ou can't do this!" Rachel exclaimed. "We're not hurting anyone."

The police officer, whose badge read Armstrong, ignored her and turned to the driver of the tow truck. "Go ahead, Dealy. Get this piece of junk out of here."

With a sense of unreality, Rachel watched the tow truck back up to her car. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since Bonner had fired her. She'd felt so ill and exhausted that she hadn't been able to summon the energy to do anything but stay by the car. Half an hour earlier, a police officer driving by had spotted the reflection of the late-afternoon sun off the car's windshield and come to investigate.

The moment he saw her, she'd known she was in trouble. He'd swept his eyes over her and then spat. "Carol Dennis told me you'd come back to town. Not a smart thing to do, Miz Snopes."

She'd told him her last name was Stone—she'd legally reverted to her maiden name after Dwayne's death—but even though she'd shown him her driver's license, he'd refused to address her by anything but Snopes. He'd ordered her to move the Impala, and when she'd told him it no longer ran, he'd called for a tow.

As she watched Dealy squeeze from the cab of his truck and lumber toward her rear bumper to attach the hook, she dropped Edward's hand and sprang forward to block the man's way. The skirt of her old blue chambray dress, cleaned now from the pounding she'd given it in the river, twisted around her legs. "Don't do this! Please. We're not harming anyone here."

He hesitated and looked over toward Armstrong.

But the wiry, straw-haired police officer with the creased face and small, unkind eyes, remained unmoved. "Get out of the way, Miz Snopes. This is private land, not a parking lot."

"I know that, but it won't be for long. Please. Can't you cut me a little slack?"

"Move aside, Miz Snopes, or I'll have you arrested for criminal trespass."

She saw that he was taking pleasure in her helplessness, and she knew she couldn't sway him. "My name is Stone."

Edward slipped his hand back in hers, and she watched Dealy fasten the hook to the rear of her car.

"You sure wasn't anxious to call yourself by anything but Snopes a few years back," Armstrong said. "Me and my wife was regulars at the Temple. Shelby even turned over an inheritance she got when her mother died so she could help out all those orphans. It wasn't much money, but it meant a lot to her, and now she can't seem to forget about the way she was cheated."

"I'm—I'm sorry about that, but surely you can see that my son and I haven't profited."

"Somebody did."

"Problem here, Jake?"

Her heart sank as she heard the soft, toneless voice she recognized only too well. Edward pressed against her side. She'd thought she'd seen the end of Bonner yesterday, and she wondered what new malevolence he was getting ready to inflict on her.

He took the scene in with those impassive silver eyes. She'd told him she was staying with a friend, but now he could see that she'd lied. He watched the Impala being hoisted and studied the meager pile of her belongings tossed out on the ground.

She hated having him look at her things. She didn't want him to see how little she had left.

Armstrong nodded a curt greeting. "Gabe. Seems the Widow Snopes here has been squatting on private land."

"Is that so?"

While Gabe watched, the officer once again began to question her. Now that he had an audience, his manner became even more overbearing. "You got a job, Miz Snopes?"

She refused to look at Gabe. Instead, she watched her Impala being towed away. "Not at the moment. And my name is Stone."

"No job, and no money from the looks of. things." Armstrong rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. His skin was florid, she noticed, the complexion of a man who burned easily but was too stupid to stay out of the sun. "Maybe I should take you in for vagrancy. Now wouldn't that be a story for the newspapers. G. Dwayne Snopes's fancy wife arrested for vagrancy."

She could see him relishing the prospect. Edward pressed his cheek to her hip, and she patted him. "I'm not a vagrant."

"Sure looks that way to me. If you're not a vagrant, tell me how you're supporting that boy of yours."

A flutter of panic went through her, an urge to pick Edward up in her arms and run. A flicker in Armstrong's small, dark eyes told her he'd noticed her fear. "I have money," she said quickly.

"Sure you do," he drawled.

Without looking at Gabe, she dug her hand into the pocket of her dress and withdrew the money he'd given her, one hundred dollars.

Armstrong sauntered over and glanced down at what she held. "That won't hardly cover Dealy's towing fee. What're you planning to do then?"

"I'll get a job."

"Not in Salvation. People here don't appreciate anybody hidin' behind the Lord's name to make a fast buck. My wife wasn't the only one who lost a big chunk of her savings. You're foolin' yourself if you think anybody'll hire you."

"Then I'll go somewhere else."

"Dragging your kid with you, I suppose." A sly look came over his face. "Seems to me social services might have something to say about that."

She went rigid. He'd spotted her fear, and he knew where she was most vulnerable. Edward's free hand clutched her skirt, and she had to fight to keep her composure. "My son is just fine with me."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'll tell you what. You ride on into town with me, and I'll give the child-welfare people a call. We'll let them be the judge."

"This isn't any of your business!" She tightened her grip. "You're not taking me in."

