Andrea headed toward the backyard

At the first window she came to, she cupped her hands against the glass and peered in, but the view was blocked by stacked boxes. She continued to the back door, where she knocked loudly.

She banged on the door two more times. Finally, when it was clear no one was going to answer, Andrea grabbed the doorknob and jerked it sharply. As it had in her childhood, the latch opened. She shook her head. How many times had she and her sister snuck inside after curfew using that very same trick?

She called out. “Vicki? It’s me. Are you in here?”

Andrea had been a paramedic for almost six years. She’d worked east Los Angeles and had gone into countless situations following 911 calls. Most of them were routine. Some of them were false alarms. But the minute she arrived on scene, she always knew if something was truly wrong. She wasn’t sure how, but she could tell. The air vibrated in an odd way and even the light seemed different to her. Her co-workers had teased her at first, then had come to depend on her.

She was two steps into the kitchen when she froze.

Something in this house was wrong.

Very wrong.

Dear Reader,

When I was in the first grade, I stopped talking. This will come as a surprise to those who know me now, but it is the truth. My family moved in the middle of the school year, and after I joined my new class, where I knew no one and didn’t really want to know anyone, I decided I would no longer speak.

My mother and father accepted the news with the same equanimity they gave almost every crisis in our household. No one got hysterical or rushed me to the doctor or even made a big deal out of my silence. I talked at home, you see; I just wouldn’t say anything at school.

As the weeks went past and I continued my boycott on words, my mother, God bless her soul, sensed my loneliness. Every day in my lunch box I would find a note from her. As I ate my ham sandwich—always on white bread with the crusts cut off, please—I would read her letters.

Looking back, I ask myself, how did she have the time? My sister was in high school then, my brother in diapers. Surely she had more important things to do than write her stubborn seven-year-old love letters.

If you were to ask me why I did what I did, I wouldn’t be able to explain, but by the end of that school year I decided to talk again. Thirty years passed before I learned other children do the same thing, and now there’s even a name for the condition. It’s called Selective Mutism. Strangely enough, all the articles I’ve read tell parents not to panic or make a big fuss. The experts say it will pass in time and it generally does.

When I sat down to write Silent Witness I knew I wanted to tell the story of a child who chose not to speak. In my book, Kevin has a much more traumatic reason to stay quiet than most children, but in a child’s world, everything is relative.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Kay David

Silent Witness
Kay David

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This is a special thank-you to all the dedicated teachers who have helped me through the years and continue to do so. Two in particular, Dan Chaney and Linda Winder, stand out because of their tireless efforts and endless patience. One taught me how to read and the other taught me how to write. I’ll always be grateful.

CONTENTS

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 ONE

THEY SAY YOU CAN’T go home again. But invariably something draws you back to the place where you grew up.

Andrea Hunt turned her Jeep onto Beach Road and wondered what that something was. A desire for reassurance? A quest for lost youth? The chance to do things over?

She didn’t know, but when she’d had to leave Los Angeles or lose her mind, Andrea had instinctively headed for Courage Bay. She had needed to heal her hurts and think about the direction her life should take. Home had been the only choice. The sparkling bay waters and sandy white beaches of southern California offered a refuge like no other.

Now, Andrea’s older sister, Vicki, had followed her lead and come back to Courage Bay, too. And her situation was truly awful.

Andrea had to regroup, but Vicki had come back because her life had fallen apart big-time. She’d gone through a disastrous marriage, then an even more disastrous divorce and now she had no job, no husband and no plans. The only bright spot in her life, she’d told Andrea, was Kevin, her six-year-old son.

Turning right, Andrea drove up the steep road to the house where she and her sister had grown up. A few years back, their mom and dad had bought a home higher up one of the cliffs, but they’d kept the bungalow fully furnished and rented it. When Vicki had announced her homecoming, the place had been empty, and they’d insisted she take it for herself and Kevin.

For a second, Andrea considered how it would feel to live inside those cool stucco walls again. Like all the other paramedics in Courage Bay, she stayed at the fire station while she was on duty, her standard shift that of the fireman, twenty-four on and forty-eight off. For her free days, she had leased a tiny house that had come with an even tinier backyard and patio.

But it might be nice to have her own house someday. Along with her own family. And a husband who would never cheat on her.

She gunned the SUV and made it up the final hill, reminding herself to stay in the moment, the advice of her L.A. shrink echoing in her head. She had seen the doctor for several months right after her breakup with Brian, her latest—and biggest—mistake. The therapy had helped but Andrea wasn’t fully convinced history wouldn’t repeat itself; the only kind of men she seemed to hook up with were the wrong kind.

Pulling up next to the curb, Andrea parked her Jeep behind Vicki’s still-packed Toyota and cut her engine. When she had phoned last night and volunteered to help her sister unpack, Vicki had eagerly accepted. She could use the extra hands, she had said. Then in her next breath, reverting to the roles they had each played before, she’d confessed she needed Andrea’s advice even more.

