Guardian Angel Investigations is there for you when there’s nowhere left to turn… Two reader-favorite stories from USA TODAY bestselling author Rita Herron.
Unbreakable Bond

For eight years Nina Nash has been told to move past the night that changed her life forever. But the intense feeling that her little girl is still alive remains. And there’s one man determined to help her find the truth. Investigator Slade Blackburn takes Nina’s case, hoping to give her closure. Yet what she really needs is someone to trust, someone to protect her…someone to erase the sadness from her beautiful blue eyes.

The Missing Twin

Detective Caleb Walker is skeptical of Madelyn Andrews’s claims that her five-year-old daughter is “communicating” with her twin sister who’d never made it home from the hospital. But one glimpse of the beautiful single mother, and he can’t walk away. As he looks into what really happened, suspicious details are uncovered that prompt Madelyn to cling to him. And the deeper he digs, the more invested Caleb becomes in the tiny family…

Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author Rita Herron

“Herron understands the bonds between mother and child and presents a touching and terrifying tale of evil and redemption.”

—RT Book Reviews on Unbreakable Bond

“Rita Herron is a gifted writer with the ability to draw her readers into the story and the minds of not only her hero and heroine but also the mind of the criminal. A real page turner, Up in Flames will not disappoint the readers.”

—CataRomance.com

“A slick plot combined with riveting characters and unyielding suspense make Herron’s latest a star attraction for fans.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Missing Twin

“This story will totally captivate the reader. A tale packed solid with suspense and excitement with a new surprise at the turn of every page…An absolutely fascinating read that is definitely recommended. Rita Herron is an extremely gifted writer.”

—Fresh Fiction on Forbidden Passion

RITA HERRON

USA TODAY bestselling author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. Rita lives in Georgia with her family. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her website, ritaherron.com.

Books by Rita Herron

Harlequin Intrigue

Guardian Angel Investigations

His Secret Christmas BabyUnbreakable BondThe Missing TwinHer Stolen Son

Bucking Bronc Lodge

Cowboy To The MaxCowboy CopNative CowboyUltimate Cowboy

Other Titles

Cold Case At Camden CrossingCold Case At Carlton’s CanyonCold Case At Cobra CreekCold Case In Cherokee Crossing

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

Unbreakable Bond & The Missing Twin

Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

UNBREAKABLE BOND

THE MISSING TWIN

Unbreakable Bond

Rita Herron

To my beautiful daughter Emily

and her new son, Bradford.

And to the real Rebecca.

Thanks for inspiring us all!

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

PROLOGUE

A THUNDEROUS BOOM rocked the hospital walls and floor, jarring Nina Nash awake. What had happened? Had she been dreaming, or had there been an explosion?

Screams and shouts suddenly echoed in the halls, and footsteps of people rushing around outside her room pounded. Somewhere a food cart crashed and glass shattered.

Then the smell of smoke wafted to her.

Panic seized her. Dear God, there had been an explosion. The hospital was on fire.

She threw off the covers, not bothering to grab her robe or slip on her bedroom shoes, but the stitches from her C-section pulled as she shuffled to the door and shoved it open. Smoke flooded the hallway in a cloud so thick that she immediately coughed, her eyes watering.

She had to get to her baby. Little Peyton had been a preemie, less than five pounds, and was in the neonatal intensive care unit.

What if the fire was near the babies?

God, no…

Stumbling forward as fast as she could with her sore abdomen, she heard the sound of voices shouting again, another person crying. The fire alarm trilled, adding to the chaos. Through the gray fog, she spotted patients stumbling outside their rooms, everyone searching for an escape, confused and frightened.

“The east wing is on fire,” someone yelled.

“Find the stairwell and get out!” someone else shouted.

“Help me!” a woman screamed.

Someone bumped Nina as they raced down the hall toward the stairwell.

Heat flooded the hall and an orderly grabbed her arm to push her toward the staircase. “This way, miss.”

“No, I have to get to my baby,” Nina cried.

“No time, the nurses and firefighters are getting the infants out! And that corridor is engulfed in flames.”

“Then I’ll find another way,” she said and tore away from him.

Another woman darted into the fog of smoke, coughing as she collapsed onto the floor, and the rescue worker rushed to help her.

Determined to save Peyton, Nina hurried down the hall. But just as she reached the end, the ceiling crashed down, and flames shot all along the wall and floor, blocking the turn into the corridor.

She pivoted and headed in the opposite direction, feeling along the wall until she reached the next corner, but the smoke was so thick she could barely see, and flames rushed toward her. No… There was no way to get through….

Tears mingled with the sweat on her face as the heat scalded her. She had to try another direction.

Coughing, she dashed back the way she’d come, but suddenly another explosion rocked the building, the floor shook, and the ceiling crashed down.

Nina covered her head to dodge the debris, but plaster rained down on her, and a piece of metal slammed into her head. Another pummeled her leg and foot, and ceiling tiles smashed into her stomach, ripping open stitches. Pain rocked through her, and she screamed as she collapsed onto the floor. The scalding flames crawled toward her.

Through the haze, more footsteps rumbled, then a firefighter appeared and scooped her up. “My baby,” she cried. “I have to get her.”

“We’ll find her,” he said. “Just let me take you outside before the whole wing is engulfed in flames.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks as he carried her through the blazing hallway, dodging flames and more falling debris. She gulped in the fresh air as he burst out the front door and raced down the steps to the lawn. Blinking her stinging eyes to clear her vision, she searched the haze and chaos.

Firefighters were scrambling to help victims and extinguish the flames, but at least half the hospital was ablaze. Patients, hospital employees, doctors, nurses and visitors ran, crawled and helped each other from the burning building.

She spotted one of the neonatal nurses unconscious on a gurney, and two nurses holding infants, and hope shot through her. The firefighter carried her toward an ambulance, but she pushed against his chest. “Let me down.”

“Ma’am, you need to see a medic. You’ve been injured.”

She didn’t care if her head was bleeding, that her stitches had popped or her leg was throbbing. She had to make sure her daughter was safe. “No, not until I find my baby.”

She managed to get on her feet, then stumbled toward the nurses. But her heart sank when she realized neither of the babies was Peyton.

“Where’s my little girl?” she cried. “She was in the neonatal unit.”

One of the nurses frowned, and the other one shook her head with worry. “I’m not sure. Maybe one of the other nurses got her.”

Another baby’s cry rent the air, and she turned and raced toward the sound. A medic was holding the infant, but when she neared him, she realized the baby was a boy.

Panic clawed at her, and she ran from medic to medic, from nurse to doctor to orderly. Screams and cries flowed freely as people were carried from the hospital and the body count began to rise. More sirens and cries reverberated as police, friends and relatives of the hospital employees and patients arrived, each searching for loved ones.

Finally she found one of the nurses who’d cared for Peyton lying on another stretcher, and she hobbled toward her. “Where’s my baby?”

Sorrow filled the nurse’s eyes as she looked at Nina. “I don’t know. I thought someone else rescued her.”

The sound of the NICU exploding rent the air, and Nina’s legs gave way, a sob of terror ripping from her.

Dear God…

Where was her baby?

CHAPTER ONE

Eight years later

FINDING MISSING CHILDREN was the only thing that kept Slade Blackburn going. The only thing that kept him from giving into the booze that promised sweet relief and numbness from the pain of his failures.

That was, when he found the children alive.

The other times…well, he locked those away in some distant part of his mind to deal with later. Much, much later when he was alone at night, and the loneliness consumed him and reminded him that he didn’t have a soul in the world who gave a damn if he lived or died.

Voices echoed through the downstairs as the agents at Guardian Angel Investigations entered the old house Gage McDermont had converted into a business and began to climb the stairs.

Slade’s instincts kicked in. He’d arrived early, situated himself to face the doorway in the conference room so he could study each man as he entered.

Not that he hadn’t done his research.

Gage had started the agency in Sanctuary and recruited an impressive team of agents.

The moment Slade had read about GAI in the paper, he’d phoned Gage and asked to sign on. Leaving his stint in the military had left him wired and honed for action, yet the confines of the FBI or a police department had grated on his newfound freedom.

Too long he’d taken orders, followed commands. Now he was his own man and wanted no one to watch over, not as he’d had to do with his combat unit.

But he needed a case.

Bad.

Being alone, listening to the deafening quiet of the mountains, remembering the horrific events he’d seen, was wreaking havoc on his sanity.

He refused to be one of those soldiers who returned from war damaged and suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

He would not fall apart and become needy, dammit.

And he would keep the nightmares at bay.

By God, he’d survived his childhood and Iraq, and he wouldn’t go down now.

Still, returning to the small town of Sanctuary, North Carolina, held its own kind of haunts, and when he’d passed by Magnolia Manor, the orphanage where his mother had dropped him off without looking back, he’d questioned his decision to settle in the town.

Gage McDermont strode in and took the head seat behind the long conference table while the others filed in. Slade maintained his stoic expression, honing his self-control.

Gage gestured toward Slade. “This is Slade Blackburn,” he said. “He just finished his first case and returned Carmel Foster’s runaway daughter to her.”

The men surrounding the table nodded, then Gage gestured to each of them as he made the introductions. Slade analyzed each one in turn.

Benjamin Camp, a dirty-blond-haired computer expert with green eyes. Brilliant techy, he’d heard. Slade would bet he had a shady past. Maybe a former criminal with skills that could come in handy in a pinch.

Levi Stallings, former FBI profiler, black hair, military-style haircut, dark brown eyes. Intense, a man who studied behaviors and got into a killer’s mind. He cut his gaze toward Slade as if dissecting him under his microscope, and Slade forced himself not to react, to meet him with an equally hard stare.

First rule of engaging with the enemy: Never let on that you’re afraid or intimidated.

Not that he was, but he didn’t like anyone messing with his mind or getting too close.

Adopting his poker face, he angled his head to study the man, seated next to him, whom Gage introduced as Brock Running Deer.

“Running Deer is an expert tracker,” Gage said in acknowledgment.

A skill that would be needed in the dense mountains. He was also big, slightly taller than Slade’s own six feet, had shoulder-length brown hair, auburn eyes and was part Cherokee. He scowled at Slade as if he were permanently angry, but Slade shrugged it off. He hadn’t come here to make friends.

“And this is Derrick McKinney.”

Slade nodded toward him.

Next Gage introduced Caleb Walker, who also looked mixed heritage. He had thick black hair, black eyes, and wore a guarded expression. Gage didn’t elaborate on his particular skill, which made Slade even more curious about the man.

Gage gestured to the last man seated around the table. “This is Colt Mason, a guns and weapon expert.” Slade sized him up. Short, spiked black hair, crystal-blue eyes, sullen and quiet. He had that military look about him, as well, as if he’d stared down death and it hadn’t fazed him. Probably former Special Ops.

The door squeaked open and a petite brunette with hair dangling to her waist and large brown eyes slipped in.

Gage’s face broke into a smile. “This is Amanda Peterson, our newest recruit. Amanda is a forensics specialist, and we’re glad to have her on board.

“Now that we’ve all been introduced, I want to get you up to speed on the latest case and the arrests made in Sanctuary. Brianna Honeycutt, now the wife of Derrick, adopted an infant son when the baby’s mother, Natalie Cummings, was murdered. Our investigation revealed that Natalie learned about a meth lab in town that was connected to the creators of a lab eight years ago, the one that caused the hospital fire and explosion that took dozens and dozens of lives.”

Gage paused and twisted his mouth into a frown. “The police have made several arrests, but locals are up in arms now that they know who was responsible. There’s also been speculation that there might have been more locals involved in the lab. Lawsuits are cropping up each day, and people who lost loved ones are asking questions. Due to the fire and contamination of evidence, there are questions regarding some of those who were presumed dead.”

Slade frowned. “Presumed?”

“Ones whose bodies were never found or identified,” Gage clarified. “Among those were women and children. I expect that we might have some work ahead of us.”

Slade’s blood began to boil. Women and children… who’d died because of some stupid drug lab. Women and children whose bodies had never been identified.

Families with no answers just as his own hadn’t had answers when his older sister had disappeared. Not until Slade had found her in the morgue.

Maybe it was right that he’d come back to Sanctuary. If he had the opportunity to find closure for even one of the families involved, it was worth it.

Then maybe he could finally find peace and forgive himself for his sister’s death.

* * *

NINA’S BABY’S CRY haunted her every day.

Peyton would have been eight years old had she survived, the same age as the children Nina taught at Sanctuary Elementary.

She tried to envision what her daughter would look like now as she watched her students rush to the school bus, squealing and laughing, excited to be out for summer break. Most of the teachers were jumping for joy, as well.

“Freedom at last,” one third-grade teacher said with a laugh.

“Vacation,” another one boasted.

But instead of dreaming about long, lazy days at home or a vacation road trip, tears filled Nina’s eyes.

To her, summer break meant weeks of being without the kids. Long, lonely days and nights of silence. Of no tiny hands reaching out for help, no sweet voices calling her name, no little patter of feet or giggles, no little arms wrapping around her for a big bear hug.

Tortured nights of an empty house and more nightmares of what her life would have been like if her little girl were alive.

For a moment, she allowed herself to dream of taking her daughter to the beach. They’d build sand castles, collect shells, ride bikes. She could almost hear her daughter’s laughter in the wind roaring off the ocean….

The bus driver gave a big honk of its horn, jerking her back to reality. Kids waved and screamed out the window, and the bus roared away. Teachers cheered and waved, laughing and talking about their plans as they dispersed back to their rooms to tidy up for the day.

Nina wrapped her arms around her waist and watched until the last bus disappeared from the school drive, then turned and walked back inside, her chest tight.

She should be over the loss of her daughter, people had told her. “Move on with your life,” her father had insisted. “Let it go,” the ob-gyn had said.

