Coleman was busy. If he was making headway--any headway--I didn't want to disturb him.

Behind me the hospital door opened and Peyton walked toward me. "Ms. Delaney, are you okay?"

"I need a ride home."

"I'm happy to oblige." He pointed to a dark red SUV with the CDC logo on the side. I was so caught up in my own issues I'd failed to notice it in the parking lot.

"Thanks, Peyton." Here was opportunity--unexpected but greatly appreciated. "Would you happen to have one of those CDC hazmat suits that I could borrow?"

He opened the vehicle door for me. "You want to go to the Carlisle place?"

"Yes."

"I don't have one in the truck. Come by the office tomorrow and I'll see what I can do." He closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

"Could we run by there and get the suit tonight? I want to be sure . . ." A wave of nausea caught me unprepared, leaving as abruptly as it came.

"Sure of what?"

Phrasing was all important. Revealing the depth of my fears would not benefit my cause. "A friend of mine is out of pocket. It occurred to me that she may have gone there."

"One thing I can a.s.sure you is that no one is on that property. You have my word. But I'm happy to take you there. Tomorrow. That's my best offer."

In the dark I could accomplish little, and if I continued to press, he might outright refuse. "Tomorrow, then. Why are you at the hospital at this time of night?" Peyton was on the job 24/7. His dedication was remarkable.

"I was running some tests and I needed to consult with Doc Sawyer."

I stopped in the process of buckling my seat belt. "Any results?"

He put the car in gear before he answered. "Progress, but no firm resolution."

Since he was driving, I had the luxury of studying his face. His lips were tightly compressed, his jawline firm and clear. Something--or someone--was eating him alive. The case had become personal for him. "What do you think you discovered?"

"It would appear someone has tampered with the DNA of those weevils."

"Like the cotton." Coincidence city here.

"Not exactly, but similar." He shot a look at me and then refocused on the road.

"You're saying someone deliberately created this new breed of beetle designed to devastate the cotton crop." Even as I said it, we drove past fields of new cotton. In the moonlight, the tiny plants stretched to the horizon, the future of many landowners.

He inhaled. "I'm saying it's possible."

"Another explanation is what?"

"Perhaps an experiment went awry."

That took longer to digest. "So someone could have designed these weevils for a good cause and it somehow went bad?"

"It's possible." He was extremely defensive.

"Do you have an idea who may be behind this?"

"Absolutely not."

His response was so swift, so emphatic, I knew he was lying. He suspected someone, but he wouldn't share that name with me. Not voluntarily, at any rate.

"Have you connected the weevils to the illness?"

"No, but the connection has to be there. What else could it be, Sarah Booth? There are no soil contaminants, nothing in the water at the Carlisle plantation. The house has been tested for everything from radiation to chemical pesticides. I haven't found a d.a.m.n thing."

The weariness in his voice revealed how his lack of success gnawed at him. Peyton was, perhaps, as driven as I was. He pulled up in front of Dahlia House.

"How did you find out about the mutation in the weevils?" I asked.

"The credit goes to Bonnie Louise. She made the breakthrough, with the help of her mentor at Mississippi State. Bonnie is a remarkable researcher, and the boll weevils have always been a primary interest of hers."

"Does Coleman know about this?"

"She's given him a full report." He chuckled softly. "She nearly killed herself getting over to the sheriff's office to report to him. Bonnie has it bad for the lawman."

I could only ignore his comment about Coleman. "Thanks for telling me about the report."

Peyton turned off the engine. "You're a loyal friend. Mrs. Richmond and Doc Sawyer sing your praises, Sarah Booth. They told me how much you gave up to return home and help your friend's husband. I wish Dr. Unger's report had been more conclusive. Beaucoup thought for sure he'd be able to identify the mutations of the weevils and give us a course of action. Unfortunately, progress is going to be much slower than I'd hoped."

"Dr. Unger?"

"Jon Unger. He's an international authority on insect development and, as I mentioned, Bonnie's mentor. She's been consulting with him on this case." He rubbed his face. "Unger works with the government on high-profile matters. Beaucoup thinks he's the second coming."

Bonnie Louise had mentioned him, but she'd been under the impression Peyton admired his work. I didn't read it exactly that way. "Is he coming to Zinnia?" I asked.

"I don't know. Bonnie and I have taken different paths on this investigation. I've hardly seen her. Unger may have been here already. I just can't say." He looked like he was about to slump over the steering wheel from fatigue.

"Thanks, Peyton." I slipped out of the car. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

He drove away, his taillights blinking red in the velvety Delta night.

15.

Sweetie and Chablis snoozed on the horse hair sofa in the parlor. Aunt Loulane would stroke out at the sight of the hound and the dustmop sprawled across the antique, whose history was almost as long as Dahlia House's. I merely felt bad that I'd had so little time to spend with the pooches.

Tiptoeing so as not to wake them, I decided to call Coleman from upstairs. I was bone tired. My body felt thick and sluggish, but my mind was like a panicked bird, flying in all directions. The sensation made me dizzy.

My foot was on the staircase when I felt Jitty's presence. Often she caught me by surprise, but this time I knew she was behind me.

