Chapter 8: The Lawyer's Door

Neither of us talked about the night on the ride into town.

I sat behind Ward on his bike with my arms around his waist and my cheek against his back, watching the mile markers blur past.

"Nothing after," I said when he stopped at the light.

"I remember."

"I just wanted you to know I remember too."

"Maxine." He turned his head. "I said I remember."

The light changed.

The lawyer's office was on Main Street above the hardware store, up a narrow flight of stairs with a brass plate on the door.

Ward parked across the street in front of the diner.

He cut the engine and sat very still.

"What?" I said.

"Look at the corner."

Two bikes sat at the curb by the post office.

I knew the one on the left, with the long chrome fork.

It was Boone's.

Two of his men leaned against the wall beside it, smoking.

They were looking right at us.

"They followed us," I said. "I didn't hear anyone."

"They didn't follow. They knew." Ward swung off the bike. "That tracker wasn't the only one."

"Then why not stop us?"

"Because they want to see where we're going."

My stomach turned.

I touched the ring through my shirt.

"We go up anyway," I said.

"We go up anyway."

The waiting room had one chair, one fern and one very pale secretary who wouldn't look at me.

"The lawyer is expecting you," she said, and her voice shook. "He's finishing a call."

Ward's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He took it out and looked at the screen.

His face closed.

He answered it.

"Deacon," said Cade's voice, loud enough for me to hear across the room. "You at the lawyer's?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm calling church for noon, and you won't be there."

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