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sweetie,” she said. “I was just praying you’d know what to do.”
    Well, if that’s what she’d been praying for, God was playing a serious joke. I had no more idea of how to pull her out of this mess than I did of how to find the real killer. But I knew where to start, and judging from the brown Taurus that was rounding the corner onto my street, so did John Nailor.

Five
    Marla, Little Ricky, and Vincent scattered when they saw Nailor’s car come to a slow stop in front of my trailer. Nailor unfolded himself from the driver’s seat of the Taurus and started to walk up the driveway, staring after my departing guests with a puzzled expression on his face.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” he asked.
    â€œProfessional courtesy.”
    He frowned, not understanding, then stopped to look up at me. This time he noticed straight off. He looked up and down the street, then back to me.
    â€œYou think you should be standing there like that?” he said.
    â€œLike what?” I was still in my white gown, my hair down around my shoulders, barefoot and holding an empty coffee cup.
    â€œYou look … well, you’re…” Nailor couldn’t find the words, but he found the steps and mounted them quickly, moving with me inside the door, closing it behind us with only one brief cautious look toward Raydean’s trailer.
    â€œShe’s probably still at the mental health center,” I said. “Probably won’t be home till Pat goes to pick her up. That could be hours,” I added softly.
    â€œHours,” he murmured, pulling me toward him and folding me into his arms.
    I would’ve let it go. I would’ve drifted away with him had I not remembered that things were different now. I had a responsibility. Ma didn’t teach me to fool around when the chores still needed to be done. No. Work, then play.
    I pushed back and looked Nailor in the eyes. He saw the change right off.
    â€œAm I hurting you?” he asked.
    â€œNot a chance. I just need to ask you a few questions first, that’s all.”
    â€œFirst?” He grinned and went right back to running his fingers down my body, trailing them across the fabric of my gown, lingering in all the right places.
    â€œYeah,” I said, pushing him away, “first. You want coffee? You should have coffee ’cause this could take a little time, and you should keep up your energy.”
    He gave up. “Yeah, coffee would be nice.”
    He’d gone home and changed since I’d seen him. He was wearing a dark brown suit and another crisp white shirt. His tie was silk. Expensive. He smelled like aftershave, not cologne. Nailor didn’t wear cologne. He always smelled faintly of leather and some spice I couldn’t identify. He was clean-cut, a little more clean-cut than I liked, but then, I’d always had a penchant for bad guys. Nailor was one of those men who straddled the fence, just over the line on the good side, but willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
    I thought about that as I poured his coffee, shivering as he walked up behind me. We were entering a new frontier, him and me. We were closing in on a relationship. I didn’t think either one of us was gonna go down easy on that issue.
    â€œYou’re thinking about something, Sierra,” he said softly. “You scared?”
    Mind reader. “Hell no,” I said, turning to hand him his coffee and sloshing it over the rim of the cup as I did so. “I’ve got something on my mind, all right, but it don’t involve fear.”
    He let it go and allowed me to lead him over to the futon that sat along one wall of my almost empty living room. I sat down, pulling him with me. It was fine, as long as I leaned toward him and tried not to think about my injury. How was I ever gonna dance? I couldn’t afford to take time off. I guessed I’d do it slowly, leaning against the pole and