She stopped with a growl. She didn't need this crap.

"I'm sorry," Ethan called. "You're right. You know where you're going."

Daisy sucked on her teeth. Hank had given her the day off to deal with Special Agent Kinney, but she was sorely tempted to climb back into bed, sleep through the rest of the morning, and spend a peaceful afternoon on the porch together with a cool beverage instead.

Ethan shifted the car into reverse and pulled up the driveway next to her. He leaned toward the open passenger-side window.

"Do you want me to say it again? I'm sorry. Of course you know the best way to get there."

He sounded genuinely apologetic, but Daisy doubted it. He was probably just being pragmatic. After all, there was no question that she knew a whole lot more about Chalk Level than he dida"with or without his GPSa"so it was obviously better to have her with him, even if it meant having to defer to her directions.

"Will you get back in?" Ethan stretched out his arm and pulled the latch on the door for her. "Please?"

She wavered but only for a moment. If he could be pragmatic, then Daisy figured that she could too. She reminded herself of the original plan. The faster Ethan got what he came for, the sooner he would leave. Permanently. And she was still hoping to get some information in the process. As she climbed inside the car, Daisy checked her watch. Even with the minor delay, it was early. If she hurried things up a bit, there was a chance that she could get rid of Ethan and enjoy a peaceful afternoon on the porch together with a cool beverage.

This time at the end of the driveway he turned left without any prompting or dispute. The next few turns were guided by Daisy's forefinger. Neither of them spoke until they reached the main road.

"Thanks, by the way," Ethan said.

"I told you I'd take you to Chalk Level," she responded curtly, "and I'm taking you to Chalk Level."

"I appreciate that too, but I meant thanks for showing me the inn last night. I'm not sure where I would have stayed otherwise."

"You would have stayed in your car in the diner's parking lot or on the side of the road somewhere. The nearest motel is thirty miles in the opposite direction. It's nearly impossible to find in the dark, and trust me, you don't want to find it. It's crawling with bugs and covered in mold."

He glanced at her sideways. "So you were being nice by recommending the inn? I thought maybe you were trying to keep an eye on me."

"There's that paranoia of yours again."

Daisy said it with a laugh, but she couldn't truthfully deny the accusation. Perhaps a part of her had meant to be kind by providing him with a cool, comfortable bed and a home-cooked breakfast served on a silver tray. If that was the case, it was a very small part. Infinitesimal. The rest of her had done exactly what he supposeda"kept a sharp eye on him. If Special Agent Kinney shared the same roof as she, then he couldn't do any snooping or interrogating without her knowing about it.

Her only concern in taking him to the inn had been what her momma and Beulah and Aunt Emily would thinka"and saya"when they learned who Ethan was and why he was in Pittsylvania County. But in that regard Daisy had been lucky. Her momma had been even more tired than usual and gone to bed early. Beulah had been out on a date. Only Aunt Emily had been awake and on the premises.

She had listened to Daisy's hurried, whispered account of the stranger sitting in her parlor, and instead of promptly reaching for her beloved shotgun as Daisy feared she might, Aunt Emily had offered Ethan a room, albeit at an exorbitant rate. Unlike Hank, she hadn't been at all upset that Daisy could stand next to a man from the ATF without trying to gut him like a fish. One look from her shrewd blue eyes and it had been clear to Daisy that Aunt Emily understood her plan. She even complimented her on it.

"It's very clever of you, Ducky," Aunt Emily had said. "That's precisely the way to do it. Watch him, so he can't go rooting around and dig up any turnips we'd rather have buried. It's just like that old sayinga"keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Her advice had been simple.

"Get more than you give, Ducky. He'll want to know all about us and the neighborhood. But for every one thing you tell him, make sure he tells you three in return. Then you'll never be the last hog in line at the feed trough or the first at the door of the slaughterhouse."

Pig references aside, Daisy was rather happy to have Aunt Emily's approval. She had begun to feel slightly guilty. Maybe by helping Ethana"even strategicallya"she was being a traitor to her own family. But Aunt Emily's praise and approbation quieted her conscience. It reaffirmed to Daisy her own conclusion that she wasn't a traitor for taking Ethan to Chalk Level, if by taking him to Chalk Level it kept the ATF from causing her and her friends and relations any more trouble.

"Which way?"

"Hmm?"

"Which way?" Ethan repeated.

Daisy turned to him, almost startled. For a minute she had forgotten where she was and what she was doing.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "You seem a littlea"confused."

"I'm fine. I just a never mind a it doesn't matter. How far have we gotten?"

She looked out toward the road. They were stopped at an intersection. On one side rose the gleaming white spire of the Round Pond Baptist Church. On the other side stood a faded pink double-wide with a dozen matching plastic pink flamingos scattered around the front lawn. It was Highway 40.

"Left," she said.

The car turned left, and as it did so, Daisy took a long, deep breath. She hadn't gone left on Highway 40 in more than four years. It looked the same. The overgrown playing field was still next to the church. Across the way the pastor's house was still painted lemon yellow with a sky-blue door and shutters.

