"By whom?"
Jeffrey sliced through the police tape. "He won't say."
"How could Hoss let that happen?"
"It wasn't Hoss," Jeffrey told her, closing the knife. "Robert won't say who put him in general population, but I have a feeling it was Reggie."
"Why didn't he just paint a target on his back?"
"If I see that stupid redneck fuck again, I'm going to rip his head off."
Sara had a hard time reconciling Reggie with these actions, but Nell had said he was not to be trusted.
She asked, "Is Robert all right?"
Jeffrey opened the door and stepped back, letting Sara enter the house first. "I tried to get him to talk to me, to tell me what went down, but he wouldn't."
"Was he badly beaten?"
"It's not that I'm worried about," Jeffrey said, and she read everything on his expression in a moment.
"Oh, no," she said, putting her hand to her chest. "Is he okay?"
He closed the door behind them. "He says he's fine."
"Jeffrey," she said, wrapping her hand around his shoulder. He looked down the hallway, not at her, and she could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure.
"Possum was down there this morning to bail him out," he said. "I didn't even think about doing that."
"How could he make bail?"
"Hoss must have pulled some strings," Jeffrey told her. "It's not like he's a flight risk. Where would he go?"
"I'm so sorry," she told him, feeling his sadness wash over her.
He put his arms around her, and she held him, trying to offer comfort when she knew there was little else she could do.
"Oh, Sara," he breathed, burying his face in her neck. His whole body relaxed, and despite all that had happened, she felt an overwhelming sense of happiness knowing that just by holding him she could bring him such peace.
He said, "I just want to get away with you."
"I know," she told him, stroking the nape of his neck.
"I want to take you dancing," he said, and she laughed because they both knew she had the coordination of a just-born colt. "I want to walk on the beach with you and drink piña coladas out of your belly button."
She laughed again, pulling away, but he would not let her. Sara kissed his neck, letting her lips linger on his skin. He tasted salty, like the ocean, and she could smell the musky odor of his aftershave. "I'm here," she said.
"I know," he told her, finally breaking the embrace. He gave a heavy sigh, indicating the house with a toss of his hand. "Let's just get this over with."
"What are we looking for?" she asked, following him into the living room.
"I don't know," he said, opening one of the drawers in the coffee table. He rummaged around inside, then closed it. "Where did he keep his backup gun?"
"I think he said the living room?" Sara said, more of a question because she could not remember.
"There should be a safe," he said. "If he was telling the truth about where he kept it."
Sara was not sure if anything Robert said could be trusted, but she opened the doors on the television cabinet. Except for a large TV and a bunch of videotapes, she saw nothing. She bent down to go through the drawers, saying, "They don't have kids in the house. He could've just kept it in a drawer."
"Robert knows better than that," Jeffrey said, getting on his hands and knees to look under the couch. "Hoss taught us both that you always secure your weapon." He sat back on his heels, a sad look in his eyes. "Robert coached Little League," he said. "He probably had kids in here all the time. He wouldn't have left a gun laying around."
"Jessie had an episode," Sara told him. "Nell told me around the miscarriage she took too many pills."
"Another reason for him to keep it hidden," Jeffrey pointed out.
Sara rummaged through a stack of instruction sheets for every piece of electronic equipment in the house. She found several old remote controls, a few spent batteries, and a fingernail file, but no gun safe. She asked, "Where do you keep your backup?"
"By my bed," he answered. "When I'm home, my service piece is in the kitchen."
"Why there?"
"I've never thought about it," he said, running his hand under the coffee table. "Just seemed logical. One upstairs, one downstairs."
"Where in the kitchen?" Sara asked, walking toward the back of the house.
"Cabinet over the stove," he called, then, "Shit."
"What?"
"Got a splinter."
"Try to be a little more careful," she advised him, walking down the hall. The bedroom was directly across from the kitchen, but she did not let herself look. The stench of dried blood was overpowering, and Sara knew that it would linger in the house long after Robert and Jessie found someone who could clean it. She could not imagine how Jessie could go on living here after what had happened.
Sara opened the cabinet over the stove, finding a stack of Tupperware bowls with their lids neatly piled beside them. She stood on the tips of her toes, peering all the way to the back, but there was nothing even resembling a gun. She went around the room, opening and closing all the cabinets, with the same results. She even checked the refrigerator, which had a full gallon of milk, juice, and the usual staples, but no gun.
"Find anything?" Jeffrey asked. He stood in the doorway with one hand cradling the other.
"Does it hurt?" Sara asked.
"Not much," he said, holding out his hand. She turned on the light and saw a thick splinter in the palm of his hand.
"They must have some tweezers," she said, opening the drawers. A quick search found nothing but common kitchen utensils. "I'll check the bathroom."
She headed toward the master bathroom but stopped when she caught sight of a sewing basket sitting on the highboy beside the dining room table.
She told Jeffrey, "Come in here, the light's better," as she searched the basket. "These will work," she said, finding a pair of straight-edged tweezers among the pins and needles.
"You want me to open these?" Jeffrey asked, but he was already twisting the rod to open the blinds. He looked out into the backyard, saying, "It's nice here, huh?"
"Yes," she said, taking his hand in hers. She wore glasses sometimes at work, but she had been too vain to bring them along on the trip. "This might hurt."
"I can take it," he said, then, "Ow, shit." He jerked back his hand.
"Sorry," she said, trying not to smile at his reaction. She held his hand closer to the window, taking advantage of the light. "Just think about something else."
"That won't be hard," he told her sarcastically, wincing as the tweezers grew near.
"I haven't even touched it," she said.
"Are you this mean to your kids?"
"Usually they're a little braver."
"That's nice."
"Come on," she teased him. "I'll give you a lollipop if you're good."
"I'd rather give you something to suck on."
She raised an eyebrow, but did not respond. Slowly, she worked at the splinter, trying to get it to come out in one piece.
Jeffrey asked, "Did you notice something weird about Swan?"
"Weird how?" She groaned as the splinter broke.
"Like…" He made a hissing sound as she dug into the skin. "He's the exact opposite of Robert."
She shrugged. "Maybe that was the point. She wanted something different. A change."
"Am I different from the guys you usually date?"
Sara worked on the splinter, trying to come up with a good answer. "I can't say that I've given it much thought." She smiled as the splinter came out. "There."
He put his hand to his mouth, something Sara saw kids do at the clinic, as if some genetic imperative convinced them that their mouth could cleanse a wound.
"Let's look in the bedroom," Jeffrey said.
"You think he was lying about keeping a backup in the living room?"
"I don't know."
"He could have kept it in his truck."
"Maybe."
"What else is bothering you?" She decided not to let him brush it off. "I'm not stupid, Jeffrey. Something's bothering you. Either tell me or not, but don't keep denying it."