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claim self-defense, but I was the visiting “lush,” and Ralph was the homegrown good ol' boy with friends in low
     places only too willing to testify on his behalf. So Ralph pressed charges, and though I tried to countercharge, I ended up
     being fingerprinted, photographed, booked, and now bailed.
    “We'll notify you when your court date is set.” Jack followed me down the hall.
    “Do you have any idea when that will be?” I pushed down a wave of panic. The longer I stayed in one place, the better the
     odds of Eric finding me.
    “Depends on the judge and how booked up she is.”
    She.
    I wondered if Ms. Judge had ever been hit on by a redneck loser. Of course, Ms. Judge probably knew better than to accept
     drinks from strangers—one of the first few rules my mother tried to impart to Leslie and me.
    A final set of doors swung open into freedom… and there was Leslie.
    She stood behind the plate-glass window separating the receptionist from the public. All I could see of her was a denim jacket,
     a T-shirt, and her bent head as she signed a paper. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, and streaked. A sudden yearning
     pulled at me with almost tangible force. My sister.
    In spite of my roadside grooming, I knew my hair was a dried-out snarl and my eyes were probably red. My fingers were still
     black from the fingerprinting ink that simply wouldn't wash off. Add a request for bail money, and I was off to a running
     start with my dear sister.
    I ran my hands down the legs of my pants. Then again…
    Jack frowned at me. “You okay?”
    “I'll be fine.”
    He lifted one eyebrow as if he didn't believe me, but I didn't have time to be concerned about him anymore.
    Leslie looked up as I came closer.
    “Hey, Leslie,” I said, projecting breezy and carefree. “Good to see you.”
    “Terra.” The word piggybacked a sigh, mom-style.
    I'd have to search a long time before I found a sentiment in the card section of the local drugstore to thank her for posting
     bail. So I decided to keep it simple and real. “Thanks for coming.”
    “I'm guessing the bar was a detour on your way to see me?” The hurt in her voice twisted through the casual facade I struggled
     to maintain.
    “Of course it was,” I said. “Nicholas was just a fuzzy baby bundle the last time I saw him.”
    “He's walking now.”
    “I'm sorry, Leslie.” What I lacked in originality, I tried to make up for in conviction. “I'm really sorry.”
    Leslie's smile wobbled. I wanted to grab her and hold on. But I couldn't in this public place and definitely not with Cop
     Jack watching us.
    So I reached over and made do with a quick squeeze of her shoulder. Somewhere in the transition between adolescence and adulthood,
     she had not only gotten taller—she had also kept her feet planted firmly on the ground.
    Leslie turned to Jack. “Can she leave now?”
    Jack nodded, standing arrow-straight, hands on hips. “We'll notify you when the court date is set. In the meantime, as a condition
     of bail, she has to stick around.”
    How long would it take Eric to track me down? Could he? Had I ever mentioned where Leslie lived? I'd been careful. I had never
     used his computer to send e-mails to Leslie, had never used the home phone to call…
    “Will you be coming to the farm to work with your horse?” Leslie asked Jack. I did a double take at the question. Did everyone
     know everyone else in this town?
    “Next time I have some time off.”
    “We'll see you then.”
    “Looking forward to it.” Jack glanced at me and smiled. His eyes crinkled up, and the tough exterior I'd had the privilege
     of looking at for the past half hour melted away like frost in the morning sun. He actually looked human.
    He actually looked pretty good.
    And down that path lies trouble and more trouble.
    “So that means we can go?” I asked Leslie. “Like right now?”
    Leslie nodded.
    “Good.” I turned to Jack, staring somewhere over his left shoulder. “I'd like