Remember When

shop, beginning with you. Understand?"
    The heat of panic washed over her, then chilled to ice as she heard Jenny laugh. "Yes."
    "Do you know who I am, Ms. Tavish?"
    "Yes."
    "Good, that spares us introductions. You're going to make an excuse to walk out with me." He'd planned to take her out the back, but the damned dog made that impossible. "To give me directions, we'll say, to walk me to the corner. If you alert or alarm anyone, I'll kill you."
    "If you kill me, you won't get the diamonds back."
    "How fond are you of your very pregnant employee?"
    Nausea rolled up her throat. "Very fond. I'll go with you. I won't give you any trouble."
    "Sensible." He slipped the gun in his pocket, kept his hand on it. "I need to get to the post office,"
    he said, lifting his voice to a normal tone. "Can you tell me where it is?"
    "Of course. Actually, I need some stamps. Why don't I take you over?"
    "I'd appreciate that."
    She turned, ordered her legs to move. She couldn't feel them, but she saw Jenny, saw her glance up, smile.
    "I'm just going to run to the post office. Just be a minute."
    "Okay. Hey, why don't you take Henry?" Jenny motioned toward the back where the growls grew louder and were punctuated by desperate barks.
    "No." She reached out blindly for the doorknob, snatched her hand back when it bumped Crew's.
    "He'll just fight the leash."
    "Yeah, but..." She frowned as Laine walked out without another word. "Funny, she... oh, she forgot her purse. Excuse me just a minute."
    Jenny grabbed it from under the counter and was halfway to the door when she stopped, glanced back at her customers. "Did she say she was going to buy stamps? The post office closed at four."
    "So, she forgot. Miss?" The woman gestured toward her purchases.
    "She never forgets." Gripping the purse, Jenny bolted for the door, pressing a hand to her belly as she dashed onto the sidewalk. She saw Laine's arm gripped in the man's hand as they turned the corner away from the post office.
    "Oh God, oh my God." She rushed back in, all but knocking her customers aside as she snatched up the phone and speed-dialed Vince's direct line.

15
    It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, a middle-class bull's-eye with well-kept lawns and big leafy trees so old their roots had heaved up through portions of the sidewalks. Most driveways boasted SUVs, the suburbanites' transportation of choice. Many had car seats, and there were enough bikes and clunky secondhanders to tell Max the age of kids in the neighborhood ranged from babies to teens.
    The house was an attractive two-story English Tudor with a pretty blanket of lawn decorated with sedate flower beds and neatly trimmed shrubs. And a SOLD sign.
    Max didn't need the realtor's sign to tell him the place was empty. There were no curtains at the windows, no cars in the drive, no debris a young boy might leave in his wake.
    "Skipped," Jack said.
    "Gee, Jack, thanks for the bulletin."
    "Guess it's irksome to come all this way and hit a dead end."
    "There are no dead ends, just detours."
    "Nice philosophy, son."
    Max stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. "Irksome?" he repeated, and Jack just grinned. "Neighborhood like this has to have at least one nosy neighbor. Let's knock on doors, Jack."
    "What's the line?"
    "I don't need a line. I've got an investigator's license."
    Jack nodded as they started toward the house on the left. "People in this kind of place like talking to PIs. Adds excitement to the day. But I don't think you're going to tell Nosy Alice you're looking for a lead on twenty-eight mill in stolen diamonds."
    "I'm trying to locate Laura Gregory-that's the name she's using here-and verify if she is the Laura Gregory who's a beneficiary in a will. Details are confidential."
    "Good one. Simple and clean. People like wills, too. Free money." Jack fussed with the knot of his tie. "How do I look?"
    "You're a fine-looking man, Jack, but I still don't want to date you."
    "Ha!" He gave Max a slap on the back. "I like you, Max, damned if I don't."
    "Thanks. Now just keep quiet and let me handle this."
    They were still several paces from the door of a modified split-level when it opened. The woman who stepped out was in her middle thirties and wearing a faded sweatshirt over faded jeans. The anthemlike theme music from Star Wars poured out the door behind her.
    "Can I help you with something?"
    "Yes, ma'am." Max reached for his ID. "I'm Max Gannon, a private investigator. I'm looking for Laura