“I love you too.” She looked up at him. “We’re going to be fine too, aren’t we?”

“Smashing.”

“I really do like it,” she said. “The house, I mean. It couldn’t be better.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips, her breath warm on his cheek.

He laughed, and took her hand. “Wait until you see our closet. Jessie’s probably already hiding in it.” He led her towards the stairs. It felt good to him. Maybe everything would work out fine after all. The thought warmed him, and he embraced it gratefully.

Helen stopped suddenly at the foot of the stairs and raised his hand to eye level. “Honey…” she looked at him, concerned. The Kleenex was soaked with blood.

“Jesus.” He unwrapped his palm and more blood welled up quickly. He tried to staunch the flow with more Kleenex.

“Let me find some bandages,” Helen said. After a moment of searching the suitcases, she pulled out a blue plastic case. “Give me your hand.”

He extended it to her obediently, and she wrapped a long piece of white gauze around it from the case, securing it with medical tape. “There.” A faint pink stain spread slowly outward. “How does it feel?”

He shrugged, ignoring the thumping ache and dropping his hand to his side. “It’s fine. Let’s see the rest of the house and get the things from the car.”

Helen studied him for a moment, then smiled and took his hand gently. “A medical wonder. I’d better lead, man-of-the-house.” She pulled an imaginary gun from her hip, and pointed it around the room, scowling. “There’s splinters in these parts.”

He slapped her behind, and she giggled. “Let’s go get our daughter,” he said. “Before she gets into trouble.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Pete Winegold wound his truck through the hairpin curves with one hand on the wheel and the other on his bottle of Coors Light. The Silver Bullet. Tasted like warm piss, but he wasn’t one to drink those prissy microbrewery beers with names like Moon Lake or Jackson Hole or some such bullshit. Half the time, he figured, they were made out of someone’s basement, and with labels just slightly more professional that what you’d get from an inkjet printer. At least with Coors, you knew what you were going to get. There was something to be said for that.