“Just a few minutes ago. It hit me hard. It’s about you.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s about you,” she said. “I’m headed your way.”
I glanced out the window. Nothing but gray sky and wet trees and the low, quiet fog of morning. “Everything looks good here. Don’t come to the house. I’ll meet you at the station.”
She hesitated, trying to make up her mind. “I don’t know. I think you should hunker down. I’ll come by.”
“Jean.”
“And lock your door.”
“No need to be paranoid.”
“I can be paranoid if I want to be. Lock your door.”
“Sure,” I said. I was so not going to lock my door.
“See you in ten.”
I ended the call and stared at the phone for a minute. I knew Jean too well, trusted her small gift far too much to ignore her.
Something bad was possibly going to happen to me. Strangely, I wasn’t all that worried about it. What was the advantage to being warned about possible trouble cropping up if that warning only made a person panic?
I calmly took off my flannel and strapped on my holster, then checked my gun and put it in the holster. I slipped back into my overshirt and walked to the door.
The doorbell rang with a two-tone lilt.
Trouble. Right on time. I drew my gun and approached the door from the side, then glanced out the small square window beside the door.
Death stood on my doorstep. He wore a bright red overshirt patterned with monkeys, bananas, and fancy little drink umbrellas. Under that was a T-shirt I couldn’t quite read.
He was not the trouble I had expected.
“Killers don’t usually ring the doorbell,” I said through the glass.
“Indeed,” he agreed.
“So I think you can just move along. I’m not planning on dying today.”
“Very few plan to die any day.”
“Seriously, Than, I know why you’re here.”
“Do you?” His flat black eyes glittered with something that might have been humor. Or anger.
“You’re going to harm me.”
His eyebrows lifted up into his cropped hair. “Am I?”
“Yes. Jean knew something bad was going to happen, and here you are.”
He tutted and looked like he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face. “Your sister may be correct in her gift, but she is incorrect in assuming I would cause you harm.”
“You’re not here to kill me?”
He pursed his lips as if considering his answer. “Dear Delaney. I am on vacation. Therefore, I am here to kill no one. If I intended to kill you, or do youharm”—he made the last word sound like a filthy insult—“I would first tell you so.”
