“You deal with identity theft in your
company, don’t you, Kyle?” Lindsey
asked, pressing her cell phone to her ear.

“Sure. Why?”

“It’s my father. I found at least two dozen letters from collection agencies in his desk.”

“Does your father have debt?”

“My father’s a miser when it comes to money. I don’t think he’s ever had debt.” She knew she shouldn’t be dragging Kyle into this, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you. I’m sure you didn’t have this conversation in mind when you called.”

“I was thinking of something more along the lines of asking you to dinner, actually.”

Lindsey smiled. “Dinner would be nice. I—“

She was interrupted by the violent sound of shattering glass. She jumped up from the table and spun around. The metal handle on the back door shook. Someone was breaking in.

LISA HARRIS

Currently, Lisa and her husband, along with their three children, are working in Mozambique as church planters. She speaks French and is fervently working to improve her Portuguese. Life is busy between ministry and homeschooling, but she loves her time to escape into another world and write, and sees this work as an extension of her ministry.

Besides writing, Lisa loves to travel. She and her husband have visited more than twenty countries throughout Europe, Africa, South America and the Far East, and have lived in Togo, France, South Africa, Brazil and currently Mozambique. One of her favorite pastimes is learning to cook different exotic dishes from around the world. Be sure to check out her Web site at www.lisaharriswrites.com or her blog at myblogintheheartofafrica.blogspot.com for a peek into her life in the heart of Africa.

Lisa Harris
Final Deposit

Published by Steeple Hill Books™

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.

—Ephesians, 1:7

This book is dedicated to Mema. I miss you.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

Acknowledgments

The past year has been a roller coaster of adventure, from the tropical paradise of northern South Africa to the busy rush of a Brazilian city, and now the white beaches of Mozambique. Thankfully, none of my adventures have been quite as perilous as they were for my hero and heroine. Through all these changes, I never could have kept on writing if it weren’t for my wonderful and supportive husband and kids, my awesome critique group and members of my extended family, who are always there with an encouraging word when times get crazy. And believe me, it’s been crazy!

Thanks also to my agent, Joyce, for always cheering me on, my editor, Krista, for believing in this story, and for Louise, who did a great job—and fairly painlessly, I might add—in helping me edit this story.

PROLOGUE

Whoever said that love of money was the root of all evil had never experienced the financial benefits of working a long con.

Leaning against the light post outside his London flat, Abraham Omah nodded at the familiar face of a woman as she jogged past, iPod on her arm, Windbreaker zipped up to block the April chill. She smiled at him as he took a drag off his cigarette, and then flicked the ashes onto the sidewalk. She was definitely worth pursuing, but she’d have to be a prize for another day. He had more pressing things to consider at the moment.

His lips curled into a grin at the thought of George Taylor. Contact with Mr. Taylor had grown into daily online chats, e-mails and even an occasional phone call charged to the American’s bill. It continued to amaze him how trusting people could be. Throw out the tempting lure of easy money and watch the gullible jump headfirst into the game.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Anyone that naive deserved what they got.

A taxi driver blared his horn as he sped down the narrow roadway congested with other cars, buses and bikers. Abraham tossed his cigarette onto the sidewalk and then sprinted up the flight of stairs to the two-bedroom flat. He loved the noise of the city, the heavy scent of exhaust from the morning rush hour that mingled with a hint of curry from the Indian restaurant across the street, and even the unpredictable spring weather. He’d come a long way from the slums of north London where he’d grown up.

He slammed the front door shut, then settled in at his computer with a cup of hot coffee and a slice of leftover pizza. The way things were progressing with Mr. Taylor, he’d soon be able to invite Miss iPod to dinner at the Crowne Plaza to celebrate. He clicked open his e-mail, anxious to read Mr. Taylor’s response to his latest request, this one for seven thousand dollars to be wired to Abraham’s account to cover the remaining transfer fees the bank had imposed. A final payment, he promised.

He scanned his in-box.

Nothing.

Abraham frowned. Normally George Taylor was prompt in his replies. If he’d decided to pull out…

Abraham gripped the edges of the keyboard and fought to stop a wave of panic. No. He would stay calm and wait—years of training had taught him that. It took months to gain people’s trust so that they were willing to mortgage their homes, take cash advances off their credit cards, sell their cars and even steal. He just needed to be patient.

Abraham blew out a long, slow breath. He had to reassure Mr. Taylor that everything was still on track, and that his help was essential to the success of the deal.

The retired Dallas engineer had already wired him thousands of dollars to cover various bogus transaction fees. Abraham had assured him that paying these fees would release assets worth millions once belonging to a dead government official from West Africa. The deal would go through, Abraham told himself—Mr. Taylor had invested too much to simply back out now.

He began drafting another e-mail. The con was far from over. Mr. Taylor deserved the chance to see the money himself. Soon, it would be waiting in a hotel room in London in a silver suitcase, with hired guards on each side. Abraham’s smile returned. Thirty-one million dollars in cash wasn’t all that would be waiting for George Taylor.

ONE

Lindsey Taylor wondered exactly how many faux pas she’d be committing by taking off her three-inch sling backs, sneaking across the terrace and stealing into the library for a short reprieve from her best friend Sarah’s wedding reception. At the moment, both feet felt as if she’d just attempted to run a marathon. And after an extended ceremony, dozens of photos and an hour and a half of socializing, it was no wonder.

Still, barring the problematic issues of her attire, Sarah and Brad’s wedding had been a success. The decision to hold the ceremony in the enclosed garden behind Sarah’s parents’ luxurious North Dallas home hadn’t gone over well at first. But, with a bit of help from a wedding coordinator, the landscaped area had been transformed into an elegant wedding and reception venue. Even Sarah’s mother had agreed that the setting—while far from traditional in her mind—was perfect for a summer ceremony.

Lindsey winced as a stab of pain shot from the ball of her foot to her calf. The sight of the four-tiered chocolate wedding cake on the other side of the terrace clinched the decision. No one would miss the maid of honor for thirty minutes or so. And after enjoying some solitude with a thick slice of cake and the book she was reading, she’d be ready to join society again.

She made her way through the throng of guests toward the house, but crossing the tiled decking around the pool gracefully turned out to be an exercise in futility. Her ankle twisted, and she barely caught herself before sprawling into the pool. She teetered for a moment on the narrow heels, then righted herself, glancing up to see if anyone had caught her near mishap.

Best man Kyle Walker waved at her from the other side of the pool.

Great. She felt her cheeks redden as she forced a smile and waved back. Kyle was just as handsome as he’d been in college. Even more so, in fact. Clean shaven, short dark hair and that one familiar dimple on his left cheek, not to mention the classy tuxedo…

Memories of tutoring sessions, final exams and football games came flooding back. Lindsey and Sarah had met Kyle and Brad as freshmen at University of Texas. The four of them had become fast friends but Lindsey had lost track of Kyle after she left school. Apparently Sarah’s recent reconnection with him, followed by her engagement to Brad after a decade apart, had sparked an interest in matchmaking. Sarah had even gone as far as to suggest how romantic it would be if Lindsey and Kyle were to discover love after all these years.