"Please tell me you have some advice," I said. Normally I tried to avoid her dictates and sometimes obscure pointers, but I was willing to take help from any source, even the Ghostly Divide. "Just no more Great Depression costumes. I can't take it."

Shifting to sit on the staircase, I faced her. Gone were the rags and dirt. Instead, Jitty was unadorned--she was contemporary. No ball gowns, no tie-dyed, no outlandish Star Trek suits. She wore jeans and . . . "Is that my favorite red top you're wearing?" I asked.

"Oh, this? I found it in the closet."

Times had to be tough in Casperville if she was raiding my closet. "What's wrong with you?"

She sank onto the step below me. "I'm scared for you, Sarah Booth."

"You're always the one quoting FDR. 'Nothing to fear but fear itself.' "

"My fear is that you're gonna take some rash action that'll haunt you the rest of your days."

"Actions won't haunt me. That's what you're for." She was genuinely worried. What ever fun I might have had at her expense, I couldn't enjoy it.

"The person behind all this woe is smart--and wicked--Sarah Booth. Not your normal run-of-the-mill criminal."

"Tell me something I don't know." I wished Jitty could resort to ghostly means to help me, but she couldn't. Or wouldn't.

"You're at a turnin' point in your life, Sarah Booth. A future that most women would kill to have is right there at your feet."

"That's true." How well I knew all the things I'd dreamed of--except for my family--were within my grasp.

"You've earned it. Success, love, a good man."

"What's wrong with you?" Jitty was always my champion , in a punitive kind of way. But she was never serious, complimentary, and contemporary.

"Big dreams come with big risks. Lord, Sarah Booth, be careful."

If I walked to the kitchen window, I could see the family cemetery where the people I'd loved most in my life were buried. Since Aunt Loulane's death, I'd been alone. I'd chosen to be alone. But that was changing now. With Graf, I had a shot at a family. I had no intention of getting myself injured.

"Something bad is happening in Sunflower County," I conceded, "but I'm not directly involved. Sure, I'm trying to figure it out, but so is Coleman, Dewayne, the CDC, and Cece."

She didn't have to say anything else. Cece was, after all, the reason for her visit this night.

I rose slowly, aware again of a draining weariness. "I'm calling Coleman and going to bed. Morning will be here in a few hours."

"Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite." She faded on a jangle of her silver bracelets.

Coleman was still at the B&B when he answered his phone. "The good news is that the blood on the carpet in Janks's room doesn't belong to Cece."

I sank onto the bed, afraid to believe it. "You got a DNA sample that fast?"

"Simpler test. Wrong blood type. Cece is B negative. This is A positive."

"How did--"

"Doc did some blood work on Cece before she had her s.e.x-change operation. He knew her type."

"Can you match the blood to Jimmy?"

"It's much easier to exclude someone by type than match them. Even if Janks is A positive, we can't say this is his blood. Doc doesn't have any records on Janks, but he's got someone checking databases. So far, nothing. There is some news, though."

"What?" I slipped out of my shoes and jeans.

"One of Gertrude's residents overheard a heated conversation coming from Janks's room around eleven o'clock this evening. Two male voices. There was the sound of something breaking, then a door slammed. The guest, a salesman from Slidell, Louisiana, didn't see anything, but we did find a broken gla.s.s in the bathroom trash. The blood on the gla.s.s is also A positive."

"Do you think Janks has been hurt?" Janks was our best lead to find Cece.

"I wish I knew where they went to dinner."

Why hadn't I asked? Normally I was all over Cece's business.

"You don't think she might have said something to Tinkie?" Coleman asked.

"Nope." Inspiration struck. "But maybe Millie. I'll call you right back."

I dialed knowing I'd wake her. I'd hoped to spare her worry about Cece, but this was an emergency.

"h.e.l.lo." Millie's voice was softened by sleep.

"Sorry to call at this hour, but it's important. Did Cece mention her dinner plans in Memphis?" I asked.

"What's wrong?" Millie was fully alert and concern permeated her tone.

"Cece's missing. Has been since last evening when she went to Memphis with Jimmy Janks."

"I told her not to get in a vehicle with him." Millie was throwing things around. I heard something heavy strike a wall or the floor.

"She was trying to help Oscar," I said.

"I know that, but carrying on with a liar and cheat isn't helpful. Now she's missing and--" She stopped her outburst. "Sorry, I just get aggravated. I had a long talk with Cece before her date. I tried to make her see sense. She wouldn't listen. She was all hot to trot to investigate what that land developer was up to."

I hadn't even tried to talk her out of her plan. "She felt she could handle Janks."

"I'm thinking back over what she told me." Something else in Millie's house slammed into a wall.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Moving books. There's a National Enquirer here I need to find."

Millie loved celebrity gossip and had a yen for strange stories of alien babies and mobsters revealed to be living in Florida years after they were believed dead. "I hope it pertains to Cece."

"Of course it does. Memphis has all kinds of places to celebrity-watch. I gave her some tips. Now if I can put my hands on that magazine, I'll tell you where she and that Janks fellow went to eat."

Millie's mind worked in a fashion I couldn't begin to fathom. She had an uncanny ability to link daily events to tabloid trivia.