I woke up at 3 a.m. with a full bladder and an empty bed. After using the bathroom I tugged a sweater on over my nightgown. Stepping around Stella, who was sprawled in the hallway snoring, I went in search of Raylan. I found him on the deck, beer in hand, staring out at the moon shining on the water. The laptop Mama kept in the kitchen was on the seat beside him. I moved it to the table and sat next to him, curling one leg under me.

"Surfing for porn?" I gestured at the computer.

A grin teased the corners of his mouth, then vanished. "I wish." He took a long drag from the beer.

"Sorry about earlier," I said. "Mama's interruption kind of snapped me out of the mood."

"It's alright," he said. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead. "You're right, anyway. We probably oughta take it slow this time." His hand came to rest on my belly. "We got the perfect excuse."

I lay my head against his shoulder. "I just want to be sure, Raylan. It isn't gonna be just us anymore."

"I know." I felt the breath go out of him. "But you know, there ain't no such thing as a sure thing, right? All our 'issues' ain't just gonna go away."

I smiled. "Oh, we have 'issues'? What? You're readin' self-help books now?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do." I nodded. "If we do this again - if we decide to make it work - I'm not goin' anywhere. I promise." I turned my head to look into his eyes. "But you have to make me a promise, too."

"O-kay," he said, hesitant.

"You have to talk to me. What's going on? You were quiet all through dinner. You hardly said a word and your eyes were on Glen anytime you thought he wasn't lookin'. Then I find you out here in the middle of the night with the laptop. I know you hate computers. What did Dan tell you?"

Raylan's chin dropped and he shook his head, weary. After a moment he took a deep breath. "Promise you'll let me finish?"

I nodded. "What have you found out, Raylan?"

"Glen's real name is Walter Jaworski. He's a DEA agent. Sorta."

I leaned back against the cushion to watch his face in the light from the kitchen. "Sorta?"

"When I was gettin' those shorts..."

"You mean when you were searching my mother's bedroom."

Another sigh. "I found a wallet in the closet. It belonged to a Meghan Jaworski."

"Oh, my God, he's married, isn't he? Mama is gonna be..."

He did that clenching thing with his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me. "Let me tell you the whole story, okay? He's not married, and honestly," Raylan pushed to his feet and started pacing in front of me, one hand on his hip the other wrapped around the beer bottle. "I think he really cares about your mama. No, this Meghan was his daughter."

I shivered, even though it was far from cold. "Was?"

"She was murdered two years ago." He finished the beer and set the bottle down.

I listened while Raylan told me the rest of what he knew. Some was fact, but a lot more was what he and Dan thought was probably going on. "So you think he's trying to get at this Reyes guy?"

"He thinks Reyes murdered his daughter, so, yeah, I think he's got somethin' goin'. I just can't figure out what it is."

"We have to tell Mama."

"Not yet."

"Raylan, she deserves to know that he's not..."

He pointed a finger at me. "What? We don't know enough to..."

"We know he's not who he says he is! That's more than enough."

"So what? She kicks him out? Then any chance of figurin' out what he's up to goes right out the window. She's not in any danger. Give me a day or two."

I thought about it. I wasn't exactly anxious to tell my mother we'd been investigating her boyfriend, even if our suspicions had turned out to be warranted. Why not let her be happy for a few more days?

"Alright."

Raylan stared at me, surprised. "Really? You won't tell her?"

"No." I shook my head. "When the time comes, we'll tell her together."

"Or," he said. "Maybe Glen will tell her himself."

"That'd be even better." I stifled a yawn. "Come on, Cowboy, let's try to get some sleep." I figured he'd turn me down, but after he put the laptop back in the kitchen, he followed me to the bedroom. I patted the space beside me and he stripped down to his boxers and crawled in, throwing an arm around me. He was asleep long before I was.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Bright sunlight was streaming in the windows when I woke up again. I used the bathroom, ran a brush through my hair, and slipped into one of the sundresses hanging in the closet. The smell of coffee lured me to the kitchen.

"Hey," Raylan said. He raised an eyebrow and I looked from him to my mother. I barely registered her red eyes and the tissue clutched in her hand before she spoke.

"Glen didn't come home last night," she said, her voice small. "I knew rehearsal might run late, so I went to bed. Sometimes he stays at Dave's but he always calls or texts me to let me know. He knows I worry." Her face turned up to mine. "Should I call the police? Maybe he was in an accident."

I stole a sideways glance at Raylan. "Maybe his phone went dead," I said.

"Oh!" Mama brightened. "That could be. He's always forgetting to charge it." Then her face fell. "But why wouldn't he just borrow Dave or Benny's?"

"If he's anything like me, he doesn't know anyone's number anymore," I reassured her again. "If I ever lost my phone, you and Gayle are the only people I could call."

"Do you have a number for any of the guys in the band?"

Mama shook her head. "I don't think so. I've never had any reason to call them."

"Have you tried calling him?" Raylan said.

"Of course I did," Mama snapped. "First thing. It went straight to voice mail."

I patted her arm and crossed to the counter to make myself a cup of coffee. "Well, that's what mine does when the battery runs out. I'm sure he'll walk in anytime now."

But he didn't. The morning came and went. By mid-afternoon, Mama was in a cleaning frenzy, her usual response to any type of emotional stress. The week my father packed up and left eight years ago, she cleaned the windows on their two-story house in Louisville inside and out. Twice.