Except she and Kyle had never been anything more than friends. And any matchmaking attempts had fallen between the cracks of last-minute wedding preparations and Kyle’s delayed flight into Dallas last night. There simply hadn’t been time for the two of them to chat.

But while Lindsey had no intention of romanticizing their long-overdue reunion, perhaps her escape to the library could wait.

Margie Adams, mother of the bride, waylaid Lindsey halfway across the terrace, balancing two plates of cake and a cup of punch in her hands. “You were right, Lindsey.”

“I was?” Lindsey squeezed her sequined purse under her arm, taking the cake Mrs. Adams offered.

“I thought a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting would be completely inappropriate for the wedding, but it’s absolutely fantastic,” Mrs. Adams said, taking a bite. “Don’t tell a soul, but I’m on my second piece. You’ve simply got to try it.”

Lindsey took a bite. “This is delicious.”

Mrs. Adams wiped the edge of her mouth with a cream-colored napkin embossed with Sarah’s and Brad’s names. “And another thing, Lindsey. I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely stunning tonight. That old adage of ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’ certainly isn’t true. Soon we’ll be planning your ceremony.”

Lindsey frowned. Suddenly the cake didn’t seem quite so appetizing. Why was it that everyone believed that being single was a matter of fate and not choice? She’d been a bridesmaid in three different wedding parties in the past two years and someone had made a similar comment to her at every wedding.

Lindsey pressed her lips together. “You know, Mrs. Adams, while I do plan to marry one day, I’m really not in any hurry—”

Mrs. Adam’s held up her free hand. “I know, my dear, I know. Even Sarah waited until her thirties to marry. But one can’t wait forever, especially if you want a family….”

Lindsey took another bite of cake, while Mrs. Adams continued her monologue on the importance of finding the right mate. Sarah’s mom tended to ramble—and eat—when she was nervous, and apparently the wedding of her only daughter had catapulted her into that precarious frame of mind.

Lindsey glanced across the terrace for a glimpse of Kyle, but he’d disappeared. Not that it mattered, of course. She took another bite of cake, trying to ignore the pain in her feet, and turned back to Mrs. Adams. Apparently it was going to be a very long night.

Kyle leaned down to kiss Sarah on the cheek. “Congratulations, you two. This evening turned out perfectly.”

Brad thumped him on the upper arm. “Now it’s your turn, buddy.”

“For marriage?” Kyle coughed. “One of these days, but I’ve got too much on my plate right now.”

Unfortunately, a relationship took time, which was something he had far too little of right now. Between running his own company and opening up a new office in Dallas, finding time for a serious relationship had fallen off his to-do list.

“Trust me, Kyle. When the right woman comes along, you’ll find the time.” Brad wrapped his arm around his bride’s waist. “Besides, do you see me worrying about work? There’s more to life, you know. And a few extra perks like marriage can’t hurt.”

Sarah pulled away from Brad’s embrace, her hands on her hips. “So you see me as a perk, Mr. O’Conner?”

“The only perk I’ll ever need, Mrs. O’Conner.” Brad wrapped his arms around Sarah, who melted into his embrace as they kissed.

Kyle cleared his throat. “I think I’ll leave the two of you to your blissful state of matrimony.”

“Wait a minute, Kyle,” Sarah said, stopping him from escaping. “You’ve had a chance to talk to Lindsey, haven’t you?”

Kyle shook his head. “Nothing more than a quick ‘hi, it’s good to see you again.’ Every time I head her direction, she’s deep in conversation with someone.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Kyle laughed. It hadn’t been an excuse. Not really, anyway. It was just that thirteen years changed a person, and picking up from the last day he’d seen her wasn’t exactly easy.

“I always thought the two of you were perfect for each other,” Sarah continued.

“We were friends. Nothing more.”

Sarah nodded across the terrace. “At least go rescue her from my mother. You remember how much my mother talks. She’ll keep her half the night, and Lindsey’s too polite to say anything.”

Kyle glanced at Lindsey, smiling to himself as he remembered the first time they met. He’d been pulling a load of pink clothes from a Laundromat washing machine, after accidentally tossing a pair of new red jogging shorts into the mix. Then Lindsey had walked in. A trip to the supermarket and two hours later, she’d somehow managed to turn his socks and T-shirts white again.

A decade or so later, she still looked beautiful even if the pink bridesmaid dress she wore might be a tad frilly for his tastes. Slender frame, honey-colored hair pulled up in a classic twist, big brown eyes…He’d often wondered what would have happened if their friendship had turned into something more all those years ago.

His cell phone vibrated in his jacket, stopping his reminiscing. He glanced at the text message and frowned. “Emergency in Amsterdam. Call D.C.”

Great. Matt’s timing couldn’t be worse, but Kyle knew he couldn’t ignore the message. Security breaches were a serious cause for concern, and he was afraid there was either a mole in their Amsterdam office or a bug in their computer software. Both posed a threat to the integrity of the company that couldn’t wait.

“Please don’t tell me you’re working,” Sarah said.

Kyle flashed her an apologetic smile. “It will only take a few minutes. You don’t mind if I step inside the house and make a call, do you?”

Sarah shrugged in defeat. “Try the library. It should be quiet in there.”

He heard Lindsey’s soft laugh as he headed inside. He would definitely make an effort to talk to her before the night was out.

By the time Lindsey heard the ominous crack, it was too late.

Her first mistake had been to agree to wear the pink taffeta bridesmaid’s dress with the layers of ruffles down the back. The second mistake had been the shoes—one of the silver heels had just snapped off like a dry twig. Her left hip jutted forward and punch splashed over the edge of her glass, dribbling down the front of her dress. Teetering on one foot, she struggled to keep her balance and avoid spilling the rest of the drink onto the beige suede couch in front of her. The book under her arm slapped against the floor of the small library, followed by her purse. A groan escaped her lips as she grabbed for the couch. Fortunately, she was still holding the generous slice of cake with an inch of chocolate frosting.

“Need some help?”

Lindsey’s arm jerked at the sound of a voice inside the darkened room. The cake flipped off the plate, into the air, and landed smack-dab in the middle of Kyle’s white tuxedo shirt. It was clearly too late for help. She looked at him, horrified, and wondered if it was physically possible to dissolve into the expensive Oriental rug on the library floor.

“I am so sorry,” she said, setting the drink and now-empty plate on the coffee table. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Lindsey bit her lower lip, wondering how in the world she had managed to make a complete fool out of herself in less than five seconds. Kyle’s familiar smile—though lovely to look at—did nothing to erase her humiliation.

A wave of heat flooded her cheeks as he reached for the empty plate and used it to scrape some of the brown frosting from his white shirt.

