Читать книгу Sarah's Secrets - Lisa Childs, Lisa Childs, Livia Reasoner - Страница 11

Sarah Mars. Up close, she resembled the photo he’d found of her. The photo that had brought him to Winter Falls. He had the right one. He knew it in his gut. And his gut instincts had gotten him out of some of the hottest spots in the world.

He had also figured he had her when he’d pulled marriage licenses. As a tracker, he had the most trouble finding women. They married and changed their names, or didn’t. So he’d had to search Sarah Mars as a married name and a maiden name.

He’d found several Sarahs. But only this one had married then buried a man more than twice her age. Was that her angle with his godfather? Marry him for his money, then pull the plug? Then why didn’t she hover by Bart’s bedside with a marriage license and a preacher?

He’d known women like her; he’d come from one. But his mother hadn’t been as lucky or as smart as Sarah. Mother had found nothing sweet about her sugar daddy. So she’d cut her losses and left. She’d looked like an angel, too. Or was that only a little boy’s memory of her?

His fingers still tingled from the contact with Sarah’s silk blouse and the heat of her skin beneath, and he cursed himself for touching her. Raised in a cold, unemotional household, he’d never been given to physical demonstrations. But he hadn’t wanted her to fall on her face either when she’d been shaking so hard.

Dylan coughed. Despite being tired, Royce’s reflexes kept him from jumping.

“Royce, have you calmed her fears?” the sheriff asked.

Sarah’s smoky gray eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “No, he seems convinced this is real, and your presence prevented the kidnapping from taking place.”

She gestured toward the note Dylan had slipped into a plastic evidence bag. “Then what about the note? Explain why they would leave the note in my car when they had not abducted my—”

Her voice broke. Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. “—son.”

“Because they put the note in the car first, convinced they’d be able to grab your son and not have time to leave the note after the kidnapping. The note would keep you close to the phone for their instructions.”

She swayed on her feet again, shaken. Royce fisted his hands and shoved them into his pockets. He wouldn’t touch her again…unless she asked. And a woman like her would never ask a man like him. He hadn’t missed her initial assessment and subsequent dismissal of him. She’d judged him based on his clothes and his looks. And he’d been deemed unworthy of her.

Probably too young, too. He only had a few years on her, not a few decades. He bit the inside of his cheek, ticked at himself for letting her get to him.

“Jeez, Royce, go easy.” Dylan’s voice deepened with warning. He handed over the plastic bag and turned toward his team, calling out a few commands.

Royce whipped off his glasses and tucked one ear-piece in the open collar of his shirt. He waited until he had Dylan’s attention again. “Plain paper, impossible to trace. Stenciled block letters. Tough one. Unless you lift some prints or DNA, you’re not going to learn much from this, man.”

Dylan nodded. “I called in one of my deputies. We’re going to check the car for prints.” He reached for the evidence bag. “And we’ll run this through the lab. Sarah, it’s going to take a while.”

“I don’t want Jeremy to know.” Fear haunted her eyes again.

Royce called himself a fool for doubting her. He’d briefly considered the idea that she may have crafted the note herself in order to get some attention. She wouldn’t have been the first to do so. But a person couldn’t feign the kind of fear haunting her gray eyes. Then he called himself a bigger fool. He’d been duped before and fooled by a woman’s false tears.

“Royce!” From the volume of Dylan’s voice, it wasn’t the first time he’d called his name.

He lifted a brow.

“Can you give them a ride home? I hate to impose. I know you’re pressed for time and looking for someone—”

Dylan stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you looking for? You never said.”

Royce’s pulse jumped. From the protective way the sheriff treated Sarah Mars-Hutchins, Royce figured it wouldn’t matter that they were old friends. If Dylan didn’t think Sarah should leave the state now, he’d get in Royce’s way. And with Bart’s life draining away, he didn’t have much time. He swallowed hard. “We’ll talk about that later.”

When he’d had time to think of the best approach to convince them that Bart’s last wish deserved to be fulfilled. His godfather had to see Sarah Mars. “Right now I’ll drive Sarah and her kid home, no problem.”

