An excerpt from A Midsummer Night's Murder

Chapter One

Sunshine let it be or frost,
Storm or calm, as Thou shalt choose;
Though Thine every gift were lost,
Thee Thyself we could not lose.
"After St. Augustine," Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

A brave meadowlark welcomed the breaking dawn almost hesitantly, warbling a short tune almost as if expecting it to be answered by a renewal of thunderous explosions. It was the calm after the storm.

Gone were the green, roiling masses of conflicting elements that had produced lashing rain, twisting winds and icy hail pellets that had chased the riotous revelers back into the safety of their houses, leaving only the sodden debris of their merriment to clog the gutters of the street. The sun broke above the horizon, happily glowing orange and sending its long tendrils into a clear blue sky, which reflected in the almost placid waters of the Missouri River.

Wrapped in a short, red and orange kimono, Annie Flannigan stood on the deck outside the bedroom she shared with her husband Daniel, raising a mug of steaming coffee in salute to the courageous meadowlark and the welcomed sun and the blissful quiet of the early morning. Serenity.

Might as well enjoy it while the morning remained only to the birds and herself, she decided. Too soon the world would awaken…and with its awakening would come the return of nearly non-stop barrages of fireworks. It was the same every year. One week in the middle of every summer, just prior to Independence Day, the community-young and old alike-seemed determined to see just how much gunpowder they could ignite, just how high the decibels of noise would reach and just how colorfully they could paint the sky with bottle rockets, sky rockets and aerial displays.

Normally, Annie enjoyed the raucous celebrations taking place around her, but this year was different. It almost seemed as if the exploding firecrackers and cannons built upon the tension already present in her house. Sighing, Annie set the mug on the railing and settled down into her wicker chair, tucking her robe primly around her legs before crossing them.

Stevie Sullivan, her son Mikey's best friend, slowly pedaled his bicycle up the steep hill in front of the Flannigan house. Annie smiled and waved as he glanced up, dropping his bike on its side and pulling the morning newspaper from the bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Mrs. Flannigan." Stevie rolled up the newspaper. "Want me to just toss it up there?"

"That's okay, Stevie. Just put it in the box. I doubt there's much in there today anyway."

"Don't understand why they even bother printing one up the day before the Fourth," Stevie muttered, sliding the newspaper into the plastic box attached to the end of railing by the steps that led up to the house. "Mikey still sleeping?"

"Yes, and I'm going to just let him sleep. You boys were up too late last night and there's the concert tonight. I hope you're planning on taking a nap later on."

Mikey would probably sleep until noon. He seemed to believe that he was eight going on eighteen, thinking incorrectly that he could stay up as late as he wanted, invest all of his savings in fireworks best left to adults and generally roam the neighborhood wreaking havoc by startling Mrs. Simmons out of her wits (had she possessed any) by tossing firecrackers at her while she was bent over weeding her flower beds. Why couldn't he just have stayed a toddler? It had been so much easier then.

"Ahh, napping's for babies," Stevie protested, pulling his bike back up and tossing his leg over it. "See ya later, Mrs. Flannigan."

Annie waved good-bye before reclaiming her mug of coffee. Lucky, their eight-month-old mutt puppy, coldly nosed Annie's bare leg, startling her into jostling the mug and slopping hot coffee on her toes.

"Lucky, no!" she scolded. "There are better ways of saying good morning." Annie patted the puppy's head and scratched it behind the ears. "But, it's nice that you care." She glanced over her shoulder, into the bedroom where Daniel, her husband, lay snoring away. She noticed that it had only taken a few moments of her absence from the bed for him to claim her spot. An almost melancholy emotion gripped her heart as she watched him sleep. In all the years they'd been together, she'd believed that she could read his every thought, instinctively know exactly how he was feeling. Lately, though, something was interfering with the signals between them. They just weren't connecting the way they always had-spiritually or physically. And that distance-the separation between them growing larger and darker every day-created the tension she felt in the house, as if it were an unexpected visitor who'd overstayed his welcome.

And though she'd questioned and nagged, Daniel remained tight-lipped about what was bothering him.

Annie's hand dropped from her lap to Lucky's head, laying on the top of her foot. "What we need, Lucky," she whispered, "is a one-of-a-kind, knock down and drag 'em out, screamin', kickin' and shoutin' argument that would not only clear the air but knock all the cobwebs out of the attic." Scratching the puppy between the ears in time to the thumping of his tail against the redwood of the deck, Annie sighed again. "But that's like never going to happen in a million years."

How both she and Daniel could come from nearly pure Irish stock and only she inherited the tendency to blow up fast and cool off faster was beyond Annie's understanding. Daniel just simply refused to argue, debate, engage in verbal fisticuffs or fight-not for fun or to clear the air between them. Many were the times Annie, just for the fun of it, would attempt to provoke him into a bit of a spat.

"Not going to argue with you, Annie," Daniel always said, then either started kissing her or lost himself in his private world on the computer.

All the more frustrating!

