There was a smile in her voice. “She’s very sweet, your assistant. She loves you very much.”

“She does?” There was a catch in his voice.

“Oh yes. But watch out for her,” she added. “There’s something—I can’t see what. Keep close to her.”

“I’ll do that,” he said huskily. “Thanks!”

“Oh, and that man you have watching her, the one with the rifle... I’m so sorry. He’s going to have to use it. Desperate men do desperate things. He’s already said he’s not going back to jail. When you find the body, he’ll know that it’s all over for him. But your sharpshooter will not miss.”

“Mrs. Kirk, you are...”

“A witch?’ she teased and laughed wholeheartedly. “Yes, but I’m a good witch and I don’t curdle milk.”

“I would never have accused you of it, even if I was drinking buttermilk right now.”

She laughed again, delighted. “If I think of anything else that might help, I’ll phone you, if I may?”

“You certainly may. One last thing,” he added quickly. “There are two elderly people, the Martins...”

“He won’t bother them again. There’s a federal agent with them. He’s very...imposing,” she said. “Honestly, if I were a career criminal, I’d think twice about going into the same room with him, even armed. They’ll be fine.”

He laughed. “I’m reassured now. Thanks again.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

He finished his work for the day and stopped by to check on the Martins on his way out of town.

The man who answered the door was tall and husky, with broad shoulders and a face that seemed chiseled out of stone. He had wavy black hair and pale gray eyes, and he was carrying a .357 magnum in a holster at his waist.

“You’d be the deputy US Marshal?” Colter asked. “I’m Colter Banks, Texas Rangers.”

They shook hands. “McLeod,” the agent introduced himself. He stood aside to let Colter inside.

He found the Martins in their living room, with all the blinds and curtains drawn. Mr. Martin was lying on the sofa, in obvious pain. Mrs. Martin was trying to coax him into eating something.

“Didn’t they give him anything for pain?” Colter asked.

Mrs. Martin grimaced. “All these drug dealers helping addicts to an early death, so the government has to try to stop an opioid epidemic. But people who are suffering chronic, terrible pain are paying their price. Even some people with terminal cancer can’t get painkillers because the doctors are afraid of losing their jobs if they prescribe any pain medicine at all. It’s such a shame,” she said, wincing as she saw her poor husband trying to get comfortable. “What a world we live in!”

“Well, it’s the only one we’ve got,” Colter said with a gentle smile. “So we just have to soldier on.”