“Then I will.”

“No.” Laughing now, Clare slapped a hand on it as Avery reached for it. “I’ll just mail it to him.”

“You will not.” Face flushed with temper, Avery slapped a hand over Clare’s. “No contact. I mean it, Clare. Contact of any kind encourages his type of obsession or whatever it is.”

“Where do you get that?”

“I watch a lot of cop shows since I’m not currently spending any time dating and having sex. Seriously, Clare, tear it up, give it away, spend it, but don’t send it to him.”

“Okay, you’re probably right. I’ll give it to the church or something.” She jammed it in her pocket. “I’m really glad you came by.”

“So am I.”

“Why did you come by?”

“I saw the asshole’s car when I was walking to the shop. Flashy car, dealer tag, so who else could it be? I thought I’d stop in, keep you from being bored to death. I didn’t expect to find him practically assaulting you.”

“Thanks. A lot.”

“When’s one of the girls getting in?”

Clare glanced at her watch. “Any minute. God, now I’m behind.”

“You’ll catch up. Go on and get started. Since I’m here, I think I’ll browse for a couple minutes.”

“Avery, he’s not coming back—and I wouldn’t let him in if he did.”

“I’m forced to remind you—not dating or having sex currently. I could use a good book.”

Hands in her pockets, Avery studied the shelves of new releases.

Clare sighed, got out two cups. Since her friend decided to be her sword and shield, they might as well have some coffee.

Beckett liked his timing. The way he calculated it, he’d get to Clare’s right after homework, and before dinner. So maybe he could wrangle an invite to stay. He liked his chances. They’d had a good time Saturday night, spent some time with the kids in the park on Sunday afternoon.

He’d had a good week so far with no major glitches on the job, so he figured his luck was in—right up to when he pulled up to Clare’s and didn’t see her car. But he did see Harry on the little porch with his measuring tape.

He got out of the truck, hefted the box he’d brought with him.

“I’m measuring to see how big a pumpkin we should get for Halloween. We put it on the post.”

“Good idea. What’re you going to be?”

“I’m either going to be Wolverine or the Joker.”

“Hero or villain. Tough choice.”

“We got a catalog with all kinds of costumes, but we have to pick soon. Mom gives out candy at the store on trick-or-treat night.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have to get me some. Where’s your mom?”

“She had to go back to work for something. Mrs. Ridenour’s here until she gets back. What’s in the box?”

“Something for you guys my brothers and I made.”

“For us? What is it?”

“Let’s go in. I’ll show all of you.”

Harry bolted to the door, shouting as he shoved it open. “Beckett’s here! He’s got something for us in a box.”

It sounded like a stampede. Alva came out from the kitchen as the boys raced from different directions to surround him.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise? Boys, inside voices. Clare had to run to the bookstore. You just missed her.”

“I’m just dropping something off for the kids.”

“He made it with his brothers,” Harry said. “What is it?”

“Let’s take a look.” He crouched on the floor, put the box down, took off the lid.

“Wow.” Liam’s tone was reverent.

“Those look like . . .” Alva shook her head at Beckett.

“You made coffins?”

“Yeah.” He grinned at Harry. “Heroes and villains all deserve a decent burial, right, guys?”

“What are these?” Liam picked up a miniature headstone. “Like their shields?”

“Not exactly. Those are the headstones. You mark the grave with them so you know who’s buried where.”

Liam stared at Beckett with a nearly religious fever. “This is awesome .”

“They have their symbols on them and everything.” Murphy lifted a coffin out, opened and closed the lid on its tiny hinges. “This is for Batman.”

“This is the Hulk’s. See, it’s bigger like he is.” Harry studied it, then Beckett. “How did you know how big?”

“Measured.” He poked Harry in the belly.

“This is the coolest ever.” Overcome, Liam launched himself at Beckett. “We never had anything like this. Can we bury them? For real?”

“That’s the idea.”

“In the sandbox, for now,” Alva warned. “No digging in the yard.”

“We gotta go get the dead guys.” Harry dashed to the playroom.

“We got more upstairs.” Liam charged up the steps.

Murphy took out coffins, headstones, examining each one. “Here’s for Moon Knight and for Captain America and the Green Lantern.”

