"I love it here and so did Martha. I'd never stop crying if I had to leave. God, I'll miss her! I could have killed her when she tried to seduce you but then I realized, that was the way she was."

"You're very forgiving," I told my wife.

"I wouldn't have been so forgiving if you went through with it!" She turned and kissed me. "She didn't mean anything by it and she loves you, just not in that way and she was very drunk."

If my wife was so sympathetic, shouldn't I be too? Martha was hurting that night, and she turned to me, albeit in an uncommon way. I wasn't ready to dwell on motives or feelings so I changed the subject.

"I never did find out what Howie told Detective Jackson but whatever was said, it put Jackson in a tizzy. Thankfully, Brennan or someone he contacted straightened Jackson out. He wasn't happy to be left out of the loop but at least he believed me and came around."

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"Does Jackson know about Howie's capabilities?" Betsy glanced up to oversee Molly's culinary activities.

"It seems so, but I'd write him down as a none-believer. I don't think we have any worries that he'll make any public announcements about psychic activities in his jurisdiction." I poured us a second glass of wine as Betsy leaned back and closed her eyes, finally relaxing.

"I don't know what's going to happen Ben, but I want to stay here in Keene. I love my home and I'll fight not to give it up. I refuse to walk away like Quinn and Martha and I won't let some bastard chase me out." She opened her eyes, looking for my approval.

I thought about what my wife said as I looked around our beautiful property. "We did our duty; paid our dues. I can't think of a nicer reward than remaining here. I love it."

After somewhat blackened hot dogs and some canned beans simmered nearby, we returned to the house and left the backyard to the emerging mosquitos.

"I guess we owe it to Howie and Julie to hear what they have to say," I said as we settled in the living room. Betsy agreed but suggested we wait until Molly finished her bath so she could speak with her mother first.

"I hope Howie has come to his senses and booked his flight back," Betsy said, then added, "But I'll miss Molly like she was my own."

The pretty young girl materialized, hair wet and smiling, dressed in a new bathrobe Betsy had purchased. "I'll miss you too," she said as I dialed Julie's number and handed her the phone.




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