She tensed like an animal scenting predators. "Not right now."
"Then when?"
"I don't know. Tomorrow... I think, tomorrow. You might want to take today off, too. Go see a movie or something."
"Are you sure it can wait?"
Not a breath of movement.
"Leary?"
She never turned around. Just shook her head. And Murphy, not knowing what else to do, turned around to leave. He'd made it all the way down the steps before he heard movement behind him.
"Murphy?"
He stopped. She was standing at the top of the stairs, her face in shadow, her hands tight around that damn sliver of tin.
"What?"
It took her a minute to speak, and when she did, she sounded scared. "Would you come back later tonight?"
"Why, Leary? What's going to happen?"
She lifted her head a little, and almost smiled. "You mean you don't believe I just want some mindless sex?"
"Not really."
"Please." Murphy heard desperation and couldn't believe it. "Come over about midnight. I think I'm going to need some help."
Murphy knew something substantial was happening here. He just wished like hell somebody'd tell him what it was.
"I'll be here." He was all set to walk out when he remembered at least one of the reasons he'd intended to come over here in the first place. "One thing. I got another call from my whisperer this morning. It's a woman. And she called from a service station. Any ideas?"
"A service station?"
"Yeah. Mike's Mobile. Mean anything?"
And here he'd thought she sounded bad before. This time when she spoke, she sounded as if she were going to die. "Yeah," she said. "It does."
"And?"
"Tomorrow. We'll talk about it tomorrow."
Leary just turned back to her room, which left Murphy nothing better to do than leave. He made it all the way out the door this time. When he closed it behind him, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just run away.
* * *
Timmie spent the rest of the day right where she was. Far away from the phone, far away from her friends, as far from her father as she could manage. She listened to the phone ring half a dozen more times and didn't move an inch to answer it. She thought about calling Murphy back more than once. She didn't. She didn't do anything, because there was just nothing she could manage to do right now.
At three the door opened again and Meghan clomped in. "Mom!" she yelled. "Hey, Mom! I'm home! I have the mail! And Mr. Mattie's here!"
Timmie wasn't ready for Meghan. She definitely wasn't ready for the Reverend Walter with his sweet, Christian heart and old, old eyes. He'd see right through her. He'd know exactly what she'd been thinking ever since the moment that voice on the phone had offered to solve all her problems. And then he'd forgive her, and Timmie really wasn't ready for that.
So she climbed out of bed and walked to the head of the stairs. Down below, standing square and tall and strong, just like a soldier of God should, Walter took up the entire doorway.
"Timmie? Brought your baby home."
"Thanks, Walter."
Walter leaned over a little so he could see Timmie better as Meghan bounded up the stairs with a handful of bills and one manila envelope in her hand. An envelope from Conrad. Timmie wasn't sure how she could feel worse. She dropped it on the floor where it couldn't hurt her and hugged her baby. It wasn't until Meghan had galloped back down to the kitchen for cookies that Timmie realized that Walter still stood at the bottom of the steps.
"My pleasure," he rumbled in a soothing baritone Timmie loved. "She's a treasure. How much longer you think I'm gonna need to keep an eye on the children?"
No longer, she wanted to say. It's all over. The children will be safe, I'll be able to sleep again, and my father will be... safe. Far away from me and my mother and anybody else who can't remember how wonderful he could be.
"I'm not sure," she said instead, feeling it in her chest. In her stomach. In the tense ache of her hands where they were clenching that damn tin whistle. "Do you mind?"
The reverend shook his head. "Not if it means you can stop this evil with a clear mind. I'm happy to do it." When Timmie couldn't seem to manage an answer, he frowned, a polite man. "Are you all right, Timothy Ann?"
Stupid question. She needed to confess, but Walter wasn't a priest. She needed to act, but she was frozen. She needed to believe that whatever she ended up doing tonight, it would be the right thing. That it was all right that she hadn't told her caller no last night.
She needed to believe that she'd hesitated only because she couldn't stand to see her father hurt anymore, and she couldn't quite do that. Which didn't leave her with much.
"I'm fine, Walter. Just fine."
Walter's nod was slow. "All right, then. I'll see you tomorrow."
Timmie meant to tell him to tell Mattie to stay home. She didn't quite manage that, either. So twenty minutes later to the minute, the front door crashed open and Mattie, Ellen, and Cindy marched into the house. Timmie waited for them on the top step.
"You are not all right," Mattie accused from the bottom of the stairs.
Timmie didn't move. "Go away, Mattie," she said softly. "I'll call you tomorrow."
Mattie straightened like a shot. "I will not. And you'll tell me now."
"Mom?" Meghan had heard the noise and run out of the back room where the single television lived. Then she spotted the trio, who were still trying to stare Timmie down, and frowned herself. "Mr. Mattie went home already," she said. "Didn't he get there?"
"He did, honey," Mattie said without looking at her. "Thank you. I just need to talk to your mama right now, okay?"
Meghan looked at Mattie. She leaned around the banister to where she could see Timmie and checked her out. Timmie smiled.
"It's okay, baby. It's just work stuff."
So she was lying to everybody now. How pleasant. The minute Meghan walked back in to her after-school treat and TV, Timmie climbed to her feet and walked back into her room. Inevitably, the three women followed.
"You look terrible," Cindy blurted out. "What can we do?"
Timmie sat back up on her bed. "You can tell Walter not to worry about me. Everything's fine." Even she heard the lie in that one.
Mattie came to stand over her like a mother about to feel her forehead for a fever. "We're not going," she said softly. "So spill it."
She couldn't. Not now. Not here. Certainly not with an audience, especially after what Murphy had told her.
"It's nothing," she said. "I promise." And then she lied some more. "I got served again by Jason this morning, and I'm just feeling sorry for myself."
"Served?" Ellen asked. "What does the lawyer say?"
Timmie tried hard to sound offhanded. "That this one may stick. He's going after Dad's house, since it was in my name all along. After all, we were divorced in a community property state."
The three of them started choking as if somebody'd let off a canister of tear gas.
"You joking!" Mattie accused.
Not wanting to compound her time in purgatory now that she was certainly destined for hell, Timmie said nothing.
Cindy immediately turned a bright shade of red. "Well, that asshole! It just figures. I swear, you give 'em an inch and they want to take your house! What can we do?"
"Nothing. I told you. I just need to sulk a little."
Cindy shook her head. "I'll stay. It's the least I can do."