The lie burned in his throat because there was someplace farther he’d rather drive her…to a dying man’s bedside. The doctors and his old man were wrong. Bart would come out of the coma…for Sarah Mars.

“You’re sure?”

He fought to not squirm under Dylan’s penetrating stare. He hated putting off revealing the reason for his trip to Winter Falls even for a minute. But a public park was not the place to discuss a dying man’s wish. He nodded.

Sarah gasped. “I can’t believe you’re talking about me as if I’m not here. I don’t know this man—”

Dylan’s hand settled on her shoulder. “But I do, Sarah. I trust him.”

Royce winced, thinking of the conversation to come. Then he turned toward Sarah. “You don’t want the kid to know what’s going on, right?”

When she answered, she spoke slowly as if she suspected Royce was dimwitted. “Of course not. I don’t want to scare him.”

“You mean any more than you already have by running onto the field earlier?”

Her pointed chin tipped up, and her eyes flashed at him. Smarting pride painted her elegant cheekbones a bright pink.

He sighed and mentally kicked himself for being insensitive. But God, he was tired, and her prickliness irritated him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re rattled. But if you don’t want to scare the kid, we need to get him away from here before the car is dusted for prints.”

Dylan nodded. “He’s right, Sarah. You don’t want Jeremy to know there was a threat, especially if it is just some sick joke.”

If. But what if it wasn’t? What did that mean for a man who lay dying in a hospital bed in Milwaukee? Short of kidnapping her, Royce figured he wouldn’t get her out of Winter Falls while her son was in danger. And he didn’t blame her.

But then what did he know about mothers? He’d met some in the course of his job that he’d thought cared about their kids. Then they had proven him pathetically wrong.

Dylan stepped close to him. “You okay, Royce?”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, just tired. Is this game or practice almost over?”

Pulling a whistle from his pocket, Dylan called a stop to the action on the soccer field. As the kids scrambled over, another car entered the lot. Lights flashing, sirens blaring, the patrol cruiser stopped near Sarah’s Mercedes.

“Subtle.” Royce shook his head.

The sheriff sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that deputy.”

First the kids fell silent, then resumed excited chatter. Dylan raised one hand and blew the whistle again. “It’s nothing. Just Deputy Jones.”

Parents who had watched their children or were just arriving to pick them up swarmed the field and the sheriff.

Despite not being familiar with casual touches, Royce found himself cupping Sarah’s elbow and steering her away from the crowd, as much for his protection as hers. During his years with Milwaukee PD and the FBI, he’d done the mob scene. Remembering the crush of bodies, the lack of oxygen, he dragged in a quick breath.

“You don’t need to do this. I can wait. I’ll think of something to tell Jeremy.” She pulled her arm free of his grasp.

The silk slid through Royce fingers, and he dropped his hand back to his side. For some reason he liked touching her. Probably just because it ticked her off. “I agreed to do this. I’m not reneging. Where’s your son?”

He turned to find a boy standing near them, the boy who looked like Dylan. Golden-blond locks stuck to the perspiration on his high forehead. Concern clouded his otherwise bright-blue eyes. “Mom? You okay?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry about earlier…”

“Were you visiting the hospital again? The sick kids?”

“I was at the hospital earlier.”

He offered a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Mom. Totally healthy.”

She laughed. “I know. Hey, you looked good out there.” Her red lips curved into a proud smile, which faltered as she followed her son’s gaze to Royce. “Jeremy, this is Mr. Graham. And this is my son, Jeremy Mars.”

The boy stuck out his hand, an ID bracelet dangling from his wrist. Such an uncomplicated kid. How’d he come from such a complicated mother?

Royce shook her son’s hand. The boy’s grip was firm. “Nice to meet you.”

A thought flitted through Royce’s head and lodged like a cramp in his gut. Dylan had claimed this child was his in a manner of speaking. Despite his wedding ring, how involved was the sheriff with Mrs. Hutchins? Except for how it affected his plan to bring her to Milwaukee, it shouldn’t have mattered to him if she slept with every married man in Winter Falls and bore them children. But it did matter.

Under the adults’ tense silence, Jeremy squirmed, flushing from more than his physical exertion. “I saw you talking to Uncle Dylan earlier…”

“Uncle Dylan?” The cramp eased.

