He locked the extra pistol back in his desk for the time being, pulled his Stetson’s wide brim down over one narrow eye and walked up the steps.

Clancey watched him go with relief. At least she still had a job. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She wondered if Banks was right and Morris really had changed. It would be a blessing if he had. But she was going to reserve judgment, for the time being at least. Thank goodness Cal was having Tad watched, just in case.

She and Tad had a light supper in a fast-food joint and went on to the homeless shelter for the night.

“I wish we had my gaming console,” Tad said. He grimaced at Clancey’s expression. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have...”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “We could have sent it home with Cal. I’ll make it up to you at Christmas, somehow.”

“It’s okay, sis,” he said, smiling at her. “We got the really important stuff.”

“I guess so.” She pulled up her knees, where they were sitting on the cold floor, and rested her chin on them. “TV would be nice, but we can live without it.”

“Maybe we could get a Monopoly game,” Tad said. “We could look for one at the Goodwill store.”

“So we could,” she replied, smiling. “We’ll go look tomorrow.”

He moved a step closer. “Clancey, is that a gun in your pocketbook?” he blurted out, indicating the open purse with stiff leather visible in the opening.

She ground her teeth together. “Oh gosh,” she muttered, and got up to close the purse. “You didn’t see that,” she emphasized.

“Who gave it to you? Cal?” he persisted.

“Mr. Banks did. He made me go get a concealed carry permit at lunch today.”

“He’s nice, your boss. I like him.”

“I like him, too.” She didn’t want to, but she did.

“I wish we had your guitar. You could play us some music.”

She smiled. “When all this is over, and we have a proper place to live, I’ll do that. I promise.”

He smiled back. “Okay, Clancey.”

“Get on to bed. You have school and I have work tomorrow.”

He nodded. “You sleep good.”

“You, too.”

She sat up later, her mind jumping from subject to subject, leaving her no peace. She couldn’t close her eyes for worrying about what was going to happen next.

Her cell phone vibrated madly. She picked it up. She didn’t recognize the number. It wasn’t one she knew. She hesitated. It didn’t stop ringing.

“Hello?” she said, answering it at last.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my dear, sweet stepsister,” came a curt, sarcastic voice over the line.

“Morris,” she stammered. “How did you get this number?”

“You never changed it, did you?” he returned.

“So you’re home.”