“Firebomb,” Steve said. “If we’d been in the living room, we’d be dead.”

Daisy had her arm around Kevin. She was ready to pay serious attention to the threats. The phone call had been almost laughable, and the intruder might have been a random burglary, but this vicious act of vengeance couldn’t be denied.

There was a dark blue-and-white squad car angled into the curb, behind the one remaining fire truck. A tan late-model sedan pulled in next to the squad car and two men got out. Detectives, Daisy decided, noting the street clothes on the men and the antennae on the sedan. They approached a uniformed cop and a discussion followed. Daisy caught one of the men looking over at her. His face was impassive, his mouth grim. His shirt had lost its starch hours ago, his suit slacks had begun to bag in the seat, his brown shoes carried a film of dust. He’d had a long day, Daisy thought.

FairfaxCounty wasn’t exactly the crime center of the universe, but she supposed it had its share of break-ins, forgeries, and occasional arson. Probably it didn’t get many firebombings. Maybe the detective in the baggy pants would be excited to get a firebombing assigned to him. From the slump of his shoulders Daisy guessed excitement wasn’t part of his present emotional makeup. He flicked her another speculative look, and she decided pain-in-the-behind was about the way he’d sized her up. When he started across the lawn toward her, she plastered her best social-worker smile into place.

“Lieutenant Walker,” he said, extending his hand, first to Steve, then to Daisy. “I understand you’ve been threatened before?” he said to Daisy. “I’ll need a detailed statement from you.”

Twenty minutes later he whistled through his teeth and closed his notebook. “You consider going on a cruise? Maybe spending a month in Disneyland?”

“I’m this close to my doctorate,” Daisy said, measuring the air with her thumb and forefinger. “I can’t leave now. I’m in the middle of my dissertation. And who would take over my crossing-guard job or my job at the nursing home? Who would do the traffic reporting?”

“Lady, you don’t leave town, and you’re going to be doing the traffic report from graveside.”

Daisy narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to be intimidated by some sleaze.”

Walker gave a long, loud sigh. “How’d I know you were going to say that?” He looked at Steve. “Can’t you talk some sense into her?”

Steve gave Walker a what-are-you-from-the-moon? look.

“Yeah,” Walker said.

Elsie stepped up to him. Her hair sprang from her scalp in tufts, flecked with foam from the extinguishers, her face was splotched with black soot, and her sneakers were soaked.

“Elsie Hawkins,” she said, holding out her hand. “Rough and Ready Security Guard. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m on duty here. And not only am I going to protect Daisy, but I’m going to get this guy. He’s gone too far this time. I waited all week to see that show on giraffes, and that son of a squirrel made me miss it. Blew up the living room during the opening credits. Some people have no consideration.”

Daisy could see the incredulity register on Walker’s face, and she watched in amusement as he lifted his eyes to Steve in silent question.

Elsie noticed his skepticism. “Listen, sonny,” she said to Walker, “I may be old, but I’m not stupid. I know my way around the block pretty good. As long as it don’t rain I’m almost as good as new.”

“Rain?” he said dully, eyes slightly glazed.

“Arthritis, you ninny. Old people get arthritis when it rains. Never had it so bad before, but this dang steel hip isn’t all healed over yet…” She made an impatient sound and waved him away. “I got better things to do than to stand here gabbing. I bet everything I own smells like it’s been barbecued.”

Steve stood in the shower and let the water beat against him. He shook his head like a dog in a rainstorm and ordered his body to wake up. Firebomb or not, this was Daisy’s fun day, and he intended to be downstairs making French toast when Daisy came back from jogging. He couldn’t remember if he’d washed his hair, so he washed it again.

Daisy had been assigned twenty-four-hour protection. Steve thought about the cop who had accompanied Daisy on her jog, Officer Schmidt. The man had been on duty all night. Steve felt a little better knowing the poor guy was undoubtedly in more agony than he was. He toweled off, dressed in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, and padded down to the kitchen.

He had the table set and the French bread sliced when Daisy returned. She’d tied her hair back into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup, slightly flushed, glowing with health and a sheen of perspiration. Steve felt a ridiculous stab of guilt over his body’s instant and soon-to-be-obvious reaction to a woman who could easily be mistaken for sixteen. Schmidt was just five steps behind her, breathing hard. So much for my fantasy life, Steve thought, handing Daisy a glass of orange juice.

He offered juice to the cop, but the man waved it away. Steve saw his eyes slide to the coffee brewing on the counter. “Coffee?”

The answer was an affirmative grunt. The cop was wearing jeans and running shoes and a T-shirt that was soaked through. He had his gun and a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “No one told me I was going to have to run a damn marathon at five in the morning,” he managed between breaths.

Daisy sipped her orange juice. “Usually Elsie runs with me,” she gleefully lied, “but I thought I’d give her the morning off since she was up so late doing laundry last night.”

“The old lady?” That elicited another grunt. “You’re kidding, right?”

Steve gave him the coffee and clapped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “The Roach trial’s only a month away.”

“I’ll never make it.”

There were light steps on the stairs, and Elsie came into the kitchen. “Smelled the coffee,” she said. She looked over Steve’s shoulder. “French toast? Isn’t that a nice treat on a Sunday morning.” Her eyes fastened on the cop at the table. “What happened to him?”

“Went jogging with Daisy,” Steve said.

Elsie made a derisive sound. “They don’t make cops like they used to.”

Steve mounded half a loaf of fried bread on a plate, poured syrup over it and gave it to Bob. He mixed up more egg while the next batch sizzled in the skillet.

