“Last week, Sparrow wanted to buy it. Then he changed his mind the other day, then he changed it back to wanting to buy it. He can’t make up his mind if he wants to be a homeowner or not. The deal’s on if he wants it,” Jack said.

“Since we’re obviously not needed here, why don’t we head back to town and see if Sparrow can join us for lunch. I think we need to powwow with him in regard to Saturday night,” Ted said.

Dennis was up and off his chair as he rinsed the coffeepot and turned it off. The rule was no one ever left Charles’s kitchen a mess. As in ever. He hung the dish towel over the oven door on the handle, looked around, and announced that they were good to go.

“Should we leave a note?” Espinosa asked.

Jack scribbled a note and stuck it on the fridge.

“I just sent Sparrow a text, and he said he’ll meet us at the Squire’s Pub at twelve-thirty,” Ted announced.

They all piled into the Post van. Dennis lagged behind, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of Rosalee, but the farmhouse remained quiet. No curtains moved, the dogs didn’t bark. It was like there was no one home. Maybe later, if they decided to come back to the farm after lunch, which didn’t seem likely since Ted was expounding on the afternoon schedule. He wished Rosalee had a phone so he could text her, but he knew his life would hang in the balance if he tried to sneak her one. He sighed mightily as he slid into his seat and buckled up. He did his best to shift his thoughts to the girls and what they were doing in the war room.

What the girls were doing, as a matter of fact, was staring at each other as they tried to come to terms with a resolution to what they called the Lincoln Moss Debacle.

The picture of Lady Justice on the big-screen plasma TV kept them on their toes as Charles and Fergus did whatever they were doing up on the dais. They could all hear the pings and whirring of the copy machine and fax as they tried to concentrate on the best outcome for Amalie Laurent and Rosalee Muno.

“The way I see it,” Kathryn said, “we have two choices. Either we take him out at the Four Seasons on Saturday night, or we wait a few days and hit him where he lives. Secret Service will be crawling all over the Four Seasons, and we don’t even know for sure if Moss is going to attend. When it comes right down to it, we don’t know anything about the bastard other than that he went off on Maggie yesterday. That tells us he’s on edge, so he’s going to be superalert.”