“I really am sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t worry about it. This was heading to the cleaners tomorrow anyway. And better my shirt than Mr. Adams’s suede couch.” He flashed her another wide grin. “Besides, I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat before I have to fly back home to D.C.”

“Me, too.” She couldn’t help but match his smile as she sat down. “It’s been a long time.”

“Thirteen years to be exact.”

He was right, though she could barely believe it. Another decade, an extra pound or two, a handful of gray hairs she ensured were professionally colored every six weeks…

“Did you really have to bring up the fact that it’s been that long?”

He settled into the couch across from her. “Would it help if I told you that you look even better thirteen years later?”

“Only if it were true,” she countered.

“Oh, it definitely is.”

He always had known how to say the right thing, possessing enough charm to rival Prince Charming himself.

“Did I mention how good it is to see you again?” She reached down to examine what remained of her seventy-five-dollar heels and moaned at the ruined shoe. He picked up her book and purse, handing them to her. “Thanks. I didn’t know that the best man’s job description included taking care of the maid of honor.”

“Not a bad description in my opinion. Trying to escape the wedding reception?”

Lindsey squeezed the paperback into her purse. “My feet are killing me, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if I slipped out for thirty minutes. Of course, I didn’t expect you to beat me to my favorite hideout.”

“Your favorite hideout?”

She looked at the wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with everything from Grisham to Hemingway to Peretti. “I’m still a bit of a bookaholic, and Sarah’s father has always given me unlimited access to this room.”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I can ever remember seeing you without a book.” He stole a glance at his computer. “If we’re confessing, I suppose I have to admit to becoming a bit of a workaholic the past few years.”

“I’d say so.” The blue light of a laptop glowed on the coffee table. Lindsey’s brow furrowed. “Working during your best friend’s wedding reception?”

“An emergency in Amsterdam.” His smile faded. “Looks bad, doesn’t it?”

She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, ignoring her gut reaction. Just because her father had taken up permanent residency inside the World Wide Web didn’t mean Kyle was also stuck there. This situation was completely different. Kyle had to make a living.

Lindsey slid forward to the edge of the couch to unbuckle the strap of her broken shoe, mentally reviewing what Sarah had told her about Kyle.

First of all, he was still single. She could practically hear Sarah’s voice in her head, announcing the fact.

Secondly, Kyle lived in D.C., splitting his time between Washington and London with an occasional trip to Hong Kong or Eastern Europe. The fact that he lived halfway across the country removed any pressure. After tonight, they’d probably never see each other again. Considering she’d just dumped a half pound of chocolate frosting on his shirt, he was probably glad.

Thirdly, Sarah had told her that he was extremely successful, running his own security company. This was a plus to many single girls, but it wasn’t high up on her list. Money was nice, but she wasn’t going to fall for a bank account even if there was a handsome man attached.

The bottom line was, while she might be tired of always being a bridesmaid, she was even more tired of the constant matchmaking schemes of Sarah and her other friends. Perhaps being single was simply God’s plan for her life.

Lindsey held up the broken heel and shook her head. She undid the second sling back and plopped her feet up on the coffee table. “Sarah told me you’ve gone into the security business.”

Kyle started shutting down his laptop. “I spent a few years working in international finance and couldn’t believe how lax security was. I saw a hole in the market and decided to start a company. We deal primarily in fraud investigation and financial security systems. We’re just now expanding here in Dallas, so this visit is part business, part pleasure.”

“Sounds like an interesting line of work,” she said, thinking that she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that he’d made something of himself.

“The hours are a bit crazy some days, but I love the travel perks. Sarah told me you’re working for an adoption agency?”

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Not quite as exciting as seeing the world, but I feel as if I make a difference.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said.

Lindsey looked away from those intense sea-blue eyes and tried to convince herself that the odd feeling in her stomach had everything to do with the romantic atmosphere of her best friend’s wedding—and nothing to do with being in the same room with Kyle Walker. Or perhaps the salmon hors d’oeuvres she’d indulged in from the buffet weren’t agreeing with her.

She shot him another glance and saw him looking at her intently. She felt her breath catch and that odd feeling swelled. Was it possible that for once Sarah’s intuitions had been on target?

Kyle was surprised that an hour and a half had already passed. He and Lindsey had swapped story after story as they caught up on the past few years. He’d forgotten how much he used to enjoy being around her, talking to her. The unique way she interpreted life had always captivated him.

“The last time I saw you, you were making plans to intern in D.C. for the summer. Did you ever go?” she asked.

“Yes, and I ended up working for that same firm after graduation.” He lost his train of thought for a second as he admired her toffee-colored eyes. “And the last time I saw you, if I remember correctly, you had just received an A minus on your algebra final.”

“All thanks to you and your brilliant tutoring. Fortunately for everyone, my career has little to do with mathematics.” With her bare feet propped up on the coffee table, she looked content and relaxed. “College seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. All except for that one day when he’d looked across a pile of math books at her and suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her. He’d be risking their friendship, but he thought it might be worth it. But before he’d had a chance to act on the notion, her mother’s cancer diagnosis had whisked her out of school. Out of school and out of his life. Missing his chance with Lindsey was one of his few regrets.

And now, all these years later, she was sitting across from him again, making him want to forget the urgent phone call from his coworker, Monday’s business meeting downtown and more importantly, the fact that he lived a thousand miles away. He hadn’t expected that seeing her again would dredge up these feelings and remind him of the dozens of times he’d wondered what would have happened if he’d asked her out all those years ago.

“The Star-Spangled Banner” played, jolting him back to reality.

Lindsey rummaged through her purse and then held up her cell phone. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.”

He watched while she took the call, making a determined effort to rein in his unruly emotions. Somewhere between listening to his best friend say “I do” and watching him kiss his bride, Kyle had dropped off the edge of insanity. His life was fine. Complete. He didn’t need a woman to find happiness. He caught another glimpse of her beautiful eyes and wondered at the truth of that statement.

Lindsey’s face was pale as she flipped the phone shut.

Kyle leaned forward, sensing something was wrong. “What’s up?”

“That was the hospital. My father’s just been taken to the emergency room.”

TWO

Kyle watched as Lindsey grabbed for her purse, her hands shaking as she stumbled to her feet. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

“Whoa. Slow down.” He jumped up from the couch. “You’re not going out anywhere by yourself.”

“I’ll be all right.” She slung her purse across her shoulder. The rosy blush she’d had all evening had completely disappeared from her face. “Apparently he fell and hit his head.”

“You’re in no condition to drive.” He slid his laptop into his black leather briefcase before snatching up his tuxedo jacket. “I can drive you to the hospital and then take a taxi back to my hotel once I know everything’s okay.”

She stared at his shirt, tears suddenly glistening on her eyelashes. “Are you sure?”

He stopped himself from reaching out to touch her cheek. “Trust me. Even if they’re still here, which I doubt, Sarah and Brad won’t miss either of us.”