The sudden jarring ring of the telephone startled Annie. She jumped up and raced back into the bedroom, tripping over Lucky in the process and nearly sprawling on the thick, navy carpet of their bedroom. Muttering a curse, she hopped, skipped and, finally, jumped-grabbing the telephone receiver just as Daniel began to groan and rouse.

"Hello?" she whispered into the receiver, turning away from the bed.

"Annie? Hey, it's Rick. Need to talk to Daniel." In Annie's opinion, Rick Stewart was as incompetent as a station manager as he was as an adulterer. His affair with Moanin' Mona had cost him his marriage earlier that year and she'd always doubted his abilities to manage the local public broadcasting station. Rick's promotion of Daniel to technician supervisor following the murder the past February of the loathsome Ted Twitten seemed to Annie the only sensible thing the man had ever accomplished in all his years at the station.

"Then call him back at a more suitable hour, Rick," Annie replied evenly. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Besides, Daniel was out until all hours last night working with Charlie at the Snake Butte site."

"That's why I'm calling, Annie. Snake Butte is down again."

"Then either send it some Prozac or let it stay down. Daniel needs some rest. Besides, who'd be watching at this hour of the morning?"

"All the little kiddies who can't live without their daily dose of educational cartoons. Put Daniel on the phone, Annie."

"How about if I just have him call you when he wakes up?"

"I'm awake, Annie," Daniel replied. Annie turned and looked at him. His fine brown hair was flattened against one side of his head while it stood on end on the other side. His eyes seemed to take on the spirit of the coming holiday-blue eyes surrounded with blurry redness mixed into the white. He stretched and yawned and reached out for the receiver. Reluctantly, she handed it to him.

Instantly bored by a conversation punctuated by mention of capacitors, resistors and transformers, Annie walked to the dresser and grabbed a set of everyday summer clothes-cut-offs, a T-shirt, sports bra and panties. Sliding behind the rattan dressing screen in their room-a necessity in a house in which eight-year-old impressionable minds thought nothing of just walking into a bedroom to consult with parents-Annie slid out of her kimono and tossed it over the screen. Her short nightie followed it, before she pulled on her clothes.

Daniel was just hanging up the telephone when Annie emerged. She hung up her kimono and tossed the nightie into the hamper.

"Have to go out to Snake Butte," Daniel yawned, rubbing the coarse stubble on his cheeks.

"Not until after you've had some coffee and breakfast. Now what's the problem? I thought when you were promoted you got to supervise. Are you sure you're not supervising poor Charlie just a little too closely? Shouldn't he be handling whatever the problem is out there?" Annie bent over and picked up Daniel's discarded clothing as Daniel stood and stretched.

"Remember who built the thing from the ground up? Nobody knows that site better than I do. Charlie's learning, but he's not there yet." Walking past her, he aimed a kiss in the direction of her cheek. "I'm gonna take a shower and wake up."

Annie watched wistfully as he disappeared into their bathroom and shut the door. How long had it been since she'd joined him in that hot, steamy shower? Longer than she wanted to admit even to herself. For that matter, how long had it been since they'd steamed up the windows of their bedroom from their shared passion? When had it all changed? When had Daniel changed?

Pulling assorted bits and pieces from the pockets of Daniel's work jeans, she silently laughed. Anyone who'd ever joked about the contents of a woman's purse had never cleaned out a man's pockets. Besides a wallet, several dollars worth of loose change, screws, tiny screwdrivers and his pocketknife, Annie pulled out an assortment of tiny resistors, a roll of Tums and a wad of notes. She arranged them all neatly on top of the tall bureau, taking time to lovingly straighten all the crumples out of the notes Daniel kept to remind himself of important things. She rarely bothered to look at the notes because they usually were just reminders about scheduling the techs, sketches of electronic diagrams and such.

It was seeing Mona's name on one that gave Annie pause. She straightened the note and was about to toss it on the pile when her hand stopped and she pulled it back to read it. "Mona-9-her place." It was dated for the day before.

That bitch! Since the first moment Annie'd met Moanin' Mona Clemens, the office manager at the station, sparks had flown between the two. In her micro mini-skirts and form-fitting blouses with the cleavage cut nearly to her navel, Moanin' Mona…Ms. Silicon…Ms. Stiletto Heels, heels that left scars on the backs of all those she'd climbed over on her way to becoming office manager. No, that wasn't entirely correct. Ms. Round Heels, from digging into those satin sheets on her bed and sleeping her way to the top. She'd wrecked more relationships than Monday night football. She'd destroyed more marriages than money-either losing it or coming into it.

Just what the hell was Daniel doing meeting her at her house? She had nothing to gain from trying to seduce him. Heck, she'd been the cause of Rick's marriage breaking up, but that was easy to understand. She'd gone from glorified receptionist to office manager with that maneuver. Then, she'd dumped Rick the evening he'd planned to surprise her with a celebration on her promotion with a diamond engagement ring in his pocket. Why he hadn't fired her ass was everyone's question, though Annie suspected that Moanin' Mona was shrewd enough to buy herself some protection in the form of a threatened sexual harassment lawsuit. Rick would never jeopardize his job and that sort of thing would create a huge scandal at the station.