But sometimes at night, she heard her baby’s cries, and she sensed that Peyton was still alive. That she hadn’t died in that fire. That she was out there somewhere, and that she needed her.

Moving on autopilot, she went to her classroom, packed up boxes, wiped down the chalkboard, stripped the bulletin boards and cleaned out her desk.

Finally she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. The empty room was almost as sad and overwhelming as her house. Here she could still see the kids’ cherub faces, hear their chatter and smell their sweet, little bodies.

She stuffed her worn plan book in her favorite tote, one emblazoned with a strawberry on the front and sporting the logo Teachers Are Berry Special, then added a copy of the language arts guide for the new language arts program the county had adopted, threw the tote over her shoulder, flipped off the lights and headed outside.

The late-afternoon sunshine beat down on her as she walked to the parking lot. The sound of engines starting up filled the air, and she noticed a group of teachers gathering for an end-of-the-year celebration.

Celia, her friend from the classroom across the hall from her, looked up and waved as she climbed in her minivan. Celia had invited her to join them, but she’d declined. Celebrating was the last thing on her mind.

Instead she drove to the little bungalow she’d bought in town, picked up the newspaper on the front stoop, then dragged herself inside and poured a glass of sweet iced tea. Hating the silence that engulfed her, she flipped on the television, then glanced at the front page of the paper.

The headlines immediately caught her eye.

Murder of Natalie Cummings and Kidnapping of Her Son Ryan Leads to Answers about the Hospital Explosion and Fire Eight Years Ago.

Nina skimmed the article, her own memories of the explosion taunting her. For years now the town had mourned the lives lost back then. Now they finally had answers.

Police have learned that a meth lab built by local teenagers at the time was the cause of the explosion that killed dozens. Recently Natalie Cummings had overheard students at Sanctuary High discussing a new meth lab nearby, and she was apparently murdered when she connected the current lab to the one eight years ago.

Derrick McKinney, an agent from Guardian Angel Investigations, was instrumental in uncovering the truth about the explosion, the kidnapping and murder connection.

Nina frowned, her heart racing. That night had been horrible. The explosion, the fire, the terrible confusion. The burning bodies.

Her frantic rush to find Peyton…

Her stomach knotted. She’d wondered if her baby might have been confused with another that night, or if she could have been kidnapped in the chaos.

But the investigation had been a mess, and the sheriff had assured her her fears had been unfounded. Even worse, the P.I. she’d hired had been convinced she was just a hysterical mother and had done nothing but take her money.

Still, one question nagged at her. They had never found Peyton’s body.

She glanced at the article again. Guardian Angel Investigations. They specialized in finding missing children.

Her hand shook as she went to the mantel and picked up the photo of her newborn. Peyton had been so tiny Nina had been able to hold her in one hand.

If someone had kidnapped her, how would she have survived?

Still, every night when she crawled into bed, she heard her cries. And every time she closed her eyes, a little angel’s voice sang to her in the night.

Determination and a new wave of hope washed over her as she grabbed her purse. “I’m going to find you, baby.”

If GAI had dug deeply enough to find out who’d caused that fire, maybe they could dig even deeper and find out what had happened to her daughter.

* * *

JUST AS THE MEETING was about to disperse, the bell on the downstairs door jangled. Gage gestured for the group to wait while he descended the stairs. A minute later, he returned, escorting a young woman with him.

A beautiful blonde with long wavy hair, enormous blue eyes the color of the sky on a clear North Carolina day, and a slim body with plump breasts that strained against her soft, white blouse.

But nothing about the woman indicated she was aware of her beauty.

Instead, those blue eyes looked wary and were filled with the kind of grief and sadness that indicated she’d lived through a hell of her own.

“This is Nina Nash,” Gage said. “She’s interested in our services.”

Gage gestured for her to sit down, and Slade noticed her body trembling slightly as she slid into a leather chair. Why was she on edge?

Was she intimidated by the agents, or in some kind of trouble?

“How can we help you, Miss Nash?” Gage asked.

She bit down on her lower lip and twisted her hands together, glancing at each of them as if to decide whether to continue.

“Just relax and tell us your story,” Gage said in a soothing tone.

She nodded, then jutted up her little chin, took a deep breath and spoke. “I read about your agency in the paper and saw that you found the people responsible for the hospital fire and explosion eight years ago.”

“Yes,” Gage said. “The police made some arrests.”

“I…lost my baby that night,” Nina said in a pained tone. “At least she went missing.”

A hushed silence fell across the room as everyone contemplated her statement. Finally Gage assumed the lead and spoke. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell us what happened.”

She rolled her tiny hands into fists as if to hold herself together. “My baby girl was early, a preemie, and I had to have a C-section,” she said as if she’d repeated this story a thousand times already. Then she rushed on as if she had to spit it out or she’d completely crumble. “I was asleep when the sound of the explosion woke me. Everyone started shouting and screaming, and I smelled smoke so I got out of bed and tried to get to the nursery, to Peyton…” Her voice cracked in the deafening silence stretching across the room.

But no one spoke. Her anguish was like a palpable force in the room.

“It was chaos,” she said on a choked breath. “Everyone was screaming, desperate to escape. Patients were struggling and needing help, and an orderly told me to go to the stairwell, but I couldn’t leave my baby so I pushed him away.”

She hesitated and drew a shaky breath. “Smoke filled the halls, but I ran toward the corridor leading to the neonatal intensive care unit, but it was on fire, and I couldn’t get past, so I tried the other way, then the ceiling crashed and debris was falling and I was hit…”

She swiped at a tear that trickled down her cheek, and Slade sucked in a sharp breath. Others shifted restlessly.

“I fell and was bleeding and a fireman carried me outside, but I wouldn’t let them treat me. I ran through the crowd searching for my baby. I found two nurses holding infants, but none of them was Peyton…” A shudder ripped through her body. “Then the building crashed down in flames.”

Slade knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway. “Did they find your baby’s body?”

She shook her head no. “The scene was a mess. It took hours for the firefighters to control the blaze. Later the police said my baby must have died when the building crashed, that it would probably take months for the medical examiner to sort through the bodies.” Her mouth tightened, then she looked up with steely determination in her eyes. “They never found her. And I know she didn’t die that night.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I know it in my heart, and I want you to look for her.”

“Nina,” Gage said quietly. “I understand your grief, but if Peyton had lived, don’t you think the hospital would have informed you?”

“I don’t know,” she said in a quivering voice. “It was so chaotic that night, someone could have kidnapped her, or she could have gotten switched with another baby.”

Caleb Walker cleared his throat. “You had a breakdown afterward, didn’t you, Nina?” His tone was low, not accusatory but understanding. “And you saw a woman who claimed to be a medium. You tried to communicate with your little girl, but it didn’t work.”

She clenched her jaw. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I’m not crazy. I’m not. I can hear her cries sometimes at night. I’m her mother, I have instincts. We bonded.” Another tear escaped but she didn’t bother to wipe it away this time.

Slade gripped the arm of the chair to keep himself from going to her and wiping it away.

“Peyton would be eight years old now,” she said, her voice growing stronger with conviction. “I know she’s out there and she needs me.”

Skeptical looks passed quietly around the room. Nina obviously noticed because she stood, anger sizzling in her eyes.

For some reason he didn’t understand, Slade couldn’t let her leave. Not yet. “You hired a P.I. before?”

She nodded and hissed in frustration—or rage. “But he didn’t believe me. He just took my money, then told me I was stupid to keep searching.” Her voice rose another decibel. “But how can I not look for my little girl when I think she might be alive? It would be as if I abandoned her.”

Slade gritted his teeth. Plenty of mothers did just that.

She jammed her hands on her hips. “Everyone thought that fire was an accident, and GAI proved it wasn’t. Why can’t you believe that my baby might be alive, that someone might have taken her that night? Why can’t you at least just look into it?”

Because they all knew the infant had probably died in the fire, Slade thought. But he refrained from saying it, and so did the others.

“With all the revelations you’ve uncovered about that fire, about people in the town covering up the reason for the explosion,” Nina continued, pressing, “maybe someone knows something about my baby.”

Slade considered the possibility. The town had kept its secrets and people had suffered for it.

He’d also seen and heard bizarre stories before, knew that people could be devious. Gage had indicated that there might be more locals who’d known the truth about that night but hadn’t come forward. That there might have been more people involved.

Nina’s theory that someone could have kidnapped her baby in the chaos actually sounded feasible. If there was a chance that she was right and her child was alive, how could they not investigate?

CHAPTER TWO

NINA RECOGNIZED THE skepticism in the room, and frustration welled inside her. She’d been a fool to come here, to hope that someone would finally listen to her.

That they would open a case that had been closed for nearly a decade—actually a case that had never been opened.

Even her own father thought she’d lost her mind and that she should let it go.

It was the reason she hadn’t spoken to him in months.

She glanced at the only female in the room, hoping she’d at least piqued her interest enough to take on the investigation, but pity darkened her eyes and she made no offer.

Irritated at them all, and with herself for thinking she might have found an ally in this group, she gritted her teeth. “Fine, if you won’t help me, I’ll ask around again myself.” Although she knew that would lead her nowhere. Most of the people she’d talked to knew her story and thought she should get psychological help, not a detective.

She had just reached the doorway when one of the men said, “I’ll take the case.”

Uncertain that she’d heard him correctly, she froze and slowly turned around. The intense man who’d sat next to Gage McDermont stood. “My name is Slade Blackburn, Miss Nash. I’ll look into your child’s disappearance.”

Nina blinked in stunned shock. Of all the men at the table, he’d acted the coldest, looked the hardest. He was tall and big, his broad shoulders stretching the confines of his black button-up shirt. Jeans hugged his thighs, thighs that looked like tree trunks compared to her own.

Her gaze fell to the scar down the left side of his cheek, a knife wound that had to have been done fairly recently. Tousled brownish-black hair fell across one eye, and he swept it back with his hand. A hand also scarred with a jagged cut.

This man looked intimidating, impressive, like a fighter.

“Slade,” Gage began, but the man cut him off with a dismissive gesture that seemed to surprise his boss.

“You don’t have another case you need me on right now, do you, boss?”

“No,” Gage said. “But you just returned from one. I figured you might want some time off.”

“No,” Slade said in a deep take-charge tone. “I came here to work. I like to stay busy.”

The woman spoke up next. “We’ll help any way you need us.”

A chorus of agreements and nods followed, and Nina finally released the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you.”

Slade didn’t acknowledge her thanks. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “I’d like to talk to you in private, ask you some more questions.”

Nina’s chest tightened. Searching for Peyton would mean opening old wounds, but she had to suck up her pride.

She’d do anything to find her daughter.

* * *

SLADE ESCORTED NINA to his office and gestured for her to sit. “Would you like coffee or some water?”

Her delicate body collapsed into the chair as if she were too weary to stand any longer, and the temptation to comfort her hit him.

But that would be a mistake.

“Water, please,” she said in a low voice.

He disappeared for a moment, went to the kitchen then returned with coffee for himself and a bottle of water for her. By the time he walked in, she’d straightened her shoulders as if regaining control and bracing for an interrogation.

His suspicions mounted. What was she hiding?

“All right,” she said. “What did you want to ask me?”

He offered a small smile as he settled at his desk, hoping to relax her, but she clenched the water bottle in a death grip.

“I need some background information,” he said, then reached for a legal pad and pen. “Tell me the date of your daughter’s birth. And her name.”

“I named her Peyton,” she said, then gave him the date and time of her birth. The realization that she’d counted the birthdays since made compassion twitch at his veneer.

“You said she was in the NICU?”

“Yes, she was premature,” Nina said. “A seven-month baby. She had trouble breathing at first, and weighed a little over four pounds.”

His gaze shot to hers. “Any other problems?”

“She was only a day old. The doctors planned to run more tests… They thought she might have had vision problems…”

Slade swallowed. If someone had kidnapped this preemie, and she had had health issues, she might not have survived afterward. He needed to check old police reports to see if any premature infants had been abandoned around that time.

Or if any infants’ bodies had been found.

Damn. The thought made his own stomach roil. He couldn’t imagine the torture this woman had suffered. The fear, the horror stories of other abandoned babies she’d heard about on the news, the not knowing or thinking that each time an infant’s body had been discovered that it might be hers…

Forcing his mind back to his job, he glanced at her ring finger, but it was bare. No tan line where a wedding ring might have been either.

“Who was the baby’s father, and is he still in the picture?”

She glanced down at her hands. “His name was William Hood. He was nineteen, and I was eighteen at the time. And no, he’s not in the picture.”

“Tell me what happened between you.”

Her gaze flew to his, anxiety lining her face. “Is it really necessary for me to go into this?”

Slade leaned forward, his arms on the desk, his expression neutral. “I know this is difficult, but you came to me for help, Nina. If you want me to investigate, I need to know everything about that time in your life.” He swallowed. “And I mean everything. So don’t hold back or lie to me or I’m off the case.”

Anger glittered in her eyes, but she gave a nod. “All right.”

“How did William react to the pregnancy?”

“Not well. He had a scholarship to Duke, and didn’t want his life interrupted.”

“But your life was,” he said calmly.

A tiny smile slowly softened her eyes. “Yes. Even though I was young and the pregnancy was a surprise, I really wanted the baby. I felt connected to her immediately.” Her hand automatically went to her stomach, and an image of a young, naive girl flashed in his head.

One who would have made a wonderful mother.

Slade tried to ignore the feelings that realization stirred.

“So, what did William do? Did he refuse to accept responsibility?”

Nina’s mouth thinned again. “Pretty much. He and his parents tried to convince me to have an abortion.” A shudder rippled through her. “His mother even offered me a bribe to leave town and get rid of the baby.”