“You have a point.” She cocked her head. “What about your shirt?”

He glanced down at the chocolate smear, then pointed to the shoes she’d just picked up off the floor. “I’d say neither of us will win a prize in the best-dressed category.”

Her faint smile brought a tinge of color back to her cheeks. “I’ll go grab another pair from Sarah’s bedroom.”

“Good. I’ll let someone know where we’re going. I’ll meet you back down here in a couple minutes.”

The relief that washed over her face made him glad he’d been with her when the call came in. It also made him realize how much he’d missed her. And how much he didn’t want their time together to end.

He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-five. The hour time change from D.C. would make the late night even later for him, but he could grab a couple hours of extra sleep in the morning. All that mattered right now was getting Lindsey to her father.

Five minutes later, they were speeding down the freeway toward the hospital. Lindsey sat beside him, her fingers nervously toying with the strap of her purse. “I appreciate you doing this for me. You were right. I don’t think I could have driven.”

“It’s not a problem. It gives me a chance to see a bit of the city.”

Lindsey’s soft laugh filled the car. It was a laugh he’d like to hear more of. “I can think of prettier cities at night, but you’re a sport.”

He switched to the fast lane, thankful traffic was light for a Friday night. “Tell me what happened with your mother.”

Her heavy sigh caused him to wonder if he’d brought up the wrong topic. Upsetting her further was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business—”

“No, no, it’s fine. My mother’s cancer went into remission for several years, and then came back pretty aggressively. She died four years ago.”

“I’m so sorry, Lindsey.”

“I still miss her a lot, but I’ve come to accept that she’s in a better place.”

“And your father? I always liked him. How is he?”

Her gaze drifted out the window. “For the most part, he was coping pretty well, until about eight or nine months ago.”

“What happened then?”

“He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. His prognosis is good, but I’m worried about him.” The lights of a passing semi caught her grave expression. “He’s become detached. And he’s concerned about money even though he has a sizable retirement fund.”

“Does he go out much?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. He used to be involved with church and the local Rotary Club, but I think his friends have pretty much given up on him.”

Kyle let up on the accelerator and changed lanes again to allow a speeding car to pass him. “How does he spend his time?”

“On the Internet. And watching television.” She motioned for him to take the next exit. “I invite him to go places with me as often as I can, but most of the time he comes up with an excuse to not go. He wouldn’t even come to Sarah’s wedding.”

Kyle flipped on his turn signal and eased onto the exit ramp. The red glow of the emergency entrance announced the hospital ahead. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as memories of his last visit to the E.R. flashed before him.

“What about your family?” she asked.

“My parents retired to Florida and love it. My sister actually lives here in Dallas with her husband and twin daughters. I’m planning to have dinner with them tomorrow night. I don’t see them near as often as I’d like.”

“Sarah told me that your brother, Michael…” Her voice trailed off, as if she didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Kyle swallowed. “He died about six years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Kyle,” she said, her voice full with sympathy.

“It was a shock to all of us.” He pulled up at the emergency entrance, glad to have a reason to change the subject. “I’ll park the car and meet you at the patient-information desk, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He met her ten minutes later and told her where he’d parked. “Any word on your father’s condition?”

She slipped the ticket into her purse. “I saw him briefly. They’ve admitted him for observation, which is standard for a head injury. Plus, his blood pressure’s elevated as well as his heart rate. But hopefully he’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”

Kyle shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?”

She shook her head. “You’ve done so much already, Kyle, and you’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll be fine. Really.”

He wondered if she regretted not being able to prolong the evening as much as he did. “I enjoyed tonight. Even the chocolate frosting.”

“Me, too. It’s been too long.” She pushed the elevator button.

“Yeah, it has. I guess this is goodbye, then. It was great to see you again, Lindsey.”

“You, too, Kyle.”

“If ever you’re in the D.C. area, look me up.”

“I will.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. He considered asking her out for dinner, but something stopped him. She had her own life to live in Dallas, while he had his in D.C. Another evening spent together wouldn’t change that. It was time to put the past behind him.

The elevator dinged and a group of nurses stepped out. Clearing his throat, he dug into his wallet, pulled out a business card and handed it to her before the elevator door closed. “I’ll be in the area a few more days on business. If you need something…anything…just call me.”

Lindsey took in a deep, calming breath and tried not to lose her temper. What she needed was a way to knock some sense into her father. From the moment she’d arrived in his hospital room, all he’d done was insist she go check on his cat. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help—not at all. But it was late and the last thing she was worried about was Sammy, his Siamese feline. She glanced down at her father’s groggy visage and swallowed her frustration. She might as well indulge him. It was the least she could do.

She leaned over and pushed back a strand of curly gray hair from his forehead. He’d aged the past few months, and it had her worried. Something had to be done.

He squeezed her hand. “So you’ll go?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, Daddy, I’ll go. Can’t have you worrying about Sammy, now, can we?”

He knew she’d do anything for him. He was all the family she had, and despite the fact that he drove her crazy, she loved him fiercely.

Fifteen minutes later, Lindsey parked alongside the curb of her father’s ranch-style, brick home and shut off the engine. The neighborhood was relatively safe, but she still didn’t like being here alone at night. She stepped out of the car, locked the doors and set the alarm.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

I know you’re here, Lord. I just need an extra measure of your peace tonight.

She crossed to the mailbox and slipped in the key she carried in her purse. These days, her father didn’t even bother bringing in the mail and the box was always full. Pulling out a stack of envelopes, she tried to get a grip on her emotions. Her tattered nerves were ridiculous. It had simply been an emotional, draining day, between Sarah’s wedding and her father’s emergency trip to the hospital.

And Kyle.

She managed a smile. No. Seeing Kyle again after all these years had been the highlight of her day. Maybe even of her week.

A shadow lengthened against the walkway as she turned toward the house. She froze at the curb. Something rustled in the bushes that lined the front of her dad’s house.

Suddenly, a cat darted out of the bushes. She jumped back, smacking her arm against the side of the mailbox. The cat ran across the yard and out of sight.

Her heart pounded. She clutched the mail to her chest and hurried to the house. Cat or no cat, she’d had enough surprises for one day.

Lindsey opened the front door, turned off the alarm, then locked the door behind her as she called for Sammy. It bothered her that her father seemed more worried about Sammy than the fact that he had just been admitted into the hospital. Or the fact that his only daughter was tromping around late at night to check on an animal that was more than likely sound asleep at the foot of his bed.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked past the ten-gallon fish tank and dropped the pile of mail onto her father’s orderly rolltop desk that sat in the corner of the living room. The top envelope caught her eye. She picked up the letter.

Regional Recovery Agency. A collection agency?

Her eyes narrowed. Why in the world was her father receiving mail from a collection agency? She opened the top-right drawer of his desk where she knew he kept his mail. There was a stack of opened notices all from the same company. She shook her head. There had to be a mistake. Her father had a perfect credit record. Or so she’d always assumed. He hated debt and had always worked to ensure she felt the same way.