Then, it occurred to her. Of course, Moanin' Mona would set her sights on Daniel. He'd remained aloof to her flirtation and previous attempts of seduction. One thing Mona could never resist was a temptation, foolishly believing that there wasn't a man alive who could resist her so-called charms. Daniel was a challenge she couldn't resist.

With great deliberation and anger, Annie continued to smooth out the note, leaving it on the top of the stack. She wouldn't say a word to either of them. Moanin' Mona would be at their house that evening-not by any wish on Annie's part to actually socialize with the woman, but because the entire crew from the station was always invited to the Flannigan house for the Fourth of July celebration-first for dessert after the community concert the night before the Fourth and then for a buffet supper and to watch the community fireworks display after the rodeo from a nearly ideal vantage point on the night of the Fourth. Annie decided she'd observe their behavior, try to determine if there was anything percolating between them. Yes, that was the smart way to handle it.

Walking out of the bedroom, Annie glanced into Mikey's room. Just like his dad, her son lay on his back, arms and legs sprawled in four different directions, mouth gaping wide open. The only difference was in the decibel level of the snoring.

Annie leaned against the open doorway, watching Mikey dream his brave dreams and sighed. And just as Daniel seemed to be pulling away from her, so was her son. Very different reasons, she was sure. Torn between being "Mama's baby" and his own independent self, Mikey swung back and forth. One moment, he'd ferociously assert his ability and independence. The next moment, he'd run into Annie's arms, seeking comfort and love. At least she could understand Mikey's dilemma-caught between toddler and boyhood. It would all reconcile itself without much interference. Daniel's problem, however, seemed all too immense and serious to ignore.

Pushing away from the door, suddenly in need of activity-anything to fill her mind and push her worries about Daniel aside, she jogged down the steps and headed for the kitchen, stopping only to flip on her computer. For most of the world, it was a summer holiday. In the twin communities of Fort Pierre and Pierre, the state capitol across the river, the Friday before any holiday weekend was a holiday itself. For Annie and probably every other self-employed, home-based worker, it was just another day, and though she might have been convinced to slack off for the day were Daniel to remain at home, Annie decided she'd see just how many of her pending projects she could complete for delivery immediately after the holiday weekend.

Not that she was inundated with work-it seemed as soon as school dismissed for the summer vacation the need for a top-notch research specialist dropped severely. Annie had vaguely toyed with the notion of calling her former editor, Steve Hutchins, to see if he needed any temporary help during the summer when the paper was normally low-staffed because of annual vacations. But, she'd only toyed with the idea. Since Daniel's promotion at work, their bills were covered with enough left over to tuck a tidy sum into their savings account every two weeks. And, after a couple of decades working her way up the journalistic ladder to become one of the best investigative reporters in the state, Annie doubted that a temporary, summer job would allow her to do anything more interesting than cover dog shows and fishing tournaments. That seemed like too big a step back to even consider.

As the coffee beans ground painfully, Annie pulled the pitcher of purified water from the refrigerator and filled the empty carafe before dumping it into the coffeemaker. Once she finished her pending projects, it might be the perfect time to start the novel every journalist-former and present-yearned to write. The problem lay in deciding just which novel to write. She'd jotted down so many ideas for plots and characters that they filled one entire drawer of her computer desk. So many ideas, so little time. But, now the empty summer lay brightly ahead of her. She only wished there weren't so many dark clouds on its horizon.

After emptying the ground coffee into the coffeemaker's basket, Annie pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, breaking a half dozen into a glass bowl. As she whisked them into yellow froth, she contemplated the projects awaiting her. An author of historical books was waiting for Annie's report on the evolution of underwear during the 1800s. It was done except for printing out some drawings she'd found of under garments and putting the report together in one of her new "Flannigan Finds" folders. That would take her all of ten minutes. Then, there was the research she'd compiled on faulty wheelchairs she was finishing for a lawyer pursuing a product liability case for one of her clients. That, too, only needed printing and putting together.

Slapping a pat of butter in the hot pan on the stove, Annie flipped two pieces of bread in the toaster before carefully pouring the eggs into the pan. She grabbed a plastic spatula and slowly began stirring the eggs just as they began to congeal and cook.

The biggest project remaining on her "to do" list was the one she was completing for the sheriff department's community relations committee. Bobbo Osborn, the local sheriff, absolutely hated the notion that Annie was compiling statistical data on his department's treatment of Native Americans, but the committee was concerned-in the midst of national outrage over racial profiling and discriminatory treatment of minorities-that the county would be on the receiving end of a lawsuit. There had been rumblings for years that some of Bobbo's deputies went out of their way to hassle the local "skins." Annie still believed that it was only because the community's suspicions about the department were roused that Bobbo had attempted to defuse rumors by hiring Craig Kills Deer. As it turned out, Craig was the best deputy in the department, and the only one that Annie trusted without hesitation.

One thing was certain, after pouring through box upon box of records, interviewing some of the local skins and compiling both empirical and theoretic data, Annie was convinced that Bobbo had a major problem on his hands. She almost felt sorry for the sheriff. The committee, comprised of representatives of various parts of the community: business people, homeowners, members of the ministerial association, members of the Native American organizations, would probably be asking the sheriff some rather difficult questions. She doubted he would be able to come up with any convincing answers.

