When they brought it out, the coydog snarled.

"Step back," Jonah murmured.

Jay moved over by the swing. Carefully Jonah inched closer and set the saucer near the animal's head. She watched him with wary eyes, taking his measure with instinct and senses more acute than he could fathom. She didn't move until he'd stepped back two paces, then raised her nose and sniffed. She gave the food a couple of weak licks, then laid her head back down.

He turned to Jay. "That's a start, I guess."

Jay had a strange look on his face. "You know this is important, right?"

"Why?"

"Because she's coyote."

"And ..."

"As the story goes, when the coyote-man made the world and all the land, he stuck two sticks into the places he wanted people to live. He named the places and turned the sticks into men and women. Then he and the lizard-man and the grizzly-bear-woman and all the others became animals. The people learned by watching the animals what things were good to eat. They grew wise by observing how the bugs and animals lived."

"Okay," Jonah said softly.

"This coyote finding you is a big deal."

"She has something to teach me?"

Jay shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Watch and see."

Nine.

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand henceforward in thy shadow.-ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Liz woke with her mind full of Chief Westfall, the coyote that had conquered her instincts, and the coyote's pups. She imagined them pressed into each other, enwrapped, entangled, sleeping, squirming inside the mother's belly. Separate in their own sacs, not even necessarily squired by the same male but growing, living, drawing nourishment from the same source. Littermates.

Lucy rolled to meet her eyes. "There you are. What happened last night? Where did you go?"

She told her about the coyote, how gently Jonah had carried her to his porch and laid her on the blankets, how the animal neither snapped nor thrashed. But she didn't say she'd wondered how it would feel to be held by him, soothed by his hands.

"Will she live?"

"I have a feeling she might. From the sheer force of Jonah Westfall's will."

Lucy looked at her curiously. "You like him."

"He's a compa.s.sionate man."

Lucy's gaze penetrated. "You really like him."

"I hardly know him."

"But you like what you've seen."

"Yes. I told you. I think you could meet him."

Did she say it to silence her sister's questions? They both knew how few people would understand. Yes, she'd enjoyed the time with him, working together to save a creature most would consider a benefit to kill. And of course Lucy saw that.

"He might come by for medicine today. Say yes and I'll introduce you." Lowering her eyes, Lucy withdrew. As Liz had known she would.

Tia settled the sculpture into place, three feet of polished granite composite with five niches to hold candles. She looked up when the fingerprint man pressed through the door, looking side to side. He saw her without acknowledging it. Once again his clothes were pristine and very nice quality. She had a.s.sumed him a tourist, but now she wondered. Remembering how touchy he'd been last time she'd offered a.s.sistance, she let him peruse the displays without repeating the mistake.

She placed five forest green candles into the hollows of the elongated sculpture, studied the effect, then tried ocher instead. Better. She stepped back. Yes. The ocher brought out the muted tones of the granite. She had consigned several of Lloyd's sculptures, but this was his best so far, and she hoped it sold. He could use the income.

She wouldn't sell it short, though. He was coming into his own with his art, and he'd agreed to let her push the envelope and see where it could go. She placed the card with Lloyd's name, the piece's number, and the price.

"Too many candles," the man said behind her.

She thought he meant the store's inventory, but he was referring to the pillar's five hollows.

"It only takes one candle to keep someone alive in a car in freezing temperatures. That much heat in one holder is excessive. It could be hazardous."

"I think five candles on this piece is jubilant."

He eyed her as though she'd missed the point entirely, then held up another pair of beeswax candles by the joined wick. "I'd like these tapers."

"The others worked out all right?"

"I sent them to my aunt."

"Well packaged, I hope."

"Bubble wrap."

Tia nodded. While she rang him up, Rachel Drake came in and waved. He laid the candles on the counter and went through the process of money retrieval. Wouldn't a credit card be cleaner and easier? But he removed the bills and laid them on the counter.