The boy nodded. “Yeah, pretty cool having the sheriff for my uncle. He’s my coach, too. He couldn’t get out of uniform today because of the break-in. That’s gotta be why his deputy came here with the sirens on.” Excitement blazed in those blue eyes.

Royce’s mouth quirked into a grin as he recalled his own youthful fascination with every aspect of the law. “A break-in?”

“Yeah, at Doc’s office. He’s the only doctor in town. I hope they stole his shots.” The kid shuddered. They probably had.

“So how do you know my uncle?”

The kid would make a good interrogator. “We’re friends. I’ve worked with him before.”

“You’re a cop?” The blue gaze flicked over Royce’s unshaven face. “Narcotics, like Uncle Dylan was in Detroit?”

Royce fought a grin and shook his head. “Private investigator.”

“I thought cops didn’t like ’em.”

And the kid was well-informed. “That’s not—”

“True all the time.” Dylan chuckled. “Just most of the time.” He slapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

Royce glanced around and noticed the other kids and families had dispersed. He drew an easier breath. “Yeah, yeah, until the private investigator is called in to bail the police out of a jam.”

Dylan chuckled again. “Also helps when the private investigator is ex-FBI.”

“FBI?” The kid’s brows met his hairline, and his eyes rounded. His voice cracked with reverence. “You were an FBI agent?”

Sarah sighed. “Oh, no…”

Royce suppressed a chuckle at her reaction and nodded. He didn’t have any more to say about his time at the FBI, especially to a kid. Hell, there wasn’t much in his life, past or present, that he could tell a kid. “Ready for me to drive you home yet?”

“You’re driving us home?” Jeremy’s glance slid over his mother’s face.

She didn’t jump to offer a lie, so Royce did. “Yeah, she has some car problems. Dylan and the deputy will see to it. But I’ll be happy to give you and your mother a ride home.”

Despite his fatigue and his godfather’s last hope hanging on a thread in Milwaukee, he wanted to give Sarah a ride. How long had it been since he’d held a woman? The fact he couldn’t remember didn’t reassure him. His hand on her elbow was the closest he’d been to one in a long while. Taking a step closer to her, he drew in a ragged breath and inhaled the scent of orange blossoms. His brows rose. He’d expected something heavy and expensive.

“Where’s your car, Mr. Graham?” the boy asked.

“The silver Avalanche.”

The kid gasped, law enforcement obviously not his only interest. He loved trucks, too.

Royce turned toward Dylan. “I’ll wait at her house until you come by. Then we’ll talk.”

Dylan nodded.

The deputy rushed forward when they neared the parking lot. “Mrs. Hutchins, are you all right?”

She nodded, but Dylan answered for her, his deep tone a warning in itself. “It’s just car trouble, Jones. We’ll deal with it.”

“But—but I can drive her home…”

Under her breath, which caressed the side of his neck and stirred the hair he never found time to have cut, she murmured, “Everybody wants to drive me home.”

He flashed a glance at the deputy. The young man was a minute from tongue-lolling in his blind adoration of the gorgeous widow.

“Jeremy and Sarah are riding with me.” The kid had already rushed across the lot to the SUV, his fingers streaming along the silver fender as Royce’s itched to stream along Sarah’s thigh. Her silk trousers, molded against her by the slight breeze, silhouetted long, graceful legs. In his overtired, fevered mind, he could picture them wrapped around his hips as he buried himself inside her.

He muffled a groan, surprised at his powerful reaction to her. She wasn’t his type at all, not that he could remember exactly what his type was.

“Who are you?” The deputy’s tone rankled with suspicion and jealousy. Had Sarah given the young guy any reason to believe he had a claim on her?

Dylan cleared his throat. “He’s a friend of mine, Jones, and I asked him to drive Mrs. Hutchins and Jeremy home.” He lowered his voice. “We have to check the car for prints. What did you learn from Doc’s office?”

Mottled red rushed into the deputy’s face. “I—I—uh, Doc said only two things were missing from the break-in.”

Royce shook his head. Some things didn’t matter, whether big city or small town. “Drugs?”

