Dylan soon found himself on the table with Jack Trainer. They’d reached a truce, and he was glad because he had to say he liked these Trainer men now.

“How’s Ava?”

“Okay,” Dylan said. He wasn’t going into detail.

“And your mom and dad?”

“Mom’s better, and hosting bridge tonight.”

“Reason enough to be here, as I said before.”

“And some,” Dylan said, taking a shot. “Dad’s coming home tomorrow.”

They played, they talked, and Dylan felt himself relax. For now, tonight, his family were all safe. He’d given his numbers to everyone, and they’d call him if they had concerns. Charlie knew what was going on, and he couldn’t do much more. Sure the small ball of angst in his gut was there, but listening to the talk going on around him and the beers were helping him to relax.

They’d been playing for a few hours when the eldest Trainer ripped away his feeling of calm.

“I was telling Cubby about it earlier, how it’s open season on the Howards. Well, not all; you and Charlie are okay.”

Dylan didn’t reveal that in fact Charlie was facing her share of trouble. Three down in the Howard family was talking point enough, without adding to what Mickey and he had discussed today.

“You got any enemies, Dylan?” The sheriff laughed from the end of the table. He was watching Dylan beat Joe, a fact the oldest Trainer was pissed about.

“What?” Dylan missed the shot he’d just lined up. Looking at the sheriff, he tried to control the sudden thud of his heartbeat as it sped up.

“Three out of five of your family members are sick or injured. Seems more than a coincidence. If that was happening in my town, I’d be curious.”

“Not sure what you’re getting at, Sheriff,” Dylan said, trying to act calm.

“You get used to it, but he relates every situation back to something criminal,” Fin said.

Dylan kept his expression clear as he lined up the next shot, but he couldn’t stop the shiver that tracked through his body.

“Someone walk over your grave?” Jack said, rounding the table.

Was his father lying in a hospital bed because of him? His mother ate something off, or just picked up a virus, and Ava was taking drugs. None of those things pointed to anything suspect. Mickey could be wrong. Nothing to suggest anyone else had played a hand in any of those events. Why, then, was he suddenly feeling as if his skin didn’t fit?

“Hey, Dylan, your shot.”

He turned to face Jack Trainer, and the man slowly lowered the cue.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, just... nothing.” Dylan tried to shake the unease that had gripped him.

“You look like you’ve seen your great-aunt Claire in her underwear.”

Joe walked to where his brother stood and looked at Dylan.