QUOTE : Molly, I need you to answer me, hon.” She swallowed. One more moment of silence and Bailey would bust in . . . and get shot in the process. “I’ll be careful. I’m just . . . I’m sleepy. Don’t worry about me.” “I’ll go, but some good news first. Michael’s saddlebags were as loaded down as a Wells Fargo coach. That must be the money Russell stole. Your pa will be happy.” The pistol was lying on the floor now, although still in his grip. It was an odd-shaped gun. Her head cocked. “And finding the gun will clear Anne of murdering Mr. Nimenko,” she said. “What?” “The strange gun. The missing foreign gun of Mr. Nimenko.” Michael’s head bolted upright. He lifted the gun and pointed it at her again. “If you find it, I mean. If you find Mr. Nimenko’s gun, then everyone will know that Anne is innocent.” Silence. “I’ve got to go,” Bailey said. “I’d better join the others.” His fingers tapped against the door. “I love you.” Molly froze, unable to answer. Michael’s eyes turned into mean slits. “Answer him,” he mouthed, “now.” She looked away and tried to forget the murderous weapon pointed in her direction. One slide of Michael’s slippery gloves and she was dead. She might never have another opportunity. “I love you, too, Bailey.” The tapping stilled. “Good night, Molly.” And he was gone.