High Noon

own day after day after day in the house. I need you here, but I love you, and I wish you could go.”
    “There, I’m not mad at you anymore.” She skirted the desk and chair to wrap her arms around Phoebe from behind, press cheek to cheek. “We’re all on edge.”
    “It’s what he wants,” Phoebe said quietly. “Whoever he is, that’s what he wants first.”
    “Then sitting down to a nice meal is like flipping him the bird, if you ask me. We got us a nice roasted chicken, and I taught Josie how to make scalloped potatoes.”
    “Which means I’ll give him the finger a second time when I have to go up and work out to make up for eating two helpings of those damn potatoes.”
    “Better keep it to one and save room for strawberry shortcake.”
    “Oh God, why do you torture me?”
    “When I’m upset, I cook.” Ava eased back. “I cooked a hell of a lot today.”
     
    It had been beautiful. He couldn’t believe how perfect and powerful it had been. Every minute, every breath, from the moment he’d tossed that worthless fuck Roy into the trunk of his overpriced status car until the instant he’d blown him to hell had been an e-ticket ride.
    Better, by far, than shooting the gangbanger. That had been so quick, and so much less dramatic.
    Still, he wished he could have seen Phoebe’s face when Roy went boom. That would’ve been the icing.
    He looked at it now, the face tacked to the wall of his workshop. A face among many faces. All hers. Phoebe Mac Namara. Coming home from a hard day of screwing with other people’s lives. Standing around talking to one of her idiot neighbors. Walking her spoiled brat to the park, or along River Street. Swapping spit with that rich bastard she was screwing now.
    Since he was still celebrating his recent success, he popped the top on another beer and toasted the many faces of Phoebe.
    “Sweating now, aren’t you, bitch? Oh yeah, you’re sweating now. And you’ll shed buckets before I’m done.”
    Trying to figure it out, he thought. She’d be racking her brains on this one. Who would kill poor Roy? Who’d do such a cruel thing? Boo hoo!
    Hearing her voice in his head, he laughed so hard he had to sit down.
    Too bad she hadn’t started fucking the rich bastard a couple months sooner. With more time, more research, more legwork, he might’ve been able to target the new playmate instead of the ex-husband.
    Still, might be able to work something out. Just needed to think, to plan, to consider. Maybe take an opportunity, or make one.
    “See what we see when we see it there,” he muttered. “Got us a timetable, Phoebe.” He lifted the beer again. “Counting down now. Tick, tick, tick. The last tick, and it all goes up in blood and smoke.”
    Like she had, he thought, as another face swam into his mind. And with that image burning behind his eyes, he wept.
     
    After dinner, after her daughter was safely tucked into bed, after the last call from her captain, Phoebe sat staring at the files.
    There was a hollow place in the center of her now, as if something vital had just been carelessly scooped out.
    She needed to work through it, or around it. If she could get her focus back, she could concentrate on the names, on the cases, on the reason. But that hollow place sat there, and threatened to pull the rest of her inside it.
    She picked up the phone and called Duncan’s number without asking herself why she reached for him. Or why when he answered the rim around that hollow place began to shake.
    “I…Duncan.”
    “Phoebe. I was just talking to myself about you. Whether I should call you, or leave you alone for a while. Are you home?”
    “Yes.” The hand holding her cell phone wanted to shake, too. “I’m home. Are you?”
    “Yeah. Checking up on me?”
    “I didn’t mean to…” To what? “To hover.”
    “Let’s back up. I’d ask what’s wrong, but answer’s obvious. Is there something else?”
    “I just talked to Dave. Everyone here’s as settled as they can be, considering. I didn’t want to say anything, to tell them now when…Jesus. So, I call you and babble. Sorry. I should…something else.”
    “What did Dave tell you that you don’t want to tell them?”
    “Quick trigger on the brain. I like that about you. I’ll probably find it annoying eventually. If it comes to eventually. He called to tell me—I needed to know—that they found…one minute.” She lowered the phone, got her breathing back in order. “There was a timer