“I’m remembering how it was when I first got here—there was a bird’s nest in the oven.” She looked up at him. “You rebuilt this whole cabin for me—trying to get me to stay.”

“The second I saw you, I was doomed. I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t stayed.”

“You’d have fewer children, I think. Jack, I had so many happy days and nights in this little cabin. My whole life was changed here.”

“And mine. Now come on, honey. We have a new house waiting.”

“Do you think we’ll be as happy in that new house as we’ve been here?”

He kissed her nose. “I guarantee it. Now, come on.”

With a heavy sigh she walked down the porch steps with him and got into the truck. She watched out the window dreamily as they drove through town and up the drive that had become her drive, feeling moody and nostalgic as though she was moving to another state when it was really less than a twenty-minute drive. She sighed again as she got out of the truck and walked toward the new porch, the new house.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Then, lifting her into his arms, he carried her into the house and stood just inside the doorway, holding her. It was fabulous—Paul had clearly outdone himself. The floors were shiny hardwood, the ceiling of the great room was vaulted and beamed, the new tan leather furniture that sat around the stone hearth was lush and inviting. He walked farther into the house, past a beautiful, huge modern kitchen, which he believed would be the center of many gatherings in the future. Silver appliances, black granite counters, dark polished oak cabinets and a long oak table that could seat ten or more.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

He carried her into a spacious master bedroom with king-size bed and large, man-sized bureaus. “Taking a little tour.” He pointed her toward the big new bed. “How do you like your new playpen?”

“Jack,” she said, laughing and tightening her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, a long, deep and lusty kiss. “I think we have time to christen the new house before Brie and Mike bring David out.”

“Oh, Jack, we have things to do around here.”

“We certainly do,” he said, laying her gently on the bed and leaning down to pull off her boots. “Yes, we do.”

The sheriff’s department’s detectives were extremely cooperative in letting Mike listen in on some of the interviews they conducted with both Jordan Whitley, Brendan Lancaster and students who may or may not have been victimized by the suspects. He considered it very fortunate that only three Virgin River girls seemed to have fallen prey, because there were others around Valley High School who appeared to be suspiciously likely to have been drugged and raped. And, as Tom had suspected, there were more drugs involved—what was referred to as white dope. Two short weeks after these young men were apprehended a fount of information and piles of reports had been generated and confessions were falling like raindrops around the county ADA.

Brie’s reputation as a prosecutor extended beyond the boundaries of the Sacramento Valley, and when she offered her services as a consultant to the local district attorney, they welcomed her help gratefully. The one thing she never thought she’d be able to do she did extremely well—she assisted in interviewing teenage girls who were likely rape victims. Her skills were impressive, but it was her compassion and finesse that probably assisted in prepping at least one girl for a possible trial. Carra Jean Winslow knew exactly what had happened to her, and who had raped her.

The most interesting thing to Mike—and so unsurprising as well—was that these boys, Whitley and Lancaster, were singularly unimpressive. They were neither clever nor savvy—they were simply idiots with access to dangerous drugs and the opportunity to use them. Lancaster had been present at a couple of raves held in a larger town down the coast where he had located and purchased GHB, sharing his wealth with Whitley. He also had a local marijuana dealer he worked with, and traded pot for meth and ecstasy. He had the stuff and was dealing. It boiled down to teens in search of a good time and the misfortune to have ended up being around these two losers.

It didn’t take Lancaster long to flip and turn on his suppliers. This delighted Delaney, who’d been looking hard for white-dope dealers. He was also willing to flip on Whitley—he was pretty much the only witness to the rapes. Unfortunately for Whitley, the only person he could turn over was Lancaster—so it looked as if the rape charges might stick.

No names of teenagers were published in the local papers, but that didn’t keep the word from spreading. In Virgin River, Mike found some of his neighbors wanted to express their gratitude for his work. He was given a case of good wine, half a butchered calf, a dozen jars of canned tomatoes that were put up last summer. He pulled a couple of bottles of wine from the case for Brie, but took the rest of the wine and produce to Preacher. Since he’d taken his job, Jack and Preacher hadn’t allowed him to pay anything for his meals at the bar. That was the way things worked around here. All for one, one for all…

Mike leaned against his SUV, waiting outside the sheriff’s department for someone, a young woman who had just completed her third round of questions with detectives. When Brenda Carpenter came out, a svelte young blue-jeaned girl with a book bag slung over her shoulder, he pushed off the car. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she returned.

“I talked your dad into letting me give you a lift home. I thought maybe you and I could have a few minutes.”

“What for?” she asked with a shrug. “There can’t possibly be anything more you want to ask me. Not now.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Nah. No more questions. But I might want to tell you a couple of things.”

