She fell into step beside him. "It's good to get outside."

"You need to take more breaks."

"True. Another good intention I haven't followed through on." Marcus pointed out a fallen log. Shari sat down, bracing her arms on her knees. A low front had brought in a band of white wispy clouds. The reflections of the clouds glittered on the water. "You're right. This is a great view."

They sat together in silence watching the colors change as the sun set. Marcus felt no need to break the silence.

The colors drifted into darker hues. "Which do you like better, a sunset or a sunrise?" she asked idly.

Marcus glanced at her, considering. "Sunset."

"Why?"

"Because you're never awake to share a sunrise with me."

He watched the startled faint blush spread across her face. "Marcus-"

"You asked."

"Are you flirting?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you are being very nice."

Nice. Marcus buried a sigh. And I'm trying to get your attention. Nice wasn't the word I was hoping for So much for making the point subtly.

She leaned her weight back against her hands and turned her attention back to the sunset. "I used to date a guy named Sam."

Marcus went still. He had not been expecting her to come back with an offer for a serious discussion. He turned so he could look at her. Sam. He knew that name from the file developed on her, had seen a couple newspaper clippings, and remembered the conversation she had referred to at the hospital. "What happened?"

"We had different visions of where we would go as a couple."

"Do you regret it now?"

"No. It hurt like crazy, still does at times, but it was the right decision." Shari looked over and considered him for a moment. "Marcus, are we going to be friends when all this is over? Or is this one of those special friendships that exists for the moment and is one you remember with gratitude when the event is passed?" "Which do you want?" "I like you."

He smiled. Finally. "It's mutual."

"And you're a complicated man."

She had looked further than the surface. "I'm an O'Malley." He wished he could explain everything that meant, about what it meant to be part of the family he had chosen to lead. He went back to her original question. "As far as I'm concerned, these last couple weeks are an interruption to what will be a very long friendship."

"An interruption? Why?"

"Because I'm working. That changes the situation."

"Constrains it, you mean."

Trust her to be direct. He had always admired that. "If you like."

She was silent for a long time. He would have said something, but her expression had become serious. "I need a friend right now, Marcus." She sighed. "I wish you believed. I really need someone to talk to."

"What about?"

She shrugged her shoulder, didn't answer.

"I may struggle with it and have my doubts, but I've got two sisters convinced the Bible is true. Trust me. I'll do my best to understand."

She gave him a small smile. "I still think you'll eventually come around." "Don't get your hopes up."

"Jennifer and Kate strike me as being persuasive."

"They can be. Talk to me. What are you wrestling with?"

"Why Dad died."

"Because you prayed for a different outcome?"

She nodded.

"Jennifer is praying to be healed."

"And you're wondering if she has a chance at getting a positive answer."

"I've wondered," he said simply.

"A twenty-year Christian and an unbeliever wrestling over the same question. If you find an answer, I'd appreciate hearing it." She shook her head slightly. "Change of subject. How is Jennifer? You haven't said much in the last few days."

"She says she's fine. She's lying," he replied, wea It was impossible to imagine what it was going to mean, the radiation and chemotherapy not working.

"Fine can be a matter of perspective. Someone broken of spirit can be worse off than someone physically ill. When do you go see her?"

"If things work out I'll take a predawn flight Tuesday. spend the day. and take a late night flight back."

"I wish you had been able to go last week."

"It couldn't be helped. Jack and Stephen are there. And I've been talking to her every day."

The shadows were beginning to lengthen. Marcus got to his feet and held out his hand. "The sunset is fadingl it's time we were inside." Since the church incident, he wasn't taking chances. She slipped her hand into his. "Want to go into town with me tomorrow? I thought I might go play some basketball while Josh is at physical therapy."

"I can get out of the house?"

"Just to the gym. No shopping I'm afraid."

"I'll still take it."

He led the way back down the beach, skirting driftwood. "Would you teach me how to play?" she asked. "What?" "Basketball."

He looked over and caught her half smile. "Now you tell me." "I'm kind of athletically challenged too." "You're smart. You can learn."

"Tell me that after you've spent an hour chasing the basketball. What time do we need to leave?"

"Nine o'clock will be early enough."

