Not much I can do, tonight. Or I guess I should say this morning. Im going to take it in later, when I go to work. Well compare it to the other note, and see what, if anything, we can learn from it.

He didnt sound optimistic.

It looks a lot like the note from the mutilated toy dog, I said.

That it does. Unfortunately, theyre both written with pencil on common notebook paper. Finding out who wrote it would be easier if theyd used expensive parchment, or an unusual color of ink. Or a fountain pen. The more distinctive, the better.

What about DNA?

Its possible. But you have to match it to a suspect whose DNA is known. And we dont have a suspect.

We both looked down at the piece of paper. So ordinary. So disturbing.

This puts my burglary in a different category, doesnt it?

Martinezs mouth was a grim line. That vein throbbed in his right temple. Yes, he finally said.

And with that one word, I knew I wouldnt be able to get back into my bed. I knew that whoever had killed Jim Albert had been in my home, standing right here. And I knew I wouldnt get much sleep at all until we found the murderer who was now threatening Mama and me.

Mama? Its Mace.

Well, hello darlin. Im just finishing up my Cheese n Ham Surprise for the church breakfast. Are you on your mobile phone?

Mama still treats each call from a moving car as a miracle, even though cell phones have become as common as cowboy hats in Himmarshee.

I bit back a smart-aleck remark, though sleep deprivation and sheer fear might have given me a pass to make one. Im in Pams car, on my way into town. I wanted to let you know Im running a little late.

My thoughts drifted back to why Id been delayed.

Id finally fallen asleep, for an hour and a half, on the floor of my front porch. The idea of a killer in my house, maybe even in my bed, creeped me out. Martinez wanted to leave the sheets and pillows as they were, to preserve any evidence. Even though Id rolled around in there, the intruder may have, too. He could have left behind skin, hair, maybe even bodily fluid. That last prospect alone was enough to make me grab a sleeping bag, plug in a fan, and hit the porch.

Martinez pulled all the bedding off the sofa and insisted on bunking on the floor next to me. His presence was solely a comfort. Feeling scared and vulnerable effectively squashed any erotic leanings I had earlier.

I know how it feels when you dont want to be inside your own house. His voice was barely a whisper beside me. After my wife was killed, I couldnt use the front door. For months, I entered and left from the back. Finally, I sold the house and moved here. Too many memories.

I didnt know what to say. Im sorry, was all I came up with. Marty would have done better.

I must have finally dozed off, because I dreamed of Patricia Martinezs murder. But everything was confused. She wasnt in the front hallway of their home in Miami. She was in the woods in Himmarshee. Throughout the dream, the faces of her attackers stayed hidden in the shadows. And then finally, just before she was shot, the two men looked up. In my dream, one of them was Sal Provenza. The other one had my granddaddys gun. It was Jeb Ennis.

The sound of the fatal shot in my dream turned into the beep of the alarm clock Id brought to the porch. I awoke, tangled in my sleeping bag and soaked in sweat.

My porch mate was already up and dressed. Hed folded his bedding, placing it neatly in a corner. After I showered and came out in my bathrobe, he handed me a cup of coffee hed made.

Sorry, no cafe Cubano, I said, sitting at the kitchen table so I could linger a bit longer.

Thats okay. He took the seat across from me and smiled. Ill make you some when you come to my house.

Id been parsing that sentence ever since. Was it an invitation? A promise? Or, was it like, Lets have lunch sometime, a casual remark without real meaning? One way or another, I was oddly eager for my first taste of that Cuban coffee.

Now, I was hurrying across the bridge at Taylor Creekjust as Id done the night Mama called from the police department to tell me thered been a murder. I passed the site along State Road 98 where Id spotted Emma Jeans car, pulled off into the marshy weeds.

I swerved to avoid a dead raccoon in the road. One of my garbage can bandits? I hoped not. I wanted things to be like before, when my sole worry was a gang of marauding critters.

Im still about twenty minutes out, Mama, I said into the phone.

