Twenty-eight.

'So, what are you thinking? Two down and one to go?'

AnnaLise had called Joy Tamarack and asked her to come over. Her reward was her friend's company.

Her punishment was her friend's mouth.

They were sitting at the kitchen table again, and AnnaLise rubbed her sore head. 'I honestly don't know anymore.'

'You want me to tell you? Your message to him said you two couldn't be together because of his wife, who is dead; daughter, who is also dead '

'And my mother,' AnnaLise reminded her.

'Yes, the one who was just shot at. Any idea whether it was the same gun?'

'That shot out our window? It couldn't be the Eames weapon,' AnnaLise said. 'That was left at the scene and the police have it.'

'Does it match the bullet from the Rosewoods' tire?'

'I don't know,' AnnaLise said, sitting up straight and reaching for her cell. She stopped.

'What?' Joy asked.

'I was going to call Chuck.'

'Then call him.' She looked at the kitchen clock. 'It's only ten.'

'Our chief isn't very happy with me,' AnnaLise said. 'My affair with Ben Rosewood, remember?'

'Oh, right. Do want me to call him?' Joy asked, picking up AnnaLise's phone and thumbing through contacts. 'I can tell him about your suggested hit list, too.'

'Are you kidding? It's as much an indictment of me as it is Ben. In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't already shown it to the police.'

'Maybe he has and that's the reason Chuck's not speaking to you. With it, you've become his prime suspect.'

AnnaLise shook her head. 'The prime suspect now is Josh, I'm afraid.' She filled Joy in on that side of the situation.

'So there's a police officer stationed at his door?'

'I assume when Josh wakes up, they'll read him his rights and place him under arrest. If he wakes up,' she amended.

'Hope they're being as careful about who they let in to see him as who they let out,' Joy said.

'They are. In fact, when I was there . . .' She stopped. 'You're saying that Josh could be in danger?'

'From what you've told me, he's the only one who knows what really happened at the Eames' house. If you're right about Rosewood, Josh's the only one who can wreck his plan.'

'Josh is the real threat to Ben,' AnnaLise said, impressed again with Joy's reasoning. 'Unless Ben knows somehow that the poor kid won't regain consciousness. Maybe, as a prosecutor, he's seen enough similar cases to know which headshots are fatal and which aren't.'

'And which scramble the brain and which don't.'

'True, but even so, even if he actually believes Josh's not a danger, why target Daisy? She certainly doesn't pose a threat to him.'

'Yeah, but her daughter does. And don't forget: You're the one who put Daisy and Tanja, and Suzanne on your list.'

For which AnnaLise Griggs didn't think she could ever forgive herself.

That night, AnnaLise did get a revolver from her father's gun cabinet, loaded the cylinder, and slept with the weapon under her pillow.

Sleep proved tough to come by, and when she did fall off she dreamt about their front window. In the dream, it was a simple lighted frame, first with Daisy's head silhouetted in it, then AnnaLise's, as she looked out to see what had caught Daisy's attention. And then . . . everything went black.

The next morning, AnnaLise sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and called the police station. Not sure that she wanted to talk to Chuck or that he would be willing to talk to her AnnaLise was relieved when Charity Pitchford answered the phone.

'I heard when happened at your mother's place last night. Is she all right?'

'Yes,' AnnaLise said, glancing toward Daisy sitting at the desk and in front of the computer. 'Up pre-dawn and composing a blog.'

'A blog? Bless her heart, that woman is a marvel. And so resilient.'

'She certainly is,' AnnaLise said. 'Where I'm the worry-wart in the family. Did you get any other reports of gunfire last night?'

'In fact, we did. Let me see.' AnnaLise could hear the clacking of keys and the rustling of papers. Then Charity was back on the line. 'The other report was from Church Street, just a block, block and a half away from you.'

'Did anybody see the shooter or shooters?'

'No, although this other homeowner had damage as well. Three brand-new front windows blown out.'

AnnaLise whistled, all the while feeling relief that perhaps the Griggs weren't solely the intended targets of the shooter. 'Lucky we have just the one window facing the street.'

'If everyone and their brother didn't have a gun, we wouldn't have all these shootings,' Charity said.

'Very true,' said AnnaLise, remembering the police officer was not native to the High Country where people like Fred Eames considered fourteen weapons a modest cache. Speaking of: 'Any word on Joshua Eames' prognosis?'

'Much better than the girl he shot,' Charity said dryly. 'Looks like he's going to be just fine.'

'Really?' AnnaLise was astonished, but relieved. 'I stopped by the hospital to see his dad yesterday and Josh was still unconscious.'

'"Was" is right. He came to last night. In fact, the chief went right from your house over to the hospital, for all the good it did him.'

