"You count on your gun. It's how you think. You act like you have a gun. Well, you don't. And if you act like you do, you could get in trouble."

"Thanks for your concern. I won't talk to strangers."

Cora turned on her heel, marched to the Toyota, fished her keys out of her purse, and zapped the lock.

She climbed in, started the car, pulled out, and headed home.

Becky followed right behind, all the way into town, and all the way out again.

Cora set her jaw. Becky lived in town. Was such babysitting really necessary?

Becky didn't turn back until Cora reached her house.

Cora immediately pulled off to the side of the road and cut her lights. She made a U-turn in the dark-a K-turn, actually, as she recalled from the driving test she took as a girl-snapped her lights on, and headed for town.

Becky Baldwin was waiting for her in front of the library. Becky stepped out into the street, forced Cora to bring her car to a stop.

"I just can't get you out of jail fast enough," Becky complained.

"That's hardly fair."

"Where are you headed, Cora?"

"Out for coffee."

Becky greeted this prevarication with an exclamation of disbelief apt to be heard on a cattle ranch.

"Well said. Look. Here's the deal. You're my lawyer. It's your job to keep me out of trouble. That's what you're trying to do now. The problem is, you have no real authority to compel the police to make a thorough investigation of Wilbur's barn for the purpose of determining if a second shot was fired. Even if you could get a court order, by the time you did, such evidence, if it existed, would be long gone."

"So?"

"So let's go get it."

Chapter 54.

"YOU REALIZE WE could go to jail?" Becky said.

"That's why I have a lawyer," Cora told her.

"That won't help much if your lawyer's in prison."

"You worry too much. Wilbur already said he wouldn't press charges."

"I don't think that was an open invitation to do it again."

"Couldn't you argue that it was?"

"I can argue anything."

"There you are."

Cora opened the passenger door. "If a car goes by, honk once. If it's a police car, honk twice."

Becky looked aghast. "Are you kidding?"

"Yes. Don't do anything. Just sit here and keep reminding yourself you have a duty to your client."

"I don't think that includes being an accomplice."

"Then we'd better not get caught."

Cora slipped out of the car and disappeared in the shadows.

The shop was dark. Of course, it should be that time of night, but one never knew. Cora couldn't help but remember Wilbur's shotgun. Not that she thought he'd use it on her. But he wouldn't know in the dark. And buckshot was probably pretty painful. If not fatal.

The phrase give 'em both barrels occurred to Cora.

It did not cheer her.

Cora crept around to the barn. Wilbur hadn't bothered to board up the window. There was a crime-scene ribbon across the door, and that was it. It was a piece of cake to reach through the broken glass and unlock the door. Of course, that would get her fingerprints on it, but they were already there. Having been found unconscious on the floor, it wasn't like no one knew she'd been in the barn.

There was nothing to worry about. Becky would probably take her seriously, blow the horn if anyone came. Even though Cora had assured her she was kidding. So if she didn't hear the horn, everything was fine. A false sense of security, built on a faulty premise. What could be better?

Cora pulled her flashlight out of her purse, played it along the floor. If Wilbur was looking out his back window, he might see it. But if Wilbur was looking out his back window, the game was up anyway.

Come on. Get on with it. If there is a second bullet, where is it?

Never mind if there was a second bullet. There had to be a second bullet. She hadn't shot herself. That much she knew.

All right. Where was Sam looking?

He was over there, working in this direction. He found the bullet here. So the second bullet wasn't between here and there, or he'd have found it.

Where was the bullet he found?

Cora had no problem locating that. There was the hole Sam had dug in the wall. Plus he'd drawn a circle around it in magic marker.

Okay. So any second bullet would have to be to the right of that.

Cora shined the light, searched along the wall.

She hadn't gone more than ten feet when something barred her path.

She shined the light again.

It was a table. Covered by a tarp. A tarp with enforced steel rings.

Of course. That was where she was standing when the shot was fired. She'd found that table, was examining the tarp. The bullet should be right there. Let's see, she was in the process of raising the tarp. So where would the bullet have gone?

It would depend on the angle from which it was fired. The bullet hole was the right height. But well to the left. Assuming the shooter was standing where Cora had imagined. If Cora was wrong, the shooter would have had to be standing farther to the right, to have missed her head and hit the wall farther to the left.

If it was Sam's bullet.

But in that case, she would have shot herself with her own gun. Which she knew she didn't do.

So she had to scour the wall to the right. Where a bullet would have gone if she was bent over picking up the tarp.

She took hold of the edge of the tarp.

All right, what the hell was underneath it? She hadn't seen last night, and she couldn't see now. She'd have to bend over farther, pull the tarp up more.

Why bother?

What if the bullet went there.

Then there'd be a hole in the tarp.

There were holes in the tarp. Enforced steel holes.

All right, the bullet went through one of those? You're getting desperate.

Cora threw back the tarp, shined the flashlight.

She gasped.

Underneath the table were four rattan chairs.

Chapter 55.

SHERRY CARTER BLINKED bleary eyes up at her aunt. "What time is it?"

"What's the difference?"

"Cora."

"Come on, Sherry, wake up."

"My God, it's four in the morning!"

"Technically, yes."

"What do you mean, technically?"

"Well, if you go by the clock."

"Cora."

"Come on, Sherry. I need your help."

"What help could you possibly need at four in the morning?"

"Help with the computer."

"What for?"

"I need to do a search."

"You know how to Google."

"It's not a Google search."

"What kind of search is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"That doesn't help much."

"No, but it woke you up. Come on, splash some water on your face and meet me in the study."

Minutes later Sherry padded down the hall, to find Cora sitting at the computer with Google open.

"You are Googling," Sherry said.

"No, I'm staring at the screen. It's not quite the same thing."

"What do you want to trace?"

"Wilbur's missing chairs."

"Why do you want to trace them?"

"I found them."

"Where?"

"In Wilbur's barn."