She gave him-gave his coin pouch-his change. He lifted the candles, but the wick slipped from his fingernails. Reaching out, her hand brushed his. He sprang back, thrusting out his hands, and backed into a display that fell with a crash of merchandise.

The crash panicked him even more, and Tia rushed around the counter. "Please, calm down."

Trying to get around her, he b.u.mped another shelf unit that tipped and went down. If he would just contain himself.

Rachel was on her phone. Tia hurried past her. As the frantic customer rushed for the door, he tipped Lloyd's sculpture. It caught her in the calf and cracked on the floor. Gritting her teeth, Tia sagged against a support pillar.

Rachel rushed over. "Are you all right? I called 911."

"I'm fine." Lloyd's sculpture wasn't. She reached down to right it.

"Don't do that." Rachel touched her arm. "You need to leave things as they are. For the police report."

Now it sank in that an officer would arrive and investigate. "He couldn't help it."

"That doesn't change what happened. You've lost a lot of merchandise."

Tia pushed the hair back from her forehead. She might need a police report in order to file with her insurance, but she didn't want to get the poor guy in trouble. He hadn't intentionally torn things up. He'd lost control. And she'd precipitated it.

She told Rachel about his first visit as they waited. "Touching is obviously a trigger for deep-seated fears. He just panicked."

Officer Donnelly came in and halted. "Wow."

"Yeah." Tia rested her hands on the small of her back. "You got here quick."

"I was just down the street. Is he gone?" The st.u.r.dy young woman scanned the shop, a hand covering her weapon.

"He went out. I didn't see where."

"So what happened?" Sue raised her notebook.

Tia and Rachel described the incident. Sue wrote it down. "Were you physically threatened?"

"No." Tia shook her head.

"What happened to your leg?"

She looked down. The skin of her calf was raw, blood forming a bruise from the back of her knee to her Achilles tendon. "The sculpture hit my leg. I just didn't ... I hadn't felt it until now."

The doorway darkened as Jonah strode in.

"Officer Donnelly's taking the report," she said, hoping he'd take the hint.

He addressed his officer. "I'll finish here."

She said, "We're almost-"

"You need to go, Sue. Eli fell. Sam's taking him to the emergency clinic."

Her face flushed. "Is it bad? Did he say what happened?"

"Just go."

She handed him the clipboard. Sue Donnelly was not a Redford native. She hadn't grown up with them, had no idea of their history. With news of her injured child everything else had left her mind. As it should.

Jonah watched her out the door, then turned back. "You want to fill me in?"

She didn't, but Rachel did, ending with, "He just freaked out."

Jonah nodded. "Thank you. I'll finish with Tia now."

Rachel tugged her purse strap higher. "I'll come back tomorrow, Tia. I want a bunch for my party."

"Okay. Thanks."

Jonah reviewed the officer's notes. What more could he need?

"Have you seen this guy before?"

"A couple of weeks ago. The day Sarge collapsed. He bought candles."

"Credit receipt?"

"He paid cash."

"Description?"

She pressed a hand to her forehead. "He's quite big, round shoulders. A blunt haircut and very large square hands. He wears his clothes pressed and spotless. He's afraid of germs and fingerprints. And ... being touched."

Jonah lifted his pen. "Is that what set him off?"

"It is, and I don't want any wisecracks."

A hint of dark humor touched his eyes, but he refrained. "Did he threaten you?"

"No."

"You're injured."

"He knocked Lloyd's sculpture. It fell against my leg. It wasn't intentional. None of this was." The mingled scents of the broken and spilled packages confused her senses. Or maybe it was Jonah's scent interfering with her damaged creations.

Jonah pocketed the notebook. "You want help cleaning up?"

"No."

"Those shelves look heavy."

"I'll manage."

He clicked his pen and stuck it in his pocket. "I apologized last night."

"So forget it." She wrapped herself in her arms. "Anyway, you're wrong."

"About what?'

"I'm not bitter."

He gave her his cop face. "Okay. So let me help you with the shelves."

"No, thanks." She turned her back.

"You ought to have that leg looked at."