Slade studied her for a moment. “Did any of them threaten you?”

Nina frowned as if thinking back. “Not in so many words, although Mrs. Hood warned me that I’d be sorry if I ruined her son’s life. William’s father had died the year before, and she wanted William to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer.”

Slade tamped back his anger. “What did you say to her?”

“I let them all off the hook,” Nina said calmly. “I told them I didn’t want their money, that I didn’t need or want William and that they could all go to hell.”

Admiration stirred in Slade’s chest. “Have you heard from him lately?” Slade asked.

“No. I did hear that he got married to a former girlfriend, a debutante named Mitzi. I’m sure his mother was thrilled.”

“What about your family?”

Anguish flickered in her eyes momentarily before she blinked away the emotion. “I lost my mother when I was little. My father was upset with me about the pregnancy. He also tried to convince me to abort the baby, then insisted if I kept her, that I should give her up for adoption.” She uncapped the water bottle and took a long sip, then set it down and looked at him again. “He thought I was too young and irresponsible to raise a child. And when the doctors declared that Peyton died in that hospital fire, he assured me it was for the best.”

Slade gritted his teeth. Was her father simply protective, or a bastard with an insensitive heart?

“He didn’t believe that your daughter might still be alive?”

She made a sound of disgust. “No, he actually seemed relieved. He thought I was crazy and insisted I go into therapy.”

“Because he loved you,” Slade said.

Another sound of disgust. “That’s what he said. That I was better off that my little girl died.” She turned an anguished look his way. “How could anybody say that? That it was God’s way of giving me a second chance at a normal life?” Her voice quivered again. “All I wanted was my baby back.”

“Maybe he was trying to help,” Slade suggested.

She shook her head. “No, he was embarrassed that I had an illegitimate child, worried about what it would do to his precious reputation.” She looked down at her hands where she’d twined them in her lap. “He didn’t give a damn about Peyton.”

He let her words sink in. So her father was relieved to have the child out of the way. He already disliked the man. “And you did go to college?”

She nodded. “Not at first, but eventually I pulled myself together and earned a teaching degree. Now I teach second grade at Sanctuary Elementary.” Her eyes softened again as if being around the children helped alleviate her suffering.

Slade considered her mental condition and hated the doubts assailing him. Needing to know the truth was one thing. Obsession to the point of stalking, another animal instead. “You stayed in Sanctuary because you thought your daughter might be here, didn’t you?” Slade asked. “You looked for her in every child in school and in town.”

But she didn’t hide her motives or defend herself. She nodded instead, tears blurring her eyes. “I know that sounds pathetic, but I just felt close to her here.”

Just as his mother had refused to move from their home after his sister had disappeared. She’d claimed that she had to be at the house in case his sister returned. Eventually, though, her obsession had driven her over the edge….

“No,” Slade said evenly. “I understand.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “You do?”

Unable to resist, he reached out and covered her hands with his own. “My sister disappeared from our house when I was fifteen. For days and months afterward, I looked for her in every teenager I spotted.”

“You found her?” Nina asked.

God, he didn’t want to answer that. Didn’t want to shatter any ounce of hope she had. But the truth could be brutal sometimes.

“Yes,” he finally answered. “But we didn’t have a happy ending, Nina. She was in the morgue.”

Nina inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, then squeezed his fingers. “What happened?”

Hell, he’d already said too much. And she was looking at him with such compassion that emotions he’d long thought buried pummeled him.

No. He couldn’t, wouldn’t blurt out the rest.

“You don’t want to know.” He cleared his throat. “But think long and hard about this, Nina,” he said gruffly. “What will you do if we investigate and find out that your baby did die in that fire? Are you prepared for that reality?”

* * *

NINA’S CHEST ACHED from trying to maintain control. Slade’s question threatened to shatter that control.

Was she prepared? How would she respond if he discovered that Peyton really had died? All these years she’d lived on the belief that her little girl was out there needing and wanting her.

“How can I not find out the truth?” she finally said. “I need closure, Mr. Blackburn.”

“Slade,” he said automatically. “And are you sure it’s closure you want? She might be gone forever.”

Pain rocked through her, but she cloaked herself in the coat of armor she’d donned years ago. She would survive no matter what. “I realize that, but not knowing is no way to live.”

He studied her with such an intensity that she was tempted to squirm. But she refused to show weakness or he might decide she was the nutcase her father and Dr. Emery thought.

He gave a brisk nod. “All right. But what if someone did kidnap your baby, and she’s been adopted and is now happy? What will you do then?”

She had considered that theory, but somehow in her heart she knew that wasn’t the case. “She needs me,” she said simply. “I’m her mother. I feel it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You have to consider every scenario, Nina. What if she has loving parents and doesn’t know anything about you? What if she has a family that she loves?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly, honestly. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when, or if, we come to it. But I am her mother and I deserve to know where she is.”

“Fair enough.” Slade nodded, then released her hand.

Odd how she hadn’t leaned on anyone in years, but for a moment, she’d felt as if she had someone on her side now.

Someone she trusted. And after her father’s and William’s betrayals, she’d never trust anyone again.

* * *

SLADE HAD HIS WORK cut out for him. Even though Nina insisted she could handle the truth, no matter what he discovered, he understood the emotional roller-coaster ride involved in looking for a missing child. The toll it took could be dangerous.

His mother certainly hadn’t survived the ride.

And judging from Nina’s fragile looks, she’d been surviving on hope for years. If he stripped that hope, she might crash and burn just as his mother had.

Then again, beneath that tenderness, she was stubborn. Determined. And he also understood the torture not knowing caused.

She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth, and a foreign feeling bled through him, one he didn’t want. He itched to draw her tiny hand back into his, kiss it and promise her that he would make things right.

His body reacted, hardened, betraying his better sense and reminding him that his libido wasn’t dead after all. Geesh, a fine time for it to burst back to life.

Fortunately she didn’t seem to notice.

“Where do we start?” she asked.

Reining in his sudden bout of lust, he forced his mind back to the case. “I’ll put out some feelers across the States, search the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children website, check into adoptions that occurred around the time of the fire. I’ll question nurses, hospital staff and other locals at the scene that night.” He hesitated. “I’ll also have to question your father, and William Hood and his family.”

“They won’t be happy that I’ve opened this up again,” Nina said.

Slade shrugged. He already didn’t like her father or the Hoods. “I don’t give a damn who I piss off, Nina. I’m on the case now, and I will find out exactly what happened to your baby girl.”

He just hoped to hell she could handle the truth when he did.

CHAPTER THREE

FATIGUE FROM DREDGING up the past pulled at Nina, but hope fluttered wildly in her chest. Slade would be opening up old wounds between her and her father, and her and the Hoods, but she’d survived their disdain before and she would again.

At least someone was finally going to ask questions.

“Does your father live in town?” Slade asked.

“No, he’s in Raleigh.” She gave him her father’s contact information, including his work number at the bank. “I’m out of school for the summer and want to accompany you when you talk to him.”

He arched a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

No, but she wanted to see her father’s reaction. “I can handle it.”

He gave a clipped nod. “What about William and his family?”

“They’re in Winston-Salem. William took over his father’s law practice there.”

Slade jotted down the name of the firm, then ran his hand through his hair. “What was the name of the doctor who delivered your baby?”

Fresh pain burned her stomach at the mere mention of his name. The delivery had been harrowing enough, but he had been a strong proponent of adoption. “Dr. Don Emery.”

“Does he still live and practice in Sanctuary?”

“Yes, I think so, although I haven’t seen him in months. I tried to talk to him several times, but like everyone else, he encouraged me to move on.”

Slade’s mouth tightened slightly. “I know this is difficult, but think back to the night of the delivery and the day after. Did you notice anything strange, anyone suspicious at the hospital?”

“God, I was so scared that night and was in such a panic, that I don’t remember much. Just that I knew my baby was coming too early, and that I was afraid for her.”

“You were in labor?”

She nodded. “I’d developed complications. They rushed me to the operating room and took her immediately.” Her heart quickened at the memory. “She wasn’t breathing at first, and they had to give her oxygen. She was so tiny and weak that I didn’t know if she’d make it…”

His eyes held compassion as she paused to pull herself together.

“What about the next day? Did you notice someone watching the nursery, looking at the babies?”

Nina massaged her temple as she struggled to force the details of the hospital stay to the surface. “Not that I recall.”

“Did anyone make an odd comment to you about keeping the baby?”

Nina grimaced. “Dr. Emery agreed with my father and encouraged me to give Peyton up for adoption. They both thought that she needed two parents. A couple of nurses also mentioned that adoption might be a good idea.”

“Do you remember those nurses’ names?”

Nina rubbed her temple again. “I don’t know last names, but one nurse was Jane and the other Carrie. I saw both of them outside the hospital after the fire, but they claimed they didn’t know where Peyton was.”

Slade frowned. Was it possible someone had taken the baby from the nursery before it caught on fire?

* * *

SLADE BIT BACK his thoughts. He hated offering Nina false optimism.

“So where do we start?” she asked.

Slade checked his watch. “It’s already getting late. I’ll start putting out contacts on the Internet tonight, call a couple of friends who might be able to help look into the adoption angle, and drop by the hospital and see if the administrator and Dr. Emery are there.” He paused. “Tomorrow I’d like to talk to your father and meet the Hood family.”

Nina gripped the armrest. “Let’s get started.”

Slade sighed. “Nina, why don’t you go home tonight and rest.”

“No,” she said in a pleading tone. “I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I feel…lost in that house alone right now.”

Hell, the trouble was he did understand. He knew how the silence could eat at you, how a person’s absence could feel like part of you had been ripped out. How the walls could scream at you with recriminations.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “But remember, we may not find anything.”

She took another sip of water, then wiped her mouth. “Thanks. I appreciate your candor.”

“Let me talk to Derrick, then we’ll head to the hospital.” He stood, then strode down the hall to McKinney’s office.

Derrick was on the phone when he knocked, but ended the call and gestured for him to enter.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Slade said bluntly.

Derrick pointed to the chair beside his desk. “You’re taking on the case for Nina Nash?”

Slade took the chair. “Yes.”

Derrick frowned. “You know that baby may not have survived.”

Slade’s gut knotted. “I know. But after hearing Nina’s story, it’s possible that someone could have kidnapped the baby in the chaos.”

Derrick folded his arms. “What can I do to help?”

“Talk to your wife, Brianna, for me.”

Derrick arched a brow. “How do you know Bri?”

“I lived at Magnolia Manor when I was a teenager for a while. We met there. I heard she’s a social worker now with an adoption agency.”

The realization of where he was headed dawned in Derrick’s eyes. “She was,” Derrick said. “But she’s taken a leave of absence to stay home with the baby.”

“But Brianna has contacts, right?” Slade asked.

“Probably.” Derrick narrowed his eyes. “You know that adoption records are sealed?”

“Yes, but Brianna must have a friend who can look back through files quietly. Nina’s baby was premature, and had trouble breathing. Handling an adoption for a preemie with medical problems would be tricky—and memorable.”

“That’s true,” Derrick said. “I’ll talk to her and see if she can help.”

“Let me know if she finds a lead and I’ll look into it.”

Derrick agreed, and Slade thanked him and headed back to his office.

Nina was waiting when he returned, and she sat quietly as they drove to the hospital. That quiet strength roused his protective instincts.

Worse, her scent, some sweet fruity fragrance, stirred his desires.

But he tamped them down. Nina Nash was a case, nothing more. Slade would never give his heart to a woman. Loving and losing was too damn hard.

First his mother and sister. Then his men…all the people he’d cared about and failed.

He veered into the hospital parking lot and parked, and they walked silently inside. He introduced himself to the receptionist. “Is your hospital administrator in?”

She frowned and checked the schedule. “Dr. Lake has gone home for the day. He’ll be in tomorrow at nine.”

“How about Dr. Emery?”

She punched in a number, spoke into the phone then turned to them. “He’s with a patient, but you can go to his office on the second floor and wait there.”

“Thanks.” Slade coaxed Nina to the elevator, noting the tense way she held her shoulders. When they passed the nursery, grief and a wistfulness settled in her blue eyes. Newborns filled the bassinets; pink and blue blankets indicating the gender, while a young couple stood goo-goo-eyed, waving at their son through the window.

The intensive-care part of the unit was housed in a separate room beside the regular nursery, and one tiny infant plugged with tubes and wires lay inside an incubator, kicking wildly.

“He’s a fighter,” Nina said softly as she paused for a moment to watch. “Just like Peyton.”

He pressed a hand to her back in comfort, and she stiffened slightly, then inhaled and moved on down the hall to Dr. Emery’s office.

Slade surveyed the room as they stepped inside. Medical journals and books overflowed a wall-to-wall bookshelf behind a massive cherry desk that was neat and orderly.

Nina slid into a chair, but Slade stood with his arms folded and studied the man’s credentials on the wall between the windows. UNC. Duke. A third wall held a bulletin board decorated with photos of children he’d delivered.

“Is your baby’s photo here?” he asked.

Nina’s shoulders stiffened as she shook her head. He gritted his teeth, regretting the question. Some people reacted to a person’s death as if they’d never existed at all.

A minute later a bushy-haired, freckled man around five-eleven strode in. The moment he saw Nina, a frown swept across his craggy face. “Nina?”

“Yes, Dr. Emery, I’m back.” She gestured toward Slade. “This is Slade Blackburn. He’s with Guardian Angel Investigations.”

Dr. Emery’s eyes narrowed, his thick, graying eyebrows crinkling.

“I need to ask you some questions about the night of the hospital fire,” Slade said without preamble. “I want to know exactly what happened to Peyton Nash.”

* * *

NINA TRIED TO STUDY the doctor with an objective eye. But too many times he’d encouraged her to stop asking questions, so many that his dismissal of her had roused her suspicions.

