Dr. Sable Chamberlin had begun to detest her telephone's ring tone. Not only did she hate the harsh sound, but the ring often summoned her to the Boswell Community Hospital for an emergency. Being on call sixty hours a week had gotten old. She wasn't on call this evening, however; she was in mourning.

She slid the cordless receiver from the stand on the counter and pressed the answer button, glancing through her kitchen window at the lightning over the company town of Freemont, Oklahoma. It seemed much later than six o'clock on this February evening.

"Sable, that you?" The voice of her elderly friend, Noah Erwin, held comfort.

"Hi, Noah."

"How'd the funeral go?"

She closed her eyes, tears still close. Her grandfather, Josiah Kessinger, had been the reason for her move to Freemont from her home in the Missouri Ozarks.

"It went, Noah."

"Hard, huh?"

"Especially the accusations against him."

"All false," Noah said.

"I know." Her grandfather's death on Monday had coincided with a rumor of fraud. Sable had also been implicated in the alleged deception. Since she and her grandfather weren't natives of this tightly knit mining community, they made easy targets, it seemed.

"You just get back to town?" Noah asked.

"Yes, I have a shift tomorrow." Saturday was a busy day at the clinic. "What's up?"

"I have a package that was sent to you in care of my address. I'd bring it to you, but my truck's in for repairs."

"From whom?"

"Josiah."

"Grandpa?"

"It's his writing. No name on the return address, but it's stamped Eagle Rock, Missouri."

"Would you open it, please?" Sable asked. "If it's something important, I'll drive out."

She heard a ripping sound. Noah said something under his breath, and then paused. The pause became a protracted silence.

"Noah?"

"Lord help us all," he murmured.

"What?"

Noah continued to mutter as paper rustled. Sable didn't rush him. He'd been her patient since her second day on the job at the Freemont clinic. He'd also become the most important influence in her life here. Because of Noah, she and Grandpa had found hope for the future—and a whole new reason for living.

"Sable, you'd better come on out," Noah said at last.

"Something's up. I knew Josiah had a lot on his mind, but the old rascal never was much for sharing his thoughts."

"What is it?"

"You should see the stuff he's dug up," Noah said. "Papers and letters about dirty deals, pictures, reports."

"Dirty deals? What kind of—"

"You might think about packing your bags and heading back to Missouri," Noah said. "Here's one of those sticky notes. Says these are copies. Originals in Missouri. You got any idea where—" He broke off.

"Noah?"

"Thought I heard something."

"Like what?" This felt increasingly bad.

"Probably the wind. Just get out here, okay? Josiah hinted about spies amongst us, and—" He broke off again. "What was that noise?" Silence, then, distantly, "Hello? Who's there?"

She gripped the receiver and took a slow, steady breath. Just the wind.

Noah came back on the line. "Sorry about that. I'm a little jumpy is all."

"I'll call the police."