He was beginning to get excited about his plans for the day. When he’d proposed a fun day he hadn’t really had anything specific in mind. Then the perfect day had come to him in a flash in the middle of the night. He was going to do something he’d been wanting to do for fifteen years. He was going to take everyone to an amusement park. Every summer he had the urge to go, but he’d never been able to come up with a comfortable excuse for indulging himself. Now he had a fourteen-year-old kid, an overworked woman, and Elsie. He didn’t know how to categorize Elsie. Elsie was in a class all her own.

He handed over a plate of French toast to Daisy and groaned when Kevin thundered down the stairs. Good thing he’d bought lots of bread.

By eight-thirty everyone was fed, showered, properly clothed in shorts and sneakers, and assembled on the front lawn.

“My partner and I will follow in our own car,” Schmidt said. “Try not to lose us.”

Elsie was wearing long red shorts and a wide-brimmed white canvas hat. She opened her big black pocketbook and Daisy and Steve both jumped back a foot. “Just looking for the coupons,” she said, fishing around. “I got coupons at the food store. Four dollars off admission.” She found two of them and handed them over to Schmidt.

Schmidt looked uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

“That’s okay,” Elsie told him, “but you’re gonna have to do something about your gun. I’m not going on no rides with a man who’s got a lump in his clothes.”

Daisy swallowed back the laughter. It was true. There was an unseemly bulge at Schmidt’s waist, under his yellow jersey. If it was any lower, he’d face arrest on an obscenity charge. As it was, it looked like a hernia gone berserk.

Schmidt colored. “I have a jacket in the car.”

“Better have a hat, too,” Elsie said. “After a couple hours in this sun you’re gonna be able to fry eggs on that bald spot of yours.”

“Ease off,” he told her. “I graduated top of my class in police brutality.”

“Only trying to be helpful,” Elsie said.

A truck pulled into the driveway. The sign on the outside said DIRTY DAN’S HOUSEKEEPING SERVICES. Four people climbed out and started unloading equipment.

“Maybe we should stay home and supervise,” Daisy said.

Steve shook his head. “No need. Dirty Dan cleans the studio, and I’ve used him for two years now to clean my house. Bob’s locked out back, so he won’t be any trouble, and the windows are boarded up until the carpenter can get here tomorrow. Everything’s taken care of. When we get home the house will have been aired and scrubbed. Tomorrow the adjuster will check out the damage, and we’ll figure out insurance.”

Elsie shifted her pocketbook to her shoulder. “What do you say we haul it out of here? You don’t get there early, the lines’ll kill you. I got my heart set on that roller coaster where you stand up. I saw it on TV.”

Chapter 8

Daisy wasn’t sure about the roller coaster. It was one of those high-tech things that curved and looped and catapulted screaming people along a gleaming rail high overhead. An amusement park had sounded like a good idea an hour ago, while they were still en route, but now that she was standing in line she wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since she’d ridden a roller coaster. And she’d never ridden anything like this. She held tight to Steve’s hand and gnawed at her lower lip.

“You okay?” Steve asked. “You look a little pale.”

“It’s just that I’m having so much fun.”

“Maybe we should start off with something smaller.”

Schmidt was standing behind them. His face was tanned, but under the tan he was as pale as Daisy. “Yeah, it might not be a bad idea to start off with something smaller. It isn’t that I’m afraid to do this, but-” A string of cars rocketed past them. “Holy cripes,” Schmidt said, “you have to be nuts to do this!”

Steve was having second thoughts, too. Now he remembered why he avoided this for fifteen years. It was because he had no patience with waiting his turn. “It doesn’t seem right that we should force Officer Schmidt to do this in the line of duty,” he said.

Daisy agreed. It didn’t seem right. “And look how he’s sweating in that jacket,” she said. “We should go buy him something cool to drink. We wouldn’t want him to get dehydrated.”

“Bunch of wimps,” Elsie said. “You go ahead, and Kevin and me’ll meet up with you later.”

They got sodas and Schmidt and his partner dropped behind. “Just pretend we aren’t here,” Schmidt said. “And if you don’t go on any more roller coasters, I’ll do you a favor. I’ll see what I can do about having the old lady committed. I’ve got friends in high places.”

“She doesn’t belong to us,” Daisy told him. “We just hired her to be my bodyguard until the Roach is convicted.”

“You mean she was telling the truth? You actually hired her?”

Steve reached for Daisy’s hand. “I’m going to do my best to ignore him.”

She felt heat flood through her when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. They were following a macadam path that was bordered by flowers and led to more rides. It was a sunny weekend, and the park was crowded with kids and their parents and hordes of teenagers, but in the middle of this sea of bustling humanity they were alone, Daisy thought. People smiled but didn’t stare, didn’t recognize. Everyone was self-absorbed, unwavering in their pursuit of fun. That was perfect, she decided. She enjoyed the intimacy of walking hand in hand with Steve.

They had a strange relationship, she decided. Desire had come before love, although love had quickly followed. The depth of the love she wasn’t able to determine. She was smart enough to know that there were lots of kinds, and falling in love was different from truly loving someone. For now she knew she’d fallen in love, and she intended to keep it at that level. In her mind it didn’t seem to be such a serious emotion. It wasn’t her first experience with infatuation, she told herself. She’d been enamored of other men. She supposed she’d had her heart broken a few times, but she’d never died of it. Actually, if she was to be completely honest, she couldn’t really say her heart had ever been broken-cracked perhaps.

She finished her soda and munched on leftover ice. Music spilled from hidden speakers, mingling with the clatter and roar of the roller coasters. “I think I’m going on sensory overload,” she said to Steve.