She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He carried her to his bed, laid her on

it. For a moment, he stood above her. Holding her gaze.

Her lips tipped into a small, contented smile. She reached up, caught his hands and drew him down to her.

That moment proved the calm before the storm. Passion exploded between them. They tugged at one another's clothes, zippers and buttons, clinging panties. Greedy. Impatient to feel the other's naked body against their own.

They made love, she on top of him. She orgasmed with a cry she worried might be heard at the Piggly Wiggly next door.

She collapsed against his chest. Beneath her cheek his heart thundered. She had always wondered, all those years ago, what kissing Hunter would be like. What being with him would be like.

Now she knew. And she wondered why she had waited so long to find out.

"I hated that."

She lifted her head and met his eyes. "Me, too."

His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. "I could tell."

She rubbed her forehead against his bristly chin. "You have anything to eat in this place?"

"A loaded question."

"Funny. Got any homemade chocolate cake?"

"Sure. Baked it this morning."

She grinned, feeling young, randy and totally irresponsible. "How about a PB&J?"

"Got something even better."

He rolled them both out of bed. He gave her one of his T-shirts to wear. The soft white fabric swallowed her. She glanced at its front. "Party hard on Bourbon Street?"

"From the old days."

She followed him to the kitchen, Sarah at their heels, the puppies on hers. Avery leaned against the

counter while he made them both PB&M-peanut butter and marshmallow cream-sandwiches, then poured two big glasses of cold milk.

Whole milk, she saw. Talk about irresponsible.

They sat at the tiny dinette and dug in. "My God, this is good," she said, mouth full. She washed it down with a long swallow of the creamy milk.

"Awesome, isn't it? Worth shouting about."

He wasn't talking about the milk. Or the sandwiches. She flushed and shifted her gaze. He laughed softly, stood and went to make himself another sandwich.

"Want another?" he asked.

"Not if I want to be able to snap my pants tomorrow. But thanks."

He fixed his and sat back down. "Earlier, you said something about wishing you had taken a call from

your dad. What did you mean?"

She laid the last of her sandwich carefully on the plate. "That last day, before Dad...died, he called. I was on my way out. Meeting a source, one who'd finally agreed to talk to me."

Her voice thickened; she cleared it. "I heard Dad's voice on the recorder and I...I thought, I'd call him

later. My source couldn't wait, but my father...he'd always be there."

Hunter reached across the table and touched her hand. "I'm sorry, Avery."

"If only I could go back, take that call."

"But you can't."

Silence fell between them. Hunter broke it. "Why were you at Trudy Pruitt's last night?"

"Remember the caller I told you about? The woman who said Dad got what he deserved?" He nodded.

"She called again. A couple of times. She said Dad was a liar. And a murderer."

"Your dad? Avery, you can't honestly belie-"

She stopped him. "That woman was Trudy Pruitt. Donny and Dylan Pruitt's mother."

"They're the ones who killed that woman."

"Sallie Waguespack." Sarah whined and laid her head on Avery's lap. Avery scratched her behind the ears. "She claimed they didn't do it. That they were framed."

"Of course she did. She was their mother."

"She said Dad was part of the cover-up. That she had proof."

"And?"

"She was killed before she could give it to me."

"And you think she was murdered because of that proof?"

"It's crossed my mind. It's an awfully big coincidence, she lives all these years, contacts me and gets herself killed."

He was silent a moment. "And you believe whoever was involved with your dad in this frame-up killed him then Trudy Pruitt?"

She leaned forward. "You ever heard of a group called The Seven?"

He frowned. "My mother was part of a civic organization called The Seven something or other."

"How about a woman named Gwen Lancaster? Ever heard of her?" He shook his head. "Her brother, Tom Lancaster?"

His expression altered subtly. "That name's familiar but I can't place from where."

"He disappeared in February this year. Similar situation to Mc-Dougal. A Cypress Springs outsider. No sign of violence, but the police suspected foul play. The Gazette ran the story on the sixth."

"That's right." He paused as if remembering. "The big difference between the two, of course, was the car.

Lancaster's was left out in the open. McDougal's had been hidden. Which to me suggests the two are

unrelated."

"Unrelated? Two young men disappear from the same small community, barely eight weeks apart and you don't think those disappearances are related?"

"Modus operandi, Avery. Criminals tend to repeat their crimes, how they carry out those crimes. If a murderer leaves a body out in the open the first time, they'll do it the second, then the third. Basic investigative technique."

She shook her head. "Trudy Pruitt, Elaine St. Claire, Tom Lancaster, Luke McDougal. If I accept your definition, we're dealing with four different killers."

"McDougal may very well have chosen to go missing. People do it all the time. Coming on the heels of Lancaster is a coincidence. Or clever planning from a man intent on disappearing."

"For heaven's sake." She made a sound of frustration. "Three killers then. In a town that has had only a couple of murders in a decade?"

He pushed his plate away. Sat back. "Okay, you're obviously up to your elbows in this. You tell me." She began at the beginning, with Gwen Lancaster. She told him about how they'd met, the things she had told Avery about a group called The Seven. And about her brother Tom, who had disappeared while researching the group. "At first I didn't believe her. The idea of a vigilante-style group operating in Cypress Springs seemed ludicrous. According to Gwen, the original group disbanded after only a few years, but are operating again. Willing to murder to achieve their goals."

"You'll forgive me if I chuckle under my breath." "I felt the same way." She leaned toward him. "She dared me to check out her facts. I did, Hunter. What I found stunned me. In the past eight months there have been ten unexpected deaths. Not counting Elaine St. Claire, Trudy Pruitt or McDougal and Lancaster. Cypress Springs is a community of about nine hundred, Hunter. That's a lot of deaths."

"Accidents happen."

"Not like that they don't." She paused, then drew a deep breath. "Gwen claims The Seven are responsible for her brother's death. He got too close and they killed him."

"And she hooked you by claiming they're responsible for your father's death as well."

She held his gaze despite the pity she read in his. "Yes."

"Avery, the woman was trying to pass herself off as your father's daughter. Doesn't that tell you

something?"

"I know. I thought the same thing at first but-"

"But you want to believe it."

"No." She shook her head. "That's not it."

"Have you talked to Dad about this?"

"I talked to him about The Seven. He says no such group exists-now or ever."

"But you don't believe him?"

Just considering the question felt like a betrayal. "It's not that, I just...I'm thinking he's out of the loop."