A smug smile slid over the deputy’s face. “No.” His dark eyes flashed with victory and dismissal.

Royce had been dismissed enough for one day. Although he probably should have escorted Sarah to the Avalanche, he lingered. “So what was stolen?”

The deputy waited for the sheriff’s nod before he responded. “Two medical files.”

The muscles tightened in Royce’s stomach as his instincts kicked. “Whose?”

“Sarah’s and Jeremy’s.”

“This just happened?”

“Late last night is the doctor’s best guess.” Dylan answered this time.

Not long after Royce had arrived. He’d found Sarah, but in doing so, whom had he led straight to her? If her son was in real danger, Royce was as much at fault as whoever had followed him.

If he hadn’t already accepted it, he would have realized then that he had the right Sarah Mars because long ago he’d stopped believing in coincidence. The break-in at Bart’s, the shooting, the threat…what was the link? He didn’t doubt there was one.

Sarah gasped. “Our records?”

“Royce?” Dylan nudged his shoulder. “Let me give you directions to Sarah’s place.”

Sarah sighed. “Obviously I’m being dismissed. I’ll accept that for now, but I still want an explanation about this theft, Dylan.”

The sheriff’s brow creased with new tension lines. “Sarah…”

She drew in an impatient breath. “Later. Now I’ll leave you two alone, but before I go, how is Lindsey?”

Royce lifted a brow.

“My wife,” Dylan answered his unspoken question. “And she’s not happy at being confined to bed.”

Before a smile could tip up Royce’s mouth, the sheriff added, “She’s pregnant and keeps going into premature labor.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you and me both. So far the doctors have managed to stop it. The baby can’t come this early.” More worry lines creased his forehead.

“Let me know if I can do anything…” Sarah trailed off. Until she knew what the risk was to her son, Royce doubted she’d be able to think of anything else.

“You can go home, Sarah, and take care of Jeremy. We’ll figure out what’s going on with this threat.”

Royce surreptitiously surveyed the lot, then passed her the keys. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

She nodded, frustration gleaming in her smoky eyes. “Don’t shield me, Dylan. My parents did that years ago, and we all suffered from their lies. I want the truth this time!” She glanced toward her son. “Later.” Then she stomped away, her heels nearly raising sparks on the asphalt.

Dylan winced. “She’s right, and I didn’t handle that well.”

Royce shrugged. “She’ll get over it.” He hazarded the guess.

“I don’t know about that. Sarah doesn’t forgive easily.” Dylan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I should have asked her to stay.”

“So you’re not just giving me directions?” Royce’s stomach knotted. Maybe Dylan had seen through him already. Maybe he’d made a connection between Royce’s arrival in town and the threat to Sarah’s son.

“No.” Dylan glanced at his blatantly eavesdropping deputy, then led Royce to the middle of the lot.

Royce braced himself for an ugly confrontation with a man he’d always respected. “So?”

“I’m asking for direction, Royce.”

“What?”

“This is what you’ve built your reputation on.”

Royce squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out a barrage of images from his past. When he’d begun his search for Sarah Mars, he’d never imagined it might lead him back into a past he hadn’t been able to handle. “I don’t do that anymore, Dylan. Give me a missing diplomat in a foreign country, not a kid. I left the FBI a while ago, Dylan. And for a reason. You know that.”

“I know you’re still called in when local law enforcement gets desperate. And I know you still come despite your reservations. You can’t walk away from a child in need, Royce.” Dylan’s fingers squeezed his shoulder, then slid away.

Although Dylan spoke the truth, he didn’t know what it cost Royce.

Another little piece of his soul. And he didn’t have much left to spare.

His gut tightened. If he were smart, he’d walk away now. No, he’d run. Nobody had guaranteed that Bart would come out of the coma. In fact, they all doubted he would. So maybe he’d never know Royce hadn’t kept his promise.

But Royce would know. He sighed.

“Dylan, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m called in after the fact. I’m called in to track down the missing person. Jeremy’s not missing.” He’d kept the Avalanche and the boy in his sight at all times. And a certain red-haired woman, too.

