One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

attack? I decided to keep it light. “It’s just that they’re tricky, so we have to be trickier.”
     
    She pursed her lips, thought about it for a minute, then started the engine. “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
     
    She took off toward home but passed the turnoff that led up the hill to our house. A half mile later, she passed the street that would’ve taken us to Jackson’s house, where Max was staying.
     
    Meandering a few more miles out of town, she suddenly turned left into a gas station. Stopping at one of the tanks, Mom got out and bought two gallons of gas. I could see her watching every car that passed.
     
    We drove off again, this time heading down the old two-lane road that ran parallel to the highway. She turnedoff again and took back roads, skirting Dharma’s downtown district completely, until she finally came back to the road that led up to Jackson’s house.
     
    You know, my mother would’ve been a great spy. Just like my dad apparently was.
     
    “Nice job, Mom.”
     
    She checked the rearview mirror for the hundredth time as she stepped on the gas and zoomed up the hill. “I don’t think we were followed.”
     
    “I doubt it.” I was still nervous, though. I had a sneaking suspicion that yesterday’s bullet had been aimed at me. What if they took another shot? What if they hurt my mom? That thought made me so sick to my stomach, I immediately shoved it away.
     
    I’d thought a lot lately about buying a gun and carrying it with me. The flaw in that plan was that I wouldn’t use it, and if I did, I’d probably shoot myself in the foot. Guns freaked me out. But at times like these, when I felt threatened or intimidated, I thought it would be kind of nice to whip out a big-ass weapon, strictly to intimidate the bad guys.
     
    Since I didn’t have a weapon, I sort of wished Derek were here with us. I know, I know—a woman can take care of herself. Who needs a man? Well, I don’t know about you, but I liked having a gorgeous, dangerous man around when I was scared. Call me a sellout to the feminist cause. Right then, I could live with it.
     
    Mom parked in Jackson’s driveway, and we ran to the front door. We knocked; then I used my key to open the door and we walked inside.
     
    “It’s Brooklyn,” I called, as we headed into the living area.
     
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Max shouted from above us.
     
    I flinched, then looked up. He stood gazing down at us from the office loft above the living room. In his hands was the high-powered rifle he’d brought from home.
     
    “You’ve got to stop aiming that thing at me,” I said calmly, although my heart was thumping a thousand beatsa minute. “Put it down. There’s someone here to see you.”
     
    Mom moved out into the living room and looked up. “Hello, Max.”
     
    Max stared for a long beat; then his shoulders slumped. He lowered the rifle and disappeared from the railing. A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps on the stairs. Then he was in the room and hugging Mom as if he were her own long-lost child.
     
    Mom had tears streaming down her cheeks when she stepped back. I could see Max’s eyes glistening a little, too.
     
    “Well, it’s good to see you’re alive and well,” Mom said, sniffling between words.
     
    “It’s good to see you, too, Becky.” He hugged her again, then found us all some tissues to dry our tears.
     
    “Robson was here earlier,” he said.
     
    “I thought he might come by to see you,” Mom said, smiling.
     
    “Did anyone see you drive up here?” he asked.
     
    Mom waved off his worry. “I drive up here several times a week to see Jackson.”
     
    “Well, Jackson isn’t home,” he said, pacing in front of the windows.
     
    “Nobody knows that,” Mom said. “And even when he’s home, I come up to water his plants. Lord knows he won’t remember to do it.”
     
    Max sighed. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”
     
    “Oh, Max,” Mom said softly. She walked up to the man, who towered over her, and patted his chest. “Don’t you know there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you? Everyone in Dharma feels the same way. I just wish you’d trusted us more with your problems all those years ago. We could’ve helped.”
     
    He glanced at me sideways. “I’ve heard that a few times now. Believe me, as soon as this nightmare is over, you’re stuck with me. I’m never leaving again.”
     
    “Good.” Mom smiled. Then, without warning, she