From reading the records Bobbo had reluctantly supplied Annie, at first it almost seemed like the department was squeaky clean. She'd imagined for a while that this was going to be another of those probes that went nowhere simply because there wasn't anything all that awful going on. Then, her reporter's mind took over and she closely examined the documents she'd been given. That was when she realized that Bobbo was attempting to skew the study by only supplying carefully selected documents rather than the complete files she'd requested and that the committee had ordered him to hand over.

The skins, as they called themselves, represented about five percent of the community. It didn't take Einstein to figure out that about five percent of the complaints filed against the department with Bobbo would have come from them. But, there wasn't a single complaint from the Native American community included in the files she'd been given. Not one.

The folder of complaints from Mac Ferguson was at least an inch thick, including everything from a deputy stopping him from shooting the geese on his lawn with a shotgun because they were messing up his yard to a complaint that a deputy hadn't returned his wave. Then again, Mac was a notorious complainer about just about everything in the community, but he certainly stopped short about complaining about the department's treatment of minorities. So, why had Bobbo included that and not included anything pertinent to her research?

The obvious conclusion was that he was hiding some pretty major embarrassments in the department. It was common knowledge about skins busted for some minor-and often imaginary-infraction of the law and ending up with a busted arm or leg. Just as it was common knowledge that skins sometimes simply disappeared from the area. Loved ones and friends filed missing person reports, but Annie knew the department took little notice. In fact, only Craig bothered to ask any questions or even look for those who'd gone missing.

Scraping the eggs onto a plate and grabbing the toast, Annie walked out of the kitchen into the open-flowing living room/dining room/office. She set the plate at Daniel's place at the table and retrieved two mugs of coffee, setting one on the table, before settling down at her computer desk.

The ideal person to ask a few subtle questions was the new neighbor across the street. A deputy sheriff and his family had moved into the house a couple of months earlier. Other than an occasional neighborly wave, Annie and Daniel hadn't seen much of the family. Annie knew that the wife worked for one of the state offices in Pierre and that the husband worked the night shift for the sheriff's department.

Annie's heart broke for the woman. She'd sat on her deck and observed the poor woman struggling to push an old lawnmower across the rough terrain of their lawn, only to have her husband come out and loudly criticize her efforts. Annie had nearly had to bite her tongue off to keep from hollering at him that if he didn't like the job his wife was doing to do it himself, as he should have been doing in the first place. The wife was a mere slip of a little thing and that old heavy lawnmower seemed about as much as she could handle.

Becky, Annie's sister who seemed to know everyone and everything, told her that Kevin Willis had been in the military police before something happened and he suddenly found himself out of the military and looking for a job in law enforcement. It was all very hush-hush, Becky gossiped.

No…the less Annie and her family had to do with the Willises the better. She doubted Kevin Willis would shed any light on the situation anyway. Besides, she'd invited Craig to the festivities at the house this weekend. Maybe she could have a few private words with him.

The pictures for the underwear report had just started churning out of her printer when Daniel walked down the stairs and sat down at the table.

"There's enough eggs here to feed an army," he grumbled, spreading jam on his toast.

"I thought you might be hungry this morning since you weren't able to come home for supper last night," Annie replied evenly, turning in her chair to look at him.

"Don't make any cracks, Annie," Daniel ordered sternly, before forking up some eggs.

"An observation, Daniel…not a crack. I simply made an observation."

"It sounded as if the crack was coming next," he replied, around a mouthful of eggs. "Are you going to need any help getting ready for tonight?"

"You mean you're actually going to bestow the blessings of your appearance tonight?" Annie asked sarcastically, immediately wishing she could bite back her words. It wouldn't do a nickel's worth of good to alienate Daniel. She knew better.

"Depends." Annie breathed a sigh of relief that he'd allowed her sarcasm to pass unanswered. "It shouldn't take all that long with Charlie helping. He's bringing a date tonight."

"That should be interesting. Anyone I know?"

"You know everything, Annie. Or at least you like to think so." Daniel took a gulp of coffee and pushed away from the table. "Just do me a favor and don't interfere with them. You might control your own family with an iron hand, but leave poor Charlie to enjoy the first date he's had in years."

Indignantly, Annie opened her mouth to protest, then closed it to swallow back the tears forming in her eyes. Is that what Daniel actually believed? That she was some kind of control freak? Was she smothering him? No, that was impossible. It was Daniel who seemed to be changing, not her. She was simply carrying on as she always had, managing the house and their lives because Daniel had always seemed more content to let her do it than involve himself in that sort of thing.

Slowly, she turned back to her computer. She swallowed again, attempting to keep her voice from cracking or revealing that she was choking back tears. "Becky is coming over later this morning to help finish things for tonight."

She heard Daniel's chair move against the carpet, sensed him walking toward the front door. "Then, it's just as well I got called out. I'd hate to be in the way of you two." The front door opened. "I'll be back in time to pick you and Mikey up for the concert."

