carried the rough edge of a local pickup truck。
〃Mrs。 Boulton？〃 barked a gruff voice。 The stocky form of a farmer； clad
in heavy wool jacket； baggy overalls； and aged work boots； stepped from
the cab of the truck and strode toward her。
〃Yes？〃 She didn't recognize the man。
〃Gut a message for ya。 From a fella named Cooper。 Phoned the police
station。 Sorry for the delay。〃 He handed the crumpled paper into Anne's
outstretched hand； touched a callused hand to his cap's bill； climbed
back in his truck； and was gone。
Nervously she unfolded the paper。 The scrawl was nearly illegible。
〃Unavoidable delay。 Mitch arriving Sunday night。 Miles Cooper。〃
With a tired sigh she cast a glance down the empty road。 Another whole
day to wait。 Unavoidable delay。 She wondered what that meant but it
didn't keep her awake that night。 Exhausted from the night before； she
slept deeply。
Sunday brought rain； and a dark； gloomy day。 Anne went out for a walk
anyway； did a crossword puzzle； sat at the window for what seemed hours。
By midafternoon； she was champing at the bit。 With neither cleaning nor
baking left to do； she did some translating。 When she finally heard a
distant car； the dim light of day had long since yielded to night。 But
the growing purr was familiar。 Without doubt； it was the Honda。
Excited； she opened the front door。 It seemed an eternity before he
finally climbed from the car； wrested his bags from the trunk； and
bolted through the rain toward the house。 When he brushed past her
without a direct glance； she knew something was wrong。
She closed the door on the rawness of the night； and turned to see him
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