Thats okay, honey, Mama said. The VFWs only a couple of blocks away. Alice and Ronnie from next door are already here. Were gonna walk over together. Ill meet you.

No criticism about my tardiness. Not a single complaint. Mamas mood was as sunny as the September day would be. I didnt have the heart to tell her someone might be gunning for both of us with her daddys shotgun.

I wish you wouldnt walk, Mama. Ill be right there to pick you up.

Dont be silly, Mace. Well be at the hall in two shakes of a lambs tail. She lowered her voice. I pictured her cupping her hand around the phone. Alice begged me to walk with them. Shes doing everything she can think of to get Ronnie to exercise. Hes getting as fat as the only tick on a hound ever since he hurt his shoulder. The doctor says itll be another month before he can go back to full-time work at the feed store.

Ronnie Hodges upper arms are as big as hams. Eight-hour shifts lifting feed sacks will do that. I didnt think anyone would mess with Mama with the hulking Ronnie right beside her.

Okay, but just be careful, would you?

Of course, darlin. If this last week has taught us anything, its that there are some crazy people in Himmarshee.

You have no idea, I thought.

That brings up a little something I need to tell you, Mama. I downplayed. I got another one of those notes, like the one with the stuffed dog on your porch?

How could I forget? That awful thing looked just like Teensy.

This note came to my house. Ill fill you in on the details later. But Detective Martinez thinks we should be extra watchful for anyone who might mean us harm.

I dont like the sound of that, Mace. Are you okay? Whatd the note say?

Im fine. And it was just like before. I dismissed the note. Mind your own business. Im going to come after you.

Who do you think wrote it?

Truly, I dont know. But lets ask around at the breakfast. See what we can find out.

Okay, honey. Ronnies helping himself to his second biscuit, and Alice is givin me the evil eye. I gotta go. See you in a little while.

Remember what I said about being careful. Love you.

Me too, Mace.

I had the urge to tell her more, but shed already hung up. By the time I passed through a bad spot for my cell signal, then hit redial, Mamas number rang inside an empty house.

___.

Guests were still arriving when I parked Pams car in the VFW lot. It was only fifteen minutes past the time Mama had planned for us to get there. She wanted to be early so she could see how my sisters and I decorated the place. That way, shed know what to take credit for.

Inside, I found one of the place cards holding a table for Abundant Hope members and family. I hung my purse on a chair and went off to look for Mama.

Surveying the food table, with its assortment of sweet and savory treats, I didnt see her distinctive casserole dish. She always brings the same one to every party: white, trimmed in blue asters. Its got a tiny chip on the top and her name written on masking tape on the bottom.

Mama must have gotten waylaid, talking to someone somewhere while her Cheese n Ham Surprise was getting cold. I scanned the crowded room.

And didnt see her.

Maybe shed stopped to primp. I opened the door to the womens bathroom. Mama? Its Mace. You in there? I called.

And didnt hear her.

My heart was starting to pound. Ronnie Hodges was across the room, moving his massive frame around the food table, eyeing the offerings.

Ronnie?

Hey, Mace. Its a shame they make us wait to eat until after everybody from Abundant Hope is done praying. Id feel more prayerful with a full stomach.

Ronnie, wheres my mama? I thought yall walked over together.

We did. But you know Rosalee. She saw someone she knew and ran off to say hello. She told Alice and me to come on inside. Said shed meet us at the table.

When was this?

Not five minutes ago.

Where?

Outside, in the parking lot.

I left him standing there staring. Pushing my way against the faithful and the hungry, I went outside. There were at least a dozen vehicles in the parking lot: pickup trucks, battered sedans, shiny SUVs. I rushed up and down the parked rows, looking for Mama.

And didnt find her.

Taking a corner around an old Buick, I slid in something slippery. I caught my balance and looked down at fluffy eggs and cubed ham oozing on the asphalt. Shards from a casserole dish poked out from a golden layer of cheese. I stooped and picked up a shardwhite, with a perfect blue aster in the center.