As the door closed, Annie slumped in her chair, allowing the tears she'd fought off to fall unhindered. She'd nearly called him back to demand he tell her just what the hell was going through his mind, where this sudden hostility was coming from. But, in the end, fear made her decision to just let him go out the door. She was afraid of what he'd tell her, fearful that he'd say it was over between them.

Staring out the back patio window, frantically brushing tears from her cheeks, Annie tried to pinpoint exactly when things between Daniel and her began to sour. Things had been great at Valentine's Day-despite the murder of the Twit and the accusation that Daniel had murdered him. Daniel had uncharacteristically arranged for a romantic dinner. In fact, they'd never been closer than when Annie's life had been endangered by the real murderer, presently awaiting trial. In fact, Daniel received his promotion only a couple of weeks later, and Annie arranged a big party to celebrate. Things had been fine then.

She heard Lucky come back into the house through the pet door they'd installed in the kitchen door and listened as he lapped water from his dish. Annie welcomed the distraction that took her attention away from thinking about Daniel. She'd never envisioned having a dog…especially a mongrel like Lucky. But, after everything that had happened in February, Daniel got the dog to protect her. And that's exactly what he'd done, annoying their persnickety neighbor, Mrs. Simmons, until the old woman called the police. Mikey had dubbed the hapless puppy "Killer" for his role in rescuing Annie and bringing a criminal to justice.

But, the name Killer hadn't lasted very long. It was left to Annie to house train the beast. And after cleaning up the fourth or fifth puddle, she'd taken to scolding the puppy by saying things like, "You just darned lucky I don't kick you out of the house and leave you out," and "You are so lucky I didn't catch you in the act." Finally, the poor puppy started believing his name was "Lucky" and wouldn't respond to any other name. And Annie bowed to pressure and called to have a doggie door installed so Lucky could escape to their fenced backyard whenever he chose. They'd lived in peaceful coexistence ever since.

Now, Lucky trotted up to Annie and whined. With a sigh, she opened her arms and the puppy climbed up on her lap. Dutifully, she scratched his ears and told him he was a good boy. It wouldn't be much longer that these little private moments would last between the two of them. Lucky was growing at an alarming rate and would soon be too big to fit comfortably in Annie's lap. It was another change Annie didn't quite enjoy seeing. As she hugged the puppy close to her heart, Annie heard the front door open and Becky call out.

She'd just have to hide her misery, that was all there was to it. No way was she going to let her sister see that there was trouble in her marriage. Becky, widowed thrice and giving every appearance of heading to the altar a third time with Bill Forrester, would insist on giving unasked for advice. No way did Annie want to hear that.

Annie gently shoved Lucky off her lap and rose to greet her older sister. Becky strolled into the room, dropping a covered bowl on the dining room table and turning to stare at Annie.

"Oh-oh. Trouble in paradise. What's Saint Daniel done now?" Becky asked, diving into her huge purse and pulling out a can of soda pop.

Damn. Becky always had been able to read Annie like a cheap novel.

Becky washed the strawberries in the kitchen sink while Annie watched from the doorway. The luscious red berries looked so sweet and tender that they would melt in the mouth. Annie could almost taste the thick, sugary juice all the way from across the room. One wouldn't hurt…just one. Timidly, she took a step toward the bowl.

"Stop! Not one inch more, Annie Marie O'Hara Flannigan. I won't be responsible for you getting sick and I certainly don't want to cart you to the emergency room." Deftly, Becky raised up a berry and clipped off the top with a flick of her paring knife. She quartered the berry and tossed the pieces into the bowl.

"It's not my fault I'm allergic to them." Annie leaned against the wall. "Just one wouldn't probably hurt."

"Annie, you can't even touch strawberries without breaking out in hives. Now, do I need to remind you about what happens when you eat them? The hives. The inability to breathe leading to your passing out on the floor which leads to the 9-1-1 call and a ride in the ambulance." Becky glanced over her shoulder. "Don't you have enough trouble right now without begging for more?"

"I keep telling you, Beck, everything is fine. It's all your imagination. You're the one borrowing trouble. There is no intrigue. There is no tension. Everything is absolutely terrific." Annie looked over at the refrigerator, mentally adding a good cleaning to her list of things to do before leaving for the concert tonight. "I think the problem is that things are going so well between you and Bill that you're looking for problems elsewhere."

"Things are progressing nicely with Bill," Becky sighed, smiling and leaning against the edge of the sink to look out the window. Then, she straightened up and picked up another berry. "And you really can't fool me, Annie. I've known you too long. When it gets to be impossible, you'll tell me about it. I can wait."

"Do you think I should invite the new neighbor?" Becky asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Well, for goodness sake, if you're actually going to invite Old Lady Simmons-"

"Mrs. Simmons hasn't said yet that she's going to come. But…you know, after what happened last winter, I thought the least I could do would be to invite her."

"And everybody else on the block. Wouldn't it look a bit unfriendly if you didn't invite them, too?"

"It's just that he gives me the creeps. All macho and overbearing. Yecch."