The two sisters hadn’t been close since Vicki had married. Although they’d both lived in L.A., distance and lifestyle had separated them, their personal and career paths taking them in completely opposite directions. When they’d talked, however, Vicki had sounded as eager as Andrea was to renew the relationship they’d had as kids. Back then, they had been almost inseparable, most strangers assuming they were twins because of their looks. The similarities had stopped there, though.

Unsure of herself and desperate to be popular, Vicki had constantly gone to Andrea for support and counseling, never quite sure of how to proceed, regardless of the fact she had been the older by two years.

Andrea had been just the opposite. Independent (exactly like their father, according to their mother) and stubborn (exactly like their mother, according to their father), she’d been the protector and leader.

Despite that background, Andrea didn’t feel much in charge of anything these days and any advice she might give her sister would be questionable, at best. Especially where men were concerned, be they six or sixty-six.

She knocked on the front door, the screen banging under her knuckles as the sound of Mrs. Moore’s wind chimes drifted over on a fresh sea breeze. The retired schoolteacher had been the Hunts’ neighbor for as long as Andrea could remember. She had also been a constant source of sugar cookies for the two sisters. Andrea turned to see if the elderly woman’s ancient Beetle was there, but her driveway was empty.

As empty, it seemed, as Vicki’s house.

Andrea rapped on the door again, her impatience growing as she wondered why she was surprised. Unlike Andrea, Vicki never had trouble living in the moment. For her, the future was a vague concept and the past didn’t even exist. Andrea loved Vicki but admitted that her sister could have just as easily woken up this morning and decided to take the bus back to Los Angeles.

Andrea left with a huff. Halfway to her Jeep, she started thinking and her footsteps slowed.

She was irresponsible and flighty, but Vicki really cared about Kevin. Reluctant to discuss all the details, she’d told Andrea over the phone he was one of the major reasons she had returned to Courage Bay. He had a problem, a serious problem, she’d said, and it needed to be addressed.

“Kevin stopped talking the day Grant walked out on us,” she’d explained. “He talks at school, but he won’t talk at home. To me. His teachers said the condition isn’t that unusual and they even have a name for it. It’s called selective mutism, but it’s so frustrating….” Her voice had become bitter, an attempt to hide the obvious hurt. “I could kill Grant Corbin, Andie. This is all his fault! I should never have married that man!”

She’d gone on about the breakup of her marriage, the words spilling out in a rush she had been unable to contain.

“He cheated on me, Andie. He had a girlfriend and everything! When I found out, I went ballistic. She was a cop he worked with—redhead. I’m afraid Kevin knew what was going on even though I tried to keep it from him.” She’d cursed again then continued fuming. “Grant just walked away. He never even came back to visit with Kevin. Never even called!”

Without further thought, Andrea returned to the house. Disregarding the front porch this time, she headed to the backyard. At the first window she came to, she cupped her hands against the glass and peered in but the view was blocked by stacked boxes. She continued to the back door where she knocked loudly, the faint sound of a radio lingering in the hot, stagnant air.

She banged on the door two more times. Finally, when it was clear no one was going to answer, Andrea grabbed the doorknob and jerked it sharply—to the right and down. As it had in her childhood, the latch opened. She shook her head and grinned. How many times had she and Vic snuck inside after curfew using that very same trick? They had always kept the hinges well-oiled but they squeaked loudly now as she stuck her head inside and called out. “Vicki? It’s me, Andrea…. Are you in here? Hello?”

Andrea had been a paramedic for almost six years. She’d worked east Los Angeles and had gone into countless situations following 911 calls. Most of them were routine. Some of them were false alarms. But the minute she arrived on scene, she always knew if something was truly wrong. She wasn’t sure how but she could tell. The air vibrated in an odd way and even the light seemed different to her. Her co-workers had teased her at first, then they’d come to depend on her.

She was two steps into the kitchen when she froze.

Something in this house was wrong.

Very wrong.

GRANT CORBIN HAD thought he would grow accustomed to the solitude, but a full year had passed since Vicki and Kevin had left and the place still felt empty and cold. He could never get comfortable, either. Looking around the half-empty room, he shook his head wryly.

Maybe if he had some furniture, things might be different.

Then again, maybe not.

Spending the money to replace what Vicki had taken had struck him as foolish and spending the time to select new things, impossible. Detectives in Los Angeles were usually short on the first and had none of the second, and Grant was no exception.

He crossed the living room and went into the kitchen, which was even less equipped for its purpose than the living room. The essentials were present, though, he told himself, reaching inside the refrigerator’s freezer. When a man had a fifth of cold tequila, he didn’t need anything more.

Perching on the one bar stool he’d kept, Grant twisted off the top of the bottle and took a long swig, holding the frigid alcohol in his mouth as he closed his eyes. He wished he could numb his brain as easily as he could his tongue, but it never worked that way. He’d tried, Lord knew he’d tried, but so far he hadn’t found a bottle big enough to make that happen.

Opening his eyes, he swallowed and the freezing Cuervo slid effortlessly down his throat. Then he saw the bear.

The goddamn bear.

