Lucy looked toward Mat as if she expected him to rescue her from what was clearly Nell’s latest insanity, but he jerked his head to the back. “You’ve got it coming.”

“This sucks! I haven’t even had breakfast!” She stomped away, then banged the door as hard as she could.

Mat set Button down. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“Why not? I’ve been dealing with it since Wednesday.”

“Yes, but—”

“Stop treating me like a guest,” she snapped. “I’m going to fix Button’s cereal. If you have something intelligent to say, then say it. Otherwise, just shut up.”

As she stalked over to the sink, she decided that Nell Kelly might not be dead after all.

Mat smoldered. He was the one who’d been wronged, but she acted as if this were his fault.

The fact that his emotions were still getting in the way of his journalistic detachment only made it worse. The biggest story of his career was unfolding right in front of him, and all he wanted to do was grab his subject by her shoulders and shake her until those aristocratic little teeth rattled.

His self-control snapped a few hours later as he was paying for some groceries at a combination service station and convenience store in rural southern Illinois and realized that Nell—Mrs. Case—had disappeared. A chill shot through him. For the first time, it hit him that this woman should be protected by a cadre of Secret Service agents, and she only had him.

He grabbed the groceries and shot outside. She hadn’t gone into the motor home. It was parked right by the door, and he would have seen her. He took in a collection of dusty vehicles, a gas pump, and a mean-looking German shepherd. Where in the hell was she?

The dire predictions of all the conspiracy nuts he’d heard on the radio came rushing back to him. He hurried to the side of the building and saw a weedy field and a scrap heap of old tires, but no runaway First Lady. He raced for the other side and found her standing at the pay phone that was mounted next to an air hose.

“Damn it!”

Her head shot up as he dropped the groceries and charged toward her. She spoke quickly into the telephone, then hung up.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” He knew he was yelling, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I hope there weren’t any eggs in those sacks. And what did I do?”

“Disappear like that! I thought you were— Damn it, Nell, when we’re not in that motor home, I want you stuck to my side, do you hear me?”

“Won’t that be a little uncomfortable for us both?”