And also running out of patience with my questions.

“Yes, we’ve got Freddy’s accomplice in custody,” he finally said, the fourth or fifth time I asked. “It was another one of his cousins. Trey Hamilton. You didn’t really need to skedaddle back here in such a hurry. Trey’s no killer. We picked him up halfway to Richmond with a flat tire and a van full of foul-mouthed parrots. And if he and Freddy give us a whole lot of information about the higher-ups in the smuggling business, they might get out of prison in time to collect social security.”

He also got a little irritated when I asked if Sandie’s gun was the same one that had killed Jasper.

“We can’t just eyeball it and tell, you know,” he said. “We have to send the darned thing down to the crime lab in Richmond, and overworked and backed up as they are it could be weeks before—”

“I understand,” I said. “But is it at least the same caliber?”

“Yes,” he said, as if he begrudged even that one syllable.

The proverbial last straw landed when a grim-faced woman from the county social services department showed up to take charge of Timmy.

“Ms. Walker is refusing to talk any more until she can see for herself that her son is safe and sound,” the social worker said. “I’m supposed to take him down to see her.”

I glanced down at Timmy, who was sprawled across my lap. He was fast asleep. So was my left leg.

The social worker looked at her watch.

“They told me to hurry,” she said.

I shook Timmy awake as gently as I could.

“Wake up,” I said. “You’re going to see Mommy!”

“Mommy?” he said, sleepily. He slipped off my lap to stand on the floor and look blearily from side to side, but he kept one hand on my leg while the other held Kiki in a death grip. Kiki was overdue for another round of major repairs, but thanks to the safety pins, cotton wads, gauze, and adhesive tape from my traveling first aid kit she probably wouldn’t fall apart until things quieted down enough that I could get to work with the sewing kit.

Or would it be Karen wielding her sewing kit? She hadn’t looked all that seriously injured at the accident scene, so maybe she’d be able to go home and take Timmy with her.

“Yes,” the social worker said, cheerfully. “I’m going to take you to see your mommy!”

She came closer and bent down to pick him up.

“No!” he shrieked. He scrambled back into my lap and threw both arms around me.

“But I’m taking you to see your mommy,” the social worker said.

“No!” Timmy wailed. “Want Auntie Meg!”

I stared at him in astonishment. Okay, so over the last few days, Timmy had no doubt gotten used to me, but I assumed he’d drop me like the proverbial hot potato the minute Karen turned up again.