“I was close to my brothers. I drove them crazy following them around when I was young.” She looked out the window, for a moment missing the Texas ranch.

“My wife, Beth, had sisters and brothers.”

This was the first time Sam had mentioned his wife’s name, and Lyra looked for a hint of sadness in his eyes, but as he drove he was smiling at the memory of her family.

“Did they like you?” Lyra asked.

“Her sisters did. It took longer with the brothers. We were young, maybe too young to get married, but we had three years together.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t matter how old or young you were. She was your love.”

He laughed. “You’re a romantic, Lyra.”

He was right, but she didn’t think that was a bad thing. What was wrong with wanting to find the perfect love?

“About your brothers …” Sam said.

“Yes?”

“They’ll be calling you real soon.”

“Why?”

“Two FBI agents should be knocking on their door anytime now. They’re going to confiscate the boxes you shipped.”

“Please tell me the agents aren’t going to tell Owen and Cooper about the break-in.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably?” She raised her voice. “You don’t know my brothers. They’d go berserk if they found out.”

“Perhaps they have reason to worry.”

“They might ask Gigi to come stay at the ranch for a while. That’d be good,” she conjectured. “Speaking of Gigi … there are a few things you should know.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a Democrat. I don’t care if you really are or not. When you’re with my grandmother, you’re a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.”

“And why is that?” Taking his eyes from the road, he glanced at her.

“It’s just easier.”

“What else?”

“Don’t talk about sex.”

He burst into laughter that made tears come to his eyes. “I’m going to wreck the car. Why in God’s name would you think I would talk to your grandmother about sex?”

“Just don’t. Gigi isn’t a prude, but just don’t. She walked into my bedroom one night—”

“And you weren’t alone.”

“Of course I was alone!” she cried out. “I was at my grandmother’s house.”

“Then what happened?”

“She found out I don’t like to wear anything when I sleep.”

“Hey, Gigi and I have something in common. I found that out, too. Now, there’s something we could talk about.”

She ignored his smart-ass remark. “Ever since that night, Gigi buys me old-fashioned pajamas every chance she gets.”

Sam turned serious. “I will be talking to her about you.”

“I know. I’ll talk to her, too. We don’t keep secrets. I just really hate making her worry, and I hate that I put her in danger.”

“You aren’t responsible for any of this.”

He saw the worry creeping into her eyes. “So after Gigi and I talk about the serious stuff, I’m allowed to discuss the weather. Anything else?”

“Food. She’s a great cook. You’ll gain five pounds by tomorrow,” she promised.

“I know what I’ll talk about,” he said with a teasing grin.

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“Long good-byes.” He reached over and ran his hand up her thigh. “How about I tell her about really long good-byes?”

Lyra playfully slapped his hand away. “Speaking of long goodbyes … when does the new bodyguard take over?”

“I’ll talk to Alec and let you know.” To change the subject, he quickly asked, “Are we getting close?”

“We’re here. The one on the end is my grandmother’s house. Park in the back.”

Gigi opened the kitchen door and stood on the stoop waiting to greet them. She started talking as they approached from the car. “You know I’m always happy to see you, Lyra, but I’m also vexed that you think I can’t take care of myself. There was no need for you to drop everything and drive here. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Lyra kissed her on the cheek. “I know that,” she said, “but something has happened and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Sam walked up with the bags and Lyra made the introductions. “Grandmother, I would like you to meet FBI agent Sam Kincaid. Sam, this is Gigi.”

He dropped his bag and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“FBI agent? And with a brogue. Scottish?”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

She stepped out of the way and held the door for them. “Agent Kincaid, will you be spending the night?”

“Yes.”

Gigi didn’t bat an eye. “Lyra, will you show Agent Kincaid to the guest room?”

“Please call me Sam.”

“Of course,” she said. “Just one question.”

Lyra knew she had a hundred questions but they would probably wait until after dinner. Then Sam would get the grilling of his life.

“Yes?”

“Are you on the job now?”

He nodded. “I am.”

“And you’re working with Lyra?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll make a fresh pitcher of tea.”

Lyra led Sam upstairs. They could hear pounding and Lyra assumed Gigi’s handyman was at work on some project. Lyra entered a soft blue bedroom. She feared the queen-sized bed might be small for Sam, but the mattress was good. She explained that they would share a bathroom.

The floors in the old house creaked when he crossed the hall to put Lyra’s things in her room. The walls were painted a pale yellow. It was a feminine room with its white comforter, white curtains, and tray of perfumes on the dresser. Sam set her bags on a chair and followed her to the door. When she turned around to tell him something, she bumped into him. He grabbed her arms to steady her and neither of them moved, their bodies touching. All she had to do was look up at him, and he couldn’t resist. He took her face between his hands and gently kissed her.

She had to kiss him back. Lyra was wrapping her arms around him when Gigi called up, “Lyra, dear, let me know if it’s too hot up there.”

He pulled away from her. “It could get hotter.”

“No, it couldn’t. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Gigi’s home was what Lyra called a “straight through.” The front door opened into the living room, which opened into the dining room, which opened to the kitchen. There was a small room behind the kitchen that Gigi had converted into a study.

“Gigi’s room is down this hall, across from the bathroom,” she pointed out. The pounding was getting louder.

Gigi had put on an apron and was wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Come have a glass of iced tea.”

Harlan came up from the basement, said hello to Lyra, and was introduced to Sam.

“Would you like some tea, Harlan?”

“No thanks. I’ve got to pick up the kids. It’s getting on.”

“Yes, it is,” Gigi said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Remember, I’ll be late. I’ve got to pick up supplies for the new shelves.”

Sam walked to the door with the handyman and stood talking to him on the porch for several minutes.

