Unfortunate choice of words, an instant reminder that I’d come to Cactus Bend to tell my uncle that I’d gunned down both my parents. Nausea swept through me.

“You’re not a cop. Allison told me, and I believe her, because she might be a jealous ex-wife, but she’s also a competent professional. So don’t deny it. You lied to me, Tucker, and that raises serious trust issues.”

“We’re not going to discuss this over the phone. Where are you, Moje?”

“Never mind where I am. We’re not going to discuss it in person, either. E-mail me, or something. Send me a fax.”

Not that I had a fax machine.

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

I was facing an uncertain future, to say the least. Either I’d be tried and sent to prison for the murder of my parents, or I’d be locked up in some hospital for the rest of my natural life.

Maybe Heather and I could room together.

Yeah, the odds seemed very good that I had lost my mind.

“Probably,” I said, limping around the room as I talked, getting used to the pain in the bottom of my feet.

I’d watch for the senator to come home, I decided, and when I saw him pull in, maybe I could find a way to slip into the house behind him. Locate my keys and get out again without setting off the alarm.

Cute trick. What I needed was The Damn Fool’s Guide to Burglary.

“Look, Moje,” Tucker said, “you’re really starting to scare me.”

“Back at you, buddy. I thought I knew you, and now I find out you’re not who you said you were.”

“Does this mean I don’t get to join the ranks of Sheepshanks, Sheepshanks and Sheepshanks?” The timbre of his voice was darkly amused.

I felt a pang at the reminder of all the things I wasn’t going to get to do, now that I knew I was a murderer. Sheepshanks, Sheepshanks and Sheepshanks was one of those things.

My promising career as a P.I. was over before it began.

I’d never get to spend the windfall from Nick’s mother, adopt a dog or a cat from the pound or figure out what to do with Bad-Ass Bert’s Biker Saloon.

Worse, I’d never go to bed with Tucker again.

“That’s what it means,” I said miserably. By then, I was in the living room, peering out the front window. I hung up the phone with a press of my thumb, set it down and watched as Joseph went through my car like a customs agent at the border.

The cell rang again, and I didn’t pick up.

Joseph locked the Volvo, tossed the keys in the air and caught them.

Headed for the house.