"He'll probably be working tonight. They usually have everyone working over the Fourth, especially when it comes on a weekend. So, you'd probably be spared his presence." Becky again looked over at her. "Poor, little thing. Can you imagine just how lonely it would be sitting over there in that house while everybody in the neighborhood is over here having the time of their lives? I'm surprised you're not more compassionate for her."

Annie stared at her sister in awe. "Damn, you're good. For a second there, it was almost like having Mom back and guilting me out. You inherited the gift, sis."

"Birth order will tell, Annie," Becky laughed, spooning sugar over the berries in the bowl. "I'm just slightly older than you. And it's the oldest sibling that they say is the smartest."

Slightly older? Try more than a decade older. Becky continued to subtract a year each time her birthday came around instead of adding a year. Annie decided the kind thing would be to ignore both outright lies-that Becky was only "slightly" older and that she was the smarter sister. Wrong on both counts.

"I'll send Mikey over with an invitation after he gets up."

"He's still in bed? Good grief. How late did you let him stay up last night?"

"You're only a kid once, Beck. Now, if you won't let me snitch a strawberry, then I better get back to work. No holiday for the wicked, you know."

Annie forced herself to keep as busy as possible during the rest of the day. She finished several small projects and wrote a summary for the community relations committee. As an afterthought, she wrote the committee a letter outlining her suspicions that the results of the study they'd requested were skewed because the sheriff's department had neglected to send much of the requested information. Bobbo wouldn't be pleased by that, but tough.

It was a situation she'd encountered many times while working as an investigative reporter. People who built little empires of their own attempted to protect them by trying to keep things as hidden as possible. What they failed to recognize was that by attempting to keep everything a deep, dark secret they created more problems than they solved.

At least the situation this time round was different for Annie. She didn't have an editor shouting at her constantly, trying to get her to dig and expose every secret for public consumption. She had to only please the committee and if Bobbo wasn't going to give her the information she needed, it was their problem, not hers.

Mikey dutifully arose by noon, and after a breakfast of three bowls of cereal, begrudgingly trotted across the street with an invitation Annie had written for the Willises. Adeline Willis accepted the invitation, but sent her regrets that her husband would be working and was unable to come with her. Annie breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to suffer that fool. Unless Daniel's attitude changed during the day, she was already dreading putting on a party face and pretending that everything was hunky-dory in the Flannigan household. It had occurred to her that perhaps it was Daniel's job affecting his mood, but that wasn't possible. She was grasping for any answer except the most obvious one-Moanin' Mona. Besides, Rick was thrilled with Daniel's performance in his new job and the techs loved him, were devoted to him, finally having a boss who'd suffered in the trenches right next to them.

By suppertime, Annie was beginning to worry that Daniel wasn't going to make it home in time for the concert. Mikey and Stevie were already champing at the bit, wanting to leave for the band shell at the park. Because of the holiday, the kids could shoot off ground fireworks right along the shores of the river and the two boys were already bitterly complaining that all the good spots would be taken by the time they got there. She was just deciding to gather the blankets and cooler and herd the boys to her vehicle when Daniel's work truck came roaring up.

He barely looked at her as he ran up the stairs to their bedroom. "Be ready in five minutes," he called to her.

Annie stood in the middle of the living room, her arms filled with blankets and bags while she jostled the cooler from one hand to the other to keep from dropping it. So, what had Daniel meant? That he'd be ready in five minutes, which she would have believed to be the case before he'd become so unfathomable. Or was that an order to her to have the kids in the car, the paraphernalia stowed away and be waiting patiently within five minutes?

Suddenly, she just didn't even care to try to decipher his meaning. She was tired, realizing that she'd been tiptoeing around on eggshells for weeks trying to understand Daniel and make everything all right again. The hell with him. It was obvious that nothing she could do would make things all right.

Walking out the front door, she called to Mikey and Stevie. They met her at the car and helped her stow everything in the back before they all climbed in. Annie debated only a second before she turned the ignition key, glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure that both boys were buckled into their seat belts and shifted the vehicle into reverse. Just as she was straightening the steering wheel, ready to head down the street, Daniel appeared on the top of the front steps.

"Mom, aren't you forgetting someone?" Mikey asked, giggling.

"No, Lucky gets a bit scared of the fireworks. He'll have to stay home tonight." She looked straight down the street and drove away. She was Irish and she was stubborn. And, quite unfortunately, Daniel's recent behavior had pushed both the Irish and the stubborn buttons. For all she cared, Moanin' Mona could have him.

As Annie spread their blanket out on the thick grass, she inhaled the unique smells around her. The river, undisturbed by all the human activity around it, gently flowed southward, wafting the fresh smell of water and fish. The crisp, earthy smell of the sod rose up, reminding her of her youth on the farm. Hauntingly exotic, the flowerbeds in the park-now in full and glorious, Technicolor blossom-sent tendrils of their heady scent to mingle with the smell of the river and the earth. And yet, in another layer of scent came the mixture of picnic baskets opening and portable grills smoking away-a cacophony of fried chicken, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, barbecued ribs.