“Honestly, Nina, you’ve hired another private investigator?” Dr. Emery asked, his tone reeking of exasperation.

“Yes, she has,” Slade said. “And I’d like to hear your version of what happened to Peyton.”

The doctor fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck, then sank into his office chair as if weary of her. “Nina knows exactly what happened, Mr. Blackburn, but she refuses to accept the truth, that her baby was lost in that fire.” His frown accentuated the deep grooves carved by age bracketing his mouth. “It was sad, horrific, tragic,” he continued. “But it happened.”

Slade simply stared at the man. “According to Nina, nurses rescued three other infants. Why not her baby?”

“That I don’t know,” the doctor said. “I spoke with the nurses later, and they all agreed that the baby wasn’t in the nursery when the fire broke out, that they thought she had been taken to another area for tests.”

“They told me they didn’t know where she was,” Nina said, contradicting him.

A spark of temper darkened Dr. Emery’s eyes. He shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, restacking them in an attempt at stalling. “I didn’t want to add to your distress at the time, Nina, but I had ordered heart tests for your infant. I suspected your baby had a hole in her heart as well as underdeveloped lungs, and that she wasn’t going to make it.”

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. “So she might have been somewhere else in the hospital, not in the unit when it burned down.”

“We’ve been over this,” Dr. Emery said as if talking to a child. “She did not survive.”

“How can you be so sure?” Slade asked. “Did forensics ever prove the infant was in the fire?”

Dr. Emery glared at Slade. “No, but the place, the ashes…it was impossible to identify all the bodies.”

“How about security tapes?” Slade asked.

“The explosion knocked them all out.” He sighed. “Mr. Blackburn, you’re doing Miss Nash an injustice by dredging up the past and raising her hopes. She needs to let her daughter’s death go so she can heal.”

Slade’s jaw clenched. “You tried to persuade Nina to give up her baby for adoption, didn’t you?”

The man curled his hand around a stress ball on his desk and squeezed it. “Yes. She was young, unemployed and single.”

“But she wanted to keep the baby,” Slade said.

“She was immature. And her father didn’t intend to support her or the child. I was trying to think of the baby. If she made it,” he continued, “there would be medical bills, therapy.” He shot a condescending look at Nina. “Miss Nash was not equipped to handle those expenses, much less raise a handicapped child.”

“That was my problem, not yours,” Nina said bitterly.

Dr. Emery pushed away from his desk. “I was, as always, looking out for my patients.”

Slade slapped a fist on the desk. “Well, someone didn’t look out for Peyton Nash that night, did they?”

Dr. Emery paced to the window, agitated. “You have no idea how traumatic it was. The hospital staff did everything possible to save the patients.”

Slade folded his arms. “And maybe you saw that chaos as an opportunity to take Peyton, to give her to someone else you deemed as a more appropriate parent. Or hell, maybe you sold her for the money.”

Hot fury heated the doctor’s cheeks. “How dare you imply such slander. I have an impeccable reputation. And I’ve lived and worked here in Sanctuary all my life.”

Slade stood, towering over him. “I don’t like the fact that you’ve stonewalled my client and dismissed her questions without adequately responding.”

“I have answered them, but Nina is obsessive and delusional,” Emery argued.

Nina flinched, but Slade continued, his voice cold and harsh, “I don’t think so. And I don’t intend to accept anything you say at face value or leave this case alone, not until all of our questions are answered to my satisfaction.” He gestured to Nina. “And if I find out that you withheld information or that you’ve been lying, I’ll be back, and I will hold you responsible.”

Fear flashed in the doctor’s eyes for the first time since Nina had known him. Was he afraid because Slade was right—did he know something that he wasn’t telling them?

* * *

SLADE GROUND HIS TEETH as he and Nina left Dr. Emery’s office. “Let’s see if any of the nurses you mentioned are here.”

Nina nodded, and they walked to the nurses’ station. “Excuse me,” Slade said. “Do you have a nurse named Carrie or Jane working here?”

A middle-aged dirty blonde with green eyes glanced up from the desk. “Yes, Carrie Poole, but she won’t be in until tomorrow. And Jane is on vacation and won’t be back until next week.”

“All right,” Slade said. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“What do you think?” Nina asked as they exited the building and walked to his car.

“I don’t know yet, Nina,” Slade said. “I don’t like Emery, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s lying.”

Nina’s shoulders sagged, and he pressed a hand to her waist to help her in the car.

“But I meant what I said. I will find the answers.” He offered her a sad smile. “I just hope the answers are what you want to hear. But I won’t lie to you or B.S. you either.”

“Thank you,” Nina said, her eyes sincere. “I know some people think I’m unstable, but I’m not. I just have to know the truth.”

He stared at her for a long moment, grateful to hear the strength beneath the fragile-looking exterior. He had a feeling Nina Nash was a lot tougher than anyone had given her credit for.

Moonlight flickered off her creamy skin and highlighted her golden hair, and a surge of sexual attraction shot through him.

Damn. Not good.

Determined to avoid personal involvement, he jerked his eyes away from her, started the engine and drove back to GAI headquarters.

He parked and told Nina he’d call her in the morning. A storm cloud rumbled, threatening rain, and she thanked him again and climbed from the car.

“Get some sleep,” he called just before she turned away.

But her distressed look indicated that she didn’t expect to rest, that dreams of her daughter haunted her nights.

Slade had his own share of nightmares, and as much as he’d like to comfort her, he wasn’t a hero. The men he’d lost were.

But he would investigate.

Tomorrow he’d ask Gage and Amanda to pull all the police and medical reports from the hospital. Maybe Amanda could use her expertise to determine if Peyton Nash’s body had been among those in the fire.

* * *

NINA’S PHONE WAS RINGING as she let herself into her house. Thinking it might be Slade, she hurried to answer it.

But the voice on the other end of the line startled her. William.

“Nina, what the hell are you doing hiring a private investigator?”

Nina tensed at the rage in his tone. “How do you know I hired a P.I.?”

“Dr. Emery called. He’s worried that you’re having another breakdown.”

Nina gripped the phone tighter. “Well, I’m not. And what I do is none of your business, William. You gave up that right the day you walked out on me and our baby.”

“Listen to me, Nina. I don’t need some nosy P.I. in my business, especially asking questions about something that happened years ago.”

“Something that happened?” Nina said, her own fury mounting. “What happened was that your daughter went missing. That I was told she died, but that no one ever proved it or even bothered to look for her.”

“For God’s sake, you need psychiatric help,” William bellowed. “My mother tried to warn me, but I thought eventually you’d come to your senses.”

“Maybe you don’t want me asking questions because you have something to hide,” Nina said between clenched teeth.

William’s breath wheezed with anger. “If you make trouble for me, Nina, I’ll make sure everyone at the school where you teach knows just what a basket case you are. Do you think the people of Sanctuary will want an obsessive nutcase teaching their precious children?”

Adrenaline sizzled through Nina’s blood. “Are you threatening me, William?”

“Take it however you want, Nina, just leave me alone and tell that P.I. to do the same.”

Nina started to shout at him, but he slammed down the phone, cutting her off.

She stared at the dead phone in her hand, then dropped it into its cradle, paced to the mantel and picked up Peyton’s photo. “I won’t give up,” she whispered. “Not even if William did threaten me.”

In spite of her resolve not to do it, she walked into the bedroom, dragged on her nightshirt then slipped open the drawer where she’d stowed the tiny pink dress with the butterflies on it that she’d bought years ago. The outfit she’d planned for Peyton to wear home. She knew it was crazy to have kept it. Pathetic.

But she crawled in bed, pressed it to her chest and inhaled the sweet scent of fabric softener.

Then she closed her eyes and imagined her daughter coming home.

* * *

EIGHT-YEAR-OLD REBECCA DAVIS fumbled for her glasses, sweeping her hand across the desk in the bedroom at her foster parents’ house. Without the glasses, she was nearly blind. But at least the social worker had gotten her a computer with big print.

She hated the clunky glasses though. They were too big for her face, and some of the kids teased her and called her Four Eyes.

Other kids looked at her with pity just because she was handicapped, and she didn’t have a mommy.

She didn’t want them to feel sorry for her. She did want a mommy though.

She clicked on the keyboard, brought up her journal and began to type.

* * *

Mommy, I know you’re out there somewhere. I prayed that you would find me on Mother’s Day but that’s passed, so maybe you will on my birthday.

I don’t like it here. The house is dark and dusty. And Mama Reese says her knees hurt too much to play with me outside. Papa Reese’s cigarettes make my eyes itchy and watery and then I cough, and then he tells me to shut up. They don’t like my singing either.

I have to sing though. I dream sometimes that you’re looking for me. That you didn’t just leave me. That we just got losted from each other, and that you can hear me. That one day you’ll follow my voice and come and get me.

* * *

SHE SWIPED AT a tear running down her cheek. Crying was for babies but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Sniffling and swallowing to hold back more tears, she finished the journal entry.

* * *

I know I look kind of dorky, and I’m little for my age, and I can’t run like the other kids. And one of my eyes looks funny because I can’t see out of it, but I take my medicine every day so I don’t have the seizures anymore.

I’m getting better in school, too. I’m only a year behind. I’ve been practicing my writing, and I can almost make the letters right now. I can pour my own cereal and make my own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And I don’t mind wearing hand-me-downs if you don’t have much money.

Please come and get me, Mommy. I promise not to be any trouble.

* * *

SHE SAVED HER entry, then pulled on her pj’s and crawled in bed. Then she closed her eyes and prayed her mommy would hear her this time and come to get her as she began to sing….

CHAPTER FOUR

SLADE LET HIMSELF into the fixer-upper house he’d purchased on the side of the mountain. The wooden two-story needed painting, a new roof, the wood floors needed to be stripped and restained and boards needed replacing on the wraparound porch.

He’d thought doing the work himself would be cathartic, but he’d yet to change a thing. Still, the place had character and at one time was probably a cozy home for some family.

He scoffed. As a kid, he’d dreamed about having a home like this. Now it didn’t seem to matter.

But the place was isolated and offered him privacy, as well as an abundance of wide-open mountain air. Something he’d desperately needed after Iraq and the place he’d been kept when he’d been taken prisoner. Cramped, dark, filthy, bug-infested, the stench, the human wastes…

And the blood from the soldiers who’d died trying to save him.

He inhaled a deep, calming breath, the summer air filling his nostrils with the scent of honeysuckle and wildflowers, chasing away the demons from his past. He had a job to do now, and he’d focus on that. Get through the day.

One hour at a time.

He spotted the bottle of whiskey on the counter, and the temptation to reach for it, to pour himself a mind-numbing shot seized him. Just one drink to erase the images in his head.

No… He was done burying his pain. He’d have to learn to live with it or it would destroy him. Then he couldn’t atone for his sins.

Instead, he strode to the workout room he’d created off the garage, yanked on boxing gloves and began to pound his punching bag. The faces of his bleeding and dying men haunted him, and he hit the bag harder, the rage eating his soul, chipping away at his sanity.

He had to learn to control it. Focus. Forget.

No, he couldn’t forget. Forgetting would mean dishonoring the sacrifices they’d made.

He wished to hell they’d just left him to die and saved themselves.

And their wives and families…three wives left alone now because of him.

His sister dead.

His mother gone.

He’d failed them all.

He would not fail Nina Nash.

Her story echoed in his head as he punched and slammed his fists into the bag, over and over, venting his anger over his own past and the anguish he’d heard in her voice.

But you might fail her, a voice taunted. You might because she wants you to find her daughter alive.

And you might discover she really is dead.

He slammed the bag so hard it swung back wildly, then came toward him and he punched it again. Again and again and again until sweat poured down his back and face, until his body ached and blood oozed from beneath the gloves.

Finally, when he’d purged his anger, he ripped off the gloves, went to the bathroom, showered then booted up his computer. He nuked a slice of leftover pizza and wolfed it down with a bottle of vitamin water while he searched news reports regarding infants’ and children’s deaths reported during the past eight years.

He specifically searched for any cases regarding premature births or babies found dead following the hospital fire.

Three different cases caught his eye, one baby who’d been found in a Dumpster two weeks to the day after Peyton had gone missing.

* * *

NINA JERKED AWAKE, the sound of the little girl’s singing echoing in her head.

The angelic voice… A song from Mary Poppins…

It had to belong to her daughter.

Or was she imagining it as the therapist had said? Creating a voice that she thought her daughter might sound like and playing it in her head because she couldn’t bear to let her go?

She closed her eyes and burrowed beneath the quilt, willing herself to fall back asleep so she could hear the voice again. Sometimes, the little voice sounded so close that it seemed the child was in the room with her. Sometimes, she knew that if she slept long enough, she would see her face in her dreams, that maybe Peyton could tell her where she was so she could find her.

Instead of the beautiful little girl’s song though, William’s threat reverberated in her head. Dr. Emery had wasted no time in calling him. He’d probably phoned her father, as well.

They’d probably all sighed and made sympathetic noises and lamented over her mental state. For all she knew, they were planning another intervention to convince her to check herself back in to the loony bin.

She would not go back there. She wasn’t crazy or demented.

She was simply a mother who needed to find her child.

A noise startled her, and she clenched the covers, certain she’d heard someone outside. The wind whistled, a tree limb scraped her window and an animal howled somewhere in the distance.

She sighed, willing herself to calm down.

She couldn’t lapse into paranoia again, not the way she had after she’d lost Peyton.

But another noise, a creaking sound on the front porch, sent her vaulting up from bed. Outside, thunder rumbled, and the trees shook violently, the sound of rain splattering the windowpanes, making a staticky sound like drums beating in the night.

