"Jean-Claude was always spoiled, and when he didn't have things exactly his way, he acted like a brat. Even things he really didn't want, he didn't let other children touch." She felt the heat in her cheeks.

"You're not responsible for his actions, Sarah," Daniel reminded her.

"He told me that he was changed, mature, different. But I have no proof of that. None." She pointed to the hat. "If this is his idea of the right way to behave-"

"We're both jumping to conclusions." Daniel gave her that out.

"Could the hat have been in the woods for some time?"

"No. It was covered in leaves, but there is no decay of the material. I'd say the hat has been stored someplace, but not on the ground. Someplace like a cabinet."

"The boat house. Maybe we should go take a look."

Daniel carefully placed the hat on the edge of the driveway. He had no access to labs or anything else now, but it might prove to be a valuable clue at some later date. He would preserve it, just in case. For now, though, he had Sarah to consider.

He put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently and drawing her toward him so that she soon rested in his embrace. "I can see clearly why a man would desire you and risk any behavior to have you." He kissed her forehead.

Sarah's laugh was shaky, but there. "I know, I'm a good cook. Never underestimate that. My mother always told me that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

"That, and..."

"I have a charming personality?" There was real humor in her voice again.

"Yes, there's that. And I hear you make your own clothes."

They laughed together, and Sarah took his hand. "Breakfast is ready, and I'm starving." Daniel had not overreacted. He wasn't pointing the finger at Jean-Claude or anyone else.

"Meow!" Familiar said, bounding up the stairs ahead of them both.

"That settles that," Daniel said, eyeing the cat with renewed respect. "Familiar says it's time to eat, and I think we should all pay more attention to that cat. Let's eat, put on some warm clothes and go take a look at that boat house."

After bacon and cheddar cheese scrambled eggs, Familiar curled up on the sofa beside Sarah as she placed the call to Biloxi. Tactfully, Daniel had decided to inspect the boat house while she talked with her mother.

When the line proved busy, Sarah put the phone down and stroked Familiar's shimmering hide. Something wasn't right. Mora had call-waiting. There shouldn't be a busy signal. She dialed the number again. This time the phone rang ten times before she replaced the receiver. Worry pulled her brows together as she sat in front of the renewed fire. One hand stroked the cat while the other tugged at a strand of her straight blond hair. She finally picked up the receiver and dialed again.

Still no answer.

"She has a machine," she told the cat.

Of course, the machine could be off, or her mother could be on the other line, so caught up in conversation that she didn't want to answer the incoming call. That was a possibility. But not a strong one. Mora was the kind of person who was afraid to let a phone ring for fear it was someone needing her. In that respect, Sarah was just like her.

She dialed her uncle's home, remembering on the sixth ring that he was in New York, and if anyone answered it would be Jean-Claude. That prompted her to replace the receiver with a quick slam. Of all the people on earth, Jean-Claude was the last one she wanted to talk to.

Familiar stood and stretched, then walked to the door.

"Good idea," she said, grabbing her coat. "Let's give Daniel a hand down at the dock."

The wind bit into her face as she stepped away from the protection of the house. She'd failed to realize how much colder it was on the water than in the city.

With Familiar at her side, she found Daniel in the boat house. He was looking but not touching.

"Be careful," he advised her. "Someone jimmied the lock off." There was disappointment in his words.

Sarah knew without asking that Jean-Claude had just receded as a viable candidate for the attack. Anyone could have broken into the boat house and taken Jean-Claude's hat. Anyone. Instead of disappointment, she felt a keen relief. More than anything she didn't want to involve her uncle in anything ugly. There had been enough of that in the past.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't Jean-Claude," Daniel said as he watched the play of emotions across her face.

"I know." She smiled at him. "It just means that maybe it wasn't. Or that probably it wasn't. It could have been a kid, someone who's been hanging out in the boat house for weeks."

Daniel nodded. "The dust has been disturbed. Someone has been coming and going here." He nodded toward the candles and beer cans in one corner. "From what you've told me about your uncle and his friends, they don't seem the type to come down here in the dark, drink beer and burn candles."

"Kids," Sarah agreed. "And the pepper, that seems like a kid thing to do. Like on a dare." Maybe her suspicions about Jean-Claude were wrong.

Daniel nodded in agreement. "But I tell you, if I could get my hands on whoever that was, I'd give them a little taste of red pepper in the eyes. It isn't a pleasant experience."

Sarah walked across the room and into his arms. The way he grasped her, his eagerness showing in the feel of his hands along her back and the quickening of his breath, made her bold. "I could show you a cure for all of that. Or at least take your mind right off it."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, mimicking her Southern accent. "I'll bet you could." His lips found and held hers. In that instant, pa.s.sion flamed between them. Sarah forgot everything except the taste of his kiss, the sensation of liquid heat that coursed through her at his touch.

