"Why didn't you mention it?"

"You didn't ask."

His expression grew darker. "And somebody tried to run you down in a parking lot?"

"That's true, but it was just a teenager acting crazy."

He noticed the fresh bruises on her forehead and moved closer. Lifting the strands of hair covering the marks, he said, "These weren't there before, were they? These look new."

"They are new," she replied as she backed away from him.

"Did you fall again?"

"No," she answered. "I was just coincidentally in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens," she insisted. "Nothing for you or Jordan to be worried about. There's a perfectly good explanation for all of it."

Dylan turned a kitchen chair toward him and straddled it, resting his arms across the back. "Okay then. Start explaining. Why don't you begin by telling me about this explosion," he said.

"Which one?" she asked.

Chapter Seventeen.

"You're telling me there was more than one explosion?" Dylan looked incredulous.

Kate slowly nodded. "That's what I'm telling you. Jordan didn't mention . . ."

"No, she didn't."

"They're not related," she explained. "One was a bomb and the other was a gas leak. They weren't even in the same city," she added. "So you see? Nothing to worry about."

"Start at the beginning."

She groaned. "All of it?"

"All of it."

The set of his jaw told her he wasn't going to let it go until she gave him a quick summation, and so she went through her ordeals from start to finish.

"Okay," he said. "Let me see if I've got the sequence. Explosion in Charleston, hospital, Boston, attempted hit and run in the Charleston airport parking lot, another explosion in Silver Springs, hospital again, and home."

"Don't forget Reece. He was a trauma, too," Kiera said. She was waiting in the doorway for Dylan to finish his rundown.

"He was more of a challenge than a trauma," Kate said. She then related what had happened when Reece had shown up at the door.

"Why didn't you call the police?" Dylan asked.

"What could the police have done? He didn't threaten me or Isabel or Kiera," she said. "And you can't arrest someone for being obnoxious or sinister."

"Did he touch you?" Dylan quietly asked.

She shook her head but immediately contradicted herself when she said, "He might have tried to push me out of the way so he could come inside. He was convinced Isabel was hiding somewhere in the house."

"Touching you in any way is enough to get the police involved," Dylan said.

"She did think about calling them," Isabel blurted out. She had been listening from across the room. "After she told Kiera and me what happened, she said there was still time for her to call the police and make a complaint, but . . ."

"But what?"

Isabel looked at Kate when she answered. "I begged her not to," she admitted. "I felt sorry for him. I mean he's living in this fantasy world, and I thought that as soon as he sobered up he would realize he needed to move on. Besides, I'm leaving town for a long time, and he's in Europe. I'll just bet he comes home with a new girlfriend." She nodded as she added, "I think he'll give up on me, but I doubt he'll ever forgive Kate. He thinks she's making me go away to college."

"Why don't you both go into the living room," Kiera said.

"You're in the way, Kate. Kiera and I need to get dinner on the table," Isabel said. She was thankful the conversation had turned away from Reece.

Dylan followed Kate out of the kitchen. She sat down on the sofa and said, "Have a seat."

She should have been more specific, she supposed. He sat down next to her and was so close their arms were touching. She quickly moved to the end of the sofa.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go through it again."

"Why?"

"You might have forgotten something."

"I didn't forget anything," she insisted. "Go back to Boston and tell Jordan to stop worrying."

"She's convinced you're in trouble."

"And you came all this way to save me?" She pointed her finger at him and stabbed at the air. "I don't need anyone to save me. I can take care of any problems that come my way."

He was trying to be patient. "Kate, what is it I do for a living?"

She knew where this was going. "You're a detective with the Boston Police Department."

"Which is why Jordan asked me to help figure out what's going on. Now, who was in charge of the bomb investigation?"

"Detective Nate Hallinger. Why?"

"I want to talk to him," he said, and before she could argue with him he continued. "Is he convinced that the explosion was meant to kill the artist, Cinnamon?"