She grabbed her robe, tied it around her waist and tiptoed to the den, shivering as the air conditioner kicked on. Darkness bathed the room, but a streak of lightning flashed in a jagged line and she froze, her heart pounding.

Had she seen someone on her porch? The silhouette of a shadow?

Fear surged through her, and she reached for the phone.

But the times when she’d called the sheriff flashed back. The way he’d dismissed her fears and ordered her to get some help, then claimed she was inventing shadows in the night.

His calls to her father…the never-ending cycle of his disdainful looks…

She dropped the phone in its cradle, grabbed the umbrella from the stand by the door then slipped the edge of the curtain sheer aside and searched the darkness.

Rain pounded the roof and porch, running in rivulets down the sides of the awning, and down the street a car’s lights floated through the fog, disappearing into the blur.

The streetlight in the cul-de-sac on the other end of the street illuminated wet pavement and another house but its lights were off.

Holding her breath, she listened for signs of someone outside, but the storm raged on, the sound of a cat screeching echoing above the rain. Her heart squeezed, and she slowly unlocked the door.

Keeping the umbrella poised in case someone had been on the porch, she pulled the door ajar and the dripping cat darted down the steps.

Then her eyes widened and a sob gurgled in her throat.

God, no…

A small rag doll lay on the porch in front of the door, a knife sticking through its heart.

A doll just like the one she’d found right before she’d had her breakdown, a doll her father and the psychiatrist had insisted she’d put there as some sort of manifestation of her grief and guilt.

* * *

SLADE RARELY SLEPT and this night was no different. When he did, the nightmares came.

He’d choose fatigue over the memories haunting him any day.

Antsy to get started, he brewed a pot of coffee and was at the phone by six.

The reporter, a guy named Hewey Darby, had quoted a Detective Swarnson from the neighboring county as the lead detective on the Dumpster case, so he punched in his number, anxious to hear what the man had to say.

When the receptionist for the police department answered, he asked to speak to Swarnson. “I’m sorry, sir, but Detective Swarnson is no longer with us.”

“Where can I get in touch with him?”

A moment of hesitation. “I’m afraid you can’t. He was killed last year in a random shooting. What is this about?”

He explained that he wanted information on the Dumpster-baby case. “Oh, then you can speak with his partner, Detective Little. I’ll connect you to her office.”

“Thank you.”

A minute later, a woman’s voice echoed back. “Detective Little.”

“This is Slade Blackburn, Guardian Angel Investigations. I’m investigating the case of an infant who went missing eight years ago in Sanctuary, the same night as the deadly fire and explosion that caused numerous deaths.”

“Right. I read about the arrests.”

“One of the patients in the hospital at the time was told that her baby died, but her body was never recovered, so I’m investigating the possibility that the child might have been kidnapped.”

“I’m not sure how I can help.”

“Actually, I’m not sure you can either, but I’m exploring every possible lead. I found records of a case you and your partner investigated where an infant was found in a Dumpster approximately two weeks after the child in question went missing.”

“Oh, right, I remember that case.”

“What can you tell me about it? Did you ID the child?”

“As a matter of fact, we did.” Her voice warbled. “The mother was a crack addict. She delivered early, but the child wasn’t breathing so she freaked out and decided to get rid of it for fear she’d be caught.”

“Did you arrest her?”

“She’s in prison now.” A long sigh. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s not much help.”

“No, it means that the child I’m looking for might be alive.”

“If it’s been eight years…” Detective Little said. “You know the chances are slim that you’ll find her.”

Slade gritted his teeth. “I know. But everyone assumed she died in that fire. The fact that there was no body or proof means there might have been foul play.”

“Good luck, Mr. Blackburn. I have a soft spot for kids myself, that’s why I work Special Victims. If I can help you any other way, just let me know.”

He thanked her, then spent the next hour chasing down the other two instances he’d read about, but both turned out to be dead ends, too.

The rain died, the morning sun fighting through the storm clouds. His phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Nina.

He punched the connect button. “Nina?”

“Slade…can you come over?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone left a rag doll with a knife in its heart on my doorstep.”

Slade cursed, grabbed his weapon, shoved it in his holster, threw on a jacket and rushed outside.

* * *

NINA’S HAND TREMBLED as she hung up the phone. Nausea rolled through her as she stared at the doll, and her chest ached so badly it was as if that knife had been plunged into her own heart.

Someone had put the doll on her doorstep to taunt her with the past.

Who would be so cruel?

She rushed upstairs and threw on some clothes, then made coffee and tried to sip it while she waited.

Five minutes later, Slade’s SUV rumbled up the drive and she inhaled deeply. She had to pull herself together. She finally had someone on her side, and she couldn’t chance losing his services now.

Brushing her hair back into a ponytail, she rushed to the door. The sight of Slade Blackburn on her front porch sent a surge of relief through her.

The wind tousled his hair around his broad face, and the trees shook raindrops from the branches, scattering them across the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, just shaken.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Before dawn, I heard a noise outside.” She led him to the sofa table. Her hand shook as she picked up the doll. “Then I found this on my porch.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Damn sicko. Did you see who put it on your porch?”

“No, but I saw a shadow outside. Then I heard a car leaving down the street.”

Slade’s jaw tightened. “Do you have a bag I can put it in? I’ll send it to the lab for prints and DNA.”

“Sure.” She rushed to the kitchen and returned with one, and he used his handkerchief to seal it in the bag.

The temptation to share what happened in the past taunted her, but she decided to hold off.

Maybe he’d find a lead from the doll and she wouldn’t have to divulge the humiliating details of her breakdown.

CHAPTER FIVE

SLADE GRITTED HIS TEETH. Nina looked shaken, fragile and exhausted, like a delicate flower that had been crushed in the wind.

But dammit, she also looked beautiful in that pale blue cotton blouse and that flowing black skirt. He itched to pull her into his arms and comfort her but gripped his hands by his sides to keep from touching her.

Someone, whoever had put that doll on her porch, had meant to torment her.

Or maybe the doll had been left as a warning. If she kept asking questions, the same thing would happen to her…

Hopefully Amanda could lift some prints. If not, she might be able to track down where the doll and knife were bought and the buyer.

Slade gritted his teeth. The fact that she’d received it the day after she’d hired him was significant.

Dammit, he didn’t like the fact that someone was watching her. Someone who obviously didn’t want her asking questions. That fact alone roused his suspicions and gave credence to her case.

The first suspect who came to mind was the doctor. But surely the man was too smart to pull such a stunt. He’d have to know that he would be the first person Slade would question.

“Other than Dr. Emery, who else knows that you hired me?” Slade asked.

Nina ran a hand over her forehead. “William.”

His gaze shot to hers. “Peyton’s father?”

She nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “He phoned last night.”

Slade growled, “How did he find out?”

“Dr. Emery called him.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Nina’s gaze jerked to his, and he forced himself to tamp his anger. “What did he say?”

“He was upset,” Nina said. “William doesn’t want anyone messing up his life by dredging up his past. Especially me.”

Slade frowned. “I don’t give a damn what he wants. He’s going to talk to me. And I’ll get the truth out of him one way or another.”

* * *

NINA’S HEART WARMED. For the first time in eight years, she actually felt as if someone believed her.

That someone else might care that her daughter had gone missing, when her father and Peyton’s own father had accepted her disappearance as if it had been a blessing in disguise.

“Do you want me to call William and tell him we’re coming?” Nina asked.

“No, I want the element of surprise on our side when I confront him.”

Our side? A warmth spread through Nina at the thought of this man defending her. For so long, she felt as if she’d been waging an uphill battle all alone.

The sun glinted through the clouds, the traffic thick as they left the mountain roads and turned onto the highway toward Winston-Salem. The interstate buzzed with early-morning traffic and commuters.

“Did you grow up in Sanctuary?” Slade asked.

“No, in Raleigh. I attended a private school. That’s where I met William. His father lived there before opening a practice in Winston-Salem.”

“So how did you end up in Sanctuary?”

Nina sighed. “When I got pregnant, my father rented a small house in town. He wanted to hide me away from the people he knew in Raleigh, especially his business colleagues. I stayed in the house until after Peyton was born, then Daddy wanted me to come back and live with him, but I…couldn’t.”

Slade’s thick, dark brows furrowed. “Let me get this straight. He moved you to a different town and left you alone when you were pregnant and just a teenager?”

Nina shrugged at the censure in his voice. “It was better that way. We weren’t exactly getting along back then.” She stroked the sides of her arms with her hands, shaking off the memories. “What about you? Where are you from?”

Slade’s jaw tightened. “All around. My dad was in the military. He died in combat.”

Nina wanted to soothe the anguish she heard beneath his calm veneer but sensed he wouldn’t welcome her touch, so she held herself back. “I’m sorry, Slade. How old were you?”

He maneuvered around an eighteen-wheeler. “Thirteen.”

“I’m sure that was difficult on everyone.”

He made a grunting sound. “Yeah. Two years later my sister disappeared, and my mother totally lost it.”

Just as she had when Peyton first went missing.

But she hadn’t abandoned a second child who needed her. “And they left you to fend for yourself,” Nina said softly.

Slade stiffened. “I was the man of the family,” he said. “I was supposed to take care of them and I failed.”

“Slade…”

“Drop it, Nina.” His expression warned her not to push. “Where does William live?”

“Downtown. He bought a half-million-dollar condo directly across the street from his law office.”

“He must be doing well.”

“Yes. Losing Peyton wasn’t even a blip on the radar for him,” she said, fighting bitterness.

He found a parking spot, parked and they climbed out and walked over to the condo complex. People clogged the sidewalk, walking to work; the coffee shop was overflowing with early-morning patrons and horns and traffic noises filled the air.

They stepped into the entryway of the high-rise building, then stopped at the front desk to speak to security. “We’re here to see William Hood.”

A middle-aged dark-haired woman greeted them. “Is Mr. Hood expecting you?”

“No,” Slade said. “But it’s important.”

Nina cleared her throat. “Just tell him that Nina Nash needs to see him.”

The woman buzzed his condo, announced their arrival then spoke quietly into the headset. A second later, she turned back to them with a frown. “I’m sorry, but he says he doesn’t want to see you.”

Slade slapped his hand on the counter. “Tell him he can talk to us now or we’ll be waiting at his office.”

The woman’s brows rose, then she spoke into the headset again. This time curiosity lined her face when she glanced back up. “He’s in the penthouse.”

Slade harrumphed. “Of course.”

The woman frowned again as they made their way to the elevator. Nina’s stomach thrashed as the elevator carried them up, her ears popping as they climbed to the twenty-ninth floor. The doors finally swished open, and she swayed slightly. Silently Slade took her elbow and guided her to the door, then punched the doorbell.

A snarling William opened the door dressed in a three-piece suit, his sandy-blond hair combed back from his forehead and set with gel, his blue eyes like ice chips. Looking at him compared to Slade made her wonder why she’d been stupid enough to give him her virginity.

“Nina, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” William barked. “Didn’t you understand my warning last night?”

“Warning?” Slade asked in a lethal tone.

Nina shifted. “William threatened to tell my coworkers at school that I’m crazy.”

“Is that so?” Slade glared at William. “Well, I’m working for Nina now, Hood, and I don’t like bullies.”

A vein throbbed in William’s forehead. “And I don’t like smarmy P.I.’s nosing into my business.”

A nasty grin slid onto Slade’s face. “You don’t, huh? Well, you’d better get used to it, because I’m just getting started.” He shouldered his way past William into the foyer of the condo. “And no one, especially some skinny-assed lawyer, is going to stop me.”

* * *

SLADE GROUND HIS TEETH in an attempt to rein in his temper. He couldn’t tolerate any man who’d abandon his own child, and this man had rejected his before his baby had even been born.

To think that Hood would use his money, status and weight to intimidate Nina infuriated him.

If it were his own child and he were in Nina’s situation, he’d move hell and high water to find out the truth, just as she was.

“Mister—”

“Blackburn,” Slade cut in.

“Either leave or I’m going to call security.”

“William, please,” Nina interjected. “All we want is a few minutes.”

William gave her a seething look. “There’s nothing to talk about, Nina. We’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“You never wanted to have a child, did you?” Slade asked.

William glared at him but drew a breath, adopting a professional mask that Slade was sure he used in court. Probably to free any lowlife slimeball who paid his salary.

And judging from the condo and the pricey modern furnishings, he either had a lot of clients or his fees were enormous.

Hood checked his Rolex. “Excuse me now, I have work to do.”

Slade caught his arm. “First you’re going to answer some questions.”

Hood jerked free of Slade, his suit jacket crinkling as he squared his shoulders. Finally he gave a labored sigh. “Five minutes.”

The temptation to hit the bastard was so strong, Slade rolled his hands into fists. “What makes you so sure that your baby died in the fire in Sanctuary?”

A cold look settled in Hood’s eyes. “If you’d seen that explosion, the chaos, the debris…you’d know there’s no way that anyone left inside survived.” He paused. “And Nina and the sheriff certainly questioned everyone at the hospital.”

“Maybe not,” Slade said. “You’re a lawyer. Kidnappings happen in hospitals all the time. Can you honestly say that it wasn’t possible for someone to have carried your baby outside and disappeared with her?”

For the briefest of moments, Slade saw Hood’s mind working, saw the hesitation in his eyes, a moment where he actually considered the possibility. But it quickly disappeared, and the uncaring façade returned, his skepticism firmly tucked in place.

“Even if it were possible, it didn’t happen,” Hood said. “According to the police, every other baby was accounted for. The unit exploded before the rescue workers could save Nina’s child.”

“She was your child, too,” Slade pointed out.

Beside him, he felt Nina’s wave of pain as if it had washed through him. But she didn’t react. In fact, he admired the way she maintained her composure.

“Nina and I came to an agreement before the child was born,” Hood said sharply.

