At least Allison was trying to steer the girl away from Garrett. But given the way their marriage was headed, Burke knew better than to burden her with too much responsibility. She was doing her best to deal with his bad luck; but at times like this he missed Kate’s Irish spunk and salty, practical wisdom.

Putting the subject aside for now, he turned back to his daughter. “So tell me about your classes,” he said. “Which one’s your favorite?”

* * *

Allison came back from the cafeteria to find Burke and Brianna chatting and laughing together. This was just the medicine Burke needed. Now would be a good time for her to carry out the plan she’d made.

Walking quietly into the room, she lifted her jacket off the back of the chair. “I’m going to run a few errands,” she said. “Call my cell if you need me.”

With that, she hurried out the door, strode down the hall and out the exit to the parking lot. She’d learned enough from Burke to convince her that she couldn’t just sit back and watch him fight a solitary battle to save the American Heartland. Whether he wanted it or not, he was going to need her help.

The agency office was on Atlantic Street, behind Branson Landing. Allison had been there a few times in the past, mostly to pick her husband up for lunch. She’d met the agents who worked for Burke, along with some of the people who managed the theater, and of course she knew Garrett. Still, as she opened the front door and walked in, she couldn’t help feeling like an intruder.

“Hello, Mrs. Caldwell.” Fran, the middle-aged receptionist, greeted her with a smile. “How’s Burke doing? We’ve all been worried about him.”

“He’s mending, but still in a lot of pain.” Allison glanced around for Garrett, but she didn’t see him, and she hadn’t seen his car outside. So much the better. “Burke wanted some things from his files. I hope you won’t mind my going into his office and rummaging around for them.”

“Not at all.” The woman stood. “I can let you into his office, but Burke keeps his file cabinet locked. I hope you have the key.”

Allison’s heart sank. Then she remembered the ziplock bag Garrett had given her with the things from the wrecked Porsche in it. She’d never taken it out of her car. Dared she hope his key ring was there?

“Silly me, I must’ve left the key outside. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out the door to her car. What if the keys weren’t in the bag? Maybe the police had kept them—or worse, Garrett could have taken them. Before the accident she would have trusted the man with her husband’s life. Now that had changed.