"Daniel," she whispered his name against his ear as she kissed the lobe and moved along his neck. She wanted to give him the pleasure that she felt, to show him that she needed his touch, and needed to feel his response to hers. As her lips touched the base of his neck, she felt him grow still. Instinctively she pulled away, wondering at the sudden change of his mood.

"Excuse me." The male voice came from outside the boat house.

Sarah heard the slightly accented voice and turned to find Jean-Claude standing in the doorway.

"Jean-Claude." Her voice was breathless, and she cursed the flush that she could feel crawling over her body.

"My timing is not good," he said, his composure perfect. "I had thought to be of a.s.sistance. I can see I'm not needed here. I am sorry for the interruption." He turned on his heel and started back to the house and to the dark sedan that was parked near the stairs.

Sarah threw one confused look at Daniel, who stood, his own composure still askew, but with a dark anger beginning to burn in his eyes.

"Jean-Claude!" Sarah called after him. "Wait a minute." When he failed to stop, she called again, this time angrily. "Wait a minute, d.a.m.n it. Why are you-?"

He turned back. "I could not get an answer on the telephone. The company said the phones were down. I was worried about you." His look shifted to Daniel. "I can see that my concerns were... misplaced, cherie. There is nothing that I can do for you." A haunted look touched his face. "Perhaps there was nothing I could have done. We are all victims of our past, Sarah. You have made a terrible mistake."

"Jean-Claude." Sarah reached out and touched his arm. She'd never imagined she would see Jean-Claude so upset. She heard Daniel step close behind her and stop. She hesitated, remembering Jean-Claude's warning about Daniel. "This is Daniel Dubonet. He was worried about me, too."

Jean-Claude's smile was sarcastic as he turned to the FBI agent. "Perhaps I should have expressed my concerns last night. Perhaps I would be the man in the boat house today. At least I can protect her."

Sarah felt as if he'd slapped her. She stepped backward, aware too late of the angry flush that touched Daniel's cheeks. This was the Jean-Claude she remembered. Had she imagined that sadness only a moment ago?

"I don't think timing was your problem," Daniel said softly. "If Sarah had wanted your concern, or your comfort, she would have let you know." There was a growl in his voice.

"I'm not so certain she would feel safe with you, Mr. Dubonet, if she knew all the facts about you." Jean-Claude was a study in anger. His dark eyes burned and he cast Sarah a searching glance. "Has he told you that he was fired? That he is considered a renegade, a possible thief and a murderer?"

There was a moment of silence when Sarah thought Daniel was going to throw the first punch. She held out both hands, but the men ignored her. "This isn't necessary. Please-"

"Sarah knows about me. She knows a lot more than you'll ever know." Daniel bit the words as he spoke. "It wasn't me who she thought was here last night, acting like a spoiled brat."

Sarah wanted to punch them both. They were acting like gladiators, fighting over the spoils.

"Both of you," she spoke with cold authority. "Out! Now!"

At last she had their attention. "I'm not some bone that two dogs can fight over. And that's exactly the way you're behaving. Now get out." She stalked past them and went up to the house. Without looking back, she climbed the stairs and went inside, slamming the door for good measure.

In a moment she heard the roar of the car Jean-Claude had driven to the house. Then silence. Looking around the room, she realized that Daniel couldn't leave. His keys were on the counter beside the cold coffeepot. Well, he could walk.

"Men!" She said the word with venom as she looked out the window.

"Meow." Familiar sat on the rail watching her.

She opened the window. "Be warned, Familiar. If you're up to any male tricks, this isn't a safe place to be."

"Meow," he answered as he gracefully jumped inside.

JEEZ, I don't blame Dolly a bit, but she isn't using her head. There's something about that Jean-Claude fellow that doesn't add up. I'm not certain what it is, but it's definitely there. And Daniel wasn't much better, I'm sorry to say. Old Bureau Boy could win the Cro-Magnon award. I mean, really. If he'd come across with that caveman act any more intensely, he would have knocked Sarah over the head and dragged her home with him.

And the real pain is that so far we've discovered nothing to help solve this mystery. So what if Jean-Claude peppered Daniel in a jealous fit over Sarah? That doesn't resolve anything. It only adds another twist to the puzzle. Why? Why is he suddenly so concerned about Sarah? Why does he care so much now? The answer could prove to be interesting-and very dangerous.

Chapter Twelve.

