Huey smiled crookedly, exposing yellowed teeth. “I hope this one’s nice. I hope she don’t get scared easy. That makes me nervous.”

“You’re a regular John Dillinger, aren’t you? Christ. Get behind the playhouse.”

Huey shrugged and shambled across the patio toward the tree line. When he reached the playhouse, he looked around blankly at Hickey, then folded his giant frame into a squat.

Hickey shook his head, turned, and walked into the house through the back door.

Karen and Abby sang at the top of their voices as they rolled north on Interstate 55, the tune one from The Sound of Music, Abby’s favorite musical. The Jenningses lived just west of Annandale in Madison County, Mississippi. Annandale was the state’s premier golf course, but it wasn’t golf that had drawn them to the area. Fear of crime and the race problems of the capital city had driven many young professionals to the gated enclaves of Madison County, but Karen and Will had moved for a different reason. If you wanted land, you had to move north. The Jennings house sat on twenty acres of pine and hardwood, twelve miles north of Jackson proper, and in evening traffic it took twenty-five minutes to get there.

“That will bring us back to doe, oh, oh, oh…”

Abby clapped her hands and burst into laughter. Breathing hard from the singing, Karen reached down and punched a number into her cell phone. She felt guilty about the way she’d spoken to Will at the airport.

“Anesthesiology Associates,” said a woman, her voice tinny in the cell phone speaker.

“Is this the answering service?” asked Karen.

“Yes ma’am. A-1 Answer-all. The clinic’s closed.”

“I’d like to leave a message for Dr. Jennings. This is his wife.”

“Go ahead.”

“We already miss you. Break a leg tonight. Love, Karen and Abby.”

“With sugar and kisses on top!” Abby shouted from the backseat.