"Not particularly. Not when you put it that way."

"There's no other way to put it."

"I still think your mom's going to find out eventually," Ethan said. "But if we ever have another chat like we did this morning, you don't have to worry about the news coming from me."

"Thank you." She paused for a moment, then asked, "Did you talk about Hank too?"

"You mean with your mom?"

Daisy nodded.

"He didn't come up. Why?"

She answered with a frown. Aunt Emily was wrong. Ethan and her momma hadn't discussed Hank's deatha"accident or not. Their conversation had been all about Fox Hollow. That was strange. Or was it? Daisy wasn't sure. Her momma rarely mentioned the property. On the day Fred died she hadn't even known whether he was still living there. Why would she suddenly talk about it with Special Agent Kinney from the hated ATF and not her own daughter? Was the timing mere coincidence, or could there be more to it?

A lengthy silence followed. Daisy tugged absently at a snag in the fabric on the settee. Ethan returned to the files he had been reading when she first entered the parlor. A whole big box of files had arrived for him yesterday at the inn. Daisy didn't ask about them, and he didn't volunteer any information. She wondered if there was some mention of her family in the copious pages. She supposed there had to be. Her eyes went to the marble mantel. Old photographs in tarnished silver frames stood in a crooked row like a long line of seashells washed up onto the beach after a storm. Battered and faded, they were eagerly collected but quickly forgotten.

Ethan glanced over at her. "Any relatives up there?"

"Oh, no. I don't have kin still alive in these parts. Other than my momma, they're all gone. But I'm unusual that way." Daisy smiled. "Around here you've got to be careful. There aren't any so-called seven degrees of separation. It's closer to three. So you better find out who everyone's relations are real fast, or you could pretty easily end up marrying your second cousin without even knowing it."

He laughed. "I'm glad to hear that didn't happen to you."

She laughed with him. "It's bad enough Matt and I went to the same grade school. I don't recommend picking a spouse who remembers what you looked like in plaid rompers and pigtails. All the mystery is gone."

"I bet you were awfully cute in plaid rompers and pigtails."

"Evidently my husband didn't think so."

"Your husband is an idiot."

Daisy could only shrug. "I won't dispute that."

Closing the file in his lap, Ethan tossed it to the floor with a thud. "I can't read another word tonight. You want to do something?"

"Such as?"

"Such as go out and get a beer somewhere. There are actual bars and restaurants in this area, aren't there? You don't have to go down to the creek with a jug of home brew tucked under your arm like your buddy Rick suggested the other day, do you?"

"Of course not. Of course there are bars and restaurants. And Rick isn't my buddya""

The unexpected wail of the telephone in the entrance hall interrupted her. Beulah came racing up the front steps of the inn and slammed open the screen door.

"I'll get it!" she cried.

The ringing promptly ceased. There was a bit of mumbling.

"Daisy?" Beulah called.

"In here."

She popped her red head into the parlor. "It's for you."

"For me? Who is it?"

"Zeke."

"Huh?"

"Zeke," she repeated. "From the General."

Daisy was so surprised, her lips parted but not a syllable came out.

"Weird, isn't it?" Beulah agreed. "I had a lot of trouble understanding him. I don't think I've ever talked to Zeke on the phone before."

"I know I haven't." She rose from the settee. "He probably wants to give his condolences."

"You're right." The red mop nodded. "I bet that's it."

As Daisy headed into the hall, Beulah turned toward the occupant of the scuffed leather smoking chair.

"Hey there, Ethan," she cooed.

Daisy smiled. No doubt Beulah would be happy to show Special Agent Kinney where he could get a beer. She picked up the phone from the inlaid table.

"Hello?"

Zeke came straight to the point. "Daisy? Daisy, I gotta talk to ya."

"You need to speak up, Zeke. I can barely hear you."

"I can't. They might be listenin'."

"What?" There was too much background noise, and his voice was garbled. "Somebody's listening?"

"I'm workin', and they're here."

"Who's there?"

"City folks." Zeke coughed. "Big-city folks."

"Okay." Daisy didn't know what else to say.

"They were askin' 'bouta""

"I can't understand you, Zeke."

He coughed again. "Ya gotta come here, Daisy."

"To the General?"

"Uh-huh. Will ya come tonight?"

"Oh no, not tonight." The only place she planned on going that evening was up the stairs and into bed.

"But it's gotta be tonight!" he exclaimed.

"Zekea""

"I gotta talk to ya, Daisy!"

She was really unenthusiastic about going to the roadhouse, but there was such an odd urgency in his tone that it forced her to reconsider. Plus Zeke never called. Something was definitely going on, and she decided that she had better find out what it was.

"Do you want me to come now?" Daisy asked with a sigh.

"In an hour." He sounded relieved. "After we close."

"All right. I'll see you in about an hour, Zeke."

The line crackled and went dead. As she set down the phone, Daisy checked her watch. It was late. She should have been sleeping. At least she didn't have to wake up early to make fresh coffee at H & P's.

Grumbling to herself, Daisy trudged to her room. She needed to change her sandals and get her purse. She had to drive. When she came downstairs again a few minutes later and passed by the parlor, she saw Beulah curled up on one arm of the smoking chair like a cuddly little kitten. Ethan looked over at Daisy standing in the hall. His eyes went to the keys in her hand, and his jaw twitched.

"Going out?" he said.