For some ridiculous reason he couldn’t recall right now, he’d decided to clean the bedroom closets a week ago. He’d found the stuffed animal upside down on one of the shelves in the very back. He’d almost thrown it away, but then he’d remembered that the guys at the station kept some toys around to hand out when a child was brought in. Grant had fingered the tattered little bear, then set it on the kitchen counter to take with him the next day.

But the next day, he’d forgotten. And the day after that, he’d done the same. Finally, he’d been forced to admit the truth. He didn’t want to get rid of the toy. He wanted to keep the damn thing because it was all he had left of Kevin.

Another mouthful of tequila went down, then he cursed out loud as the phone rang. He thought about ignoring its persistent call but he was a cop and cops didn’t have that luxury. He picked up the receiver and grunted.

“Corbin? Get your ass down to the park. We got a dead gangbanger who was a bagman for Jaime Sanchez, that dealer over on Fourth who’s been giving us hell. The first O says some of his buds are there and they want to talk.”

Parker Richmond didn’t bother to identify himself because he didn’t need to. Another detective in Hollenbeck, he and Grant had graduated from the academy at the same time and had been friends through four divorces, three lawsuits, and two near-miss gun battles, one a holdup that went bad and the other, a domestic that went violent.

“I just got home,” Grant said.

“Then you still have your coat on.” Parker’s deep voice rang down the line. “C’mon, chop-chop.”

Grant looked down. He did indeed still have on his coat.

“Screw you,” he said pleasantly. “And the dirt-bag. I’ve got a cold bottle of Cuervo and I’m not going anywhere until I see the bottom of it.”

“Then drink fast. I expect you here in fifteen minutes.”

Parker hung up without another word, and Grant followed suit, rising to place the bottle back into the freezer with a pat. He and Parker both knew his protest had been automatic. He would take a murder any day of the week over a night at home by himself. Or a night out with friends, for that matter. Without a wife and kid, Grant no longer worked to live, he lived to work.

Passing by the teddy bear, he picked it up and held it to his nose. The little-boy scent he wanted to smell wasn’t there so he brushed a knuckle over its plush back when he set it down. His steps were heavy as he closed the front door behind him.

ANDREA STOOD in the middle of the kitchen and listened to the silence around her. The radio had been playing music but now a taped commercial came on. She could only hear part of the words as the signal faded in and out. “…on the beach today…hope you’ve got that sunblock handy…another scorcher with a high of ninety-five and a low… The ozone level will be…”

Directly ahead of her, the kitchen opened up into the dining room and that area merged into the living room. If she turned left, she’d go down the hall that led to the bedrooms. She hesitated but only for a moment, her footsteps pulling her toward the large rectangular table on which her mother had served countless Sunday roasts.

The dark wood had a gloss so beautiful Andrea immediately knew her mom must have come over to clean. No one else could make the finish shine like that. The mirrored wall behind the buffet gleamed just as brightly. Glancing beyond the furniture to the wall of taped boxes beside the windows, Andrea read some of their haphazard labels. Kit. Bed stuff. Toys. If Vicki had unpacked anything last night, it wasn’t in this part of the house. Andrea called out her sister’s name again but no one answered.

When she entered the living room a second later, Andrea knew why. She gasped, her words half-curse, half-prayer. “Oh my God…”

Like a dinosaur that couldn’t get up, her grandmother’s huge mahogany armoire had fallen over. Its doors hung open uselessly, like broken limbs, their beveled inserts shattered, bits and pieces of molding and hardware strewn about the room as well as shards of broken glass.

All at once, a bit of white caught her eye. Underneath one of the cracked planks, something glowed, something with a small red bulb embedded in the center. When she realized what she was looking at, Andrea felt her knees wobble.

It was a shoe, a kid’s tennis shoe, the kind with a little light on the heel that flashed when the child moved.

Only this light wasn’t flashing.

Crying their names, she dropped to her knees to peer under the armoire. “Kevin? Vicki? Oh, God! Are you guys under there?”

She caught her breath as she heard a moan.

“Vicki?” she said, her voice high and frightened. “Is that you? Are you beneath the cabinet? Answer me!”

Her command was frantic but it elicited only silence. She tried again and got the same answer.

Rocking back on her heels, her gaze taking in more details, Andrea told herself to be calm. There had to be a way to get beneath the mess. She needed to do that first. After a second’s study, she knew what to do. The chest was so big, it’d actually wedged itself against the opposite wall, about three feet up. If she was careful, she could climb over the top and worm her way underneath.

Her mouth dry, her pulse racing, she started forward, pieces of wood and broken glass crunching as she went. One careless move and she could create an even bigger disaster…but she had to get in there and get to Vicki and Kevin. She’d talked to her sister at nine last night. If this had happened right after they’d spoken, they could have been trapped for more than twelve hours!

Andrea inched her way to the place where the cabinet was propped against the stucco. She paused for a second and gathered her composure, then gingerly began to lower herself into the niche between the wall and the cabinet’s side.