Now she was vacuuming the living room for the third time.

Raylan set his cellphone down on the counter. "I called Craig Richardson at the sheriff's office. He checked the accident reports from last night and there's no report of an accident involving his truck. No one matching Glen's description is in jail or in the morgue."

"That's good, I guess." I winced and blew out a breath, easing my bulk into the nearest chair. Our baby girl was weighing heavy on me today. I rubbed my stomach in slow circles.

"You okay?"

"Braxton Hix," I said.

Raylan just stared. I guess he hadn't gotten that far in the baby book.

"They're contractions, but nothing to worry about. Most women have them. Can you get me a glass of water? Sometimes that helps."

He got water from the fridge and sat down across from me. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." I hooked a thumb toward the living room where the vacuum droned on. "I'm worried about her though. Maybe we should tell her what we know."

"Let's give it until tonight," Raylan said. "Can you distract her for a bit, maybe get her to take a walk on the beach?"

"You want to search through Glen's stuff again, don't you?"

He nodded. "I want to see if I missed anything."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"I'm sure there's an explanation," I said, digging my toes into the sand. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Didn't Judy say he had a place over in Pompano Beach? Maybe he went there to get something."

Mama stood with her arms wrapped around herself, watching Stella romp in the surf. The dog brought a soggy tennis ball and dropped it at her feet, her whole body wiggling in anticipation. Mama picked up the ball and threw it again.

"I don't think so. Something's going on. I didn't want to see it, but Glen's been acting different - distracted." Her voice broke. "I think he might be seeing someone else."

I started to put my arm around her, but let it fall to my side, I felt too guilty for keeping what we knew from her. "No, Mama, I don't think that's it." Stella returned, this time dropping the ball in front of me and depositing a huge glop of drool on my foot. She panted happily. I patted her head and tossed the ball as far as I could.

"Then what is it?" Mama twisted around to face me. "Raylan called that friend of his...there's no accidents, nothing at any of the hospitals? What am I supposed to think?"

"Does Glen have money problems? When Gary..." I began.

"Glen is nothing like that idiot you married. Not to speak ill of the dead, but I never did see whatever it was you saw in him."

She didn't know the half of it. "I was only saying that Gary used to act distracted and distant when money was tight. Maybe Glen is the same way."

"He hasn't said anything. The house is mine, you know, so all I pay is the upkeep. He's insisted on paying all the utilities since he's been living here most of the time, and we both buy groceries."

There was so much I didn't know about this whirlwind relationship, now, with the revelations about Glen's real identity I felt even more protective of my mother. "When did he move in, Mama?"

She dropped her head, flushing. Even her ears turned pink. "About a month after we met." Hugging herself tighter she took a few steps until the waves lapped at her feet. I followed her. "I suppose it was foolish, but I fell pretty hard; we both did, and it seemed silly to waste time worrying about being 'proper'."

"Who suggested him moving in?" I pressed. Stella had lost interest in fetch and was busy digging a hole in the sand a few feet away.

"I did," she sighed. "Can you believe it?" She glanced up at me. "The band started playing around here pretty exclusively and the drive back to the East Coast was getting to him. We joked about it for a week or so and then I just flat out asked him if he wanted to bring some of his stuff and stay here." Her eyes slid to the dog and the huge hole she'd managed to dig in just a few minutes. "Stella! Come."

The dog raised her head, stared at my mother and trotted over, flopping down at our feet with a sigh. "At least I know he's coming back eventually," Mama said, stooping to pet the dog. "He'd never leave Stella."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Raylan slipped out of Mama and Glen's room just as I came down the hall. "That was close," I said. "Did you find anything else?"

"Nope." He leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. "But wherever Glen went, he took his gun and that roll of money I found yesterday with him."

"Oh," I said. "That doesn't sound good."

I followed Raylan into our bedroom. He looked at his watch, then grabbed his hat and keys from the dresser. He slid the hat on.

"Where are you going?"

He held up a driver's license showing a smiling young woman. "I'm gonna go talk to Meghan's fiance."

"Raylan, are you really gonna get involved in this?"

He jabbed a finger at me. "You are the one who got me involved in this, remember? And now, when I wanna figure out what's goin' on, and maybe save Glen or Walter from whatever-the-hell he's doin' you want me to stop."

I bit my lip. I hated it when he was right. I tried a different angle. "But you're suspended. Won't Art get mad?"

"I ain't gonna arrest anyone. I'm not even goin' in as a U.S. Marshal since I don't have a badge. I just wanna talk to the guy. Art's got nothin' to say about what I do on my own time."

"This boyfriend of hers, isn't he connected to that Miami guy who tried to kill you?"

"Gio Reyes." Raylan nodded. "Marco's his son, but they aren't close. Kinda like me and Arlo. Son's a lawyer. Good guy, from what we know."

I studied him. He was a good guy, too. I just wished he didn't feel like he always had to go proving it. "Okay." I took a deep breath and leaned in to give him a kiss. "I trust you."

He looked into my eyes for a moment and his fingers stroked my jaw. Then he kissed me again, deeper this time, one arm sliding down my back, holding me close. We leaned into each other for a long moment. When he pulled away, he patted my belly.

"You be good for your mama now, little Franny. No more fake contractions. You gotta bake awhile longer." He kissed me again, quick on the mouth.

"Be careful, Cowboy," I said.

"Yes, ma'am," He ran his fingers along the brim of the hat and gave me a grin on his way out the door.