professor, decided to let you know. And by the way, I figure those boys got what they deserved, but don't you figure you can run around my county playing Rambo-comprende, podna?'

'Birdshot, Sheriff,' Deputy Shirley said. She examined a small pellet. 'Number eight, probably from a twelve-gauge shotgun.'

The sheriff grunted then spat again.

'If they wanted to kill you, Professor, they wouldn't have used birdshot. They just wanted to encourage you to go home.'

'When can we go home?'

'When we find out who murdered Nathan Jones.'

They were eating breakfast on Rock's rooftop patio. Nadine finished off the baguette, waffle, and smoothie and then sipped her coffee.

'And how are we going to do that?'

'Someone took the bait last night. I think I know who. Now we've got to reel that big Aggie fish in.'

She sighed.

'I don't like the sound of that.'

Chapter 22.

Sam Walker sat behind his desk wearing the same cap but a different Hawaiian shirt when Book and Nadine walked into The Times of Marfa office. He looked up and smiled as if an old friend had reentered his life.

'Well, h.e.l.lo, Professor. You've certainly made an impression around town.'

'Not a good one, apparently.'

'Sold out this week's edition, first time ever. Don't reckon the roller derby would've sold out.'

'Sam, you said I could trust you.'

'You can.'

'You ran the story.'

Sam stood and came over to the counter.

'Professor, I figure you're a pretty smart fella, knew what you were doing when you showed me that letter. Figured you wanted me to run the story, stir the pot in Marfa.'

Book fought a smile but failed.

'We talk slow out here in West Texas, Professor, but that doesn't mean we think slow.'

'I expect not.'