She tried not to breathe for fear of dislodging anything. As she slipped down, though, her belt hit the edge of the chest and for one heart-stopping second, everything seemed to groan.

After the debris settled, she tried again, making herself as skinny as possible and easing down—slowly—her back scraping against the rough plaster. If she’d been another inch wider, she wouldn’t have fit.

Once inside the tiny crevice, she tucked herself into a tight ball and balanced on her haunches, leaning to her right to stare past her knees. A single ray of light had managed to pierce the darkness. Her eyes focused and she almost wished they hadn’t.

The first thing she saw was her nephew. He lay motionless on his stomach three feet away, one leg trapped by a shelf, the other caught under one of the doors. Andrea whispered his name and his eyes fluttered open.

She swallowed and said, “Kevin, it’s Aunt Andrea. I’m going to help you, okay? Before we get started, though, I need to know something.” She took a deep breath. “Where’s Mommy, Kevin? Is she behind you? Is she under there with you?”

He didn’t speak. He simply raised one finger and pointed behind him.

Andrea leaned forward and craned her neck. The gloom was thicker where the case rested against the floor and she could see even less than she had before. Squinting hard, she edged another few inches closer and suddenly her sister’s shadowy face emerged.

Andrea called her name. “Vic? Can you hear me? It’s Andrea. Vic?”

Vicki stared back but she didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

She was dead.

CHAPTER TWO

DISBELIEF SLICED through Andrea. As an EMS tech, she’d delivered bad news to a lot of folks and their ability to protest reality had always baffled her. Now she understood their reaction because it was her own. She didn’t want to acknowledge what she saw—she wanted to close her eyes and pretend her sister was alive.

But she couldn’t. She saw far too many dead people in her job for any kind of denial to work.

Her gaze left Vicki’s blank one and returned to the rubble. Shutting out everything else, she evaluated the scene like the professional she was.

From the placement of her sister and Kevin, it appeared as if the case had begun to fall and they’d been in front of it. Vicki had probably tried to warn Kevin because he was slightly turned, but he hadn’t been able to get away. She’d caught the brunt of the weight and it’d taken her down.

A knot formed in Andrea’s throat. Her sister had insisted on hauling the top heavy monstrosity from one place to another every time she’d moved. She’d even paid a fortune to have it fitted with special mounting strips to protect it in case of an earthquake. That was probably what she’d been doing—installing the strip to the studs—when the damn thing had gone over. It didn’t make sense that something that large could tip over, but clearly it had.

Andrea looked at her nephew. His eyes were closed and in the somber light, he seemed dead, too. Except for the smudges on his face, his skin had no color and he hadn’t moved since pointing to his mother. Turning her attention to his trapped legs Andrea tried to gauge the extent of his injuries. Her stomach clenched as she realized the cabinet’s edge had missed him by an inch, an inch that had meant his life.

She stretched her fingers as far as she could, but she couldn’t touch him. “Kevin? You need to wake up now, okay? You have to talk to me and tell me what hurts.”

Vicki’s explanation of his silences rang in Andrea’s mind, but she had to think something this traumatic would jar him to speak.

“Kevin?” She raised her voice. “Kevin, can you hear me?”

His eyelids quivered for a bit, then he opened them and looked at her.

“Talk to me, sweetie,” she pleaded. “Tell me where it hurts. Besides your legs, does it hurt anywhere else?”

He stared at her with a strange kind of intensity and she felt as if he were trying to decide if she was one of the good guys or not. With the distance that had grown between her and Vicki, Andrea hadn’t seen the little boy in more than a year, she realized with a catch. He was only six. Did he even remember her?

“I’m Aunt Andrea…your mommy’s sister. Remember last Christmas? I’m the one who gave you the teddy bear. The little brown one with the black eyes.”

His gaze flickered but he didn’t speak.

“Talk to me,” she whispered. “Please, Kevin…you have to talk to me.”

He stared at her for another long second, then he turned away.

Her frustration swelling, Andrea considered the possibility of moving him on her own, but she dismissed the idea quickly. It was too risky. The piece was too unstable and she didn’t have the right equipment.

She had to have help.

Twisting awkwardly, she slipped her hand down to her waist. Her fingers found only her belt and she moaned in disbelief. Her cell phone wasn’t there. Had she left the damn thing at home? Today of all days?

Then she remembered. When she’d edged in beside the armoire, she’d felt something give. It had to have been the phone’s holster, not her belt, as she’d thought. Patting the floor to her right, she found only bits of wood. Repeating the action on her other side, her hand grazed the holder. She quickly wrapped her fingers around it, scared it might somehow move.

The operator answered before the first ring finished.

“Courage Bay Fire Department. Please state the nature of your emergency.”

“Dispatch, this is Andrea Hunt, PRS, Squad One. I’m 10-7 but I need a unit for a 902 at 1425 Ocean View Drive, Code 3. I have a six-year-old juvenile down, possible broken ankle, possible internal injuries and one…adult…uh…926.”

