(Disclaimers with Part 1)

"Fateful Hours" Part 3 by HawkMoth

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The wail of the sirens grew ominously closer, then faded off in a different direction as there was a loud knock at the front door. They heard Devlin answer the summons, and a moment later he ushered three lawmen into the parlor. Two of them fell back into position on either side of the doorway, holding stun rifles barrel-up at the ready.

A furtive glance told Mal that they weren't the ones he had talked to in the street outside the cafe. But the one in the lead--

"Sorry to intrude when you've got guests, Pastor," he said, not sounding all that apologetic, "but this is a bad business."

Mal recognized him as the tall bearded officer he and Zoe had seen in the park before all hell had broken loose. He was pretty sure they hadn't gotten close enough for the man to recollect his face, but couldn't remember clearly enough if he'd been one of the group who'd chased after them. Some of what had happened was still a blur in his mind, and it was unsettling. He concentrated on keeping his outward appearance composed.

"Not at all, Sheriff Owens," Devlin answered readily. "We heard the commotion--I take it there was some trouble at the rally?"

"Way too much of it," he replied, letting his gaze fall appraisingly on the two visitors. "Someone didn't want young Langston to attend, and spooked a whole lot of innocent citizens in the process."

"Oh, my," Book interjected with pious alarm and sincerity. "Was anyone hurt?"

The sheriff turned to him, one hand resting with confident ease on the butt of his holstered weapon. "There were a few casualties," he said tightly.

"Could we be of any help?" Mal piped up, aiming for the same concerned tone. "Bring some comfort to the injured?"

"The only comfort those folks need is for us to be apprehending the ones that caused them harm," Owens declared with some heat, regarding him shrewdly.

Mal dredged up a nervous, placid smile, keenly aware that Book was not pl