She went to the open-planned kitchen, separated from the living room by a bar, and poured herself a glass of water. In the morning, all this would make sense. Her father would be released and he’d explain.

Except how could he explain a pile of letters from bill collectors? She set her glass down on the counter with a thud.

Identity theft?

The thought knocked the wind out of her. Was it possible? She went back to his desk and sat down. All the time he spent online didn’t ensure that he was knowledgeable about keeping passwords and credit-card numbers safe. There were so many predators out there these days that even regular mail wasn’t safe anymore.

Lindsey began flipping through the letters one by one. Bill collectors meant that the problem was substantial and couldn’t be solved overnight. She could call Kyle tomorrow. He would definitely know a thing or two about identity theft.

She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced around the room. Everything looked exactly the way it had when she’d dropped by three days ago with a dish of homemade lasagna and a loaf of garlic bread. The TV Guide and crossword puzzle lay on the armrest of her father’s recliner; the stack of CDs were neatly piled beside his stereo. Coffee-table books, her mother’s afghan and his worn slippers all lay in their rightful places. Even the fish tank, with its colorful African cichlids, still looked crystal clear.

Everything would be fine tomorrow, she told herself. They’d work through this just as they had worked through his diagnosis with prostate cancer. The doctors had given him an eighty-five-percent chance of a complete recovery. Surely the odds of solving this were even higher. She started toward the hallway to search for Sammy and then stopped short on the beige shag carpet. She stared at the glass curio cabinet against the wall, which had been a gift from her father to her mother on their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

The curio cabinet was empty. Every single one of her mother’s expensive porcelain figurines was gone. All of them. Lindsey opened the cabinet door and ran her finger across the dusty shelf. It couldn’t be. Her father would never sell the collection her mother had worked on for over four decades.

Would he?

THREE

Sammy strutted up to Lindsey and rubbed against her legs. She picked up the cat and held him against her chest, staring at the empty cabinet. Nothing made sense. Not the missing curios. Not the pile of collection notices. Nothing.

She put Sammy down despite his protests and shut the cabinet door. She crossed the room to her father’s desk. Two wooden file cabinets stood beside it, a glossy-leafed spider plant perched on the closest one. The other was covered with a half-dozen photos, mostly of her—one of the hazards of being an only child. Her first birthday…Disneyland when she was eleven…high-school graduation…standing in front of the Eiffel Tower while on vacation in France…the last family picture taken before her mother died…

She bit her lip and stared at her mother’s familiar smile. Her father had always claimed she and her mother could have been sisters with their curly blond hair and matching wide smiles. She stared at the photo. What would her mother do if she were here right now? Rush to the hospital to demand an explanation from her father? Or sort though his desk for answers?

Lindsey pressed her hands against the back of the rolling desk chair, wishing her mother were here. She sat down and pulled open the middle desk drawer. Half a dozen black pens lay side by side next to a neat pile of paper clips, rubber bands, Post-it Notes and a stapler. The left-hand drawer had hanging files. Hesitating slightly, she flicked the tab of the first file. More than likely, her father would have a few choice words for her if he knew she was perusing his desk, but she felt she had no choice. The answer had to be here.

She scanned each file folder. Appliance manuals. Car-service records. Investment figures. Receipts, warranties and phone bills. She tugged the drawer open farther to get to the back. Tax papers. Travel brochures. And…bingo. A fat folder all the way in the back revealed a three-inch-thick, rubber-banded batch of letters from collection agencies.

Nausea washed over her as she dumped the file onto the floor, slid off the sandals she had borrowed from Sarah and slumped down onto the carpet cross-legged beside them. She pulled out one of the folded pieces of correspondence to scan the contents of the letter. “You currently have an outstanding balance”…“Our policy requires all balances be paid in full”…“Please remit payment within ten days of receiving this letter…”

The next dozen envelopes revealed more of the same. Follow-up letters, threats and carefully chosen words of intimidation. Halfway through the pile the news got even worse, if that were possible. “We have initiated legal action and are preparing a lawsuit…”

A lawsuit?

The air rushed out of Lindsey’s lungs, and she fought to catch her breath. It was one thing to deal with the ramifications of possible identity theft, but a lawsuit? How could her father have let it come to this? For thirty-five years, he’d worked as a project engineer with a large oil company and brought home a good living. His investments had grown steadily throughout the years, giving him enough for a comfortable retirement. Now his retirement was in danger. Why hadn’t he told her about this?

Lindsey worked to fight the growing queasiness. Whatever was happening to her father had gone beyond a few late payments to a credit-card company. Had he gone to the police or hired a lawyer? The process might be slow, but surely he had enough evidence to verify his innocence while the issue was being resolved.

Unless this was his fault.

No. That was impossible. Lindsey stuffed the last notice back onto the pile and slipped the rubber band around the envelopes. There was no dismissing the fact that her father was in serious financial trouble, but it couldn’t have been his fault. She reached into her pocket and fingered the business card Kyle had given her. He’d said to call if she needed something.

The wooden clock sitting above the fireplace mantel chimed midnight, serving as a reminder that it was too late to ask for a favor. Besides, he’d already done enough for her by leaving the wedding reception early to drive her to the hospital. Maybe tomorrow, when things didn’t look so bad, she’d call him and ask for his advice.

Sammy was standing in front of his bowl at the far side of the kitchen, demanding his supper, when her cell phone rang. She jumped up and grabbed it out of her bag, terrified that it was the hospital calling to tell her that her father…

“Hello?”

“Lindsey? This is Kyle.”

“Kyle?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Hey. You should be sound asleep by now.”

“I know I shouldn’t have called so late, but I was worried. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked.

“No. It’s fine. I’m glad you called.” Sammy brushed up against her legs impatiently. “I’m at my father’s house.”

She pressed the phone against her shoulder as she crossed the kitchen and bent down to pick up Sammy’s bowl.

“Is your father all right?”

“I think he’ll be fine.” She put the bowl on the counter, opened a can of cat food and spooned the pâté-like substance into the silver bowl. “They’re still running some tests, but we should know more tomorrow. At least he’s stabilized.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Me, too. The only thing is…” She hesitated as she put Sammy’s bowl on the floor. “You deal with identity theft in your company, don’t you?”

“Sure. I’d say a good ten to fifteen percent of our clients are dealing with compromised finances.” There was a pause on the line. “Why do you ask?”

“I think someone stole my father’s identity. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for what I’ve found,” she said, feeling a wave of guilt for sharing her father’s secrets.

In any other circumstances, she’d be thrilled to talk to Kyle, but at the moment, she had the strong urge to hang up. Saying it out loud made it all too real.

“Tell me exactly what you found,” he said calmly.