Slade gave a sarcastic laugh. “You came to an agreement? You mean you acted like a spoiled, selfish prick and declared that you didn’t want the child.”

“I was only nineteen,” Hood said defensively. “I had plans.”

Nina folded her arms. “So did I. But that didn’t mean that I could walk away from our baby.”

“That’s right, Nina. You’re such a damn saint,” Hood bit out. “You can’t even let the child go when everyone has told you she’s dead.”

A brunette with wavy hair and catlike eyes appeared with a frown, her silk pantsuit flowing freely. “What’s going on, honey?”

Hood jerked his head toward her. “Mitzi, we have company,” Hood said. “Nina and her new detective, Mr. Blackburn.”

“God, Nina,” the woman muttered. “Don’t tell me you’re nagging William again.”

Hood wrapped his arm around Mitzi’s shoulders. “Sorry, sweetheart, but she’s still as crazy as ever.”

“We were discussing the night of the fire in Sanctuary,” Slade cut in. “You seem certain of the facts, Hood, but I spoke with Dr. Emery, the ob-gyn, and I think the case is worth investigating.”

Slade removed the bagged doll from inside his jacket and held it up. “In fact, last night someone left this on Nina’s doorstep.”

Mitzi made a shocked sound, then clung to William’s arm as if she feared Slade had stabbed the doll himself just for effect.

Slade directed his comment to Hood. “Where were you last night?”

Mitzi answered before Hood could respond. “He was with me. All night,” she said with a suggestive smile.

Hood made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Blackburn, you poor, dumb sucker. Obviously Nina forgot to mention a few details about her past.”

“William, don’t,” Nina said in a choked whisper.

“Don’t what, Nina?” Hood scowled at her. “Tell him the truth, that you’ve pulled this same stunt before?”

Slade shot Hood an angry look, but something about the guilt in Nina’s eyes warned him to tread slowly. He was here to investigate, find out the truth, whether or not Nina liked it.

Whether or not he did.

“What are you talking about?” Slade asked.

William’s expression turned pitying. “Nina has a habit of suckering people in with her sweet smile and big, sad eyes. But she’s unstable. She has been for a long time.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that she had a breakdown after her baby went missing, then yes. I am aware of that.”

Hood arched a brow. “So she explained the details of her psychosis?”

Guilt and worry slashed her face. “William, don’t—”

The look Nina exchanged with Hood made apprehension knot Slade’s belly. He’d insisted Nina be honest with him, but apparently she hadn’t shared everything.

“After Nina lost the baby, she did things like this. She bought a rag doll like this one, then claimed that someone stuck a knife in its heart and left it on her doorstep.”

Slade stood ramrod still, forcing himself not to react.

Hood continued, “She also said that she packed up the baby things and stored them in the attic, but then insisted she came home one night and found them scattered across her bedroom.”

“I didn’t scatter those baby things around,” Nina argued. “They were packed away in my closet.”

“That’s not what the psychiatrist reported,” William said, then turned back to Slade. “Nina also swore that someone put a CD of lullabies in her car and that sometimes she’d wake up at night and one would be playing but that she hadn’t started it.”

Nina started to speak, but Hood was on a roll and sneered down at her. “Oh, and did she tell you about the voices? She swears she hears her little girl singing to her at night. A Mary Poppins song, right, Nina?”

“Stop it!” Nina turned and ran from the condo, her sob echoing in the air behind her.

Slade didn’t know what to believe. But he didn’t like Hood and refused to let him bait him, so he gave him a steely look. “If I discover you had anything to do with your child’s disappearance or those things happening to Nina, you’ll pay.” He jabbed a finger at Hood’s chest. “And no amount of money will save you.”

* * *

NINA SLAMMED THE SUV door, and leaned her head into her hands. This couldn’t be happening again.

Yes, she heard the voices. Her daughter singing. But that was real.

Only everyone had made her doubt herself. And then all those creepy things had started happening…and she’d finally broken down.

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she suddenly felt nauseated. The sound of the driver’s door opening rent the air, and Slade’s masculine scent filled the close confines. This morning she’d felt as if she might have found an ally. Maybe even a friend.

But his anger permeated the tension-filled air as he climbed inside, and she found she’d lost that ally now.

God help her. She had to make him believe her. “Slade—”

He threw up a hand, silently ordering her not to speak. “I warned you yesterday when I took this case that you had to be honest with me.”

“But—”

“Stop, Nina,” Slade said in a harsh voice. “Don’t lie to me now or ever again.” He started the engine. “I’m going to talk to your father, and if I discover that you made up the story about this doll to get attention, we’re finished.”

CHAPTER SIX

HURT KNIFED THROUGH NINA, and she folded her arms and stared out the window as Slade drove toward Raleigh.

Her father would probably verify William’s story, paint her as a sad, demented freak just as William had.

She should be used to people’s reactions to her breakdown, but she didn’t know if she’d ever totally become immune.

She had not stabbed the doll and put it on her porch the night before, just as she hadn’t years ago. She also hadn’t strewn baby paraphernalia all over the house or put those CDs in her car and house.

Not that she remembered anyway…

No. She wasn’t going to doubt herself again. The doctors and therapists had almost convinced her that she was delusional with grief and stress and the effects of the antidepressants. But she wasn’t taking antidepressants now, and she had recovered from the breakdown.

Not to mention that the person tormenting her had driven her over the edge.

And now the taunts were starting all over…

Because she’d hired a private investigator.

Couldn’t Slade see that that meant someone didn’t want her learning the truth?

She opened her mouth to argue, but quickly clamped it shut. Hadn’t she learned from experience that protesting and trying to explain only made things worse? Made her sound more pathetic and desperate?

She hated to look pathetic in his eyes.

But how could she explain the voices she heard at night? The little girl’s voice singing to her? The sense that she was singing so Nina would come for her…

The words to the song, her soft soprano voice, was like an angel’s, the voice mesmerizing her just as the Pied Piper’s flute had enthralled the children.

The silence became painful during the drive, Slade’s withdrawal hurting more than she could imagine.

“Tell me about Mitzi,” he finally said quietly.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Mitzi had married William…and made a fool of her.

She licked her dry lips and sucked up her pride. If she wanted his help, and she did, she had to be honest. Pride be damned.

“She was Miss Popular in high school and came from a prestigious family. Her father worked abroad so she traveled and studied in prep schools all over the world before they moved back to Raleigh her senior year.”

“She seemed to be jealous of you,” Slade commented.

Nina gave a sardonic little laugh. “Jealous? Why would she be jealous of me?”

“Because you slept with William and had his baby.”

Nina chewed her bottom lip. “Jealousy isn’t the word I’d use. She hated me.”

Memories flooded her. “Mitzi was one of the it girls. Plastic, if you know what I mean. She served on every school committee, led the dance squad and was voted prom queen.” She sighed. “All the boys wanted Mitzi.”

“And Mitzi?”

“She wanted William.” Nina picked at a piece of lint on her shirt. It was so long ago, it shouldn’t still hurt. But she’d been young and foolish and naive.

“So you fought over him?”

Nina laughed. “Not really. In fact, William never showed any interest in me until after Mitzi broke up with him.”

“She broke up with him?”

“They had some kind of stupid fight a week before prom, and so he asked me. I realize now he only wanted to get back at her.”

She felt his eyes boring into her face, but she couldn’t quite look at him. “It’s really such a cliché. Shy girl goes to prom with the big guy on campus. Gets pregnant. He goes back to the girl he really loves.”

Slade muttered an obscenity. “But Mitzi didn’t take the pregnancy so well?”

She laughed again. It was either laugh or cry. And she would never cry again over Mitzi or William Hood. “No. She spread the word at school that I was a whore. That I’d thrown myself at William and promised him sex if he’d take me to the prom.”

In spite of her resolve to overcome the bitterness, it resonated in her voice. “That’s when my father moved me out of town.”

Another dark, seething look passed over his face, settling into his deep brown eyes. Eyes that looked permanently angry at the world.

And now angry at her.

She stiffened her spine. She didn’t give a damn if he was angry with her or not. She’d hired him to do a job.

And she’d put up with anything he threw at her, even his ridicule, his pity, his disbelief, as long as he followed through.

Finding out the truth about Peyton was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

SLADE CONTEMPLATED WHAT he’d learned about Nina, William Hood and his wife, as they wound up the mile-long drive to Nina’s father’s estate.

Hood was a first-class bastard, his wife a major bitch.

But that didn’t necessarily mean they were lying, just that they’d been young, selfish, immature and relieved to be free of an unwanted child.

He tried to put himself in their places, but empathy wasn’t his style, not for spoiled rich kids whose priorities were majorly skewed.

And not when they were so callous toward an innocent baby.

Especially Hood, who’d shared the child’s blood.

Slade surveyed Nash’s house as he pulled in front of the circular drive. Pristine gardens, sculpted bushes, ornately carved molding and granite lion statues adorned the front of the mansion, a massive white antebellum reproduction set in the midst of ancient oaks and a pond complete with ducks, as well as a massive outdoor patio obviously designed for entertaining.

“Your father must be doing quite well.”

“I suppose,” Nina said in an oddly distant voice.

“You don’t know?”

“He’s in banking, finance, stocks. He did well in the past, but I haven’t kept up with him in a few years.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t see each other regularly?”

A sad look flickered in her eyes. “No. As a matter of fact, we haven’t talked in…months.”

Slade’s opinion of the man slipped another notch. “Then he’s going to be surprised to see us,” he said.

Nina opened her car door and climbed out before he could reach it, but the shudder that coursed up her body confirmed that she dreaded this confrontation.

After the ordeal with Hood, he understood her anxiety.

He’d been rough on her in the car, as well. But dammit, he didn’t want to be made a fool of or go on a wild chase.

Instincts urged him to pursue the case anyway, to find out the truth for Nina once and for all.

Then he could walk away with a clear conscience.

* * *

NINA WILLED HERSELF to be strong as they walked up the immaculate drive to the steps to her father’s house. This place had never been her home.

Her home was the bungalow in Sanctuary where she’d hoped to raise her little girl.

Slade punched the doorbell, and she breathed deeply, desperately relying on the relaxation exercises she’d learned in therapy. But her palms were sweating, her heart racing, painful memories assaulting her like a knife digging into her heart.

Just like the knife in the doll’s chest…

The door opened, and Miss Mosey, the housekeeper her father had kept for the past twelve years, looked shocked as she spotted Nina.

“Miss Nash, we…had no idea you were coming.”

“I know, Miss Mosey,” Nina said softly. “Is Father here?”

The woman’s brows pinched together. Nina had once had affection for the older woman, and thought she might be an ally when she’d discovered her pregnancy, but her father’s money had obviously meant more to her than Nina’s feelings.

“I’m afraid he just left for the office. He had a luncheon at two and wanted to tie up some things there first.”

“Thanks,” Nina said. “We’ll stop there then.” She started to turn to leave, then paused and touched the woman’s hand. One of her therapists had suggested that forgiveness would help her heal. “It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re doing well.”

Tears suddenly glittered in the woman’s eyes, and she surprised Nina by pulling her into a hug. “I hope you are, too, dear. You and your father should make peace. He misses you so much.”

Nina’s pulse stuttered, and she hugged the woman back then turned to leave, unable to speak.

By rote, she recited directions to her father’s office, contemplating Miss Mosey’s comment as Slade crossed traffic into town. Did her father really miss her? If so, why hadn’t he tried to contact her?

Slade turned onto Glenwood Avenue, then located Nash’s office, a two-story brick building in the heart of the downtown area. He parked in the adjacent parking lot, and they walked to the entrance in silence. Her father hated to be interrupted during business, and Nina considered turning around, but Slade took her arm as if he sensed her anxiety and they went inside the building.

A pretty red-haired receptionist wearing a short, black pencil skirt greeted them from the counter where she was pouring coffee. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Nina Nash. I’m here to see my father.”

“Oh, you’re Mr. Nash’s daughter,” the young woman said with a startled look. “I’m Rochelle. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Nina wondered faintly if her father was sleeping with the young woman but dismissed the thought. She didn’t really care about his personal life. He’d dated dozens of women since her mother’s death, but never committed to anyone.

Nina watched Rochelle disappear up the steps with the coffee, her long legs stretching beneath the skirt. A minute later, she returned with a wary smile. “He says to go on up.”

Slade placed his hand on the small of her back as she climbed the steps, but her stomach fluttered with nerves. Her father’s diplomas, photos of business acquaintances and newspaper clippings about his deals lined the walls.

The door stood ajar, and Nina squared her shoulders, determined not to crumble in front of her father no matter how he reacted to her visit.

* * *

SLADE IMMEDIATELY SIZED up Mr. Nash from the edge of his office doorway. A compulsive, anal workaholic. His office was neat and orderly, dominated by a walnut desk and credenza with a stocked bar at one end. Dark leather furniture created a seating arrangement around a fireplace near the bar. Books on finance and business filled a bookshelf on the opposite wall. And Nash was dressed in a three-piece suit that probably cost more than Slade’s monthly salary.

The man was lean and tall with light brown hair, an angular face and hands that had probably never touched dirt in his life. He looked cool and focused.

Except for the slight hint of emotion that flickered in his eyes the moment he saw Nina.

“Daddy?” Nina said softly.

“Nina.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “This is a surprise.”

“I know,” she said, then glanced quickly at him. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.” Nash gestured toward the seating area, and Slade followed Nina over to the love seat, where she sat down.

“Mr. Nash, my name is Slade Blackburn. I’m with Guardian Angel Investigations.”

“I know who you are.” Disdain edged Nash’s voice, then he turned toward Nina and sympathy softened his expression. “Dr. Emery phoned to tell me you hired another private investigator, Nina.”

