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Sam thought about it, bit his lower lip, shot a look toward his father, and said at long last, “It’s just that one minute he was yelling and then . . . he was just . . . gone. There was this gunshot, and he was dead, just like my mama. I’m not glad my mama’s dead.”

Oh dear. At least Sam was talking, thank God. Sheila leaned her forehead against Sam’s and said not an inch from his nose, “Trust me on this, Sam. Your mama’s in Heaven and I’ll bet she’s kicking up her heels that you’re okay. All the angels are cheering and I’ll bet you there’s even a big smile on Saint Peter’s face.

“As for Beau and Clancy, they’re probably so deep in Hell that the Devil doesn’t even know where they are.”

Sam thought about that, pulled back and smiled at her. He said, his little boy’s voice sounding strong again, “Next time Mama talks to me, I’ll ask her if she’s heard anything about Beau and Clancy.”

“That’s a great idea. You can tell the sheriff what your mama says.”

Miles wanted to shout when he saw that smile and heard Sam’s words. He had no idea what Dr. Raines had said to get Sam speaking again, but she’d done it and he owed her forever.

He said, “Sam, would you please come over and hug me? I’m really on the shaky side. You’d better hurry before I fall over. I don’t want to drop Keely. You don’t want me to do that, do you?”

Slowly, Sam slid off the sofa and walked to his father. He stood there a moment, his hand on his father’s knee, and he patted Sherlock’s shoulder. “Hi, sweetie,” Sherlock said, and kissed his cheek. “Just look at your father’s poor feet. You want to put on this last Band-Aid?”

With great concentration, Sam went down on his knees beside Sherlock and smashed the Band-Aid down. At least it covered most of the cut.

Miles picked him up and settled him on his other leg. He held both children close and began rocking slowly. He whispered against Sam’s ear, “You are the bravest boy I have ever known. I am so proud of you.”

Sam released a long breath and settled against his father’s shoulder. “Don’t drop me, Papa. Don’t worry about Keely, she’s not as heavy as I am.”

“No, she’s not. But you, champ, are all muscle and bone. You just settle in, Sam, and I won’t complain.”

Sherlock rose and stepped back. She looked down at Keely, whose head was tucked into Miles’s neck, then at Sam, whose eyes were already closed as his father rubbed his head.

Dr. Raines said after Sam had settled in for a while, “It’s not over yet for him, but this is a good start.” She rose. “Mr. Kettering, I would like to see Sam tomorrow morning, if that’s okay. About ten o’clock?”

Miles looked over at Savich, who’d just walked into the living room, carrying a tray. He nodded. “Yes, that would be fine, Dr. Raines. We’ll be there.”

“Please call me Sheila.”

“Thank you, Sheila. You got him to talk again. I’m very grateful.”

“He’s already out like a light. Good. Sleep, that’s the best thing for him right now.” She lowered her voice even more. “There may be nightmares, Mr. Kettering. Sam had to retreat inside himself for a while, to protect himself, you understand, to close off the horror of what happened. I coaxed him out again, made him pay attention, but the thing is, he really wanted to come back. Being with Keely will help, and with you, of course. He’s a strong little boy, you’re right about that.” She turned to Katie, waved her hand to keep her seated. “No, don’t move, Sheriff. In my medical opinion, you should stay off your size nines.”

“You’re a shrink, Sheila.”

“Yeah, but I did think once about becoming an internist, and then I decided I’d rather sleep at night. It’s been a pleasure to meet all of you. Perhaps we’ll have time to speak more tomorrow. Katie, Miles, try to keep Keely with Sam, okay? My guess is that she’s more important to him right now than any of us.”

Sheila laid her hand on Katie’s shoulder. “If you want to talk to me about things, I’m there for you, don’t forget it. It’s been a horrendous few days for all of you, but the bottom line is that Sam’s safe. By the way,