Page 46 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

“The newest deputy in town,” Bubba said. “And the youngest. It’s a record.”

All eyes turned to Baxter, and Maria couldn’t wait. Baxter’s hair was dark blond and shaggy. He wore black-rimmed eyeglasses, and whatever clothes he was most comfortable in. Tonight, that was a pair of dark blue warmup pants with loose legs and deep pockets, and a gray T-shirt.

“I’m the oldest. My mom is Jasmine, adopted dad is Luke, a cousin of the elder Brands. I?—”

“Wait. Harry has to guess first.” Maria was holding her hands up between them, like she was preventing a fight. Then she looked at Harry and nodded.

She watched Harry look Baxter over. Baxter leaned back in his lawn chair, long legs outstretched, using a basketball sized rock as a footstool, smirking and sipping his beer.

“I don’t know what kind, but he’s some sort of scientist,” Harry said, and Baxter choked on his beer and almost tipped his chair over. Beside him, Bubba clapped his back. “Easy, there, old man.”

Harry was looking at everyone. “What? Did I get it?”

Bax wiped his mouth. “Biophysicist. How the heck did you?—?”

“Takes one to know one, I guess. What are you working on?”

“Growing food in the desert. You?”

“Making a one-inch-square solar panel that does the work of one sixteen square feet.”

“That’swhat they stole?” Baxter asked. “The folks kept saying solar tile, I was thinking much larger, though. But that’s… that’s a paradigm shift.”

Harry nodded. “And it will be, no matter who takes the credit for it,” he said. “That’s what really matters.”

“I keep tellin’ you,” Maria said, “this isn’t about takin’ credit. Only a scientist would think that way. And how many scientists do you know, goin’ around killin’ people?”

Harry frowned and so did Baxter. They exchanged a look and then a shrug. Around them, everyone was nodding in agreement with Maria’s theory, which was, she thought, obvious.

“That’s too heavy a topic for a campfire, though,” Bubba said, sliding his guitar strap over his head. He began strumming. Everyone sat, or stood, rocking or tapping in time, or just relaxing with their beers. Maria could see Harry beginning to relax.

“I’m beat,” Harry said after another hour. “Don’t let it break up the party. I could listen to you all night, Ethan, but I think I need to turn in.” He got up, then added, “Thank you guys. You’ve been amazing.”

“He’sthankin’us,” Ethan said with an eye roll. “We owe you, Harrison.”

“The guy driving that truck was after me,” Harry replied. “That makes it my fault.”

“Well, it’s my fault you’re here in the first place,” Maria said, “so…” Then she turned to the others. “I’m gonna get him set up in the bunkhouse.”

“Third bunk, bottom,” Drew said. “In deference to you bein’ beat up twice in a row, second time by a truck.” She winked at Maria and said, “You’re on top.”

They started toward the bunkhouse, which was far enough away to keep it safe from any stray campfire sparks. They were nearly there when Willow said, “Hold up.” She’d come after them.

They waited where they were, and she joined them, phone in hand. “Just got a text from Ithaca PD. Preliminary exam shows your friend Solomon died of a heart attack.”

“A heart attack,” Harry repeated.

She nodded. “It’s definite.”

“But his place—” he began.

“Was ransacked, yes,” Willow said, “and there were signs of a physical struggle, but that’s not what killed him. He had a heart defect he probably didn’t even know about.”

“Okay,” Harry said, and then he said it again and met Maria’s eyes. “That’s good news, right? Whoever did this, didn’t kill Solomon.”

“Oh yes, he did,” Maria said. “Just maybe didn’t intend to.”

“Maybe he doesn’t intend to kill Carrie, either.” He closed his eyes. “Thanks, Willow.”

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