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"You might catch him in a half hour."
"We might not. I really have to insist, Mr. Hawken."
The man showed a bit of businessman's steel. "I won't leave him." Then the edge left his voice as he added, "I have to explain something." The smallest of glances at his wife. A pause, then: "My first wife, Sarah, died a couple of years ago."
"I'm sorry."
The dismissive shrug that Dance knew oh so well.
"Jim dropped everything; he was at my door within the hour. He stayed by me and the children for a week. Helped us and Sarah's family with everything. Food, the funeral arrangements. He even took turns with the housework and laundry. I was paralyzed. I just couldn't do anything. I think he might've saved my life back then. He certainly saved my sanity."
Again Dance couldn't suppress the memories of the months after her own spouse's death--when Martine Christensen, much like Chilton, had been there for her. Dance would never have hurt herself, not with the children, but there were plenty of times when, yes, she thought she might go mad.
She understood Donald Hawken's loyalty.
"I'm not leaving," the man repeated firmly. "There's no point in asking." Then he hugged his wife. "But you go back. I want you to leave."
Without a moment's hesitation, Lily said, "No, I'm staying with you."
Dance noted the look. Adoration, contentment, resolve . . . Her own heart flipped as she thought, He lost his first spouse, recovered and found love again.
It can happen, Dance thought. See?
Then she closed the door on her own life.
"All right," she agreed reluctantly. "But you're leaving here right now. Find a hotel and stay there, stay out of sight. And we're going to put a guard on you."
"That's fine."
It was then that a car screeched to a stop in front of the house, a voice shouting in alarm. She and Carraneo stepped out onto the porch.
"S'okay," Albert Stemple said, his voice a lazy drawl, minus the Southern accent. "Only Chilton."
The blogger had apparently heard the news and hurried over. He raced up the steps. "What happened?" Dance was surprised to hear panic in his voice. She'd detected anger, pettiness, arrogance earlier, but never this sound. "Are they all right?"
"Fine," she said. "Travis was here, but Donald's fine. His wife too."
"What happened?" The collar of the blogger's jacket was askew.
Hawken and Lily stepped outside. "Jim!"
Chilton ran forward and embraced his friend. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes. The police got here in time."
"Did you catch him?" Chilton asked.
"No," Dance said, expecting Chilton to launch into criticism for their not capturing the boy. But he took her hand firmly and gripped it. "Thank you, thank you. You saved them. Thank you."
She nodded awkwardly and released his hand. Then Chilton turned to Lily with a smile of curiosity.
Dance deduced that they'd never met before, not in person. Hawken introduced them now and Chilton gave Lily a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry about this. I never, not in a million years, thought it would affect you."
"Who would have?" Hawken asked.
With a rueful smile, Chilton said to his friend, "With an introduction to the Monterey Peninsula like this, she's not going to want to stay. She's going to move back tomorrow."
Lily finally cracked a fragile smile. "I would. Except we've already bought the drapes." A nod at the house.