Nina clasped her trembling hands in her lap. “Yes. I assume you read the papers and know that GAI discovered that the hospital fire and explosion weren’t accidental.”

Nash gestured to the bar in offering, but Slade shook his head, declining his silent offer of a drink. Still, Nash removed a bottle of water from a small stainless-steel refrigerator and pushed it into Nina’s hands. “Yes, I heard the news. But I don’t see what that has to do with you.”

Nina stiffened but accepted the water bottle and set it on the table. “They uncovered new evidence, proving people were wrong about how the fire started. That means they might be able to find new evidence about Peyton.”

“God, Nina.” Nash scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You have your teaching degree, a job now. I thought you were finally moving on.”

“I’ve tried,” Nina said. “But if there’s a chance that the police missed something, I have to at least look into it.”

Nash angled his head toward Slade. “I don’t know how much my daughter shared with you, Mr. Blackburn, but she can’t go through this again. The baby didn’t survive, end of story. You’re wasting your time and giving her false hope if you continue.”

Slade chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ve reviewed the details of the case, Mr. Nash. Considering the fact that the baby’s body was never recovered, and the chaos that night, there is a possibility that someone could have kidnapped the baby.” Slade removed the bagged doll and knife.

“And just last night someone left this for Nina. Doesn’t it seem coincidental to you that someone would leave this on her porch only hours after she reopened the investigation?”

“Oh, hell.” Nash gave Nina a worried look, and paced back to his desk. Frowning, he opened a drawer, removed a folder and walked back toward them. Then he shoved the file toward Slade.

“This is the report from the psychiatrist who treated Nina after she lost Peyton. Take a look at it and tell me if you really think there’s a case here, or if Nina is just unable to accept the truth.”

“Dad, you can’t show him my medical records.” Nina looked appalled. “They’re private.”

Nina’s father stroked her shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you put yourself through this kind of pain again.” His voice dropped a decibel. “And I certainly don’t want you to have another breakdown, Nina. I want to see you happy and building a new life.”

Slade’s hands tightened around the folder at the sincerity in Nash’s voice. For a moment he debated looking at the file, but he’d vowed to find out the truth, and he’d told Nina she had to be completely honest with him.

So he flipped open the folder and skimmed the report. It corroborated Hood’s story. According to the psychiatrist’s notes, Nina had been in denial, depressed and delusional. The episode with the doll and the knife through its heart symbolized her guilt and grief over not saving her child, and the anguish in her own heart.

Slade’s stomach knotted. Had he been a fool to believe her? Was Hood right—had he fallen for her big, anguished eyes because he wanted to be her hero?

A hero for someone because he’d failed time after time after time…

* * *

“I AM NOT DELUSIONAL,” Nina said emphatically. “Yes, I was grieving, sad, even depressed but not delusional.”

“Are you taking antidepressants again?” her father asked.

“No,” Nina said. “I didn’t want to take them years ago, and I don’t intend to ever again.” She jutted up her chin, forcing conviction into her voice. “I’m perfectly rational, and I did not stab that doll and put it on my porch. I heard a noise in the night, then got up and saw a shadow outside.” Her voice grew stronger. “Don’t you care that someone is tormenting me, Dad?”

“This is the way it all started.” Her father gave Slade a disgruntled look, then lowered himself into the chair opposite her and pulled her hands into his. “Please go see the therapist again, Nina.”

She cast a sideways look at Slade, but his dark eyes probed hers as if she were a bug he was trying to dissect.

Anger fueled her temper. She could handle whatever she discovered about her daughter, but she didn’t know if she could tolerate the pitying or condescending looks again. “I should have known that you wouldn’t help me, that you wouldn’t believe me. You don’t want anything to mess up your perfect world, do you, Dad?” She jerked her hands away and stood. “You didn’t want a pregnant daughter, or an illegitimate child, and you certainly wouldn’t have wanted a preemie who might have been handicapped.”

“That’s enough, Nina.” Her father’s eyes glittered with rage. “I love you. Everything I’ve ever done has been with your best interests in mind.”

Nina gripped her shoulder bag, and faced her father. “If you wanted what was best for me, you’d believe me. You would have helped me search for my baby instead of abandoning me and making me feel like I was crazy.”

Grief swelled inside her at the realization that she and her father would never get along. Never be close.

She had disappointed him.

But he had disappointed her, too.

He was the one person she’d thought would have had faith in her. But he hadn’t trusted in her when she’d needed him most.

She spun around and walked out of the office, knowing she’d never be back.

* * *

REBECCA DANGLED HER FEET below the swing, pumping her legs hard to make the swing move back and forth. She was too short to touch the ground, and her legs were weak so it took a bunch of tries, but finally the swing moved.

She didn’t care if the kids laughed at her.

She would learn to pump herself even if they teased her until school was out. When her mommy came to get her, she was going to show her everything she’d learned.

A black car drove by the fence near the parking lot, and someone rolled down the window. The sun nearly blinded her, and she scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down.

But someone in the car pushed a camera out the window and began to snap pictures.

Her stomach spasmed. Why were strangers watching the school? She’d heard other foster kids talk about the news and how kids went missing every day.

That men stole them and did mean things to them, and the kids never came back.

She jumped from the swing to go tell the teacher, but she stumbled again and her knee hit the ground. A big boy with a ball cap on laughed, and she frowned at him as she tried to get up.

Then the flash of the camera blinded her once more. When she finally could see again, the boy had run off and she was alone on the playground.

Alone except for the man in the car watching her… Was he one of the bad men the other fosters talked about?

CHAPTER SEVEN

QUESTIONS AND DOUBTS assailed Slade as they left Raleigh and headed back toward Sanctuary. Nash had seemed sincere in his concern for Nina.

But his condescending attitude had irritated the hell out of him.

Even though Nina had put on a brave face, hurt had laced her voice when she’d stood up to her father.

If anyone should have believed her, her own father should have. So why hadn’t he?

Nina might be slightly obsessed over finding the truth about her daughter, but she didn’t seem irrational or delusional. She also didn’t appear to be taking drugs as her father had suggested.

And dammit, he understood her single-minded focus and the reason she’d asked questions. Obsession had driven him to keep looking for his sister until he’d located her. And although he hadn’t liked the outcome, at least he had closure. And his sister had received a decent burial.

Nina deserved to have closure, too.

Considering the fact that Nina was the only one who’d wanted the child, that left plenty of suspects. All who had means, motive and opportunity.

Her father. William Hood. Hood’s mother.

Any one of them could have paid someone to kidnap the baby.

But they couldn’t have predicted that the fire would break out the night Nina had delivered. Still, Nina’s father and Hood might have come to the hospital when the baby was born, and jumped on the opportunity.

He frowned and maneuvered around traffic. And Hood’s wife, Mitzi, topped his suspect list. Mitzi was upset about Nina’s pregnancy. What if she’d been afraid William would change his mind after the baby was born and decide he wanted Nina and his daughter in his life?

Would she have been desperate enough to steal the baby?

Hood’s mother was an even bigger question mark in his mind. She’d tried to bribe Nina to have an abortion. Had she kidnapped the baby so she wouldn’t have to live with the stigma of an illegitimate child in the family? Or maybe she’d been worried that Nina might demand money. The baby would have had legal rights to the Hood fortune….

* * *

NINA STARED AT THE passing scenery, desperately trying to wrestle control over her ping-ponging emotions. She would not behave like the delusional psychotic her father and William had described.

“Nina?

She braced herself for Slade to announce he was dropping the case. “What?”

Slade slanted her a sideways look as he changed lanes. “Did your father come to the hospital when the baby was born?”

Fresh pain squeezed her heart. “The doctor called him. He was on his way when I went in to have the C-section.”

“Did he see the baby?”

Emotions threatened to choke her as she remembered the harrowing birth. “No.” She rubbed her temple in thought. “He didn’t arrive until later, after the fire had broken out.”

Slade twisted his mouth sideways. “What about Hood or any of his family members? Did they come to the hospital?”

She heaved a breath. “It may sound crazy after the way William treated me, but I did call him when I went into labor. I thought he had a right to know that his daughter was about to be born, that he might change his mind when he saw her.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “But he didn’t?”

“No. He ordered me to sign the papers and give her away, and not to ever bother him again.”

“Cold son of a bitch,” Slade muttered.

His comment eased some of the tension knotting her shoulders. “I remember thinking that myself. How could anyone be so unfeeling about their own child?”

A heartbeat of silence passed between them. “I don’t know either,” he said in a gruff voice. “But that apathy gives him motive.”

“Does that mean that you’re not dropping the investigation?”

The air vibrated with uncertainty and questions. “No, I’m not dropping it,” he said. “I may not find the answers you want, but I am a man of my word, and I will get you answers.”

* * *

SLADE REQUIRED VERY little sleep, but food was a different story. He pulled into the diner in town for a late lunch before heading to the hospital. He wanted to question the nurse on duty the night Nina had given birth.

It was way past the lunch hour, and the diner was nearly deserted, so they slid into a booth in the back. Slade ordered the deluxe burger and fries, and Nina a bowl of homemade soup. But she barely touched it.

“Have you had contact with William over the years?” he asked as he bit into his burger.

She sipped her tea. “Not really. I heard things through the gossip vine in town. About his graduation from law school, when he took over his Dad’s practice. And I saw a write-up in the paper about his country-club wedding. Apparently it made the society page.”

Climbing the social ladder seemed to be a high priority to the Hoods. But at what cost?

“You were in love with William?”

She shook her head and leaned her head on her hand, looking exhausted.

“No. I was young, Slade. Trying to fit in. Shy. And I was trying to impress my father.”

“You went out with William to impress your father?”

A sarcastic laugh escaped her. “I realize that sounds ridiculous. But I was seventeen with no mother. More than anything I wanted my father to be proud. And the Hoods were the type of prestigious family he wanted me to end up with.” She offered a self-deprecating smile. “So I was flattered when he asked me to prom. Then later…”

“Later what?”

“Later, I saw how selfish and conceited he was, and I didn’t even like him, much less love him.”

Slade ordered himself to resist the temptation to cover her hand with his, to soothe her distress.

But he lost the battle and did just as his heart commanded. Her hand felt small and cold and in need of a big one to cling to, and something twitched inside him urging him to be that someone. That everyone else in her life had let her down.

You might, too, a voice inside his head taunted.

Her fingers curled beneath the weight of his hand as if grasping on, and panic set in. He couldn’t make promises to a vulnerable woman like her.

Not when he knew he’d walk away in the end.

He was too damn broken to be any good to anyone long-term.

She deserved someone better. A savior who’d stick around.

So he pulled his hand away and finished his burger in silence, determined to tie up the case so he didn’t have to be tortured by her big, sad eyes, and by things he could never have or give her.

His cell phone buzzed as he was paying the bill, and he checked the number, saw it was GAI and connected the call. “Blackburn speaking.”

“Slade, it’s Amanda Peterson from GAI.”

“Yeah?”

“Gage managed to get a copy of all the forensics reports from the hospital fire, including copies of the bodies found after the fire.”

Slade’s gut tightened. “And?”

“It was a mess,” she said. “I can see why forensics and the cops had trouble sorting out the truth. Bodies were dismembered, literally blown apart. The chemicals ate away skin, bone and tissue, making identities impossible. The small town just didn’t have the manpower at the time to handle such a large investigation, and the feds that came in wrote it off as a tragic accident and told families they had to accept the loss.”

Slade saw Nina watching and adopted a poker face. “So what can you tell me?”

“They did take photographs of the bones and recorded the unidentified ones. Unfortunately hospital records were also destroyed that night, so any records of Peyton Nash, including her footprints and handprints, were lost in the fire.”

“Damn.”

A moment of silence, then Amanda continued. “But there were a couple of infant bones in the mix. I’m trying to see if they belong to Peyton now, but getting the results may take time.”

“How about patient files of other births, infants in the hospital for other procedures, tests or treatments that night?”

“Gage already put Benjamin Camp on it.”

Slade’s admiration for McDermont rose. “Thanks. I’ll fish around at the hospital. Keep me posted.”

She agreed and he snapped his phone closed. Nina was watching with anticipation.

“What?”

“I told you I wouldn’t mince words,” Slade begun. Her face paled slightly. “All right.”

“The forensics expert at GAI is studying copies of the forensics reports. I’m sorry to say, but there were infant bones in the mix.”

Her breath hitched out. “Did they identify them?”

“No, they’re working on that now. But I want to question Dr. Emery again. According to him, there weren’t any babies other than Peyton lost that night.”

Tears glittered in her eyes before she blinked them away. “Then he lied,” she said with a strength to her voice that surprised him.

“Gage is going to request copies of hospital records from that night, but most were destroyed in the fire.”

“Didn’t they have some kind of back-up system?” Nina asked.

“Our computer guy is working on that angle.” Slade reached for the bill. “Let’s go talk to the nurse on duty that night and find out what she remembers.”

* * *

THE IMPLICATIONS THAT there had been an infant’s bones in the fire made Nina’s stomach protest, and for a moment she’d thought she might lose the lunch she’d barely touched.

But she swallowed hard to stem the nausea. At least Slade hadn’t given up. She’d asked for answers and she was grateful he was being honest with her, not treating her as if she were a crazy woman who might flip out if he didn’t walk on eggshells around her.

The wind ruffled her hair as they entered the hospital and rode the elevator to the maternity floor. Nurses bustled up and down the halls, orderlies were picking up food trays, a woman in a robe strolled toward the nursery and voices echoed from the closest room nearby just as an older couple, probably grandparents, rushed down the hallway carrying flowers and a blue stuffed teddy bear.

Nina’s experience had been so different, yet she had to smile at the thought of the happy couple and grandparents celebrating a new life.