Lindsey drew in a steadying breath. “My father was worried about his cat, so I promised I’d drop by the house. On my way in, I checked the mail and found letters from a collection agency.”

“Anything else?”

“I found more notices in his desk. At least two dozen letters from several agencies.” She picked up the dishrag and began wiping the already spotless countertop. “And there’s more.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“My mother has a collection of limited-edition porcelain figurines worth quite a bit of money. She’s been collecting them for years.” She glanced at the empty cabinet across the room. “They’re all missing.”

“Could your father have sold them to pay down his debt?”

“It’s possible, but it doesn’t fit.” She dropped the rag into the sink, then slid onto one of the bar stools at the end of the counter. “My father’s a miser when it comes to money. He’s never late on credit-card payments. In fact, he refuses to use credit in most cases. I can’t even see him having debt, never mind selling the curios to pay it off.”

“You mentioned how he’d been depressed lately. Could it be he’s overspending online, or maybe gambling?”

“Gambling? I don’t know.” She squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening.

“Lindsey, I know it’s a sensitive topic, but it does happen. Spending money online becomes addictive. And it’s a way to bury the pain of loss.”

Lindsey couldn’t even respond. Was her father spending his retirement money online to cope with his grief? How could she have missed this?

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I know it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay.” She rubbed her thumb against her temples and took another breath. “I’m scared, Kyle. There was even mention of a lawsuit in one of the letters.”

“I know it’s frightening. Especially if it is identity fraud. I can’t do much tonight, but with a few more details and your father’s permission—”

“I’m not sure he’ll give you that,” she said, looking at the stack of letters on the floor.

“You have to know that admitting what’s happening is often the most difficult step,” Kyle continued. “It makes a person feel out of control. Vulnerable. And the solution isn’t always easy. Trying to clear his name will be time-consuming and tedious. He’ll need you more than ever to deal with the cleanup.”

“What if it is his fault? What if you’re right and he’s taken up online gambling and bought a yacht off eBay or…or a time-share in Tahiti?”

His laugh made her smile. “Let’s find out what the damage is first. Then we’ll worry about the solution.”

She knew she shouldn’t be dragging him into this situation, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. She picked up her car keys off the counter and fiddled with the key chain. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, Kyle. I’m sure you didn’t have this conversation in mind when you called.”

“I was thinking of something more along the lines of asking you to dinner, actually.”

Her smile widened. “Dinner would be nice, Kyle. I—”

Lindsey was interrupted by the violent sound of shattering glass.

She jumped from the bar stool and spun around. The metal handle on the back door shook. Someone was breaking in.

FOUR

Kyle drove as fast as he could without risking getting pulled over. Lindsey’s directions had been surprisingly simple, a blessing considering he knew his way around Dallas about as well as he knew his way around the kitchen. With any luck, he should be there in the next five minutes.

Except five minutes might be too late.

He pushed the redial button on his cell phone but she still wasn’t picking up. He’d told her to get out of the house through the front door and wake up one of the neighbors while he called 911. He glanced again at the clock on the dashboard. The police should be there by now.

God, please don’t let anything happen to her.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the break-in had something to do with the pile of collection notices she’d told him about. What exactly had George Taylor gotten himself involved in? The bottom line was that the circumstances were no longer a threat only to him. There was a good chance his actions had put his daughter’s life on the line. Kyle knew Lindsey wasn’t someone who would back down from a situation just because things got rough. But he had a feeling things were going to get even rougher.

His tires squealed as he took the next exit too sharply, and skidded to a stop at the light. He pounded the steering wheel out of frustration, wondering if he should ignore the red light. Another car idled beside him, but other than that the road was quiet. The digital clock announced another minute had passed. The light turned green. He slammed his foot against the accelerator and shot through the intersection. Now all he needed to do was to find the third street on the left.

The area quickly transformed from strip malls and late-night diners to residences. Stately oak trees, merely shadows in the pale moonlight, lined either side of the winding road. He passed the first left. It couldn’t be far now.

The piercing shrill of a siren tore into the quiet of the late night. Kyle glanced in his rearview mirror, jerked his foot off the accelerator and pulled to the side of the road. Strobing red lights pressed in behind him.

No, God. No…

His chest constricted. The ambulance shot by, casting eerie flickers of light across his dash. He moved back into the lane and picked up speed, waiting to see if it was headed for Lindsey’s father’s house. He tried to block the flood of images that flipped through his mind. What were the chances of her fending off an attacker before the police arrived?

The emergency vehicle whizzed down the road, passing Mr. Taylor’s street. Kyle felt the rush of adrenaline shoot through his heart. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.

Slowing down at the third turn, he swung a sharp left and began searching for the house. Thirty-three…thirty-five…He stopped two houses short of her father’s one-story brick house and pulled his rented Mazda against the curb.

Please, God. Let her be okay.

He steadied his breathing. Half a dozen people stood talking on the front lawn, but the street lamp didn’t cast enough light to clearly make out who they were. One or two officers and a couple of neighbors? Squinting in the darkness through the windshield, he caught a glimpse of Lindsey’s pink dress and let out a sigh of relief.

Thank you, Lord.

He got out of the car and approached the scene slowly. The last thing he needed was to be marked as a possible suspect.

One of the officers stepped toward him and held out an arm. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there, sir.”

Kyle froze in his tracks, holding his hands away from his sides. “I’m a friend of Lindsey—”

“It’s all right, Officer.” Lindsey came up beside the uniformed man. “This is Kyle Walker. I was talking to him on my cell when the attempted break-in occurred.”

The officer nodded and moved aside.

Kyle pulled her into his arms, overwhelmed with relief. Once again, his reaction to her caught him off guard, just as it had when he’d first seen her at the wedding.

He’d felt more like a college sophomore than a thirty-three-year-old. She’d been the reason he hadn’t been able to fall asleep at the hotel, and he’d decided to take a chance and call her despite the late hour. Lucky thing he did.

The problem was, he hadn’t planned on this distraction. Not this weekend. He needed to focus on his upcoming meeting with one of his biggest clients.

But no matter how busy things were, Lindsey’s situation wasn’t something he could dismiss. And neither was Lindsey.

Taking a step back, he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You okay?”

“Yeah. The guy scared me to death, but he never made it inside the house.”

“You didn’t try to play superhero, did you?” Kyle asked, looking her straight in the eye.

“Are you kidding?” She cocked her head and met his gaze. “I was heading for the front door before I hung up the phone with you. Unfortunately, I didn’t make a very graceful exit,” she said, a tinge of mischief in her voice.

“What do you mean?” His interest was piqued.

“I smashed into my father’s ten-gallon fish tank on my way out of the kitchen and knocked it over. Made enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, but apparently the crash scared away the would-be thief.”

“And the fish?”

She hesitated briefly. “Dumped them in the toilet.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Wait a minute. You did what?”

She shrugged, giving him one of her wide smiles. “What can I say? They’re freshwater African cichlids from Malawi. My father loves them.”