Good Lord, Mace. Youre as white as rice. Ronnie Hodges panted from rushing out after me. Is everything okay?

Who did Mama run off to talk to, Ronnie?

Well, I dont know. My distance eyes aint what they used to be. The truck was all the way over to the other side of the parking lot.

A truck? What kind?

It was an old pickup. White, I think. Or something light. Why?

One person in the truck, or two?

Just one. The driver. But why, Mace? Whats wrong?

Man or woman?

Well, now Ronnie looked heavenward, like he had to think on that for a while.

I felt a scream rising in the back of my throat. Dammit, Ronnie, was it a man or a woman?

Woman, he finally said. Im almost sure it was a woman.

I grabbed Pams car keys from my pants pocket. Mamas been kidnapped, Ronnie. Call the police. Then, tell Delilah to make an announcement that anyone who saw anything should stay here to talk to the cops.

Ronnies jaw hung open. He worked it a couple of times before some words came out. Where are you going?

To find Mama, I said as I flew toward the car.

Wait, Mace. Ronnies heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Delilahs not here.

I stopped and turned around.

She called your mama this morning. She said she couldnt face the crowd after all, not after Pastor Bob took all the hurricane money. Delilah asked your mama to promise to explain to everybody how sorry she was.

Think! Think! Think!

I pounded three times on the steering wheel in Pams car, trying to dislodge the fog in my brain with each blow. I needed to focus, like I do when Im tracking an animal. Get inside the kidnappers head.

Any prey, knowing its being hunted, will either flee or find a hiding place. I scanned the lot. There was nowhere to hide a pickup with a pint-sized captive. The driver had surely fled.

I eased the VW across the lot, to the side where Ronnie had seen the truck. In the wild, an animal leaves a trail: flattened grass, bent twigs, droppings, or tracks on the ground. I hoped to see something, anything, that would reveal the path taken by the animal in the pickups driver seat.

There wasnt even an oil stain.

Then, just as I reached the exit, I spotted what I prayed was a clue out on the road in front of the VFW. Something small and round shone against the blacktop, about thirty feet to the right. Seeing nothing on the pavement to the left, I made the right. Slowly, slowly I drove, and then stopped. The object on the road was a honeydew-colored earring, gleaming in the rising sun.

Mama had been so excited when she found the set, which included a necklace and a bracelet, too. She had a pantsuit in that exact shade of light green, and the costume jewels were a perfect match.

I hoped she tossed the earring out of the car intentionally, like Hansel and Gretel with their breadcrumb trail. I didnt want to think of the alternative: that the clip-on was the first casualty as Mama struggled with her kidnapper.

The VFW is at the far western end of Main Street. I drove for two miles without spotting another clue. Then I came to an intersection. Right, left, or straight ahead? I parked on the shoulder and examined the site on foot. There was nothing to suggest choosing one way over another. There was only a quiet Saturday morning and empty road in all directions. Making the wrong decision might mean Mamas life.

I was about to start combing the grass alongside the intersection when I noticed an ancient fisherman. Sitting stooped in a folding chair and holding a cane pole, he was nearly hidden by the cattails that grow along the banks of Himmarshee Creek.

I came up quietly, not wanting to scare him or the fish.

He looked up, dark face nearly hidden in the shadow of a huge straw hat. Hey.

Hey. I returned his greeting and got right to business. Im trying to find a light-colored pickup truck that might have come by here about ten minutes ago.

With yellowed teeth and sunken cheeks, he looked about a hundred years old. I hoped he still had his wits. Yesm, he finally said. I saw a truck. White, it was. I was just gettin here myself to do a little fishin when the damn fool driving nearly run me over.

Did you see which way it went?

He aimed the tip of his pole to the west. Straight ahead, along the course of the creek. I remember, cause I was walking long side of the road, right there. He pointed the pole again. They flew by me, so close I could see the look on the face of the white lady in the passenger side. Real little lady. She looked scared, like she thought they was gonna hit me.