“I intend to keep it that way, Royce, but I need your help. I would handle it on my own, but with what’s going on with my wife…I’m too distracted.”

Another reason he was relieved he was still single, thought Royce, as he saw the agony of worry in the sheriff’s blue eyes.

“I hate to ask because I know you’re already working on something. But Royce, this is my nephew. And the theft of those medical records…”

Royce nodded. “It’s not good.”

“That’s happened before?”

He nodded. “Yeah, kidnappers like to know about the kid’s medical conditions. If they’re not close enough to the kid personally, they’ll steal records. That way they know what meds he’s on, that sort of thing.”

Dylan groaned. “I knew it was a bad sign.”

Royce lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Could be a good sign, too. They want to keep him alive.”

He’d seen other cases where the kidnappers hadn’t cared. His stomach burned, the ulcers he’d left behind with the FBI threatening to return.

“So that note wasn’t the joke Sarah believes it is.”

Royce narrowed his eyes on the red-haired woman who stared back at him, her chin lifted at a challenging angle. “No, Sarah doesn’t believe that.”

A ragged sigh gusted out of Dylan. “I need your help, Royce. I need to keep Jeremy and his mother safe, and with Lindsey’s precarious medical condition, I’m not going to be able to do it alone.”

“Was their address on these medical records?” he asked.

“No, Sarah and Jeremy just moved into a friend’s house. I’m sure their records had the old address.” The sheriff blew out a relieved breath.

“Okay, I’ll drive them home. That’s all I can promise for now. We’ll talk more later.”

Dylan nodded. “I know you have other obligations. I appreciate whatever you can do.” He squeezed Royce’s shoulder again and walked back to his deputy, leaving Royce standing alone in the middle of the lot.

He glanced back at his friend and intercepted the dark stare of the younger officer. Resentment radiated from Deputy Jones. He’d gladly drive the young widow and her son home. Royce could retrieve his keys from Sarah and leave Winter Falls. He could pretend he’d never found Sarah Mars.

“Mr. Graham!” Jeremy called out and called him back to his past. He never could walk away from a child in need. Damn.

“Yeah, Jeremy?” Long strides carried him toward the boy and his mother, who stubbornly hadn’t used his keys to get inside his truck.

“I know you’re busy and all, but a lot of the team stops for ice cream after practice…” Hope brightened the already bright eyes.

Royce’s gut tightened. More exposure to danger. But was going straight to their house the best idea? What if the danger had followed him? Wouldn’t it continue to follow him right to their doorstep?

“Jeremy.” Sarah’s voice carried a note of caution. Something Royce had heard friends’ mothers use on their sons. He couldn’t remember his own mother’s voice.

Jeremy turned those eyes on her. “But maybe Mr. Graham’s hungry.”

Royce suppressed a chuckle, barely. The irritated frown creasing her forehead verified she’d caught it despite his attempt to disguise it as a cough. He liked messing her up a bit, ruffling that serenity she wore like a shield. He’d like to see another kind of passion on her face besides that of anger. He’d like to see her flushed with desire.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m a little hungry.” And a lot crazy. What the Hell was he thinking?

“Really, I think it’d be smarter to just go home,” Sarah protested.

Playing the unfamiliar role of gentleman, Royce opened the passenger door for her while Jeremy vaulted into the backseat. When she moved to climb into the SUV, Royce stepped closer. Her indignant gasp brushed across his cheek. And he dragged in the scent of her again. Orange blossoms.

He dropped his voice and lowered his mouth until his lips brushed the silky strands of hair near her ear. “It might be smarter not to go straight to your house, if you know what I mean.”

Eyes wild, she glanced over his shoulder and around the lot. “You’re saying—”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying anything. But I’m not taking any chances.”

That was a lie. He’d taken a big chance by not running when his instincts had first kicked him.

Sarah’s gray gaze locked with his, searching. He knew she wanted a reason to trust him. She was too smart to take him on Dylan’s endorsement alone. What would she do when he told her he’d come to Winter Falls for her? Dylan had warned him that she didn’t forgive easily.

SARAH SHIFTED on the metal seat of the lawn chair, hoping the sun-heated steel would warm her. A cold wind blew in off the lake as the afternoon wore on. She glanced out over the sparkling surface of the water. Then her gaze returned to Jeremy.