Kyle didn’t try to stifle his laugh. “But you stuck them in the toilet?”

“I know. It was a crazy, stupid reflex. They probably won’t make it, but what else was I supposed to do?”

Two policemen stepped out of the house and took the steps leading down to the front yard. The tallest officer approached Lindsey, his fists planted solidly on his hips. “We’re finished inside, Miss Taylor. Were you planning to spend the night here?”

“No, sir. Like I said, I’d just dropped by to feed my father’s cat. Do you think it’s safe to leave the house empty?”

“I’d board up the back window. That seems to be the only vulnerable place.”

“I’ll help you,” Kyle offered. “Is there an alarm system in place?”

Lindsey nodded. “Yes, I had it turned off while I was inside.”

“More than likely the guy isn’t coming back tonight,” the officer continued, “but you still need to alert the security company that the door was damaged. And make sure you turn the alarm back on when you leave.”

She stood beside Kyle as the four officers made their way to their squad cars and the lingering neighbors trekked across the lawn toward their houses.

A balding man with bifocals and slippers stopped on the sidewalk and then turned to address Lindsey. “I’ll be back with the tank water in a couple minutes, Miss Taylor.”

Lindsey waved her thanks. “I appreciate it, Mr. Vasquez.”

“Tank water?” Kyle folded his arms across his chest.

“I can’t exactly leave the fish floating in the toilet all night.” She grinned and her eyes sparkled in the yellow light of the street lamp. “He’s getting a plastic bag filled with water from his tank so he can bring the fish back to his house.”

“That’s a good idea,” he admitted.

“Why don’t you come inside. I’ll let you help me board up the window as long as you promise not to laugh at the ten gallons of water I dumped on my father’s floor.”

His brow furrowed. “What kind of deal is that?”

“One completely to my advantage.”

Kyle resisted the urge to push back a curl that had fallen from her pinned-up hair and now brushed against her cheek. If only she didn’t look so appealing in her silly ruffled dress and bare feet. But instead of giving in to his impulse, he followed her up the front stairs.

His shoes squished as he stepped onto the soggy carpet. “I never would have imagined ten gallons of water could make such a mess.”

“Tell me about it.” She shook her head and maneuvered around the shattered fish tank into the living room. “I’ll have to send for someone to dry out the carpet tomorrow.”

Except for the fish tank and a pile of glass beneath the broken windowpane in the back door, the house was spotless.

Kyle took in the details of the room. While everything was neatly kept, nothing looked new. Half a dozen framed photos on a file cabinet, a few healthy plants and a worn leather lounge chair and matching couch from another era, flanked by heavy wooden side tables. Even the television looked at least twenty years old.

He cleared his throat. “What did the police do while they were here?”

“Besides ask a lot of questions?” Lindsey pointed to the door. “I showed them where the guy tried to get in, and they dusted for prints. But I’m guessing the prints are my father’s or mine—the burglar probably used gloves. And he never set foot inside the house, so they don’t have much to go on.”

He studied the solid-wood door with its nine, etched-glass windowpanes on the top half. The pane closest to the door handle was shattered. The fact that the door had been locked with a key had probably been a deterrent. If Lindsey hadn’t been here to scare him off, though, he would have found a way in eventually. But why? What had he wanted?

“Kyle?”

He turned to look at her. “What is it?”

She had a hammer in one hand and a half-dozen nails in the other, and she was staring at his feet. “I thought the chocolate-covered tux shirt was a unique fashion statement, but this…”

He followed her gaze. One brown shoe and one black shoe stared back at him.

“It’s my fault once again, I suppose.” She let out a chuckle and handed him the hammer. “Have I thanked you for rushing to my rescue once again?”

He quirked his left brow. Was she flirting? If she was, he liked it. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I should.” She glanced up at him beneath long, dark lashes. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Nothing like a beautiful woman to turn his world upside down in the course of an evening. “You know you’re welcome.”

“I’ll be right back. I think there’s a piece of plywood in the laundry room that we can use.”

He watched her disappear around the corner. Washington, D.C., suddenly seemed a lifetime away.

He glanced around the living room again and his grip on the hammer tightened. Something wasn’t right here. If George Taylor had been buying enough stuff to not only lose his entire life savings but unleash a pack of bill collectors, there was no evidence of the man’s material indulgences. Everything in the house Kyle had seen so far was cared for but far from new. There were no fancy stereo systems, laptops or flat-screen TVs in sight. If anything, Mr. Taylor’s surroundings corroborated Lindsey’s descriptions of a thrifty and frugal man.

And there were holes in Lindsey’s identity-theft theory. Mr. Taylor was an educated man. If he believed someone had stolen his identity, why wouldn’t he have gone immediately to the authorities? It didn’t make sense. Add to that the missing porcelain pieces and tonight’s break-in—

“Kyle?” Lindsey’s fingertips brushed against his sleeve.

She held out the board to him, smiling.

“Sorry.” He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. He looked down at her, wishing they were standing here under different circumstances. This wasn’t the way he wanted to get to know her again. “I was just trying to see if I could make sense of any of this. The collection notices, the missing curios and now the attempted burglary…”

Her smile disappeared. “Any theories?”

“At this point only conjectures. I’ll need your father’s permission to look through his financial statements and computer files.”

“Kyle.”

He swapped her the hammer and nails for the board and then set it against the door frame to cover the hole. “And I’m following you home when we’re done here.”

“I know I asked for your help, but you don’t have to do any of this. Just because we were friends years ago—”

“I might not have to, but I want to.” He pounded in the first nail. His gut told him this was something that went beyond an ugly case of identity theft. A vision of his brother lying in a casket flashed before him. There was no way he was going to let her handle this alone. “I want you to call me tomorrow once you talk to your father. With his help we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do.” He turned to her and this time couldn’t resist the urge to brush back the loose curl that rested on her cheek. “You know, you’ve hardly changed at all. I remember a beautiful young woman who cared so much for her parents that she left school to help them during a difficult time. Today, I see a woman who’d do anything for her best friend, including wear a pink ruffled dress she probably hates, with three-inch, back-breaking heels. And—” a blush spread across her face as he talked “—who’d risk her own life to save her father’s beloved African cyclops.”

Lindsey brought her hand to her mouth and laughed. “They’re African cichlids, and you’ve now completely embarrassed me.”

“Cichlids. Okay.” He matched her grin. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re quite a woman, Lindsey Taylor. You always have been.”

FIVE

Lindsey shifted in the metal hospital chair, wishing she could find a more comfortable position. She stared over the stark white bedsheets at her father’s determined gaze and tried to stay calm. She’d always hated hospitals, but today the pale green walls of the room seemed to close in on her. She shut her eyes for a moment, wishing she could block out the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the endless influx of nurses that reminded her of her mother’s last days. Except now it was her father in the hospital.

She wondered if the nurses could give him something for his obstinacy.

