Voices Carry by Mariah Stewart Page B

the lake. Except for old Mr. Corbin, who is deaf as a stone, and the MacKenzie’s across the road, you’re all alone here during the week.”
    “So?”
    “Don’t play dumb, Pats.”
    “You think someone is going to come after you and mistake me for you? Ha. Not on my best day.”
    “Don’t make light of this, please.”
    “I’m not making light of it. But if everyone’s in jail, then there’s no one to come looking for you, now, is there?”
    “Just for a few weeks, Pats. Till we find out if they make bail—”
    “They won’t make bail.” Patsy pointed to the television again. “They just said that the judge was expected to set bail at a big number.”
    “I’d still be happier if you weren’t here alone.”
    “I’ll call my sister Connie and see if she can takesome time off, maybe spend a week or so, if it makes you feel better. And you’ll be here, at least until Nancy arrives tomorrow. But I’m not worried, honey. Don’t you be.”
    “I can’t help it, Patsy. I love you.”
    Patsy squeezed Genna’s hand again, holding it longer this time.
    “I love you, too, Genna. You’re the child of my heart.”
    There was more Patsy could have said, but the lump rising in her throat blocked out any other words that might have been spoken. But Genna knew. It was all there in Patsy’s eyes.
    “And you’re my fairy godmother.” Genna smiled gently and reached out to touch the older woman’s face. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
    “Nothing will,” Patsy assured her. “Now. No more glum talk. Let’s go out for dinner. The Methodist church over in Parsons is having their annual fish fry tonight, and I’d hate to miss it. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready, no more.”
    Patsy absently straightened the kitchen while she waited for Genna to duck into the shower and wash off that lake water she’d spent the afternoon swimming in. Patsy wasn’t about to be scared into running back to Tanner. She’d spent every summer of her life right here, at Bricker’s Lake, and she’d be damned if some little biker-boy with an attitude was going to change that. Besides, Genna worried too much.
    Of course, she would call Connie, as she’d promised Genna she’d do, but Patsy was more concerned about Genna’s safety than she was about her own. After all, it had been Genna, not Patsy, who’d given informationthat led to this morning’s arrests. Genna, not Patsy, who was known to be an FBI agent. Genna, not Patsy, who’d be the most likely target for retaliation.
    Patsy tapped her fingers on the counter, debating, then picked up the phone. Genna was just starting to dry her hair. Plenty of time for Patsy to put a call to her nephew, Brian, who was now with the state attorney general’s office and still had connections within the state police. It wouldn’t hurt to let him know what was going on. And if Brian felt she—or Genna—needed someone watching out for them, he’d be sure to let them know. He’d arrange it himself. Patsy didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of him sooner.
    Disappointed at having to leave voice mail, rather than speak with her nephew directly, Patsy still hung up the phone with a sense of satisfaction. That takes care of that, she reasoned. Nothing at all to worry about. Brian will take care of it.
    Patsy wiped off the breakfast counter for the fifth time, trying to convince herself that today’s developments explained that creeping sense of foreboding she’d had since the beginning of summer. It had hung over her spirits in exactly the way that the early morning fog hung over the lake, dense and nebulous. There had been absolutely nothing she could put her finger on, no moment when she’d first noticed it. It had simply been there, that shapeless precognition, that impression that something was about to strike.
    And yet it had been a peaceful enough summer, a pleasant summer. The fishing had been good, if not great, and she’d had lots more