Time alone with Marcus was worth this. Shari shut off her alarm and crawled out of bed, trying to remind herself of that. It was not yet 7 A.M. She vaguely remembered seeing 2 A.M. This was horrible. And it was her birthday. She considered crawling back in bed and burying her head under a pillow. She would prefer to sleep through this day rather than be up at dawn. No. If she ducked back into bed, she would never hear the end of it.

She staggered downstairs after a hot shower, barefoot, carrying her socks, in desperate need of coffee.

The radio was on in the kitchen. She wasn't surprised to find Marcus working at the counter. He was injeans, a black T-shirt, and tennis shoes. The casual attire didn't eliminate the obvious signs of his job-the badge, gun, and radio on his belt, the small earpiece he wore to keep him in touch with the other officers.

He set down the spoon he was using to mix muffin batter, wiped his hands on a towel, and gave her a smile, wide and welcoming. "Sit down. I'll fix you breakfast."

He was cheerful at this time of morning. She wanted to groan. If she had to talk coherently, she was in trouble. She took the coffee he offered, retreated to the table, and found the first newspaper, searching through it for the comics page.

He tugged down the newspaper. "Happy birthday."

"Please, don't remind me."

"How old are you today anyway?"

She wrinkled her nose at him.

"That's okay. l already know," he remarked smugly.

"If I have to endure this day. please feed me."

He laughed and returned to the stove. "Do you want hash browns with your omelet?"

"Please."

He was a very good short-order cook and she had long since stopped trying to suggest she should help. Breakfast was his domain. If she wanted to fix and bring him lunch to wherever he was working, that was another matter.

There was quiet for the next several minutes. Shari read the comics, turned to the national news, then moved to the political page.

Marcus set down a plate with a western omelet, toast, hash browns. He set a glass of orange juice beside the plate.

She looked at the orange juice with distaste.

"Eat. And orange juice is good for you."

"I'd rather be told to drink milk. Orange juice is nearly as bad as grapefruit juice."

"Since it's your birthday..." The glass was removed and was replaced with one of milk. "Better?"

"Much. Sor I don't mean to be so cranky."

"Sure you do. It's your birthday. It's already started off as a bad day." "Please don't be cheerful. It's bad for my digestion." He laughed.

She bit into her toast. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Already did. I fixed the guys breakfast."

"Well, I hope you're still hungry If I eat all of this I won't be able to move."

"It's a competitive advantage to have my opponent slow on her feet." "Well, I think-"

He cut her off with a raised hand. "Yes, Craig."

Shari recognized that distant look as his attention shifted in an instant to work. He was pushing back his chair and heading to the door moments later. "Shari, stay here in the kitchen. Luke will be joining you."

She felt an intense wave of panic. Something was wrong. Her attention immediately swung to windows and she shoved back her chair and moved to the other end of the kitchen away from them. Marcus had said to stay in the kitchen. She wished he would have said for her to go upstairs.

Was someone out here? The shooter?

Josh came into the kitchen carrying his tennis shoes. "Shari, can you-" He saw her face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Marcus just got calledl he left in a hur"

There was a heavy pause as they both considered the implications. Josh reached for a chair, swung it around. He pulled on his shoes with his good hand. "Can you tie my shoelaces?"

"Sure."

"Not knots like you did last time."

He was trying to distract her as well as get ready in case they had to move. She forced herself to smile back. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

She hurriedly tied neat bows.

"Thanks. I'll go see-"

She caught his arm. "No. Stay here."

They heard the front door open. "Miss Hanford?"

"In the kitchen, Luke."

He joined them and held up his hand to stop the cluestions. "There was a traffic accident up the road. You'll be hearing the police sirens soon." "Marcus didn't react to an accident."

"Accidents make a good diversion. We're sweeping the grounds as a precaution. Go ahead and get ready to head into town. We're comfortable this was simply a minor traffic accident."

"You're sure?"

"Mrs. Garrett clipped her cousin Joe's truck. We've known both of them for years. This is nothing more serious than a failure-tostopin-time fender bender."

But it was a reminder of why she was here. The last time she had gone out in public she had put her family at risk, and Marcus had been shot. "Maybe I shouldn't Josh settled his hands on her shoulders. "It will do you good to get out of the house for a while. Go finish getting ready. You're not staying behind because of this."