Ready to add to the mix, Annie set the cooler on the blanket and opened it. She pulled out containers of potato salad, baked beans, cole slaw, macaroni salad, three-bean salad and sliced cheeses. From the bottom of the cooler, she pulled a large, round, plastic container that held her own cold, fried chicken. Popping the top on a can of soda pop, she settled back to nod to friends and neighbors, while keeping an eye on the boys, gleefully comparing stashes of fireworks with their friends on the large rocks lining the edge of the river. Already, members of the community band were settling into their chairs. Short riffs of music and the rattle of cymbals and drums reached her ears above the general hum of conversation around her.

Idyllic. Nearly perfect. Or it would be if things were as they had been the year before and the Daniel she knew and adored was seated next to her. She plucked at a ball of lint on the blue and white striped summer sweater she wore, realizing that Daniel was going to be absolutely livid because she'd left without him. It was the sort of impulsive thing she worked hard to keep from doing, but often just did anyway. It seemed she was making a statement at the time, though now she regretted it. Still, the look of consternation on Daniel's face nearly made it worthwhile. Maybe it would give him a chance to think about how he'd been treating her.

"Well, I see the little brat. Where's the big one?" Becky asked, nudging Annie with her folded lawn chair.

"Hey, Beck. Hey, Bill," Annie replied, twisting around to look up at her sister and her sister's boyfriend. Though, could one legitimately call a gray-headed, portly, sixty-some-year-old barrister a "boyfriend," she wondered.

"Annie, I've been dreaming about your chicken all day," Bill replied, opening his lawn chair before claiming Becky's and opening it next to his.

"And just who got to spend a hundred and fifty per billable hour while you were dreaming about supper?" Annie laughed. "Who do I warn to check their bill?"

"Like every other sensible man, Annie, I took the day off." Bill had no more than settled into his chair when Mikey came running up.

Becky settled in her chair and leaned close to Annie. "Tell me he's not still working?"

"No. He came home just as we were leaving," Annie replied in a clipped voice, hoping her sister would get the message that she really didn't want to talk about it.

"And you left anyway?" Becky roared with laughter. "Lord, there may still be some hope for you."

"I feel totally like a bitch on wheels for having done it. Dreadful. If he ever did something like that to me, I'd be hiring your boyfriend to draw up the divorce papers."

Becky started digging into her purse, so Annie dipped a hand into the cooler and pulled out a can of soda pop for her. "Thanks. And now is not the time to go all wimpy. Sometimes, you have to just smack 'em upside the head with a frying pan to drive it into their noggins that they're acting like jerks."

"I just hope that he still comes tonight. It wouldn't be the same without him here, and Mikey is bound to pick up on the fact that Daddy isn't here."

"From the way it's sounded lately, Mikey is probably getting used to the notion that Daddy isn't around much." Becky frowned. "Are you sure you don't want to share? I have a soft shoulder and a one-way ear, Annie."

Annie bit her bottom lip, glancing over to see Mikey still engaged in the act of extorting money for more fireworks out of Bill. She glanced back at her sister. "Two words-Moanin' Mona."

Becky slugged her on the shoulder. "Get out of town! Never."

Rubbing the sting out of her shoulder, Annie nodded sadly. "I found a note he'd written to himself about meeting her at her place. She has cable, so I doubt that it's a problem with her reception."

"Honey, her problem is all about her reception-as in the way she receives any man who'll glance at her twice. Still, knowing Saint Daniel, I can't believe that he'd cheat on you-at least not with somebody so obvious."

"All I know is what I read. All I know is that something is going on inside that he's not telling me about. Things have changed. It's really strange." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper, revealing the tears she'd kept at bay all day. "I'm so afraid…terrified I'm going to lose him."

"Who are you losing, Mom?" Mikey asked, his face drawn in a serious frown.

Annie sniffed. "Lucky. He's growing so tall I'm afraid that the fence in the backyard isn't going to keep him in."

"Well, we'll just build a taller fence, Mom. Don't worry about Lucky. He's not going anywhere." Mikey impulsively hugged her around the neck. "Can I go buy some black snakes? Uncle Bill gave me a whole dollar!"

"That wouldn't even buy a garter snake," Becky huffed, grabbing her purse. "Bill Forrester, you're so tight you squeak when you walk." She thrust two dollars at Mikey. "There, and make sure that sooty, black stuff doesn't get in my potato salad!"

Shaking her head, Annie looked from Becky to Bill and back again. They were a match made in banker's heaven. "Mikey won't want to eat until he's absolutely starving. Do you two want to eat now before the concert begins?"

"Maybe we should wait for Daniel," Bill suggested, accepting the cola Annie offered him.

"I'm not sure if-"

"Sorry I'm a little late, Bill. Got held up at work." Daniel smiled at Bill and Becky and shot Annie an angry glare. He settled on the blanket-as far from her as he could.

"Then, let's eat," Annie said, laughing nervously, as she reached for the paper plates.

