His muscles knotted with tension. The cab pa.s.sed under a streetlight, and he could see that there was only one person in the backseat. She was alone.

So why was he still so uneasy? he wondered as he watched the cab disappear down the street.

2.

She should have driven herself, but she'd known that she was likely to have a bad time out at the home, and that she might stop to have a few drinks on her way home, try to console herself with a pity party and take a little time figuring out her life.

The cab seemed very slow.

She was tense with anxiety by the time the driver pulled up in front of her home in Henderson, and she nearly fell over her own feet in her hurry to get out and reach the house.

"Sandra?" She was calling her friend's name even as she turned the key in the lock. As the door opened, Sandra heard her and came rushing from the back of the house to meet her at the front door.

She was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties and had once been a showgirl, but now she wrote novels for young adults, having found a way to mine her own youthful angst for profit. She also had a sixteen-year-old daughter, born when she was very young herself, and Reggie gave her an even greater insight into the teenage mind.

Sandra Nelson was a good friend. Many people would have shied away from watching Timothy when he was visiting Jessy and she had to go out. Not Sandra. She considered it an easy gig and said all she had to do was listen to Timothy's stories-and see that he didn't set the house on fire because he was convinced he needed another log for his grandfather's sweat-lodge fire.

Sandra's alarmed stare brought an apologetic smile to Jessy's face. "I'm so sorry, it's just that-"

She didn't finish, because just then a loud gasp came from her right, where the family room ab.u.t.ted a courtyard. "Mom! Mom! It's Jessy-she's on TV! A man was murdered!"

Sandra stared at Jessy, who grimaced and went running past her to reach the family room, where Reggie was draped over the big comfortable sofa, staring at the television. She gasped again when Jessy walked in.

Jessy stared at the television. She'd been so focused on getting home that she hadn't noticed the news cameras out front when she and Dillon Wolf had finally escaped the casino, but there she was. She hadn't realized that she had actually been hanging on his arm.

"You were involved in a murder?" Sandra asked.

"Forget that. Who the h.e.l.l's the hottie?" Reggie demanded. Tall and slim, she had her mother's green, dark-lashed eyes and a perfect heart-shaped face. Despite her beauty and her age, though, she was basically a nice kid, and Jessy was always pleased when she came over to help Sandra with Timothy.

"Murder?" Sandra repeated.

At that moment, Timothy emerged from his bedroom. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt that was on backward. Despite that, he maintained his dignity as he straightened regally and said, "Murder? Yes, it was was murder. They can bury my heart at Wounded Knee for a fact, because the slaughter of the American Indian remains one of the greatest tragedies and injustices of our nation's history." murder. They can bury my heart at Wounded Knee for a fact, because the slaughter of the American Indian remains one of the greatest tragedies and injustices of our nation's history."

"Don't worry. The Native Americans are taking a just revenge. It's called bingo, and it's wonderful. They make money, and no one dies," Sandra said, placating him gently.

Jessy walked over to give him a hug, but he only stared at her. His eyes, light blue and misted like fog at the coming of day, were blank at first. Then they registered that she was in front of him. "Granddaughter. You're home. And you're safe."

She was startled to feel him trembling as he hugged her. She looked over his shoulder, frowning questioningly at Sandra.

"This just came on," Reggie said quietly.

"You were in danger," Timothy said. "They told me so."

"Who told you so?" Jessy asked.

"The ghost riders. Their ghosts came and told me that I needed to be strong, that you were in danger, and that I need to defend you," he said earnestly.

"I'm all right. Honestly," Jessy said, really worried now. Ghosts? Ghosts? This was new. "Timothy-" This was new. "Timothy-"

"I miss my bed," he said.

"Tim, you have a bed here," she told him.

He smiled at her, his eyes misty again. "Yes, and I'm grateful. But it's not my bed. I should be in my own place, where you come to visit me."

"You're going back tomorrow, Timothy. It's going to be fine," she said.

Sandra was staring at her, arching a brow. Her silent look said quite clearly, It's wrong to lie to him. Where can you get that kind of money? It's wrong to lie to him. Where can you get that kind of money?

"Come on, Timothy, let me get you to bed," Jessy told him, ignoring her friend's silent admonition.

His shoulders straightened, and he was entirely lucid. "I can take myself to bed, Jessy girl." He turned to face Sandra and Reggie. "Thank you, ladies, for the lovely dinner, and for listening to an old man tell even older tales. Good night."

Reggie hurried over to give him a hug, and Sandra gave him a kiss on the cheek. He turned and headed back to his room. Jessy didn't want him to see her checking up on him, so she kept an eye on him from where she was and promised herself that she would look in on him later.

When she turned back to Sandra and Reggie, they were both staring at her, wide-eyed.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Sandra demanded.

"And I still want to know who that guy is," Reggie added.

"And there's...blood all over you," Sandra said, ignoring her daughter. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise, but you'll have to excuse me," Jessy said, wiping at the blood, suddenly desperate for a shower.

She practically ran to her room, where she couldn't get her clothing off quickly enough. She threw it all straight into the trash basket, knowing she would never wear a single piece of it ever again. She hurried into the shower and turned the water on so hot that it was almost scalding, then rubbed her skin practically raw. She ma.s.saged shampoo through her hair over and over, until, finished at last, she threw on her terry robe and hurried back into the family room.

Reggie and Sandra spun around to stare at her again, and before Sandra could manage a word, Reggie demanded, "Tell me now. Who is that guy? Have you been holding out on us?"

"No. I never saw him before tonight. His name is Dillon Wolf," Jessy told her.

"Oh, okay. They said his name on TV," Reggie said.

"Oh? Did they say my name?" Jessy asked.

