“That, I can handle.”

“We’ll talk later. Until then, get some rest.”

After they said their goodbyes, Grace set the phone on the nightstand and snuggled back under the covers. The more she slept, the faster she’d recover.

But it wasn’t easy to rest, knowing BK remained at large and was planning who knew what as a follow-up to the voodoo doll.

Thank heavens she’d beefed up her security. And it was more than adequate. Despite Nate’s touching concern and the flutter of nerves she couldn’t quite squelch, she was safe. No one could get to her without tripping the alarm. If that happened, deputies would be dispatched instantly.

On top of that, her Beretta was close at hand.

And if anyone breached her defenses, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

The timing was perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

Saturday would have been perfect, but you had to work with the circumstances you were given.

BK swung into a parking space. Set the brake. Pulled out the list of items to buy.

It was too bad the sheriff and Grace had taken a fancy to each other. The plan would have gone smoother if he wasn’t hovering over her, as he no doubt would be during his off hours this weekend, especially with her being sick.

He did have a demanding job, however, so the troublesome pathologist would be alone during the hours he was on duty.

Like tomorrow.

An ideal day for a delivery.

A fatal delivery.

After the Grace glitch was taken care of, the focus could shift back to lining up new clients for Dave . . . and the scheme would continue.

Minus one much-too-diligent forensic pathologist.

BK slid out of the car and walked toward the entrance. Nothing on the buy list would arouse suspicion in anyone—the clerks, other shoppers, any acquaintances who happened to be in the store. They were all everyday items, found in many homes.

The most critical component was already stashed at the house.

But that wouldn’t raise eyebrows, either, unless a person was looking for it—and knew what it could do. Even the brainy pathologist wouldn’t realize it was a murder weapon if it was staring her in the face.

The automatic doors opened as BK approached, and a welcome surge of cool air mitigated the heat of this July afternoon.

Missouri in the summer could be a pizza oven.

One of these days, a permanent escape could be in order if all continued to hum along with the plan.

And why wouldn’t it? With Grace gone and the sheriff busy learning the ropes of his new job, no one would waste time and county money delving into deaths that should slip under the radar screen—as the first three had.

BK entered the store and set about collecting the items on the list.

In less than ten minutes, they were stowed in the trunk and the car was pointed toward home. It would be a busy evening, with much to do, but in less than twenty-four hours the task would be finished.