"Glad?" Daisy raised an eyebrow.

"You bet your bippy I'm glad," Aunt Emily crowed. "Serves him right for skulking around the neighborhood. I told you somebody was out there spying, Ducky. Just waiting for an opportunity to prey on one of us. And to pick the sickest of the bunch! Like we're a herd of helpless antelopes in the middle of the Serengeti. The man ought to be ashamed!"

"So you saw him," Ethan said. "Can you describe him to me?"

"I didn't get much of a look at his face. Speaking of faces." She glanced over at Lucy. "Hers isn't looking the prettiest right now. But at least it's nothing a couple of aspirin and bag of frozen peas can't fix."

Daisy's mouth opened, ready to protest Aunt Emily's lack of concern over her momma's condition.

"Pish, pish. Don't gape at me, Ducky. You're not a sea bass. I love your momma dearly, as you well know. And she'll be just fine. It takes more than one bump on the noggin to bring down a lady like Lucy Hale. You know that too."

"It'd be very helpful if you could describe the man," Ethan pursued.

"All right. All right. Don't rush me." Aunt Emily stroked her beloved shotgun thoughtfully. "As I said before, I didn't get much of a look at his face. It was dark in the hall and dark outside. But I can tell you it was painted."

"Painted?"

"Camouflage-style. Green stripes across his nose and cheeks. Like he was heading for a tour in the jungle. His clothing also. Shirt, pants, boots, and hat. All green camouflage. The complete getup."

Full camouflage with his face painted. That puzzled Daisy. It didn't sound like big-city folks.

"Was he armed?" Ethan asked. "Did he fire back at you?"

"He didn't aim. He didn't even raise it," Aunt Emily said. "But if I'm not mistaken, he had a rifle with him. I only caught a glimpse as he was running. It was camouflage too."

Daisy's jaw stiffened and her eyes narrowed as an icy, bitter realization crept along her spine. Not many big-city folks used rifles with camouflage. Especially not out of season. But she knew someone who did. In fact, the last time she had seen him, he had been wearing camouflage and carrying camouflage.

"Bobby," she hissed.

Suddenly Lucy's shoulders twitched, and she gave a small cough. Daisy looked down at her.

"Momma, was it Bobby? Bobby Balsam. Rick's brother. Was he the one who was here?"

"Bo a Bobby," she mumbled.

It was enough of a confirmation for Daisy. The icy bitterness spread through every vein in her body, and she instantly made up her mind what to do next. But before she could act, Beulah and her flapping robe reappeared in the doorway next to Aunt Emily.

"I spoke to Sue," she reported breathlessly. "She's in the ambulance, and she's coming right away. But it'll take her awhile to get here. They had an early call over in Gretna. She says not to move your momma in case she's hurt her back."

"Thanks, Beulah." Daisy nodded gratefully. "Now if I could ask you for one more favor?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Will you stay with my momma until Sue gets here? I don't want her to be left alone."

"Of course," Beulah said again, entering the room and sitting down by her. "But what about you? Where are you going?"

"I"a"she carefully transferred her momma's head from her lap to Beulah'sa""have some business to take care of."

"Business?" Beulah frowned, not understanding.

Ethan frowned too, except he did understand. "Are you sure about this?"

Not responding to either one, Daisy grabbed the Colt from the edge of the throw rug, stood up, and marched into the hall. Ethan stepped in front of her to block her path.

"Get out of my way," she snapped.

"Daisya""

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

"Just hold on a minute. Wouldn't it be wiser to call the sheriff? Let him handle it."

"I'm handling it." Her voice was steely. "You don't want to fight me on this, Ethan."

There was a fiery determination in Daisy's eyes, and he capitulated. "Then at least let me come with you. I'll drive. You don't have a car anyway. We left it at the General last night, remember?"

She hesitated.

"You can use my car, Daisy," Beulah offered.

"You'll need yours if they take Lucy to the hospital," Aunt Emily countered. "She can have mine. Only I don't think she should take it. I think she should go with Ethan."

Daisy turned to her with pursed lips.

"Think smart, Ducky. If you're planning on confronting the Balsam boys, you're better off not doing it alone. Take someone who knows how to handle himselfa"and a weapon."

Although she wasn't keen to admit it, Daisy knew that Aunt Emily was right. She turned back to Ethan.

"Fine. You want to come, you can come. But I'm driving."

Aunt Emily let out a low, tittering whistle. "That means you, Mr. Kinney, need to put on a shirt and a safety belt."

CHAPTER.

22.

"If you had been born fifty years earlier, you would have made one hell of a bootlegger."

"If I'd been born fifty years earlier and become a bootlegger," Daisy retorted crisply, "you would have been chasing me instead of sitting next to me."

Ethan grinned. "I told you already. I'm not a revenuer."

"Then don't complain about my driving."

"I'm not complaining. But I do think you should seriously consider a career in NASCAR."