"I do believe I am."

She backed away, bringing Edward with her. "No. I won't let you."

"Now, Miz Snopes, I suggest you don't add resistin' arrest to everything else."

An awful roaring sound surged through her head. "I haven't done anything wrong, and I won't let you do this!"

Edward made a soft sound of distress as Armstrong pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt. "It's up to you, Miz Snopes. You comin' willingly or not?"

She couldn't let him arrest her. She wouldn't, not when she knew they might take away her son. She hauled Edward up into her arms and braced herself to run.

Just then, Bonner stepped forward, his expression stony. "That won't be necessary, Jake. She's not a vagrant."

Her hands tightened around Edward's hips. He squirmed against her. Was this a trick?

Armstrong scowled, clearly unhappy with the interruption. "She's got no place to live, no money, and no job."

"She's not a vagrant," he repeated.

Armstrong switched the cuffs from one hand to the other. "Gabe, I know you was raised in Salvation, but you wasn't around when G. Dwayne ripped the heart right out of this town, not to mention most of the county. You'd best let me take care of this."

"I thought this was about Rachel being a vagrant, not about the past."

"Stay out of it, Gabe."

"She's got a job. She works for me."

"Since when?"

"Since yesterday morning."

Rachel's heart lodged in her throat as she watched the two men stare each other down. Bonner provided an imposing presence, and Armstrong finally turned away. Clearly unhappy about having his authority challenged, he slapped the handcuffs back on his belt.

"I'm gonna be checking up on you, Miz Snopes, and I'm warnin' you right now that you'd better watch your step. Your husband broke nearly every law on the books and got away with it, but believe me when I tell you that you ain't gonna be so lucky."

She watched him walk off, and only when he had disappeared did she release her grip on Edward and let him slide to the ground. Now that the crisis had passed, her body betrayed her. She took several uneven steps and slumped against the trunk of a maple to support herself. Although she knew she owed Bonner her gratitude, the words stuck in her throat.

"You told me you were staying with a friend," he said.

"I didn't want you to know we were living in the car."

"Get over to the drive-in right now." He stalked away.

Gabe was furious. If he hadn't interfered, she'd have run, and then Jake would have had the excuse he was looking for to arrest her. Now he wished he'd let it happen.

He heard her footsteps behind him as he strode back to the drive-in. The boy's voice carried on a current of air.

"Now, Mommy? Now are we gonna die?"

Pain sliced through him. He'd been numb inside, just the way he wanted it, but the two of them were cutting him open all over again.

He walked faster. She had no right to barge into his life like this when all he wanted was to be left alone. That's why he'd bought this damned drive-in in the first place. So he could go through the motions of living and still be left alone.

He made his way to his pickup, which sat in the sun next to the snack-shop door. The truck was unlocked and the windows rolled down. He jerked the door open and set the emergency brake, then turned to watch them approach.

As soon as she realized he was watching, her spine straightened, and she marched right toward him. But the boy was more cautious. He moved slower and slower, until he came to a stop.

She bent to reassure him, and her hair tumbled forward in a tangled flame curtain. A gust of wind shaped the worn fabric of her dress around her thin hips. Her legs looked frail in contrast to those big men's shoes she was wearing. Despite that, his groin stirred unexpectedly, adding to his sense of self-loathing.

He shot his head toward the truck. "Get in, boy. You stay here and keep out of trouble while I talk to your mother."

The boy's bottom lip began to tremble, and pain clawed away inside him. He remembered another little boy who'd sometimes lost control of his bottom lip, and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to collapse.

But Rachel wasn't collapsing. Despite his hostility and all that had happened, she stood squarely on her feet shooting him a dagger-sharp glare. "He's staying with me."

Her defiance was suddenly intolerable. She was alone and desperate. Didn't she understand her powerlessness?

Didn't she understand she had nothing left?

Something dark and awful twisted inside him as he finally acknowledged the truth he'd been trying to ignore. Rachel Stone was tougher than he was.

"We can either have our conversation in private or in front of him. Your choice."

He watched her bite back the obscenities she wanted to throw in his face. Instead, she gave the boy a reassuring nod and a gentle prod toward the truck.

Jamie would have bounced onto the seat in one joyous motion, but her kid had a hard time pulling himself up. She'd said he was five, exactly the age Jamie had been when he'd died, but Jamie had been strong and tall, with glowing skin, laughing eyes, and a mind for mischief. Rachel's son was frail and timid.

His heart spilled bile, and he couldn't push away the ugly comparisons.

She shut the door of the truck and leaned into the window. Her breasts pressed against the side panel, and he couldn't look away. "Stay here, honey. I'll be back for you in a few minutes."

He wanted to weep at the apprehension on the boy's face, but that would mean more pain, so he distracted himself with malice. "Stop mollycoddling him, Rachel, and get inside."