She stuttered over the radio jargon she’d rattled off countless times, the numbers stalling in her head, cold and harsh. Her big sister and 926, the code for a fatality. They shouldn’t go together.

“Ten-twelve, Officer, while I call for unit.”

Andrea stood by as the dispatcher instructed. She didn’t want to look at Vicki again, but she couldn’t help herself. The light had shifted and she could see more of her sister’s face. It was untouched and exquisitely made up. Andrea guessed the accident had happened earlier that morning, but with Vicki, she couldn’t be sure. All her life, her sister had kept her makeup fresh and perfect, looking as good at midnight as she did first thing in the day.

The operator’s voice pulled Andrea back. “Units en route, Code 3 per your request.”

“Ten-four.” Andrea acknowledged the information then she closed the phone. Before she could decide what to do next, it rang. She answered instantly, an illogical fear swamping her that the noise might somehow cause the armoire to shift.

She answered, her voice shaky. “Hunt speaking.”

“Andie, it’s Alex! We caught the call and we’re on the way. What the hell’s going on? Isn’t 1425 your parents’ old place?”

Alex Shields was the captain of the other rescue squad and a close friend as well. Hearing his voice fueled a rush of relief—unfortunately it also made everything more real.

“It is their house,” she said thickly. “I came over to help my sister unpack. She moved in yesterday, but when I got here, she didn’t come to the door. I went inside and found…found my grandmother’s armoire had fallen over. They’re…they’re trapped beneath it, Alex. Vicki and her son, Kevin.”

“Oh, shit…” Over his curse, she could hear the sirens. “Andie…sweetheart…which one’s the 926?”

“She is.” Andrea swallowed hard then went on. “Kevin is right beside her with both his legs stuck. I hope you’ve got a full crew. We’re going to need it to lift this thing, then we have to get him to the hospital, full code.”

“I’m bringing everyone, don’t worry. Our ETA is five minutes, maybe less. Hang on, we’ll be right there.”

She hit the end key and looked over at her nephew. He had grown even paler. Holding her breath, Andrea scooted as close as she could. Her fingertips brushed his sleeve but he didn’t respond when she called his name. She continued to try and rouse him even though she had the feeling it was pointless.

After a few minutes, he blinked and stared right at her. There were questions in his gaze…but they stayed where they were and remained unspoken.

WHEN SHE HEARD the sirens drawing near, a mix of relief and anxiety washed over Andrea. Courage Bay was not a large town. By this time, everyone at the Bar and Grill probably knew what had happened and it would be only a matter of time until her parents heard, too. She didn’t want them learning the news of their daughter’s death from a stranger but she couldn’t call them now. Her phone had died a second after she had talked to Alex, the tumble from her waist apparently taking its toll.

She considered what their grief would be like, then she pushed the thought away. Getting Kevin out took precedence over everything else, including anyone’s sorrow.

Outside the siren grew louder and louder then ended abruptly, leaving only the rumble of the ladder truck’s engine. When it shut down, a swell of men’s voices replaced the momentary silence, Alex’s deep baritone ringing out above the others. He was in charge of an engine crew of four, a ladder truck crew of five, and the other paramedic rescue squad, which had two members. He was also responsible for all their air rescues. It sounded as if he’d brought every person under his command. The only thing she didn’t hear was the chopper.

Within minutes, they were on the front porch, Alex calling out for her.

“Break down the door,” she cried. “I’m in the living room.”

She gave the motionless Kevin another look, then eased up to stand against the wall. When the team entered and took in the situation, Andrea watched their expressions go from surprise to horror to determination. The Courage Bay Fire Department was comprised of professionals—they could handle anything and everything—but this was clearly something they hadn’t seen before.

With a stunned expression, Rhonda Sutton, Andrea’s partner in the ambulance they operated, lifted her eyes to Andrea’s and slowly shook her head, her dark gaze filling with tears. A tall brunette with six men always at her feet, Rhonda had a reputation for being tough, but Andrea had seen underneath the facade. Rhonda cared deeply about their patients…and even more so for her friends.

Alex put the team into action, Andrea alerting them to Kevin’s location as they planned how best to lift the broken cabinet. It seemed to take forever but in reality, only a few moments passed before they uncovered the little boy. He stared at the faces peering over him, his frightened eyes darting from the men to Andrea, then back again.

Finally able to get close, Andrea took Kevin’s fingers in hers and started to reassure him, but then she found herself distracted. One of the men had brought in a blanket to cover Vicki. When he placed it gently over the still form of her sister, Andrea had to force her gaze back to Kevin’s.

“It’s okay, baby. These…these are the firemen who work in Courage Bay,” she said. “They’re here to help us.”

Tightly gripping her hand, Kevin maintained his silence while they collared his neck and slipped the plastic backboard underneath him.

“You’re very brave.” Andrea walked beside the boy as they carried him out the front door. “I’m proud of you, Kevin. You’re doing a great job!”

With smooth movements they’d made a thousand times, the men loaded the six-year-old into the ambulance and secured the stretcher. Andrea climbed inside and kneeled down. “I’ll be right behind you in my truck, okay? When you get to the hospital, I’ll help them take you out. You aren’t scared, are you?”