“Excuse me,” Slade said to a curly-haired nurse wearing pink scrubs at the nurses’ station. “Is Carrie Poole here?”

The woman nodded. “She’s in the NICU.”

“Can you ask her if she can speak with us?” Slade asked.

The woman glanced at Nina with a frown. “Regarding what?”

Nina cleared her throat. “I just want to ask her a couple of questions. She took care of my baby when I was here a long time ago.”

“You’re Nina Nash, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

Nina stiffened. “Yes.”

“Dr. Emery said you hired a private investigator and were asking questions.” A wariness tinged her eyes. “I wasn’t here back then, but I’ve heard how horrible it was. I can’t imagine…”

“I’m not here to cause trouble for the staff, or blame anyone for that night,” Nina said. “In fact Carrie was so sweet to me, that I just want to talk to her, that’s all. Please.”

The woman’s expression softened. “All right, sugar. I’ll let her know.”

She rose from the desk, exited on the opposite side and walked down the hallway.

Voices sounded, and she glanced to the left and saw a new mother cradling her baby as the nurse pushed her in a wheelchair toward the elevator. The father walked behind, carrying a bouquet of balloons and pink roses. As they reached the elevator, he leaned over and kissed his wife and baby girl. Tears stung Nina’s eyes.

Slade’s hand stroked her shoulder as if he understood how the scene affected her. A minute later, the nurse returned and pointed them to a waiting room. The bubbly red-haired nurse Nina remembered popped into the room a second later, and Nina made the introductions.

“I don’t know if you remember me or not,” Nina began.

“Of course I do.” Carrie sat down and took her hands in hers. “I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.”

Her kindness touched Nina. “You were so sweet to me and my baby,” Nina said. “I want to thank you for that.”

Carrie smiled. “I can still see her little face, all scrunched up and fussing. She was a real fighter. I… thought she had a good chance.” Carrie’s voice cracked. “And then everything went wrong.”

“Can you tell us exactly what you remember about that night?” Slade said.

She bit her lip as she looked at him, then nodded. “I wasn’t in the nursery when the fire broke out. I was down the hall with another patient. I helped them to get out, then rushed back to help clear the babies. Two other nurses from the regular unit had infants in their arms, and rescue workers were rushing toward them to help. I ran to the NICU. There were only two babies in there that night, and Jane had the little boy. I went to get Peyton, but she wasn’t in the bassinet.”

“No one saw anyone take her?”

Carrie shook her head. “Dr. Emery had ordered tests for the baby, and I assumed that someone had taken her to another wing to administer them.”

“Carrie, I know it’s been a long time,” Slade said. “But do you remember anyone odd hanging around the nursery, someone who looked out of place?”

She fidgeted with the pocket of her scrubs jacket. “No, not that I can think of.”

Slade hesitated. “How about other births that might have gone wrong that night or week? Maybe someone who had a miscarriage?”

Carrie drew her shoulders back. “That information is restricted for the patient’s privacy.”

“Please,” Nina said. “If there’s a chance another patient kidnapped my baby, you have to help me.”

Her eyes flickered sideways nervously. “Well, there was one woman… She gave birth to a stillborn that afternoon. A baby boy.”

Nina’s chest constricted. “Do you remember her name?”

Carrie chewed her bottom lip. “I’m really not supposed to divulge that information. I could get fired.” She fidgeted. “Besides, the poor woman suffered a terrible tragedy herself.”

“I understand,” Nina said. “What happened to the baby?”

“I don’t know. He was probably taken for an autopsy.”

“The woman’s name?” Slade pressed.

“Gwen Waldorp,” Carrie said. “I think she moved to Kings Mountain.” Carrie glanced at her watch. “If that’s all, I need to get back to work.”

“One more question,” Slade asked. “Do you know William Hood and his family?”

Carrie nodded. “I’ve seen their pictures in the newspaper.”

“Were either William or his mother at the hospital the night Peyton was born?”

She backed away, fidgeting with her hair again. “I don’t remember seeing them.”

“How about William’s wife? Her name is Mitzi.”

“I told you I don’t remember. It was madness here, everyone in a panic.” She tapped her watch. “Now I really have to get back to work.” Her ponytail swung behind her as she turned and rushed down the hall.

“What do you think?” Nina asked.

Slade frowned. “I think that nurse knows something she’s not telling us.” He gestured toward the elevator.

“That bone your forensics person found, it could have belonged to the stillborn,” Nina suggested.

He gave a clipped nod. “I’m going to check out this Waldorp woman and have a chat with William’s mother.”

Nina’s thoughts raced as they took the elevator to the main floor, and Slade drove back to her house. Compassion for the woman who’d given birth to the stillborn baby squeezed her heart. Could she have been distraught enough to have kidnapped Peyton?

And William’s mother…she’d been adamant that she should get rid of her baby. Could she have stolen her or hired someone else to and arranged for an adoption?

“Does Mrs. Hood live in Winston-Salem, too?”

Nina nodded.

“I’ll question her tomorrow, but first I want to do some background work. I’m going to take that doll to the lab.” Slade maneuvered around traffic through town, flipping on his windshield wipers as a light rain began to fall. “I’ll also see if I can get an address for the Waldorp woman. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

Shadows flickered along the sidewalk, night setting in, the rain clouds adding to the gray fog over her house as he pulled into her drive.

Nina grasped on to hope as she climbed out and hurried up to her door. She went inside, flipped on the lights, then went upstairs to shower. A few minutes later, she dried off and pulled on a loose warm-up suit.

But the moment she went downstairs, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and panic hit her.

The CD of lullabies she’d bought for Peyton was playing.

And the baby blanket she’d crocheted and stored in the blanket chest in the attic was wrapped around another rag doll that had been stabbed just like the first.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SLADE STOPPED BY GAI and found Amanda Peterson still poring over forensics files. Benjamin Camp poked his head in when he saw Slade, and he brought them both up to speed on what he’d learned so far.

“You said a baby was stillborn that same day,” Amanda said. “I’ll find out if this bone could have belonged to that child instead of the Nash baby.”

“Thanks,” Slade said. “I’m sure it won’t be easy.”

Amanda grinned. “That’s what I do,” she said confidently. “Besides, if I can find out where the bone was located, that might help. And you said the stillborn was a baby boy?”

Slade nodded. “That will narrow things down. I’ll make a phone call to the medical examiner and find out the names of any forensic specialists brought in to study the bones. If they had a forensic anthropologist working with them, we should get some answers.”

“I’ve been trying to dig up records on all the employees who worked at the hospital at the time,” Benjamin said. “If the Hoods or Mr. Nash decided to arrange for an adoption, they might have hired someone to kidnap the baby.”

“That’s definitely a possibility.” Slade heaved a breath. “Look for anyone with a shady past, a record, financial problems, anything that throws up a red flag.” He remembered Carrie’s nervous fidgeting. “Be sure to check out a nurse named Carrie Poole. She was on duty that night in the NICU.”

“What’s your next step?” Amanda asked.

“I’m going to investigate the Hoods, and William’s wife, Mitzi. She dated William before Nina and was pissed when Nina turned up pregnant with his child.”

“Sounds like motive to me,” Benjamin muttered.

Slade sighed. “Yeah, although the nurse didn’t remember seeing William or Mitzi at the hospital that night.”

“You said yourself it was total chaos,” Amanda commented. “With all the panic and rescue workers scrambling about, anyone could have slipped through and no one would have noticed.”

“Something else is bugging me,” Slade said. He removed the doll and showed it to them, then explained about the psychiatrist’s report.

“Do you think she’s unstable, that she put it there herself?” Benjamin asked.

Slade shifted on the balls of his feet. “No. At least she doesn’t appear to be delusional.” He decided to run with a theory. “But what if someone wanted everyone to think she was?”

Amanda drummed her fingers on the desk. “Then putting things in her apartment, like the lullaby CD and doll, that would remind her of her loss would do the trick.”

Slade ran a hand over the back of his neck. It was devious, effective and cruel.

And he intended to find the son of a bitch who’d tormented her and make him suffer.

* * *

INSTINCTIVELY NINA REACHED inside her purse for her cell phone. She had to call Slade.

But after her father’s comment and seeing the psychiatrist’s report, she was afraid Slade wouldn’t believe her.

The windowpane rattled upstairs, the floor creaking, and pure panic seized her.

What if the person who’d put the blanket on the rocker and started the CD was still inside?

The rain pounded harder, beating the roof, and suddenly the lights flickered off. Nina froze, listening, waiting.

But common sense kicked in, and she slowly slipped into the kitchen, pausing to listen for an intruder. The wind whistled through the eaves, the rain intensifying, and she eased open the door to the garage, scanning the darkness. A streak of lightning illuminated the interior, then suddenly a shadow moved across the window.

Terror streaked through her, and she ran to her car, jumped inside and locked the doors. Her hands shook as she dug her phone from her purse and tried to punch Slade’s number. But she was trembling so badly she dropped the phone. She glanced at the window and saw a hand scraping across the fog-coated pane as if the man was reaching for her.

She screamed, bent to snap up the phone again then inhaled a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was locked in the car. The man was outside.

She was safe.

Finally she managed to punch in Slade’s number. Again, she thought she saw the silhouette of the man race across the window, and her lungs squeezed, begging for air. The phone rang once, twice, then Slade’s husky voice echoed over the line.

She clenched the phone close to her mouth. “Slade, someone was in my house,” she whispered. “They’re outside now.”

“Where are you?”

“The garage.” She scanned the window again. “In my car.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The line went dead, and she clawed inside her purse and found her mace, bracing herself in case the man attacked.

* * *

SLADE SLAMMED ON his horn, yelling at the cars to get out of the way. He wished to hell he had a siren to make the traffic move faster.

Nina might be in danger. He had to get to her, find out who was at her house.

Rainwater spewed from his tires, and he ground gears as he rounded a curve and sped onto the street leading to her house. As he neared the cul-de-sac, he searched the street and surrounding property.

His headlights flickered across the lawn, and he spotted a dog trotting by the mailbox. Darkness shrouded Nina’s house inside and out, sending alarm bells clanging in his head.

The rest of the neighborhood had lights.

Slowing, he pulled to the side and parked along the street, removed his weapon and crept toward her drive, glancing left and right in search of the intruder. The wind was blowing, tree branches swaying beneath the force, but the rain began to die down, turning to a drizzle.

His boots crunched wet leaves and twigs that had blown down in the storm as he inched forward. Moving slowly, instincts alert, he checked the front of the house. A streak of lightning zigzagged across the lawn, allowing him to see that no windows had been broken.

The intruder could have gotten in around back.

Slipping sideways, he padded around the outside of the house to the backyard. Woods backed up to the property, trees providing cover for someone who might have been inside and escaped.

He scanned the distance, but it was too dark to see into the trees. A twig snapping to the left made him jerk his head sideways, and a shadow moved. He raised his gun to fire, but a dog suddenly ran past, and he cursed. Dammit, he could have shot the animal….

Still tense, he made his way around the house, passing in front of the windows in the garage. Nina’s car was parked inside, but the interior was dark and he couldn’t see if she was still there.

Knowing he’d spook her if he knocked, he removed his phone and called her number.

She answered on the first ring. “Slade?”

“I’m outside. It’s clear out here. Open the garage door and I’ll search the house.”

“I can’t. It’s electric,” Nina said.

“There should be a button to switch it to manual.”

“Yes,” Nina said. “Let me find it.”

A minute later, the garage door slid upward. Nina looked pale and shaken, and she was clenching a vial of mace in her trembling hands.

At least she’d had something to protect herself.

“You didn’t find him?” she whispered.

“The only thing I saw was a dog.”

“It wasn’t a dog, Slade,” Nina cried. “It was a man. I saw his hand on the window.”

“How did you know he’d been inside?”

Pain flickered in her eyes. “He left me another present.”

A curse rolled from his lips. “Stay here and let me make sure he’s not still in the house.”

She nodded, and he urged her inside the car again, then waited until he heard the lock click into place. Then he slipped inside the house to see what the bastard had left this time.

* * *

NINA RAKED HER fingernails up and down her arms, her nerves on edge as she waited for Slade to search the house. If the person who’d broken in and left that doll intended to scare her off, he was wrong.

She was stronger than she’d been eight years ago. And the fact that someone was tormenting her only made her believe that she was right about her daughter. That someone was scared she might discover the truth.

Because that person knew where her daughter was.

She glanced back and forth between the windows and door to the inside, her breath hitching when the door squeaked open. It was so dark, the only thing she could make out was the outline of a man’s big body. Then the lights suddenly flickered on, and she recognized Slade.

He looked big and feral, his face chiseled into a hard mask. She flung open the car door, jumped out and hurried toward him.

He jammed his gun inside his jacket pocket and gripped her by the arms. “It’s clear. The main breaker had been flipped. That’s why the lights went out.”

She nodded numbly, and allowed him to guide her into the kitchen, then into the den. Her gaze flew to the rocking chair and the doll wrapped in the baby blanket.

The lullaby CD was still playing, taunting her.

Slade clenched his jaw, then walked over and switched off the CD. “I’m going to send it to the lab although I doubt we’ll get anything. Whoever did this probably wore gloves, but I’m still going to dust for prints.”

Nina stared up at him, her heart racing. “Then you believe me? That I didn’t put that creepy doll in the rocker or make up the intruder?”

His gaze met hers, emotions flickering in his brown eyes. Eyes that could dissect a person in seconds, eyes that could look cold and intimidating. Eyes that said he’d seen too much death and violence in his life.

She thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he cleared his throat. “Yes, Nina, I believe you.”

His gruffly spoken words made her heart twinge, and suddenly tears filled her eyes. She’d been alone so long, had faced scorn and animosity and pity. She knew how to handle those.

She didn’t know how to handle having someone believe in her again.

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