Her spine straightened and her chin shot up. She was furious, but she didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, she swept into the snack shop as grandly as a queen, leaving him trailing in her wake.

Like a maggot, his malice ate away at the parts of him that were still healthy. She was beaten, but she wouldn't admit it, and that was unbearable. He needed to see her defeated. He needed to watch the last glimmer of hope fade from her eyes until her soul was as empty as his. He needed to stand by and watch her accept what he'd already discovered. Some things in life couldn't be survived.

He jerked the doors shut and threw the lock. "You're turning that boy into a sissy. Is that what you want? A sissy boy who's never going to leave your side?"

She spun on him. "What I do with my son is none of your concern."

"That's where you're wrong. Everything you do is my concern. Don't forget that I can put you in jail with one phone call."

"You bastard."

He felt an unfamiliar heat in his chest and knew that his malevolence had begun to char the borders of his heart. If he didn't leave her alone, his heart would burn away until nothing was left but a pile of ash. The idea tantalized him. "I want my money back."

"What?"

"You haven't earned it, and I want it back. Now." He didn't care about the money, and one chamber of his smoldering heart imploded. Good. That meant there were only three more to go.

She reached into the pocket of her dress and threw the small stack of bills at him. They fluttered to the ground like broken dreams. "I hope you choke on every penny."

"Pick that up."

She drew back her arm and slapped him as hard as she could.

What she lacked in muscle, she made up for in passion, and his head snapped to the side. The sting sent fresh blood pumping through his body, fresh blood he didn't want. It renewed his charred cells, undoing what he needed to accomplish and releasing a torrent of new pain.

"Take off your clothes." The words, born in the dark and empty place where his soul used to be, came unexpectedly. They sickened him, but he didn't take them back. All she had to do was show fear, and he would let her go. All she had to do was crumble.

But instead of crumbling, she was angry. "Go to hell."

Didn't she understand how isolated they were? She was locked inside a secluded building with a man who could overpower her in seconds. Why wasn't she afraid?

He realized he'd finally found a way to kill himself. If he took this any farther, he would die of spite. "Do what I say."

"Why?"

Where was her fear? He caught her by the shoulders and backed her against the wall, only to hear Cherry's voice whisper in his ear.

I love your gentleness, Gabe. You're the most gentle man I've ever known.

He knew that voice could tear him to pieces, and he blocked it out by pushing his hand under Rachel's dress and closing it around her inner thigh.

"What do you want from me?" Her anger had disappeared, and confusion had taken its place. He caught the faint fragrance of summer in her hair, sweet, enticing, full of life.

Tears that he would never shed pushed at the backs of his eyes. "Sex."

Her gaze met his, and her green eyes chilled him to the bone. "No. You don't."

"That just goes to show what you know." Despite everything, he was hard. Although his mind was dead to lust, his body didn't seem to have gotten the message. He pressed himself against her to prove how wrong she was and felt the sharp edges of her hipbones. God, she was thin. He pushed his hand higher and touched the nylon of her panties. Two days ago they'd been blue, he remembered. A frail wisp of blue nylon.

He was clammy with sweat. Beneath his callused palms, her skin felt as fragile as the membrane of an egg. He slipped his hand between her legs and cupped her.

"Do you give up?" He ground out the words, and only after they were spoken did he realize he'd made it sound as if this were some child's game they were playing.

He felt the faint tremor that passed through her body. "I'm not going to fight you. I don't care that much."

He still hadn't broken her. Instead, it was as if he'd done nothing more than give her another job. Pick up the trash. Clean the Johns. Spread your legs so I can fuck you. Her acceptance made him furious, and he shoved her dress up to her waist.

"Damn it! Are you so stupid you don't know what I'm going to do to you?"

Her eyes bore into his without flinching. "Are you so stupid you haven't figured out yet that it doesn't matter?"

She robbed him of speech. His face contorted, and his breath grew ragged. At that moment, he looked the devil in the eye and saw his own reflection.

With a harsh exclamation, he pushed himself away from her. He caught a glimpse of pink nylon, then the soft whish of fabric as her skirt dropped back into place. All the fire in his body was gone.

He moved as far away from her as he could, over to the counter, and when he spoke, he couldn't summon more than a whisper. "Wait outside."

Other women would have run after they'd faced down the devil, but she didn't. She walked to the door, her head high, her posture erect.

"Take the money," he managed.

Even then he underestimated her. He expected her to tell him to go to hell and stalk out. But Rachel Snopes was stronger than false pride. Only after she had picked up every last bill did she walk away.

When the door shut behind her, he slouched against the counter and sat on the floor, his arms propped on his knees. He stared blindly ahead as the past two years unraveled in his head like an old black-and-white newsreel. Everything, he saw now, had led to today. The pills, the booze, the isolation.

Two years ago death had stolen his family, and today it had robbed him of his humanity. Now he wondered if it was too late to get it back.