It was Daisy's turn to grin, just a little. She did it as she swerved fearlessly along a mountain ridge, not taking her foot off the gas in the slightest. She had no intention of slowing down. Not for tight curves. Not for obtuse possums. Not even for other vehicles. They could move. And they did move. It was as though they knew that she was focused on speed. Speed and Bobby Balsam.

The first peachy streaks of dawn were beginning to brighten the night sky, but they weren't yet strong enough to break through the thick pine stands that surrounded the Balsam homestead. Daisy barely noticed the darkness or the gradually increasing light. She was too enraged by what had happened to her momma, and she had driven that road so many times in years past that her memory simply took over. Handfuls of gravel spit out from beneath the car's tires as she accelerated deeper into the forest.

"You do know where you're going?" Ethan asked her, clutching the armrest with tense fingers.

"You'll see the signs soon," she said.

"The signs?"

"Then you'll hear the dogs. They've got lots of dogs. Rottweilers, blueticks, black-and-tan coonhounds. Normally I bring a bag of ham bones with me. That keeps them pretty well in check."

"And without the bones?"

"It'll be even noisier than usual."

The signs started. NO TRESPASSING. BEWARE OF DOG. PRIVATE PROPERTY. Ethan read them as they sped by. When they reached the more serious signs, he laughed aloud.

"Is there anyone they aren't threatening to shoot on sight?"

"There's a mighty good chance I'll be shooting Bobby on sight," Daisy replied, not laughing with him.

Ethan grew solemn. "How confident are you he's the person?"

"I don't have to be confident. All I've got to do is look at him. Either he has a bullet in his right thigh or he doesn't."

"I guess I can't really argue with that logic, but I can tell you I still think it'd be much wiser to call the sheriff and let him handle this."

Daisy slammed on the brakes. Lucky for Ethan, he had taken Aunt Emily's sage advice and put on his safety belt, so he snapped back against the seat instead of hurtling into the dash.

"Ow." He put his hand to his neck.

She turned to him without sympathy. "You're going to have to choose, Ethan. Get out now, wait here until I'm done, and I'll pick you up on my way back."

"Or?"

"Or quit talking about calling the sheriff and trust that I know how best to deal with a miserable little bastard like Bobby Balsam. This isn't any of your business."

"I'm a federal agent."

"This ain't federal."

Ethan met her gaze. The bitter, fiery determination from the inn was gone. Now Daisy's eyes were stony. So stony, they were almost to the point of colorlessness.

"I won't say another word," he promised.

She raised a dubious eyebrow.

"At least not about the sheriff," Ethan amended himself. "I can't swear I won't call the paramedics if it looks like somebody's about to bleed to death."

Daisy stepped on the gas. A few minutes later they pulled into the clearing. There was enough pale morning light to see Rick's and Bobby's ramshackle trailers at the far end. There was also enough light to see the dogs snoozing peaceably together in a large pen over by the fire pit. It was so early, no one had yet fed them and let them out. Their heads popped up as Daisy brought the car to a stop. She called out to them by name, and the pups greeted her with friendly yowls.

"So what's the plan?" Ethan said.

"The truck." She didn't elaborate.

Clasping her momma's Colt firmly in her hand, Daisy climbed out of the car and walked over to one of the two pickup trucks parked on the mixture of red clay and scruffy weeds in the center of the clearing. Ethan followed her.

"This is Bobby's," she told him, placing her empty palm on the hood. "The engine's still warm." Opening the door, she leaned over to examine the inside. "There's blood on the driver's seat. And the console. And the steering wheel. And yes, it's fresh."

"Okay." Ethan nodded. "I'll agree that's decent enough proof. But, Daisy, don't do anything rash."

"I should have left you back in the woods," she muttered.

"I'm serious, Daisy." He sounded serious too. "If you act on impulse now, you may do something you later regret."

"I regret giving him extra pecans on his waffles for all those breakfasts at the diner. And I regret bringing him a bunch of cookies and brownies the last time I came to this place. But I can guarantee you, Ethan, I won't be making those sorts of mistakes again."

Ethan didn't respond. He held back guardedly as she approached the trailer on the left. Daisy halted just short of the two steps that led up to the battered door with its peeling paint.

"Bobby!" she hollered.

Bobby Balsam didn't appear.

"Bobby, get out here!"

He still didn't appear, and Daisy's patience was thinner than a new blade of spring grass.

"Bobby, get your sorry ass out here right now!"

There was some noise from inside the trailer.

"Does it have a back exit?" Ethan asked. "He could be trying to escape that way."

"There's only one door. And one window big enough." She gestured toward a filthy pane of glass.

"You should pull back a little and move to a more covered spot," Ethan cautioned her. "Emily thought he had a rifle. He's probably got it with him."

Daisy didn't budge an inch. "I know you're in there, Bobby!"

This time the noise came from the other trailer. Several thumps and a small crash later, the shredded screen door flew open. Rick stumbled out in his athletic shorts.

"What the jiminy is going on! Who's doing all the shouting?"

"I am," Daisy calmly informed him. "And you can turn right around because it doesn't concern you."