He was disturbed. Morris Duffy was vindictive, and he had contacts in the criminal community. What he could do to the sweet, kind girl sitting there was unthinkable. Banks felt his heart jump at the thought of Clancey lying dead on the floor of her own office.

“I’ve got the pistol,” she said, because he looked so concerned. “It’s loaded and I know how to use it. Cal took me on the firing range a lot. Before that, Granddaddy taught me how to handle all sorts of weapons. I’m not helpless.”

He still looked worried. His black eyes narrowed on her face. “I’ve gotten used to you,” he said gruffly.

She stared at him. “Imagine that, when you were trying to send me back to work for Cal just a few months ago.”

The mention of her former boss made him angry, but he kept it from showing. “Nobody’s taking you out on my watch,” he said shortly. “Not you, or Tad.”

She was genuinely touched by his concern. She smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Banks.”

So formal. It set him off even more. “You’re welcome. Nasturtium,” he added with a hint of his old sarcasm.

“I am not a nasturtium!”

“A likely story,” he huffed. He started up the steps. “I’ll work this out, one way or the other,” he murmured to himself as he left.

She sat thinking about him after he’d left. She didn’t want to. He was involved with another woman, a saintly woman, at that. Clancey was just a minor irritation who did his busywork. Besides all that, her life was so complicated that there was no room in it for a man.

Morris worried her. Not for herself, but for Tad. She knew that despite all the precautions she’d taken, Morris had friends who could ferret out information for him. If he had Tad, Clancey would do anything to save him, even trade her own life for the child’s.

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but Morris had been very firm about not going back to prison. If only they could connect him to her grandfather’s disappearance. If they could, they’d probably lock him up for twenty years or so—long enough for Tad to grow into a man, at least.

She studied her short, neat fingernails and thought with real longing of her guitar. She remembered Cal’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. It was only a week or two away, and it would be a nice, big meal, the sort Clancey and Tad couldn’t really afford these days. Of course they’d go. She just had to make sure that Cal picked them up at Tad’s after-school program instead of the shelter. He’d be furious at the thought of the two of them living there.