He blinked then slowly shook his head. Brushing back a lock of his hair, she kissed his forehead, her throat stinging with tears she quickly swallowed. “That’s great because you have nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all. Five minutes and we’ll be there, all right?” She jumped out and started to close the double doors. A heartbeat before they slammed shut, she thought she heard him say a single word, but she hoped she was mistaken.

She had no idea how to answer when a child cried out for his mother.

GRANT PEELED HIMSELF off the leather seat of his white Impala and kicked the door shut behind him. Crossing the steaming street toward Hollenbeck Park, he lifted his sunglasses and blew his hair off his forehead. The heat was suffocating and had been for days. Demanding his attention like a dog that wouldn’t stop barking, the sun beat insistently down against his neck, making it impossible to ignore. The jacket he’d had on was long gone, shed in the car somewhere between Highway 101 and South Soto.

He took a quick glance around the park as he stepped over the curb. He hadn’t thought to ask Parker where to meet him, but he realized now directions would have been superfluous. A crowd had already gathered at the South Boyle Avenue end of the green area, the usual mixture of old ladies, out-of-work men and kids who had nothing better to do. Grant named them derisively under his breath. They were ghouls, each and every one of them.

If there was a body around, they always showed up.

Having been warned more than once, Grant kept his insensitive label to himself and silently approached the group, removing his notepad and pencil as he walked. A sheet was over the body but the medical examiner lifted it as Grant reached his side. The face beneath the plastic was young. Too young to be so dead.

Standing nearby, Parker wiped his forehead. In his younger years, he’d been a full-back at UCLA. Now he was just plain fat, two-fifty if not more. The crazy heat wave they were having was about to do him in. He waved his hand toward the body. “You know him?”

Grant started to say no, then he kneeled and looked closer. “Yeah,” he said. “I do know him. That’s Tasha McKindrick’s boy. I think they call him Poppy.”

Parker yelled for one of the uniforms while Grant continued to stare. The boy couldn’t have been over ten because his mother was only twenty-four. Grant had arrested her last year for selling drugs. They lived in one of the nearby projects with two younger children but no dad. Grant pulled the cover back over the boy’s face and stood.

His stare lingering on the draped form at his feet, he thought of Kevin.

“What are we doing to our kids?” he muttered under his breath. “For God’s sake, what in the hell are we doing?”

“What are you doing talking to yourself again? You promised me you’d given that up.”

Grant raised his eyes to the woman who’d walked up beside him, her husky voice penetrating the gloomy fog of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard her approach, but that’s how Holly Hitchens did things. She snuck up on you, then pounced. They’d dated before he’d married Vicki and he had the scars to prove it. She was a hell of a cop, though.

“I make a lot of promises I don’t keep.” His eyes met hers and he shrugged. “You know how that goes….”

“I’m afraid I do. You always were lousy in that department, Corbin.” Her answer was pure Holly but her voice sounded strained. Then he realized she wasn’t looking him in the eye. Her gaze was usually so direct it hurt.

“What’s up?” He made his voice casual and ignored the warning bells going off inside his head.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. For a second he thought he saw pity in her gaze but that didn’t make sense.

“I have some bad news, Grant.”

Her use of his first name threw him even more. She’d always called him Corbin, even when they’d been lovers.

He tensed and she spoke again.

“Division just called looking for you and I told them you were here. They gave me a message to pass on. It’s not good.”

“What is it?” he asked levelly.

“Something’s happened to Vicki. She…had some kind of accident down in Courage Bay.”

“A car wreck?”

“No, it happened at her home, but I don’t have any more details.”

“But she didn’t live in Courage Bay—”

“That’s all they said. That she’d been there, in her house, and something fell on her.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, Grant, she’s not okay.” Holly put her fingers on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, but she’s dead.”

Grant stared dumbly at the redhead, her words incomprehensible. Then something snapped in his hand. He looked down and opened his fist. The pencil he’d been holding was in two pieces.

Holly squeezed his arm. “There’s more.”

As a cop, he’d seen things that would test the strongest stomach but Grant had never been affected. When Holly spoke, though, the ground beneath him shifted.

“Kevin?” he managed to get out.

“He was hurt, too. He’s in the hospital at Courage Bay. They said he’s not injured too seriously but—”

Grant didn’t hear the rest. He was already running for his car.

ANDREA DECIDED her guardian angel must be working overtime. First, when she’d dashed back inside the house, she’d found Vicki’s address book in the kitchen and had been able to contact Grant Corbin’s office. Now, speeding to catch up with the ambulance, it seemed her luck was holding. Using the mobile phone she’d borrowed from Alex, Andrea released a sigh of relief when her father answered. Nine times out of ten, her mother was the one who picked up first, and Andrea wouldn’t have been able to give her the news.

A retired Navy man, Jack Hunt was the rock of the family. The rest of them, including Karen, Andrea and Vicki’s mother, depended on him. He started speaking before Andrea could say anything.

