“What does it say?" Jane asked from inside Shelley's van.

“It says, 'You're next,' " Shelley reported. "No name. Jane, you need to go home and get some ice on your foot to keep it from bruising." Shelley walked around the front of the van and got in.

Mel came to Jane's window. "I'm sorry," he admitted.

“So am I," Jane said, but her words drifted on the wind as Shelley took off like a rocket.

“So what do you think happened?" Shelley asked when she'd helped Jane up the steps, into her house, and onto the sofa.

“Something awful for sure. I'm still mad at Mel for accusing us of going over there to 'gawk.' There I am, with about three tons of lilies and baby's breath in my arms, and he thinks we just horned in to take a looky-loo.”

Shelley went to Jane's refrigerator, found ice, a plastic bag, and a dish towel. She was putting together an ice pack while saying, "There wasn't a body brought out. That must mean that somebody was just hurt and was being treated. I hope."

“Or that they were waiting for the photographers before moving the body."

“Don't be depressing," Shelley said.

“I am depressed. My foot really hurts again. It was kind of numb for a while, but…"

“Take off your shoe and put it up on the sofa.”

Wincing, Jane removed her sneaker. The foot was red and swollen and had an imprint of everything on the inside of the shoe on her skin. A deep purple mark was along the outside of her foot.

“Jane, that doesn't look good."

“Just give me an hour with the ice bag. It'll be okay."

“Not if you've broken something."

“I didn't fall that hard. Really. I have iron bones. I've never broken one before.”

Shelley sighed with exasperation. "You're going to have to get an X ray. And there's no point in even arguing with me. I'll haul you bodily from that sofa if I have to.”