“Bad guys in there, too.”

“Mrs. Ridenour?” Harry poked out of the playroom. “Can we have something to carry them all out? The ones who aren’t dead have to go to the burying.”

“Yes, I’m sure they’d want to pay their respects. I’ll get you something.” She shook her head at Beckett again, walked back to the kitchen.

Murphy stacked coffins, opened and closed lids. “We have to decide who got killed in the war and who didn’t. My daddy got killed in the war.”

“I know.” What did he say, how did he say it? Jesus, what had he been thinking, making coffins for kids with a dead father? “I’m sorry.”

“He was a hero.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I didn’t get to meet him first ’cause I wasn’t borned yet. Mom says he loves me anyway.”

“Count on it. I knew your dad.”

Somber interest gazed out of Murphy’s eyes. “You did?”

“We went to school together.”

“Were you his friend?”

They hadn’t really hung out together, but Beckett thought of the night they’d TP’d Mr. Schroder’s house, and the night they’d celebrated the event. “Yeah.”

“Did you go when they buried him?”

“Yeah, I did.” Horrible day, Beckett remembered. In every possible way.

“That’s good, ’cause your friends are supposed to be there.” He smiled, beautifully, then clambered up. “I’m gonna take them outside to the sandbox.” He tried to lift the box, gave a puppy-dog look. “It’s too heavy.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I got them, Harry!” Liam ran down with a small red basket, loaded with figures.

“Get your jackets.” Alva stood outside the playroom. “There’s a nip in the air.”

“Beckett’s bringing the coffins!” Murphy ran after his brothers. “I wanna dig! I get to dig!”

Beckett picked up the box. “I guess you heard that.”

“It breaks your heart.”

“I didn’t think when we made these they’d make him think about what happened to Clint. I should have.”

“Nonsense. Those boys have a normal fascination with war and death, villainy. They know it’s just pretend. They’re well-adjusted, healthy young boys. Clare’s a fine, fine mother.”

“I know. She really is.”

“Being a fine mother, she makes sure those boys know their father was a good man, a loving father, and that he died in the service of his country. And now Murphy knows that you were there when his daddy was laid to rest. That his father’s friend is his friend, too. That’s a good thing, Beckett.”

“I just don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Even superheroes make mistakes, or they wouldn’t have to be buried in handmade coffins in the sandbox. Do you plan to wait for Clare?”

“Yeah, since I’m here anyway, I thought I would.”

“That’s another good thing. I’ll just go on home then, and leave the boys and the funeral arrangements to you.”

She patted his cheek on the way to the door. “She’s got chicken thawing. I’d say there’s enough to stretch for one more.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Ridenour.”

“You can start calling me Alva now. School’s been out a long time.”

Avery chewed over the incident with Sam Freemont all day, and the more she chewed, the more she worried.

“He’s always been arrogant,” she told Hope. “Even as a kid.”

Hope held out her hand for another picture hanger. “She should’ve reported it.” Setting it on the mark she’d made, Hope nailed the hanger on the wall.

“Maybe. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I realize she should have. I get why she didn’t, didn’t want to.” Uneasy, Avery paced to the window just as Hope held out her hand for the print she wanted to hang. “It’s weird calling the cops on somebody you’ve known most of your life. Even if he is a flaming asshole.”

Hope stepped off the stool, picked up the print, climbed back up to hang it. “From what you’ve told me, he sounds like a stalker.”

“I don’t know, that sounds extreme.” But worry took on jagged edges that churned in her stomach.

Hope retrieved a small level. After setting it on the top of the frame, she tapped the right side until the bubbles lined up. “You said he’s asked her out again and again, drops by her house, by the store at closing when she’s there. What else? Oh yeah, flowers on her birthday, and he just happened to be on the spot a couple times when she’s hauling groceries in the house.”

“ ‘Let me help you with those, little lady.’ ” Avery nodded. “That’s true. But it’s not like he’s got a shrine to her in his bedroom closet.”

“How do you know?”

“If he has a shrine, trust me, it’s to himself. But still, he scared her today, and what I saw was definitely over the line.” She rubbed her arms as she paced. “Do you really think he’d try something? I mean, something more than annoying, boring, and creepy?”