Abel offered her the pictures. Rina took them. The tips of their fingers touched. Abel closed his eyes and swallowed dryly.

Rina said, “You can finish fixing up the board if you want.”

Abel smiled. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll do just that.” He walked back over to his tools, bent down, picked up a hammer, and put a couple of nails in his mouth.

Rina took a deep breath. Where do you draw the line between being cautious and being paranoid? The guy seemed straightforward, he and Peter were in that picture together. Yet he could be a psychopath, she had no way of judging him. Maybe the only thing that kept him from attacking her was the gun in her hand. Still, the trusting soul in her felt as if she should offer him something to drink. It was sweltering. But what if…

Rina turned her attention to the black-and-white photographs. The first one was a group picture—six boys—Peter smiling for the camera, his face grimed with mud. His eyes had changed, soured—the eyes she knew now. He was holding a machine gun in one hand, a bayonet in the other. Another picture showed him and Abel resting inside what looked to be a tent. They lay on separate cots, bare-chested, reading paperbacks. Did Peter’s cover say The Carpetbaggers? Abel was reading Michener’s Hawaii. Some sort of radio transmitter sat atop a pile of Coke cartons. The last picture showed Peter, Abel, and another boy boarding a helicopter. Still young, still smiling, but all of them with stale eyes.

Rina walked over to Abel and handed him back the photos. She held the earlier color photo and asked, “Do you have a copy of this one?”

Abel took the nails out of his mouth. “I don’t. But you can keep it, if you want.”

“I’ll make a copy and send the original back to you,” Rina said. “Is that all right?”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble, ma’am.”

“It’s no trouble.” Rina paused, then said, “Can I bring you something to drink?”

“No thank you,” Abel said. “All I want to do is fix this board and get out of here. I’m under specific instructions to be scarce while you’re around.”

“Peter’s protective of me.”

“He should be. Lots of nuts around town.”

Rina asked, “What are you doing for him?”

“Rebuilding his barn, his stables.” Abel placed a nail on the board and whacked it flush in one stroke. “They’re in terrible shape.”

“Well, nice meeting you,” Rina said.

“Likewise.”