“Please, Dad. I know this isn’t easy for you, but you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I just want to help.”

Her father jabbed with his fork at a piece of pear on his breakfast tray and shook his head calmly. “I’ve already told you that there’s nothing to tell.”

Her stomach clenched, and she held back the angry words on the tip of her tongue.

“Dad—”

“Lindsey, please.” He held his plastic fork up as if to emphasize what he was about to say. “I told you there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? Right. She gripped the arms of the chair. After Kyle ensured she’d gotten home safely last night, she’d made a cup of tea and tried to get back into the book she was reading, but even the absorbing storyline couldn’t pull her away from reality. Next, she’d turned to the Bible—where she probably should have gone first—but even that had done little to ease her concern. She was worried. There was no getting around it.

She took a sip of orange juice from a plastic cup, in no mood to accept his insistent rebuttals. If he wouldn’t agree to help her get to the bottom of the situation, she’d call Kyle and search through every last piece of paper in her father’s house until she found out the truth.

“Dad…” She sighed heavily, determined to try one last time. “You can’t tell me that a stack of letters from collection agencies, and the fact that all of Mom’s porcelain pieces are missing, is nothing. So what is it? Has someone stolen your identity? Or maybe…I don’t know…have you been gambling online?”

“Gambling?” He stabbed at another piece of fruit, clearly fed up with her questions. “What are you talking about, Lindsey?”

“What am I talking about?” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. They were going in circles. “I’m talking about the fact that there are attorneys bringing lawsuits against you for starters.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through my desk.” The lines on her father’s forehead deepened. “It’s none of your business, and I’m finished discussing it.”

“You’d have done the same if the situation was reversed and you know it. All I want to do is help.”

“How’s Sammy?”

She opened her mouth to respond and then shut it in frustration. How was Sammy? So that was it. Subject closed. All evidence denied. He was more worried about his precious cat than his imploding financial situation. Why wouldn’t he let her help him?

“Sammy’s fine.” She took another sip of her juice. She’d go along with the change of subject. For now. “When are they planning to let you go home?”

“Sometime this afternoon.” He smoothed out the edges of his white mustache with his fingers. “Why don’t you go home and sleep. You look exhausted.”

“That’s because I was up half the night worried about you.”

“I know, pumpkin, and I really do appreciate it.” He reached out and grasped her hand, smiling for the first time all morning. “I need you to trust me on this. Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, but everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”

She squeezed her father’s hand, wanting to believe him, wanting to believe this was nothing more than a big misunderstanding that would simply disappear. Her gut told her that wasn’t true, but arguing with her stubborn father was only making things worse.

He nudged her arm. “Go home, Lindsey. Get some sleep. I’ll call you when they release me.”

She was tired, but there was no time for a nap. The carpet cleaners would be at his house in an hour, and she still had to do something about the fish tank and the glass pane in the back door. Not wanting to upset him further, she’d decided to hold off telling him about the break-in. Plus, if he thought her life was in danger for any reason, he’d make her promise not to go back to the house. And that was a promise she wasn’t willing to make.

She tossed the empty juice cup into the trash can. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

He nodded. “Positive.”

She leaned over the bed to kiss him on the forehead. “I worry about you. I can’t help it.”

“I’ll be fine.” He cupped her face between his hands. “You look so much like your mother. She’d be so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Lindsey nodded. She missed her mom so much. And if she were here, she’d know what do to.

“I love you, pumpkin.”

She blinked back a tear. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

Two minutes later she was downstairs in the lobby, punching Kyle’s number into her phone.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Kyle, it’s me. Lindsey,” she said, crossing the lobby.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” She stopped just before the automated doors that led outside, hoping her last statement didn’t make it sound as if she didn’t want to see him. Because she did. Very much.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that my father refuses to discuss the issue and denies there is anything wrong.”

He let out a low whistle. “I’m assuming that means he didn’t give you permission to search his house?”

“He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter.” Lindsey bit her lip, already feeling guilty about what she’d decided to do. “I have unlimited power of attorney. He signed all the papers after he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, in case something happened.” A young girl stepped through the doors, bringing with her a blast of Texas summer. Lindsey took a step back into the lobby. “You have to know that I’d never take advantage of his trust. But I think it’s appropriate for me to use my power of attorney in these circumstances.”

“I think you’re right.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. One day her father would thank her. They just had to figure out what was going on first.

“Can you meet me back at my father’s house?” she asked. “I’ll pick up lunch to sweeten the deal.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour. Is that soon enough?”

“Yeah.” She hadn’t expected the wave of relief that followed. At least she wasn’t in this alone. “I owe you big-time for this.”

Thank you, Lord, for Kyle Walker.

She hung up and walked over to the ATM on the other side of the automatic doors to withdraw money for lunch. Rummaging through her purse, she remembered she’d left all her usual cards in her dresser drawer yesterday so she wouldn’t have to worry about them at the wedding. She sighed, and pulled a debit card for her emergencies-only account from a zippered pocket.

Sliding the card into the slot, she wondered what she and Kyle might find. She noticed her hand was shaking and rested it against the side of the machine, waiting for the bank to process her request. The ATM spit the card back at her.

Card denied. Insufficient funds.

Insufficient funds? Lindsey smacked the machine with the palm of her hand and shoved in the card again. She didn’t have time for this.

Thirty seconds later…denied again.

She glanced around the lobby. A dozen people milled about the room and not one of them seemed to notice that she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Or that the room was beginning to spin.

This simply couldn’t be happening. There should be at least two thousand dollars in her account.

Or rather, their account. She shared it with her father.

Kyle jumped off Mr. Taylor’s front porch as Lindsey parked the car. The moment she stepped out, he knew she’d been crying.

He hurried toward her. “What happened? Your father, is he—”

“He’s fine. As far as the hospital is concerned, anyway.”

“What’s wrong then?” he asked.

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

She dug into her purse and yanked out the keys to the front door, forcing him to keep up with her as she marched up the walk. Her chin jutted forward, lips pressed into a thin line. It seemed that frustration had morphed into pure anger.

“Lindsey? What’s going on?”

“My father and I have a joint savings account. He set it up a couple years ago. Emergency money, he called it. If either of us got in a bind, we could borrow from it.” She stomped up the porch stairs and stopped briefly to face him. “I’ve used it from time to time, always repaying it quickly. I don’t think my father’s ever used it, because the balance has never dropped below two thousand dollars.”

She shoved the house key into the lock, opened the door and deactivated the alarm. “I needed cash for lunch, so I tried to use the card. It was denied because of ‘insufficient funds.’ And he claims there’s nothing wrong.”

Her purse smacked against the wall as she tromped over the still-wet carpet. She slung it down on the floor, away from the mess. A Siamese cat rubbed up against her leg, but she ignored its obvious ploy for attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my entire life.”

“Hey,” Kyle said, setting his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got to calm down. We’ll find a way to work this all out.”

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