"She's in protective custody," she said. "So he must think she was the target."

"Huh."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He ignored the question. "What kind of explosive device was used?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask," she said. "And I doubt that Detective Hallinger would have told me."

He nodded. His words were more clipped when he asked, "What did he tell you?"

"I don't remember much."

"Sure you do."

She pointed her finger again. "You don't need to snap at me. This isn't an interrogation room, and I'm not a suspect."

He obviously had gotten a kick out of what she'd said because he looked like he wanted to laugh.

"What's so amusing?"

"You think this is how I interrogate suspects?"

"You had a tone."

Ignoring her sarcasm, he continued. "You were inside your car when the place blew?"

"Yes, I was. One of the paramedics told me that the fire department had to use a can opener to pry me out of the wreckage. Fortunately, I was unconscious. I don't think I would have liked opening my eyes and seeing all that metal pressing in on me. It would be like waking up inside a steel coffin."

He inwardly cringed. "You were extremely lucky."

She shrugged, acting as though what she'd just told him wasn't all that terrible.

He had the urge to wrap his arms around her, but in her present mood he thought she'd probably use that finger to poke him in his bad shoulder if he did. He made up his mind that, after they had discussed the more important issues plaguing her, he would find out why she was being so p.r.i.c.kly with him. But for now, if she wanted to act as though they barely knew each other, he'd go along with it.

His silence was making her nervous. She crossed one leg, then uncrossed it.

Dylan didn't believe in coincidences, and he didn't think that two near misses could be summed up as a streak of bad luck. Being in the wrong place once-okay, he'd buy that. But twice? No way.

"Did Detective Hallinger give you his card?" he asked. "I'd like to talk to him."

"Yes, he did. I'll get it for you."

Kiera was standing at the sink washing fresh vegetables from the garden. Isabel was folding linen napkins.

"Kiera, what did you do with Detective Hallinger's card?" Kate asked as she entered the kitchen.

Kiera tilted her head toward the refrigerator. "It's under the cow magnet."

"Oops. Kate, don't get mad," Isabel began.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to tell you Detective Hallinger called."

"When did he call?"

"About an hour ago. He'd like to stop by later."

"Did he say why?"

"Not really, and it would have been rude of me to ask."

"Isabel, you've got to learn to write down messages."

"I was using the phone and I got call-interrupted," she explained.

"Dinner's ready," Kiera announced.

Kate took the card back to the living room and handed it to Dylan. "You don't need to call him," she said. "Evidently he's coming over. Dinner's ready. I'll show you where you can wash up."

Dylan had been checking his text messages. He put the phone away and stood.

Kate led the way. "I would appreciate it if we didn't discuss explosions at dinner. I don't want Isabel and Kiera to worry. If they think there's a . . ."

"A what?"

"Problem," she said. "Then they won't leave."

"You're protecting them."

"Yes. Besides, my nearly getting blown up isn't suitable dinner conversation." Never in her wildest dreams could she ever have imagined those words coming out of her mouth.

He laughed as he followed her. "Is that in the etiquette book?"

Dinner was quite lovely by Isabel's standards. The conversation was actually pleasant.

As Isabel cleared the table, Kate and Kiera did the dishes. Dylan had offered to help, but Isabel was vehement in her refusal.

"You're in the South now, and a guest in our home does not lift a finger."

Kiera told him it was pointless to argue, and so after once again thanking them for dinner, he excused himself from the table and went into the den at the back of the house to make a phone call. Kate noticed he shut the door.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later.

"I'll bet that's Detective Hallinger," Isabel said. She put a platter down on the counter and hurried out of the kitchen. "Kiera," she called out, "you have time to go up the back stairs to put on some lipstick."

Kiera was filling the sink with soapy water when Isabel made the suggestion. She bowed her head and said, "She just doesn't stop, does she?"

Kate laughed. "Better you than me."

"The only reason she isn't focusing on you right now is because she thinks you've met your soulmate."