She gave a heavy sigh, but needing that ride, she got in. Mike hurried to the driver’s side, because once they were under way, she couldn’t refuse to go with him. “Brenda, it was very brave, what you did,” he said.

“I didn’t have that much of a choice,” she said.

“Well, but you did. You could have lied, you could have refused to talk to anyone, you could have feigned sick…. I can think of a hundred ways you could’ve been unhelpful—but you gutted it out. And knowing what that meant to you, I just wanted to thank you.”

She looked at him. “Why thank me?” she asked.

“Well, it’s my town—you’re my family, my people. If I’m doing my job, I try to make sure you’re safe. Believe me, I know from personal experience how hard it is to answer some of those questions.”

“Yeah. Your wife,” she said. “You must think I’m a pretty big sissy for holding out so long after what your wife was brave enough to do.”

“Not at all, Brenda. Number one, my wife is thirty-one. Number two, she’s not only a lawyer, but one with experience in prosecuting dangerous criminals. Three—she had some serious backup in me and Jack and many others. You’re just a kid who was never sure what happened to you. You were up against a lot.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Really, kiddo. For me and Brie—we’ve been through some scary stuff and have kind of thick hides by now. Now all we want is a peaceful life in a peaceful town.” He laughed. “Jesus, I hope that’s not asking too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry you went through all that. I know what it’s like.”

“Thank you, I know you do,” he said. “Hopefully it’s behind us now. We want a family, you know. You get to be my age, you don’t want to miss too many chances at that.”

“Were you proud of her? Your wife?”

“Oh, kid,” he said in a breath. “She was amazing. She was so afraid, so sick inside, so vulnerable…. But one thing you learn as you get older—it’s usually better to face the threat and the fear than try to dodge it. In the end the most important thing is that you have no regrets.”

“Because it’s never as bad as you fear?” she asked.

He laughed. “Did someone tell you that? Because sometimes it is as bad as you fear, or even worse. And sometimes you have to do it anyway, because the kind of life you’re left with if you don’t isn’t really of the same value. Brie is a perfect example of that. She went after that guy for raping women, knowing that if she couldn’t get him, he would be free to hurt more women and even free to go after her. But ignoring him would not only have the same effect, she would have to add to it that she never tried to do the right thing. Double pain. Double regret. To try your hardest and then fail—no shame in that. To do nothing? It just ends up being harder to live with.”

“The detective said he doesn’t know what will happen to those guys… Doesn’t even know if there will be a trial.”

“They don’t even know if they’ll do time. I think almost all the drug charges were pled down for information that will help the police with bigger cases. I don’t think they pled down any of the sexual assault, but if I were Whitley’s lawyer, I’d talk him into a plea agreement rather than a trial. He goes to trial, he’s so cooked.”

“No time?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, Brenda—he’s over eighteen, barely. He’s outta here—he won’t be back in school with you. Since he made bail, he’s been in another city with his father. He isn’t going to be back here. He’d get tarred and feathered.”

“What if…?” She stopped and thought a second. “What if I’d come forward sooner? Would I have saved anyone?”

“Don’t know,” he answered. “But, honey, when your number was called, you stood up, you told the truth and you helped get the job done. You should be very proud of yourself. I’m very proud of you. We all are.”

The next afternoon at about four, Mike drove out to the general’s house. He parked in front, but saw that there was someone down by the corral, forearms leaning on the top rail, one booted foot hoisted onto the bottom. That was who Mike was looking for and he walked down the small hill. “Tom,” he said to the boy’s back.

The boy turned, saw it was him and said, “How you doing?”

“Good. How about you?” Mike asked, joining him at the fence, aping his stance, one foot on the bottom rail, forearms on the top.

“Getting by,” Tom said.

“You having any trouble at school?” Mike asked.

“Nah,” he said. “There’s a lot of talk, but I’m not answering any questions.”

“What kind of talk?” Mike asked.

Tom shrugged. “Some people think they know that I got him caught, but no one’s sure. Well, no one but Brenda.”

“You did a good piece of work there, Tom. I know that was tough.”

Tom gave a huff of unamused laughter. “Yeah, but then again, no. I felt like I had two choices—turn him over or just beat the living shit out of him.”

“I would’ve felt exactly that way.”

“Is it coming together? You guys get the little prick?”

“Yeah, he is totally gotten. He started spilling his guts almost immediately. For a while there he thought he could put it on Lancaster—but it turns out that Lancaster liked getting drunk and high, while it was Whitley’s project to get the girls.”

Tom winced. “Beautiful. I should’ve just killed him.”

“It wouldn’t have worn well on you. So, you’re hanging in there?”

He shrugged. “I go to basic training with the Army right after graduation. Then the Point. I’ll manage.”

“There’s lots of stuff going on between now and then. Prom and stuff…”