Light from the lamp shone out into the alley. Mercy was indeed in her office. Was she alone? He’d stayed away from her for the past twenty-four hours because he wanted to calm down before he spoke to her. But peace had not come near his reach. He had to talk some sense into her. Then maybe he’d calm down. The incident with the firecrackers and the soaped message on her office window, plus the scene in the café the night before, played over and over in his mind. He had said and done little of benefit to Mercy and Indigo in either uncomfortable situation. He must speak to her, reason with her. He must convince her that he had the solution to her problems. Anger had ridden him with its spurs for years now. If he persuaded Mercy, would his lightning-quick temper calm and recede? Would he once again be able to think and act with measured prudence? Lon approached the door and turned the knob. He stepped inside and felt the warmth from the Franklin stove in the corner of the small office.
