Worried, he drove out of town and took the exit to Route 47. Lance and Morgan followed right behind him in the Jeep. Sharp pushed his Prius hard and cut the drive down to seventeen minutes. When he reached Eliza’s driveway, there wasn’t a cop in sight.

Where was the sheriff’s department?

The crowd of protesters waved signs and yelled, but they moved aside as Sharp drove up to the gate. He didn’t stop, so they didn’t have much of a choice. Eliza must have been watching, because the gate opened before he pressed the intercom button. Sharp drove through the opening. In his rearview mirror, he watched Lance’s Jeep follow him. The gate closed behind them.

The figure on Eliza’s front lawn was the lean shape of a young man. He stood a few yards shy of the porch, shouting through a bullhorn. “I know you’re in there, Haley Powell. You’re a murderess. A killer. You’re going to burn in hell for your sins.”

Two more men were running up the driveway toward the house. One held a baseball bat. The other waved a section of pipe. They must have followed their buddy over the fence. Sharp parked his car and got out as the two newcomers rushed up the front lawn toward the front porch. The man with the pipe outran his pal and leaped onto the porch.

Sharp jumped out of his car and ran toward the house. He heard Lance’s vehicle door close. Sharp ran every day, but Lance was twenty years younger. It was no surprise when, a few heartbeats later, Lance blew past him and took the three steps to the front porch in one huge stride. Mr. Pipe raised his weapon over his shoulder, ready to swing at the front window.

Seeing Lance in the reflection of the glass, Mr. Pipe turned and swung at him. Lance had played hockey for many years, and he had a significant size advantage over the young man. Charging like a bull, he hit Mr. Pipe with a full body check. They went sailing over the porch railing into the bushes.

Sharp headed for Mr. Baseball Bat. Unarmed, Bullhorn Guy could wait.

Mr. Baseball Bat faced Sharp with the bat over his shoulder, ready for a swing. “Come on, old man.”

Part of Sharp wanted to beat the snot out of the jerk, but he had more important things to do with his day than teach a punk a lesson.

“I am too old for that tackling bullshit.” Sharp pulled his gun and pointed it at the asshat’s face. “Put down that bat, or I will shoot you.”

“You can’t.” Mr. Baseball Bat didn’t sound very sure.

“Put the bat on the ground.” Enunciating each word clearly, Sharp lowered his weapon until it pointed at the man’s groin. “Now.”

Mr. Baseball Bat dropped the bat like it was on fire. It bounced off his own foot. Then he turned sideways and lowered his hands over his crotch, as if that would stop a bullet. What an idiot. “Don’t point that thing at my junk, you crazy old fucker.”

“Facedown on the ground,” Sharp instructed. “Hands stretched out at your sides.”

“You can’t do this. You’re not a cop,” he whined as he assumed the position. “I’m going to sue you.”

“Good luck with that. You’re trespassing.” With one knee in his lower back, Sharp took a zip tie out of his pocket, pulled off Mr. Baseball Bat’s gloves, and secured his hands behind his back.

“Hey! That hurts,” Mr. Baseball Bat protested.

Sharp scanned the front yard for Bullhorn Guy.

Where is that little shit?

“Don’t move.” Sharp stood.

On the porch, Lance was hauling a zip-tied Mr. Pipe to his feet. He half dragged the assailant down the steps. “Get on the ground with your friend.”

“Where did the guy with the bullhorn go?” Sharp scanned the front of the house.

“He ran.”

Sharp and Lance spun around at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

She was striding across the grass toward them. “And jumped back over the fence into the crowd.”

“Hear that, boys? Your buddy deserted you.” Sharp nudged one of the teens on the ground.

“Fuck you,” one of them said.

“Watch your language in front of the lady.” Sharp turned to Morgan. “Did you get a look at him?”

She nodded. “He was far away, but it looked like Noah Carter’s younger brother, Adam.”

Sharp raised his brows. “The guy who tried to douse you with the homemade pepper spray?”

“The same,” Morgan said. “He was wearing jeans and a black jacket.”

“His parents must have bailed him out.” Lance propped his hands on his hips and stared down the driveway. “We need proof that it was him.”

A sheriff’s department vehicle came through the front gate and parked. The deputy climbed out. “Sorry for the delay.” He sized up the two young men on the ground.

“There were three trespassers.” Sharp summed up the incident. He pointed to Mr. Pipe. “He tried to break the window. His buddy had the baseball bat. I didn’t see any weapons on number three, who Ms. Dane thinks was Adam Carter.”

Another sheriff’s vehicle drove through the gate.

“We’ll take care of it.” The deputy reached for the radio mic on his shoulder.

Leaving the young men with the deputies, Lance, Morgan, and Sharp headed for the house.

A burly man dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt bearing a security firm logo opened the door for them. A Glock was holstered at his hip. “I’m Eric.”

“Where are Eliza and Haley?” Sharp asked.

“In the basement.” Eric gestured toward the door that led downstairs. “I wanted Mrs. Powell and Haley out of sight.”

“Do we have a picture of the man with the bullhorn?” Morgan asked Eric.

“I’m sure the surveillance system captured the whole incident, but I took a video of him. The images on my phone should be clearer.” Eric angled his phone so they could view the screen, and they gathered around it. “Do you know him?”

Lance leaned in. “Adam Carter.”

The deputy knocked on the door. Eric let him in. They showed him the video.

“The two men outside are Brandon Webster and Kyle Dixon. They are both twenty-one years old and attend the local university with Adam.”

“Are they friends?” Sharp asked.

The deputy hooked a thumb in his duty belt. “They won’t say. They’re already demanding lawyers.”

Occasionally, Sharp longed for the good old days before everyone and his mother was an expert on crime.

The deputy handed Eric a business card. “On my way back to the station, I’ll stop at the Carters’ house and see if Adam is home. Please forward the video to me.”

The deputy took statements from each of them. “I’d like to speak with Mrs. Powell.”

“This way.” Sharp led him through the basement door. “Eliza?” He didn’t want to spook her.

She appeared at the bottom of the staircase. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Everything is being handled.” Sharp descended, stepping off the last stair onto a concrete floor. The basement was large and unfinished. Boxes filled a row of utility shelves against one wall. In the middle of the space, an open box sat on a long worktable.

Eliza hugged her arms, as if her heavy sweater and fleece boots weren’t enough to keep her warm. In the middle of the room, Haley stood in front of an easel. Dressed in black yoga pants and a thick hoodie, she swirled a paintbrush in frantic circles on a canvas.

“Two of the three trespassers are on their way to the sheriff’s station.” The deputy gave their names and showed the women their photos on his cell phone. “Do you know either of these men?”

Eliza and Haley shook their heads.

“The third man was Adam Carter, Noah’s brother. Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” the deputy assured them. Then he took statements from Eliza and Haley and left.

Sharp scanned Eliza’s face, then Haley’s. Eliza’s face was strained. Fresh lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes. The overhead fluorescent lights didn’t help, but Haley was gray. Her eyes were haunted and dark, and the purple circles under them weren’t from this afternoon’s incident. She clearly hadn’t slept in some time.