"No, you're just the unidentified redhead," Sandra told her. She looked concerned, and rose from the sofa to bring Jessy a cup of tea.

Jessy thanked her and took a sip, then choked. It was half brandy.

"Sandra-"

"You need it," Sandra told her.

"You might have warned me," Jessy protested.

"Could we get back to what happened?" Sandra asked.

"I was playing c.r.a.ps-"

"What?" Sandra broke in, frowning.

"Not to worry, I wasn't betting the house or anything," she said. Not quite, anyway. Not quite, anyway.

"And was the hottie playing c.r.a.ps, too?" Reggie asked.

Jessy laughed. "I don't think he'd like being called a hottie."

"Is he here to complain?" Reggie asked.

"No, but-"

"Let's get off the guy," Sandra said. "We know more about him now than Jessy does, I'm willing to bet."

"What are you talking about?" Jessy asked.

"Oh, they kept announcing his name on TV, like Reggie said," Sandra explained. "He's a P.I. with a hush-hush government agency of some kind."

"I think he's working for Emil Landon," Jessy said, confused. She took another swallow of the brandy-laced tea. Now that she was forewarned, it was delicious.

"I bet he's working undercover," Reggie said, excited. "So how did you get to know him so quickly? When is your next date?"

"We weren't on a date," Jessy said.

"I was playing c.r.a.ps. Dillon Wolf was at the table-I didn't even know his name then. But-I won. I won a lot of money. It was bizarre-as if an invisible hand was literally moving the dice until they landed on a hard ten. Anyway, I was starting to leave, and then the man plowed into me, knocked me onto the table-"

"Dillon Wolf knocked you onto the c.r.a.ps table?" Reggie asked.

"No, the dead man, the murder victim."

"He was dead, but he knocked you down?" Sandra asked, confused.

"He was dying when he knocked me down, and then he died on top of me. And then Dillon Wolf came back and helped me up. Actually, I think he convinced the cops to let me out of there, too," Jessy said.

"Cool," Reggie told her. "So are you going to see him again?"

"I don't know why I would," Jessy said.

"I don't know why you wouldn't," Reggie said.

"He didn't ask me out, for one thing."

"He will," Reggie said confidently.

Jessy smiled and took another sip of the tea. It all seemed distant now, as if it had all happened to someone else. The man, Tanner Green, falling on her...dying.

"What a night," Sandra said quietly. "What you told Timothy...Before all that happened, you made enough to keep him at the home?"

Jessy smiled falteringly. "It was amazing. It never happened before, and I'm sure it will never happen again, but yes, I made enough to keep Timothy there for the year."

Sandra gasped. "You made that much? You did did bet your house!" bet your house!"

Jessy shook her head. "No, honestly, I wasn't that crazy. It wasn't my money I was betting. I was rolling well, so other people kept throwing money down for me."

"It's all so unbelievable," Sandra said. "All that money. And then a man dying on you. That is one bizarre night." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, "And no one saw anything?"

"Not that I know of. He plowed into me, and he...died," Jessy said.

They all sat in silence for a long moment, and then Sandra said, "All right, we're up and out of here. If you're sure you're okay...?"

Jessy nodded.

"I still feel creeped out." Reggie shivered suddenly. "I mean...whoever murdered that guy is still out there, right?"

Jessy felt a chill streak down her spine. Suddenly, as if she were reliving the moment, she could see Tanner Green's face, the lips moving, the eyes going dim, clearly before her. Shaking herself to drive the image out of her mind, she stood to see them out. "I'm fine. We'll all forget it in a couple of days," she lied, knowing she would never forget the events of tonight.

"Call me. Let me know if...well, if there's anything I can do," Sandra said.

"Will do," Jessy a.s.sured her. She watched as the two women made it into Sandra's car, then carefully closed and locked the door. She suddenly wished she had an alarm system, but until tonight, it would have been wasted money, considering the cost of Timothy's care.

With the door closed and locked, she checked in on Timothy, who had dressed for bed properly and was sleeping soundly.

She went on to her own room, thankful for the house. It had belonged to her parents, who had bought it long before Henderson became a popular spot to live. The courtyard was pebbled, with cacti here and there, along with statuary they had bought through the years. The living room held her mother's old piano, and had gla.s.s doors that led out to the small patio and pool area. She had a kitchen, dining room, family room, three bedrooms and an office.

Tonight, however, she wished that she also had an alarm.

She tried to tell herself that it was ridiculous to feel fear. Whoever had killed Tanner Green surely had no interest in her. She hadn't seen anything. She had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But since Timothy was going to get to live happily because of the evening, she couldn't really regret it.

As she curled up in her own bed, she found herself thinking about Dillon Wolf. She'd been intrigued by him, attracted to him, when he had just been standing there. That he had reappeared in time to help her up from the table was her own little minor miracle.

Why the h.e.l.l hadn't she let him drive her home?

Because there would have been no point, she told herself. She didn't even have time to date. She was responsible for Timothy, for one thing, and she didn't mind that. Not at all. He had always been there for her, so it made her happy that now she could be there for him. And now she was so accustomed to working, trying to catch whatever overtime came along, that she barely remembered dating, much less having a relationship, and she wouldn't know how to date anymore, anyway, even if the opportunity presented itself.

It had been nice to touch him, though. To be touched. To feel the fabric of his jacket. To...

She closed her eyes.

And allowed herself to dream about the man named Wolf.

But in the middle of the dream, just as Dillon Wolf was smiling at her, things suddenly changed. She was at the table again, and everything seemed to shrink away. She turned, and Tanner Green was stumbling toward her. Straight at her. She could almost feel his crushing weight against her again. See his eyes staring into hers just before the light of life faded from them for good.

She saw his mouth moving, and once again heard the word he had whispered.