He’d already devoured his ice cream and lingered on the lawn that surrounded the parlor as he talked with his friends. He gestured a couple of times to Royce, and the other boys stared at the man beside her. An ex-FBI agent. Despite not being in hearing distance, she knew her son spoke in awed tones about the stranger to Winter Falls.

She’d been trying to avoid looking at him even though he sat next to her. Still bristling over his and Dylan’s high-handedness, she’d let Jeremy carry the conversational ball during the short ride to the parlor. He’d been full of questions. She was, too, but she couldn’t ask them here. The parents of the other children stood or sat around in close proximity.

Curiosity drew their glances again and again to her and her scruffy escort. A voice dropped into a whisper here and there as they discussed the possible identity of the stranger and his relationship to her. She heard them. And her throat burned with questions of her own.

She wanted to know what the theft of those medical records meant. An ache throbbed behind her eyes. Tension. Stress. As a nurse, she recognized the symptoms. As an ex-FBI agent, he’d know what that theft meant, especially considering what he’d specialized in then and now. Kidnappings.

She turned her attention from Jeremy’s playful antics with his friends to the man who lounged next to her. Despite having glimpsed them earlier in the park, the color of his eyes surprised her again. Pale brown like sun-warmed sand.

Ice cream dripped from his collapsing cone, over his long fingers and onto the lawn between his worn leather shoes. He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the rim of the cone, then over his fingers.

The muscles in Sarah’s stomach contracted, and she shifted against the metal, stiffening her spine against the hard chair back. If she kissed him now, he’d taste like rich vanilla ice cream, and his tongue would be cold against hers.

She jumped, the chair creaking under her. What was she thinking? She’d never kiss a man like him, no matter how long it had been since she’d kissed any man. He was too macho, too controlling. And Sarah had never let anyone control her, not even the parents she’d loved so much.

“You sure you don’t want an ice cream cone?” He’d caught her staring.

A flood of heat surged into her face, and she welcomed the cooling breeze against her fevered skin. “N-n-no. I’m not hungry.”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a teasing grin. “It’d cool you off.”

“What!”

“You’re still mad, right?” He reached around and dumped the dilapidated cone into the trashcan behind her, his arm lingering on the back of her chair.

The nape of her neck tingled where it brushed the skin of his forearm. She leaned forward, breaking away from the disturbing contact. “Mad? Of course I’m mad. I can give directions to where I live. I’m not some ditzy female with no sense of direction.”

He nodded, the teasing grin still playing at the corners of his firm mouth.

“But you weren’t discussing directions, were you?” She sighed over the frustration of having to leave her other questions unasked for now.

“I think you should take us home now. Jeremy probably has homework.” And if he didn’t do it on Friday night, he wouldn’t get around to it again until Monday morning.

Royce didn’t move to stand up, just stretched out those long legs. “He’s having fun with his friends. It’s early yet, and the weekend. Homework’s not due till Monday, right? I don’t mind waiting for him.”

Resentment flared again. “But you’re not—”

Detecting a lull in the flow of conversation around her, she glanced up and found curious gazes focused on her. She bit off her argument and pulled on the mask of calmness she always wore in Winter Falls.

He sighed. “You’re right.”

She dropped her voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You were going to say that I’m not a parent. You’re right. If you think you need to head home so the kid can get started on homework or whatever, we’ll leave now.” He shifted to the edge of his seat.

With his easy agreement, her anxiousness to leave ebbed away. She found comfort in the normal after-practice ritual of stopping for ice cream. But back at the house, she’d have to face the harsh reality of the threat against her son.

“We can give him another few minutes. If you think it’s safe…”

His broad-shouldered shrug wasn’t very reassuring. “As safe as anywhere…”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his stare was unfocused. Was he thinking of his past with the Crimes Against Children Division of the FBI? Or was something in the present troubling him?

Despite the questions she wanted to ask him about the stolen medical records, she found herself wondering aloud, “Why are you here? Dylan said that you were on a job but it was personal. What is it?”