Sarah threw another log on the fire and tried to keep her attention from straying out the window to where Daniel and Familiar scouted the premises. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, as her mother would say. She'd gone to the telephone five times-and each time she'd resisted the urge to call her mother. Instead she'd called the airlines and checked flights to Biloxi out of Washington. There were several direct to New Orleans, and that knowledge made her feel better. Still, she lifted the receiver with trepidation. What if Mora didn't answer?

But she did, and her breathless voice came over the line.

"Mom!" Sarah felt a surge of relief and joy.

"Sarah, my goodness. Is something wrong?" The question all mothers ask slipped from Mora's mouth.

"Nothing now that you've answered the phone." Sarah smiled.

"And why wouldn't I answer the phone? I don't work. I go to the grocery store on Thursday, and do my hair on Friday morning. Other than that, I'm home."

Mora wasn't exaggerating. Her life was bounded by routine, and that was the way she liked it.

"I called about an hour ago. When you didn't answer, I was worried."

There was a hesitation. "I was on the other line."

Sarah almost didn't believe her ears. Mora always answered the phone. Always. Unless it was an emergency on the other line. Or unless... Cal Covington had been dead nearly twenty years. Was it possible Mora had someone else in her Me?

"So what's going on in Biloxi?" Sarah made her voice deliberately chatty.

"Is something wrong up there?" Mora asked, maternal concern evident.

Sarah sighed, unable to lie to her mother. "Nothing for you to worry about. Just some strange occurrences."

"Not that FBI man? Vincent said he would take care of it."

"No, no, Mom, that's okay." Sarah felt a flush touch her cheeks. If her mother only knew about her involvement with Daniel. She'd either be relieved to know Sarah cared for someone or horrified that it was an FBI agent. Or maybe both.

"Sarah, you sound pulled tighter than a barbed-wire fence. What is going on? That's the third time I've asked."

The thousand miles of distance hummed between them, and Sarah realized how much farther apart they were emotionally. If Mora had found companionship, Sarah was glad, but she couldn't tell her mother that. The subject could not be raised between them. They'd lived their lives trying to avoid painful subjects with each other-and now Sarah had to ask about her father.

"Mom, it's about Daddy." She swallowed and could almost hear the echo of disapproval on the telephone line.

"There's no point talking about any of that." Mora's voice was suddenly prim. "I thought you'd put that behind you, Sarah. It's over and done. Nothing you think or do will bring your father back. You've got your entire life ahead of you and you can't get bogged down in the past."

"I know." Sarah spoke softly, willing her mother just to listen. "Things are happening up here, though, Mom. I think someone believes Dad had some money hidden somewhere."

"Are you in danger?" Fear shot through Mora's voice.

"No, no. I'm fine." She cleared her throat. "You're going to have to trust me on this. Trust my judgment. I'm not a little girl anymore and I need to know the truth."

"It's best to leave the past dead and buried, Sarah."

"You can't protect me from the truth. You'd do that even if it cost you your life. And you'd protect Dad, too."

A long silence fell between them.

"Someone up here is telling stories that Daddy took money to set up a gambling business. A lot of money. That he sold out as sheriff."

"That's a lie." Mora's voice was still but deadly. "That's the same lie Joshua Jenkins told. He stood at Cal's grave and before he left the cemetery he was lying, saying Cal had hidden the money and that he wouldn't give up until he had it. Cal never took a dime!"

Sarah felt tears spring to her eyes. She remembered the funeral, the anger her mother had displayed. Now she finally understood. "Who would say that Daddy took money? There was an informant to the FBI. Someone who knew Dad and knew enough about his business to say it and make it look like it might be true."

"An informant?" Mora sounded as if all the air had been sucked from her.

"Listen, Mom." Sarah tried to word everything carefully. "Daniel Dubonet, the FBI agent, he's helping me. And he found out that Joshua Jenkins was told by an informant that Dad had taken a payoff."

"That's a d.a.m.n lie." Mora's fury was red hot. "That man claimed there was half a million dollars that Cal took. He kept on and kept on, until he nearly drove Cal crazy. And me, too. He'd show up sitting outside the house while Cal was at work. I almost had a breakdown."

Sarah swallowed her tears. She simply could not give in to the sorrow she felt. Not now. "He's an old man now, Mom. Daniel-"

"Stay away from that man. For ten years I've tried to get you to date and meet nice men and you take up with an FBI agent." Mora almost spat the last words. "Think of your father, Sarah. Think of what they did to this family."

"Daniel's different, Mom." She tried to think of the best way to express it, but there weren't any words. Not yet. "He's going to help me. Maybe we can prove Dad was innocent of all that."

"Ha! More than likely he's using you. That's what they're trained to do."

Sarah knew she couldn't fight her mother's bitterness. There was too much time and history, too much distance. Maybe in the near future she could arrange for Daniel to meet her mother. If Mora gave him half a chance...