"Going out," she replied.

His jaw twitched once more. "Don't tell me you've chosen the creek and jug of home brew?"

"The creek and jug of home brew?" Beulah echoed, perplexed.

"No." Daisy shook her head, but she wasn't inclined to explain the reference to Rick and his 'shine. "I've got an errand to run."

"Now?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"Yup."

Beulah frowned at her. "What kind of an errand? You're not going to the General, are you?"

"I am."

The frown intensified. "By yourself at this time of night! Why?"

Daisy hesitated. Should she tell Beulah what Zeke had said? Should she ask her to come with?

As though he could read her mind, Ethan said, "Want some company?"

Considering how odd and agitated Zeke had sounded on the phone, Daisy couldn't help thinking that having Ethan along might be good. But then she remembered what Aunt Emily had told her at the diner. Get some of the answers before he does. Well, maybe Zeke could give her those answers.

When she didn't respond, Beulah's curiosity grew. "What on earth did Zeke say to you, Daisy?"

Ethan turned to Beulah. "Who's Zeke?"

"He's the bartender at this roadhouse everybody goes to. It's called the General. We were there a couple of weeks ago anda""

Not waiting for her to finish, Daisy mumbled, "See you later."

Both Ethan and Beulah shouted after her as she pushed open the screen door and jogged down the front steps, but Daisy didn't stop. She headed straight for her car. She figured it was better that way. Beulah could flirt with Ethan as much as she wanted. Ethan could flirt back or read his files. And she would go talk to Zeke alone.

It was a clear night. The moon was nearly full, and the stars were large and bright. Daisy was grateful for it. Driving through rural southwestern Virginia wasn't so easy after the sun went down. The roads were nearly all unlit, and the intermittent reflectors pasted on posts and mailboxes weren't much help in navigating the snaking curves. It was dark out. Really dark. The kind of dark that made you stretch your eyes as wide as they would go like some nocturnal creature peering out from the inky depths of a cavern.

Daisy didn't take much notice of the occasional vehicle that zoomed by her. No doubt they were all heading home, which was precisely what she would have preferred to have been doing. She was tired from the events of the long day and much more interested in a soft pillow than a crumbling roadhouse. There were still a few cars and trucks at the General when she arriveda"spread out in the corners of the unpaved parking lota"but that didn't surprise her. Somebody always left the place with somebody else. Either they wanted to share that soft pillow or one of them could no longer stand, let alone safely operate any machinery more complex than a toaster.

The bar was closed for the evening. Daisy was sure of that. The neon advertising signs were shut off, and the front door was locked with a thick metal bar across its middle. That meant she had to go around to the back of the building, which didn't thrill her. There was only one orange security light on the premises, and it was at the opposite end of the parking lot, the farthest point from where she needed to go.

The instant Daisy stepped out of her car, she felt a warning prickle on the nape of her neck. Someone was there. Someone was watching her. She glanced around hastily but saw nothing. No person. No movement. Not even the shadow of a cat's tail slinking behind the Dumpster. She took a deep breath as she walked across the gravel. It was probably just a patron trying to sleep off the evening's enjoyments in the bed of his truck. A harmless drunk. No cause for concern.

Daisy had almost succeeded in stifling her anxiety when she caught the sound of a footstep. She froze and looked around once more. Still nothing. Not even a slight breeze. She tried to laugh at herself. Aunt Emily had made her paranoid. That was the problem. She was always prattling on about people lurking and spying and skulking around the neighborhood just waiting for an opportunity to prey on helpless females. It was silly. There wasn't anyone lurking or spying or skulking around the General. And Daisy certainly wasn't helpless.

All the same, she quickened her pace. She also found herself wishing that she were in possession of Aunt Emily's shotgun. Nobody preyed on a female holding a double-barreled 20-gauge. There was another footstep. This time Daisy was positive. But she couldn't tell what direction it came from. For a second she debated spinning around and sprinting back to her car. Then she shook her head. What good would it do? The owner of the footsteps might be expecting her to do exactly that. It made more sense to keep going. She was almost there. Zeke was inside waiting for her. They would talk, and she would go back to the inn. That would be the end of it.

She turned the corner of the building. It was black behind the roadhouse. Solid black. Daisy couldn't even make out the outline of the back door. But she knew that it was there somewhere. Over the years she had used it on more than one occasion, always to pick up Matt when he and Rick had been too intoxicated to crawl out the front. The footsteps were close now. They crunched over the gravel like plodding doom. With a fearful lump in her throat and her heart hammering at triple speed, Daisy ran her fingers along the pitted wall. The knob. The knob. Somewhere there had to be the knob for the door.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped. The last crunch was directly in front of her. At the same moment Daisy's palm touched the knob. She turned it, and the door opened a few inches before a hand grabbed her arm. She responded by throwing her shoulder against the wall of the building, squashing the unwanted hand in the process. There was a rewarding yelp of pain.

"Damn it, Daisy! What the hell did you do that for?"

It was Ethan. Ethan's voice and his face in the crack of light streaking out from the gap in the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Daisy hollered right back at him.

He shrugged. "I wanted a beer."

CHAPTER.

20.

She stared at him, furious and relieved at the same time.

Ethan rubbed his aching hand. "You sure do pack a wallop for a little thing."

It wasn't enough of a compliment for Daisy to forget her fear from a minute earlier. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.