'Josh wouldn't talk to Chuck?' Maybe Fred Eames had taken AnnaLise's advice and hired a lawyer.

'Oh, he'd talk, but what he told the chief isn't worth the paper it's written on.'

AnnaLise smiled at the expression. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, Joshua Eames says he doesn't remember a thing. Convenient.'

And, perhaps, true. After all, the young man had been shot in the head. 'Is Josh under arrest?'

'He is, and we'll most likely be transporting him to jail as early as this afternoon if all the tests come out clean.'

'So soon?'

'The gun must have slipped as he pulled the trigger and missed doing any real damage. Like I said, though, we'll know more later in the day. Well . . .'

Charity's voice signaled she was getting ready to say goodbye.

'Wait, before we hang up,' AnnaLise said hastily. 'I meant to ask Chuck yesterday if he'd been right about the slug in Mrs Rosewood's tire. Did it match the weapon used at the Eames' place, like he thought it would?'

A silence. 'Well, I could transfer you over so you could ask the chief himself '

'No, really. Don't bother him, I '

' but since I just sent the information over to the press, I don't think there's any harm in telling you what little we know. As was expected, the slug was so damaged the only thing the lab can be certain of is that it's a thirty-ought-six.'

'Is that the same caliber as the gun that killed her daughter?' AnnaLise left out Joshua Eames, since Charity obviously wasn't a fan.

'And most deer rifles you'll find around here.'

'Deer rifle?' AnnaLise looked at her cell phone like it was lying to her. 'How in the world does someone shoot himself with something as long as a deer rifle?'

'Simple. You take your sock off, put the rifle between your legs butt end down, of course, barrel in your mouth and use your toe to fire the weapon.'

'You're kidding.' AnnaLise was trying to picture how that might be done. Without picturing the result.

'AnnaLise, we're of fairly short acquaintance,' Charity said, 'but of one thing you can be sure: I don't joke about something like this.'

'Sorry, of course you don't. I'm just . . . and you're sure it was a hunting rifle because it was left at the scene?'

'Correct. Right there on the floor next to its owner's son. And his discarded sock.'

AnnaLise slid the phone onto the table. Then she picked up the morning's Charlotte Observer and stared at it, before setting that back down, too.

Could she have been wrong? Had Joshua Eames killed Suzanne and then shot himself? The evidence seemed damning.

But . . . it was evidence, something a seasoned prosecutor like Ben Rosewood might know about. AnnaLise was trying to imagine the man she knew removing Josh's sock and shoe while the boy lay there '"Dead end" one word or two?' Daisy swiveled from the desk.

'Two,' AnnaLise said.

'Makes sense,' Daisy said. 'Otherwise it could be confused with "deadened."'

'That has an extra "e."'

'What does?' Daisy was clicking away at AnnaLise's keyboard.

'The word "deadened," as in "the pillow deadened the sound of the gunshot."'

'Well, aren't we a ray of sunshine? And speaking of sunshine, maybe you should get outside and absorb some. You're pale as can be.'

'What is today Saturday?'

'AnnaLise, you're too young to lose track of the weekly calendar. Today is Friday.'

'It's from not working. Not being on a schedule.'

A phone rang and AnnaLise looked around.

'Isn't that your cell?' Daisy asked.

'It is, but where's my purse?'

'There.' Her mother pointed at the bag on the chair next to the desk. 'But it's the newspaper next to your coffee cup that's ringing.'

AnnaLise dug her cell phone out from under the Observer. The caller ID read: 'Sutherton Auto.'

'Hello?'

'Ms Griggs. This is Earl, over at Sutherton Auto? I just got in a used car you might like to see.'

'I'm sorry Earl, but I don't think I '

'It's Japanese, like your Mitsubishi, but the current model year. The owner is anxious to sell and will take any reasonable offer. I told him I'd broker the deal.'

'Well, I '

'It's clean as a whistle or will be if you can give me an hour or two. We're usually closed on Fridays, but I'd be happy to stay until you get here.'

Closed on Fridays? Welcome to the High Country. Our slogan? 'I'll do what I damned well please.'

AnnaLise looked toward her mother's back, hunched over the keyboard. She was busy working on the blog and AnnaLise did need a car.

'Sounds good, Earl. I'll come take a look.' She checked her watch. 'It's ten-thirty and you said you need an hour to get the car ready to show?'

'Better give me two,' he said. 'It's a beauty but was owned by a student and you know the kind of mess they can make. CDs, clothes, food you'd swear the girl practically lived in the vehicle.'

The 'girl'? And a student. It couldn't be. It just plain . . . 'Earl, what kind of car did you say it was?'

'I don't believe I did, but we're talking a Toyota.'