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made shots unnecessary. However, it was important to pay attention to his blood-sugar levels. The automatic dose could cause problems if the boy neglected to eat regularly. “Can I see him in the clinic before you go? It might be a wise precaution.”

      “You bet,” Ethan responded. “He’ll still visit his medical team in Nashville, but I’m delighted to have a pediatrician nearby. By the way, if there’s anything I can do to help you settle in, please ask.”

      “Actually, there might be.” This seemed the perfect opening for a touchy subject. “I’m concerned about a rumor Barry Lowell may be spreading.”

      “You mean his crackpot theory that you sneaked back and committed murder?” Ethan dismissed it with a snort. “He filled me in. Don’t worry. He has no evidence, and there’s zero danger of my reopening a fifteen-year-old case based on speculation.”

      “Other folks might not be so objective.” Chris downed a bite of sandwich before adding, “I’d hate for it to harm the clinic.”

      “I doubt that’ll happen,” Ethan said. “He mentioned this idea to me privately. I don’t think he’s broadcasting it.”

      Chris wondered what sort of person Barry had become, other than attempting to sic the police on an old friend simply for testifying to the truth. Prison must have been a painful experience. He hoped it hadn’t warped the man entirely.

      “How do you get along with him?” he asked Ethan. “I mean, he does edit the paper, so you must butt heads occasionally.”

      The chief grinned. “He tries his best to drum up controversial stories about the police, and I withhold my press releases until five minutes before his deadline. We enjoy driving each other crazy.”

      Chris appreciated the man’s sense of humor. “Sounds like you have an interesting relationship.”

      “I don’t consider him a danger to the community.” Ethan’s expression sobered. “But if he threatens you, let me know. While I’m gone, Captain Ben Fellows will be in charge.” Ben, who also doubled as part-time pastor, was married to Estelle, the nurse practitioner. In such a small town, everyone seemed to be related to someone.

      “I’ll do that.” The mere mention of danger chilled Chris’s mood. “Do you really think Barry will keep pushing this?”

      “Frankly, I hope that once he gets over your arrival, he’ll decide to move on with his life,” the chief said.

      “Me, too.” But the teenage Barry hadn’t envisioned himself stuck in a small town, editing his parents’ weekly, Chris knew. Perhaps, by trying to clear his own name, moving on with his life was exactly what Barry was trying to do.

      A few minutes later, Ethan departed with his wife. As Chris reviewed their discussion, the idea of scouring police reports to confirm his innocence seemed unnecessary.

      Maybe he should leave the whole business alone. As Ethan had said, once Barry adjusted to Chris’s presence in the community, he might decide it was time to quit raking over the past.

      That would be a blessing for everyone.

      BARRY SLAMMED A BOX of advertising flyers onto the front counter of the Gazette. It was Saturday, past the deadline for Tuesday’s paper, but he’d come in to handle some of the other publishing tasks that kept the business profitable. “It’s bad enough he’s wormed his way into the clinic. Does Mom have to take his side, too?”

      “She didn’t take his side.” Karen had been fighting this battle with her brother ever since she’d brought Renée home for dinner last night. “She just wants you to be happy.”

      “I realize that.” He glanced with embarrassment at the dent he’d put in a corner of the cardboard box. “I hate to see her upset. Chris’s return has made the whole situation worse.”

      “I don’t think she’s upset.” Realizing how tense he’d become, Karen dropped the subject and went back to typing the Community Center schedule into the computer. The Gazette had needed a little extra typing, so she’d offered to do it.

      Since they shared their family’s two-story house, the siblings frequently came to each other’s aid. Barry, who’d learned carpentry in prison, helped out around the nursing home and Karen assisted the paper not only with typing but also occasional bookkeeping. Plus, as the owner of a one-quarter interest in the business, she had a personal stake.

      Their two-person family would feel more complete if their mother would move back in with them, but she preferred the Tulip Tree. Karen could see her point: she enjoyed twenty-four-hour nursing care, as well as a lot of friends, and, of course, her daughter’s proximity.

      Usually, Renée avoided the subject of Barry’s quest. But at Friday night’s dinner, she’d spontaneously brought up the subject of Chris McRay.

      “I always liked him,” she’d told Barry. “Neither of you boys intended to harm anyone that night, and events must have been confusing. While I agree with you that the whole story has yet to emerge, that doesn’t mean he was lying.”

      Barry had had to struggle with himself to avoid an argument, Karen could see. Thank goodness Renée had dropped the subject.

      Much as she loved her son, she didn’t fully understand how much he’d suffered. After prison, during his years of wandering, he hadn’t wanted to burden his widowed mother, so Karen had become the person he relied on. During long phone conversations, it was she to whom he’d spilled his despair and who had sometimes spent hours talking him out of the black moods that threatened to overwhelm him.

      When Renée’s accident had brought him back to Downhome, Karen had watched him face down the skeptics and struggle to run the Gazette. Several times, when doors had been slammed in his face and subscriptions had been dropped, he’d nearly given up, but she wouldn’t let him. Eventually, the prejudice had eased, and the readers, eager for local news and drawn by his lively reporting, had returned.

      But Barry still had his dark moments, his inner demons. Karen could never abandon him, because he needed her.

      “I’ve got to deliver these flyers to Archie Rockwell.” He picked up the box. “How much more typing do you have?”

      “I’m done.” Karen knew he wanted to lock up, and besides, she had finished. “I’ll go with you.”

      “Great. Thanks for the help, by the way.” Barry cast her one of his rare smiles. Noting how it transformed him, she wished other people could see how handsome he looked. It was too bad that her brother’s brooding temperament and the prison-inflicted scar on his forehead frightened off the eligible women in town. Falling in love might be exactly what he needed.

      On the other hand, love didn’t always work out, she reflected, and logged off the system.

      They set out into the crisp March sunshine. The Gazette’s wood-sided office lay adjacent to the Green and across a cul-de-sac from the Café Montreal. Beneath a striped awning, customers enjoyed the outdoor eating, their voices creating a convivial hum.

      “Maybe I’ll grab a bite on the way home,” Barry was saying, when he stopped cold.

      With a sinking sensation, Karen saw why. In the playground ahead, Chris McRay whizzed down a slide with a gleeful toddler on his lap.

      Hitting the bottom, he scooped up the child. “What a brave boy!”

      “Again!” the tot demanded.

      “No, me!” interjected another youngster.

      “So much for the old saying about kids and dogs being good judges of character,” Barry muttered.

      Apparently catching sight of them, Chris set down the little boy and brushed off his slacks, then assumed a watchful air.

      Karen could feel her brother trying to decide between ignoring the interloper and confronting him. “Better to shake hands and get it over with,” she advised. “You two are bound to

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