“Your mother’s out shopping again,” he said. “I swear, Andrea, I think she’s determined to spend every dime I make! As far as an inheritance goes, forget about it. I know you won’t need any help, but Vicki’s another story. She’s never been able to hold down a decent job and—”

“Dad… Dad, hold up for a minute, okay? I…I need to talk to you.”

He fell silent and Andrea told him what had happened. By the time she finished, she was crying, but he reacted as she’d expected. Stoic and in control. Only his voice gave him away and no one other than Andrea would have caught that.

“I’ll find your mother,” he said hollowly. “We’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we can.”

“We’re pulling in right now,” she said. “Look for me in the emergency room.”

Tossing the phone aside, she parked her Jeep and jumped out. Just as she reached the entrance, the ambulance driver wheeled Kevin’s gurney through the E.R. doors at full speed. One of the trauma nurses, Jackie Kellison, ran to meet them, the newest E.R. resident, Amy Sherwood, right beside her.

Andrea explained the accident as the nurse and doctor rolled the child into one of the examining rooms. Without his mother or father present, Andrea had no legal basis to sign for his care but in Courage Bay, lives counted more than the rules.

“Tell me where it hurts, Kevin.” Dr. Sherwood pressed her fingers against his belly while glancing down at his leg. When he didn’t answer, she looked at him and repeated her question. When he still said nothing, she looked at Andrea.

“He’s got some…communication issues.” Andrea searched her rattled brain for the term Vicki had used and finally came up with it. “His mother said the condition’s called ‘selective mutism.’”

The resident nodded once, then without missing a step, continued her examination, talking to Kevin all the while as if she fully expected him to answer.

She was still poking and prodding when Andrea’s parents bustled into the room.

Karen Hunt’s slim figure and blond highlights usually hid her real age of sixty, but the news of Vicki’s accident had added years. Her eyes were frantic and wild, her face pale and lined. Even her clothing was disheveled—she’d clearly changed before they’d rushed to the hospital and her blouse was misbuttoned.

She caught Andrea’s eye and shook her head minutely, a silent understanding passing between mother and daughter. This wasn’t the place for them to cry and console each other. Not in front of Kevin. For his sake, they had to stay in control of themselves. Nothing meant more than him right now, including their own grief.

Andrea acknowledged the message then moved away from the bed so they could get closer. Her mother grabbed Kevin’s fingers and began to talk to him softly, Jack Hunt going to the other side of the bed to place a beefy hand on the child’s shoulder.

Andrea slipped into the corridor, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

GRANT COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d been to Courage Bay. Speeding south from L.A., the Impala pushed to its limit, all he could think about were the times he hadn’t come.

The Hunts’ twentieth anniversary. Christmas two years ago. Vicki’s birthday the first year they’d been married.

She had wanted to visit Courage Bay more often, but each time they’d tried, his job had seemed to interfere. Vicki hadn’t bought his explanation that murderers didn’t take off on holidays. She’d accused him of manufacturing excuses, saying he didn’t want to go with her because he hated her family.

She’d been half right. Sometimes he had used work as an excuse, but not the way she thought.

His problem was actually the opposite of her complaint. He loved Karen and Jack Hunt but in the L.A. world he’d come to consider his own, people like them just didn’t exist. Years of working Vice and now Homicide had made him forget how to act around moral and sane individuals. The only way he could deal with the situation seemed to be by avoiding them.

Then there was Andrea. Vicki’s little sister.

The first time he’d met her, he’d been shocked. He’d never seen two individuals, including twins, who resembled each other so strongly.

A striking woman with thick honey-colored hair and dark-blue eyes, Vicki had brought the JP’s office to a standstill the day they had walked in to get married. Grant had felt eyes on him, too, everyone wondering why in the hell someone like her would be marrying someone like him. Andrea shared that beauty but there was more to her than there had been to Vicki, something deeper, something darker.

After he’d gotten to know her a bit, Grant had relaxed enough to hold a decent conversation with Andrea, but he’d always found himself wondering if she’d feel the same, kiss the same, make love the same…as Vicki. He knew his disquiet came from somewhere other than just the uncanny resemblance the two women shared yet he hadn’t wanted to examine his reactions too closely. He had been married to Vicki, after all.

In the end, he had let his wife visit her family alone. They had all been so happy to see Kevin, no one had really noticed his father was absent and that had been fine with Grant.

He gripped the steering wheel and prayed the little boy would be okay. Kids had never figured much in Grant’s life until Kevin had been born, then he’d begun to understand what all the fuss was about. Despite the circumstances, Grant couldn’t have possibly loved Kevin any more than he already did—it had damn near killed him when they’d packed up and left.

Kevin had been four, almost five, at that point. Grant shook his head. Where had the time gone? He and Vicki had been divorced a bit more than a year and Grant hadn’t seen Kevin once during that time. Would he even remember who Grant was? Would he still throw his arms around Grant’s neck and hug him tight?