“Agent Kincaid is quite handsome,” Gigi said peering through the open door. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m not waiting until after dinner to hear what’s going on, Lyra. If something has happened, I need to know about it.”

Lyra waited for Sam to return before broaching the subject. Gigi sat across the table from the two of them.

“Where should I start?” Lyra asked Sam.

“The yard sale,” he answered.

As Lyra recounted the events of the last few days, her grandmother sat silently, listening intently. When Lyra was finished, Gigi folded her hands on the table and thought for a minute.

“It’s a blessing neither you nor Sidney was seriously hurt.” She paused another few seconds before saying, “And you believe those two men who showed up here earlier today were looking for the things you packed and sent to the ranch?”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Sam answered. “I’ve already talked to the field office in L.A., and they’ve got a couple of men on this. They’ll notify the police here so they’ll be aware of the situation.”

Lyra explained, “Sam’s a good friend of Alec Buchanan. He’s acting as my bodyguard for the time being.”

Gigi patted Sam’s hand. “Well, I’m sure Lyra is in good hands.”

Lyra was relieved that Gigi was remaining so calm. “Shall we take our drinks out on the front porch? It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Lyra suggested.

“You two go ahead. I’ll turn the air up,” Gigi said.

Sam sat next to Lyra on the swing, his arm draped across the back. Every now and then his hand brushed her neck.

Gigi joined them. “I’m so ashamed you’re seeing my garden like this. It’s in such disarray. For the life of me, I can’t understand why nothing will grow. Two years in a row now! I used to have such a lovely garden, didn’t I, Lyra? Now it doesn’t even respond to holy water.”

Sam got up from the porch swing and walked down the steps with Gigi. He bent, pulled a leaf off one plant, and held it up to examine. On one knee, he dug a couple of inches into the soil. “What are you spraying on the plants?” he asked.

“Holy water, of course …” Gigi said as though everyone did it.

“Besides the holy water.”

“Last year, I tried all sorts of fertilizer and pesticides, but this year only water.”

He took Gigi’s arm as they went back to the porch.

“What’s happened to my green thumb?” she asked.

Lyra was sympathetic. “Maybe next year …”

Sam couldn’t believe two smart women wouldn’t know what was happening.

“It’s poison,” he said.

Gigi sat down and turned to Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. What did you say?”

“It’s poison,” he repeated.

Gigi shot out of her chair like a bottle rocket. “Someone is poisoning my flowers?”

“Actually, it’s not the flowers themselves. It’s the soil.”

Lyra nudged him. “Are you certain?”

“Ah, come on. Look at it. Someone’s put some kind of herbicide in the soil.”

“Lyra?” Gigi said, huffing with rage.

“Yes, Gigi.” Lyra had only seen that look in Gigi’s eyes a couple of times in her life, and she knew what was coming.

“Go get my thirty-eight.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

IF LYRA HADN’T BEEN THERE TO CALM GIGI DOWN, SAM WAS convinced the irate woman would have grabbed her gun and marched across the yard to her neighbor’s house. He doubted she’d actually pull the trigger, but he was certain she’d have no qualms in using the weapon as a deterrent.

“How can you be sure Mrs. Castman is responsible for the dead flowers?” Lyra asked.

Gigi stopped her furious pacing long enough to answer. “Of course it was her! Who else would be so diabolical? I knew there was something strange going on when she was so sympathetic about my garden.”

Imitating her neighbor’s condescending voice, Gigi crooned, “‘Oh, I’m so sorry you’re having trouble with your petunias this year … Maybe the nursery sold you a bad batch … It’s a shame you worked so hard and have so little to show for it…. I’m sure you’ll do better next year.’ I’ll bet those bottles of water she carried from the church were just a hoax to throw me off. I have half a mind to go over there and rip out every single flower she planted.”

When she took the first steps off the porch, Sam rushed to her side. He slipped his arm through hers and patted her hand. “You know, Gigi, there might be another way to handle this. You do want Mrs. Castman to admit she’s responsible, don’t you?”

Gigi stopped and thought about it. “Yes, I suppose she’d never admit what she’s done if I destroyed her garden the way she’s destroyed mine.” She looked tearfully at her dry and wilting flowers. “I’m afraid nothing’s going to bring them back now.”

“That’s right,” Sam agreed.

Gigi straightened her shoulders and looked at Sam with vengeance in her eyes. “What can we do?”

“I think this calls for a little undercover work,” he said.

“Like FBI undercover work?”

“Exactly,” he said as he led her back to the porch.

Gigi was incredibly pleased to have an FBI agent on the case. They sat and talked until dusk, watching the sun slip beneath the ocean’s horizon.

Neither Sam nor Lyra was particularly hungry, but later, when Gigi called them into the kitchen and set fresh baked bread and bowls of chowder in front of them, they were suddenly starved.

“It’s been a long day,” Gigi said. “I’m going to turn in.”

After clearing the dishes, Lyra stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “I think I’ll go to bed as well.” She kissed Sam on the cheek and went upstairs.

Sam’s phone signaled a text. It was his third from Alec asking about the bodyguard that Sam had dismissed. He decided to stop putting off the conversation and went out on the porch to return the call.

“What the hell, Sam?” Alec began.

“You called?”

“What was wrong with Brick?”

“He wasn’t right.”

“And just how wasn’t he right?” Alec’s exasperation came through loud and clear.

“I didn’t feel comfortable leaving Lyra with him.”

“I see.” Alec drew out the words as though he’d just made an intriguing discovery.

“See what?” Sam asked irritably. He didn’t give Alec time to speculate. “We’re in San Diego now. I don’t know when Lyra will go back to L.A.”

“I heard about the explosive under the car,” Alec said, his voice serious now. “And the shooters coming at you in the park. I understand they’re locked up.”