Ethan glanced at her. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Daisy nodded.

"Because you're kind of pale."

"Ia"" She sighed. "It's been awhile since I've come this way."

He connected the dots as far as he could. "Did you used to live around here with your husband?"

"No."

It wasn't a lie. She had never lived in that area with Matt. But the question came so perilously close to revealing the truth that Daisy realized she had to pull herself together. She couldn't let Ethan know how strong of a connection she had to the place that they were going or how vulnerable it made her.

"So what is it then?" he pursued, his brows knit together.

"What is what?" she returned elusively.

"What's wrong? Something is obviously bothering you. And it started the moment we hit Highway 40."

Ethan was dang perceptive. Too perceptive for Daisy's comfort. So unless she wanted him to uncover all that she preferred to keep hidden, she would have to do a better job of controllinga"or at least concealinga"her emotions. She took another deep breath to steady her nerves.

"In about a mile we'll go over a creek. Then you should slow down."

As she said it, Daisy silently thanked him for driving so fast. The quicker they got there, the quicker they could leave again.

He nodded, and to her relief didn't press the subject of her agitation any further.

"You can see the bridge up ahead. Just after it on the right is a strip of gravel. You should pull over there."

She looked down as they crossed the creek. The water level was high for the middle of summer. At the center it was knee-deep and flowing briskly.

When they reached the other side, Ethan turned off the road as Daisy had instructed. She climbed out of the car and started up the weedy hill that bordered the gravel. Ethan followed her. With a final few scrambling steps, she made it to the top and stopped.

"Okey-dokey," she said.

Slowly Ethan turned in a circle. "Okey-dokey?" he echoed, perplexed.

"This is it," Daisy told him. "This is what you wanted."

"We're standing in the middle of a cemetery."

"We're standing in the middle of Chalk Level."

CHAPTER.

12.

"Chalk Level?" Ethan repeated.

"Chalk Level," Daisy confirmed.

His gaze narrowed. "Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding."

With an unhappy sigh, he folded his arms across his chest. "So I guess I was right to be paranoid."

She frowned.

"Don't play the fool, Daisy. It doesn't suit you."

"Ia""

"Are you really going to pretend that you don't understand me?" Ethan cut her off. "That when I said I was looking for Chalk Level, you thought I meant a couple of ancient tombstones scattered on a grassy knoll next to a babbling brook?"

"It's not a brook," she corrected him. "It's a creek."

He shot her a blazing look and started down the weedy slope back toward the road.

"This is Chalk Level," Daisy insisted.

Ethan kept on walking.

"It's Chalk Level," she called after him.

"If you want a ride back to the inn," he said brusquely, "you've got about ten seconds to get into the car."

"Buta""

"Get in the goddam car, Daisy!"

Daisy certainly didn't take kindly to being ordered about or shouted at, but it did occur to her quickly enough that aside from her feet, Ethan was her only guaranteed form of transportation. Pride or not, she wasn't eager to possibly spend the next several hours trudging to the inn in the blistering Virginia sun.

"I don't know why you're all in a huff," she grumbled, stumbling down the slope behind him. "I did what you asked."

"I asked you to take me to Chalk Level, not Hillbilly-ville."

That really ruffled Daisy's feathers.

"I took you to Chalk Level," she snapped. "I can't help it if you're too dumb to realize that."

Ethan climbed inside the car and angrily slammed the door. Daisy did the same. He turned to her with clenched teeth.

"You must seriously hate the ATF to go this far," he seethed. "To make up a place out in the middle of nowhere. No wonder you didn't want me using the GPS."

"I didn't make up anything," she shot back. "And when you tried the GPS yesterday, where did it take you? Probably pretty near to here, didn't it?"

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

"That's what I thought," Daisy said smugly.

"I did cross Highway 40," Ethan mused.

"That's because Highway 40 runs straight through Chalk Level."

He squinted at her. "But my file said the deceased lived in Chalk Level."

"Surely."

"Then where's his house? Where did he eat and sleep? Because I highly doubt he was drinking from the creek or making a bed out of the grass and gravestones."

Daisy snorted with derision. "You really are dumb, aren't you? Chalk Level isn't a golf club or subdivision. It's a town."

"Of course I know it's a town!" Ethan threw up his hands in frustration. "But if this is Chalk Level, why don't I see any people or homes or stores or traffic?"

She shook her head at him. "Not all rural towns have a bustling center with a quaint little Main Street running in between the post office and grocery store. Some are just areas and communities. Unincorporated parts of a county. Chalk Level is one of those. And the hill we were standing on a moment ago is smack dab in the heart of it."

For a long minute Ethan just looked at her. Daisy smiled. Sometimes it was awfully fun to be right, especially with big-city know-it-alls.

"Is it nearby?" he asked, almost sheepishly.

"Fred Dickerson's place?"

He nodded.

"On the other side of the creek."

"I don't have an address," Ethan said. "I don't suppose you'd be willing toa""

"I'll show you."