A half an hour later, fully satiated from the picnic, Annie scooted around and lay on her side, watching the band prepare for the beginning of the concert. Next to Mikey's Christmas concerts, this was her favorite kind of concert. The band shell was festooned with billowing red, white and blue bunting. The mayor of Pierre, Bill Drummond, was dressed up as "Uncle Sam," his usual costume for the Fourth of July celebrations. He'd wear it all day the next day-from the parade in the morning to the community activities in the afternoon to the rodeo that evening. Annie didn't know if it were the politician in him or the frustrated actor, but he reveled in his part of the holiday.

The mayor stepped quickly up the steps to the stage of the band shell and marched to the microphone. As he read the schedule of activities, Annie looked around at the hushed crowd. She spotted Charlie, sitting stiffly next to a pleasant looking young woman-obviously "the date." She hoped the woman appreciated what a gentle and kind man Charlie was…and how special he must think she was to actually ask her out. Annie's eyes narrowed when she spotted Moanin' Mona, typically overdressed in a red, white and blue sequined sweater with incredibly short shorts. She was on her knees, perhaps her most frequent position, massaging the shoulders of some handsome hunk wearing a cowboy hat, jeans, a western shirt and boots. Annie yearned to call Daniel's attention to the display, but since he hadn't said two words to her since he'd arrived, she decided against it.

Mrs. Simmons and Adeline Willis had managed to claim one of the few benches placed near the band shell. They had their heads close together, ignoring the mayor's comments as much as Annie was. She only hoped she wasn't the subject of the intense conversation. Near them, kindly Doug and Ramona Kendall sat with two of their foster children. When Doug retired from his job with the state, he and Ramona decided to open their childless home to as many foster kids as needed a home. The Department of Social Services jumped at the chance; there always seemed to be so many more children than homes suitable to take them in. Of course, most of the children Doug and Ramona foster parented were Native American kids. Annie had once asked Ramona about the challenges that presented and Ramona had laughed and said they were learning as much from the children as the children were learning from them. Annie made a mental note to seek them out after the concert and invite them and the children over for dessert. They might even enjoy coming over the next night for supper and fireworks.

The mayor finally ended his comments and nodded at the band director. With a tap of the baton, the concert began. A thrill rippled through Annie's body as the band began performing "Stars and Stripes Forever." A few moments later, Mikey plopped down on the blanket next to Annie and snuggled in next to her.

"This is pretty great. Isn't it, Mom?"

Annie hugged him tight in reply. "It sure is. Where'd Stevie go to?"

"His mom came and got him. Ain't this pretty music, Mom?"

"Some of the prettiest, Mikey."

By the time the band began it's finale-the 1812 Overture, accompanied by the fire department setting off percussion bombs-Annie pushed herself up and began reloading the cooler. She hummed along with the Tchaikovsky piece, filling a plastic bag with their garbage. By the time the end neared, she had everything stowed away for a quick retreat, hoping to beat the majority of the crowd out of the park so she could have a few moments peace before greeting their guests.

Reaching out, she tugged on the hem of Daniel's shirtsleeve. She motioned to Mikey, asleep on the blanket. "Can you carry him for me?" she whispered. Daniel nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He leaned over and picked up Mikey, slinging him over his shoulder while picking up the cooler with his other hand.

"We're going to try to beat the crowd," Annie said to Becky, noticing her sister holding hands with Bill. How sweet.

Becky looked around. "Looks like you're not the only one with that idea."

All around them, people were rousing from their seats. Annie nodded and followed Daniel toward the parking lot. As they reached her vehicle, Annie remembered her mental note.

"Daniel, I was going to invite the Kendalls and their kids over tonight. I'll be right back."

Daniel grunted, opening the back door and sliding Mikey on the seat. He'd probably be awake by the time they got home, not wanting to miss a minute of the party. But, at least the short nap would revive him a little. Annie jumped on the bumper of Daniel's truck, thankfully parked next to her car, and surveyed the parking lot in the waning twilight. She spotted the Kendall's station wagon over a couple of rows and jumped down off the bumper.

She walked briskly through the parked vehicles, skipping out of the way of one of the sheriff's cars patrolling the lot and obviously not expecting to see a pedestrian. Happily, she could see Doug and Ramona sitting in the front seat of their car. Good, she wouldn't have to wait around for them to come back. As she neared the car, it appeared as if they were sound asleep. How anyone could sleep through those percussion bombs was beyond Annie's understanding, but then again, Annie wasn't in charge of several young children day in and day out.

Reaching the driver's side of their car, Annie leaned down. "Hey, Doug. Hey, Ramona. Wake up. Daniel and I were wonder-"

Something wasn't right. Doug sat with his head lolled back against the headrest. Ramona was sprawled against her door, her arms flung outside the open window. Annie glanced in the back seat. One of the boys was lying on top of the other. She reached inside the car and shook Doug's shoulder. His head lolled side to side until his face rolled toward her. That's when she saw the small trickle of blood running down the right side of his forehead and his empty vacant eyes.

Annie pulled her hand away from him, jumping back as Doug's body rolled forward, his chin hitting the horn button on the steering wheel.

The scream tearing out of Annie's mouth harmonized for a moment with the tone of the horn before it rose to a higher pitch.

"Daniel!" she screamed, and continued to scream until she saw Daniel running toward her.

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