The strong line of his jaw grew tauter. “Sarah…”

“I understand that you probably can’t tell me. Confidentiality rules with a client—”

He shook his head, the dark-golden hair flirting with his shirt collar. “Not this client. I’m not doing this job for money.”

For love. He didn’t have to say it; the words were etched in the worry lines bracketing his mouth and eyes. “It is personal,” he added.

“I didn’t mean to pry.” And she was aghast at her lack of manners. She’d made a vow long ago always to respect the privacy of others. And hope they respected hers.

His light-brown eyes swirled with indiscernible emotions. “You’re not prying. In fact, I plan to tell you all about it. I have to tell you all about it. Later.”

She shivered. “I don’t understand…”

“You will.”

A bead of cold sweat rolled down between her breasts. She couldn’t handle anything else right now. Opening her mouth to demand answers, she glanced around at the interested faces of the other ice cream parlor patrons. Then she swallowed her questions.

They didn’t need to hear anything else. They already knew too much about her life. Her teenage pregnancy. Her adopted brother’s crime. Her marriage to a wealthy older man.

They knew enough to resent her. Perhaps enough to send her a threatening letter in order to shake up her composure. But did they resent her enough to harm her child?

ROYCE RUBBED his knuckles over his aching side. Too much ice cream? He doubted it. He’d hardly managed a few licks between watching Sarah and her son. And the townspeople.

While friends surrounded Jeremy, people hung back from his mother as if glass walls separated her from the rest of the world. Maybe she was a snob. He figured she looked down her pert little nose at him, but she didn’t seem to disparage any of those around her. Although a cool smile played around her mouth, she didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

She almost acted as if she were ashamed. Of what? Of her marriage to an older guy? Of inheriting his money? How much money? Enough to make her son a prime target for a kidnapper?

He wished he could accept he had nothing to do with the threat against her son. But he’d stopped believing in coincidences long ago.

He glanced around, meeting the curious gazes of the people around them and searching beyond. The hair lifted on the nape of his neck. He knew someone was watching them, someone other than the parents of the other children.

But nobody would be foolhardy enough to attempt to abduct the boy with half of the town to witness and interfere. And as popular as the kid was, he traveled nowhere without his friends. He was probably safest in public, but in private…

“Jeremy, it’s time to go,” Sarah said, stopping a few feet from her son.

“Mom…”

“Jeremy, we have a guest.”

The boy flashed a smile at Royce. “Mr. Graham, I’d like you to meet my friends…”

Young faces swam before Royce’s eyes. Despite the cooling breeze, sweat beaded on his brow. These lively faces melded with images from the past. Staring eyes in dead faces… He jerked back a step. “I—I’d like to, but I have to make a call.”

The lie came easily but prompted him to remember Dylan. He should let the sheriff know they’d stopped off before heading back to Sarah’s. And maybe he should get those directions.

He dragged his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll head back to the SUV while you say a quick goodbye.”

Sarah’s dark-gray eyes widened, and she took a step toward him. He lifted a hand and gestured with his head toward her son. She nodded and turned back to Jeremy. Whatever concern she’d felt for him had been replaced with a mother’s worry for her son.

He didn’t care. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone’s concern. The only one who’d ever really cared about him lay in a coma.

He rubbed his free hand over his unshaven jaw. He had to get Sarah back to Milwaukee, to a dying man’s bedside. But how would he get her away from Winter Falls?

Because they’d been later than the rest of the team to the ice cream parlor, he’d had to park the Avalanche around the block. He started toward the silver SUV, his finger hovering on the buttons of the cell phone. He’d neglected to get Dylan’s number. Did this little town even use 911?

Underneath the carriage of the SUV a shadow fell across the pavement. Someone crouched on the other side. Waiting for what?

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and slowed his stride. Stealthy steps carried him around the short pickup box on the back of the SUV.

A sweatshirt hood concealed the face of the person who crouched near the rear tire, his back to Royce. Royce widened his stance on the asphalt. He had just reached his arm to wrap around the would-be attacker’s neck when a hand came up.

The blade of a knife flashed, reflecting the afternoon sun. Had Royce’s approach been reflected in the shiny metal of the SUV?

He braced for an attack.