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A hundred and thirty miles away? Well, Dance shouldn't 've been surprised. Not with the prosecutor Robert Harper playing the media game.
"We've got a good attorney."
"If there's anything I can do . . ." The ends of Anne's metal belt tinkled like a wind chime in the breeze.
O'Neil called down to the beach, "Hey, guys, your mother's here. Come on!"
"Can't we stay, Dad?" Tyler pleaded.
"Nope. Time to get home. Come on."
Reluctantly the children trudged toward the adults. Maggie was dispensing shells. Dance was sure she'd be giving the good ones to the O'Neil children and her brother.
Wes and Maggie piled into Dance's Pathfinder for the short ride to the inn where her parents were staying. Once again, they'd spend the night with Edie and Stuart. The perp was dead, so the threat to her personally was gone, but Dance was adamant about finding Travis alive. She'd possibly be working late into the night.
They were halfway to the inn when Dance noticed that Wes had grown quiet.
"Hey, young man, what's up?"
"Just wondering."
Dance knew how to reel in details from reluctant children. The trick was patience. "About what?"
She was sure it had to do with his grandmother.
But it didn't.
"Is Mr. Boling coming over again?"
"Jon? Why?"
"Just, The Matrix's on TNT tomorrow. Maybe he hasn't seen it."
"I'll bet he has." Dance was always amused by the way children assumed that they're the first to experience something and that prior generations lived in sorrowful ignorance and deprivation. Mostly, though, she was surprised that the boy had even asked the question. "You like Mr. Boling?" she ventured.
"No . . . I mean, he's okay."
Maggie contradicted, "You said you liked him! You said he was neat. As neat as Michael."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did!"
"Maggie, you are so wrong!"
"All right," Dance commanded. But her tone was amused. In fact, there was something about the sibling bickering that she found comforting, a bit of normalcy in this turbulent time.
They arrived at the inn, and Dance was relieved to see that the protesters still had not found the location where her parents were hiding out. She walked Wes and Maggie to the front door. Her father greeted her. She hugged him hard and looked inside. Her mother was on the phone, focusing on what was apparently a serious conversation.
Dance wondered if she was talking to her sister, Betsey.
"Any word from Sheedy, Dad?"
"Nothing more, no. The arraignment's tomorrow afternoon." He brushed absently at his thick hair. "I heard you got the fellow, that killer. And the boy was innocent?"
"We're looking for him right now." Her voice lowered so the children couldn't hear. "Frankly, the odds are he's dead, but I'm hoping for the best." She hugged the man. "I've got to get back to the search now."
"Good luck, honey."