Grant had expected little from his marriage, and he hadn’t been disappointed. He’d known the score from the very beginning, however, and he had no right to complain. Vicki could have had any man on the planet yet she’d picked him. He still didn’t know why but he no longer cared, either. Kevin was all that mattered.

Reaching the outskirts of Courage Bay, Grant realized that his love for Kevin was all he had left. With sudden resolve, he promised himself he’d take care of this once and for all. He’d be the kind of father the little boy deserved.

And that was a promise Grant Corbin would keep.

CHAPTER THREE

ANDREA’S MOTHER AND FATHER stood by the edge of Kevin’s gurney while his doctor and the hospital’s orthopedic surgeon discussed his situation. At the foot of the bed, Andrea listened, as well. The two physicians came to a consensus quickly. An operation might be necessary, but it would be simple and straightforward, a matter of aligning Kevin’s bones. Pending the outcome of the X rays, they might even be able to avoid surgery completely.

The radiation technician came to take the child for his tests and Jack leaned over his grandson. “I think I’ll come along with you, big guy,” he said. “If you don’t care, I’d like to see how they do this.”

Kevin blinked twice and his expression cleared. He couldn’t have spoken and made his relief more known.

Andrea watched them leave, her mother at her side.

“We might as well go to the cafeteria and get something to eat,” Andrea said. “He’ll be in X ray for a while. I’ll tell the nurses where we are and they can come get us.”

Taking off the mask of cheerfulness she’d put in place for Kevin’s sake, Andrea’s mother let her features collapse into the shell-shocked expression she’d worn earlier. She held up her hand at Andrea’s suggestion and shook her head. “No. No food. I don’t want anything to eat. I want a cigarette.”

Karen Hunt hadn’t smoked in ten years. Andrea opened her mouth to protest but she swallowed her words. They all needed whatever help they could get, wherever they could find it.

They walked across the street to a convenience store and bought a package of cigarettes, returning a few minutes later to the benches near the ambulance bay doors. Her mother lit up while Andrea sat in silence.

Karen Hunt smoked with determination, repeatedly drawing on the cigarette until she started to cough. After a bit, she dropped the butt, ground it beneath her heel, then looked at Andrea. There was steel in her voice. “Tell me what happened. And I want the truth.”

Andrea gave her mother as many details as she could remember. “I didn’t have time to check before we left,” she said as she finished, “but I think Vicki was probably trying to anchor the armoire to the wall and that’s when it went over. It always was unstable and top-heavy.”

Her grief segued into anger and she hit the bench with her fists. “I told Vicki it was silly to cart that damn thing all around the state. She should have left it—”

Her mother, revealing a strength that surprised Andrea, reached out and covered Andrea’s clenched hands. “Drop it, Andrea. The reason the armoire fell over isn’t important. What matters is that…” She paused and drew a shaky breath. “What matters is that Vicki is gone. What she’d want us to do now is take care of Kevin. That’s what we have to concentrate on. Kevin.”

Andrea struggled to pull herself together. The effort took the last of her energy. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re right…. In fact, Kevin’s the first thing she mentioned when I called and offered to help her unpack. She said she’d take the help, but she needed advice regarding him more than she needed anything else.”

Her mother nodded. “About his silence?”

Andrea stared at her mother in surprise. “You knew?”

“Vicki told me of the problem several months back. I advised her to talk to a therapist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Vicki asked me not to say anything.” Her mother wrapped both hands around her package of cigarettes, then looked into the distance. “She was upset. She felt it was her fault for being a bad mother and said you’d never have a problem so lame and she didn’t want you to know. I guess her concern for Kevin finally overran her embarrassment and that’s why she told you.”

Andrea felt her mouth drop open. “But Vicki was a good mother! And I would never have said anything regardless of—”

Karen Hunt held up her hand. “I know that and you know that, but Vicki didn’t. She was very insecure, Andrea. She always looked up to you. She thought you were perfect.”

“Perfect? Me? Oh, God…” Andrea buried her face in her hands. “Why on earth would she think that?”

“Mrs. Hunt?”

A voice broke through Andrea’s anguish. She looked up to see a woman from the front office approach her mother with an outstretched hand.

“I’m Wendy from Intake. We need some information about Kevin and since his father isn’t here yet and his mother…is gone, I need your help. If you could come with me…?”

Andrea’s mother jumped up from the bench and followed the woman back inside. Feeling numb and empty, Andrea sat quietly, the thought of Vicki fretting over her so-called “perfection” too much to even comprehend. The idea was ridiculous.

Andrea was far from perfect. Very, very far.

GRANT HURRIED toward the double doors of the Courage Bay E.R., the pavement beneath his feet steaming from the sun’s steady heat. A thousand scenarios ran through his head as he walked, none of them good. They fled his consciousness, however, when a flash of motion off to one side caught his eye. He turned and looked closer, suddenly thinking Holly had been wrong.

Vicki wasn’t dead. She was right there, twenty feet away.

A millisecond passed, then he realized his mistake.

He was looking at Andrea.

She wore a pair of white shorts and a red T-shirt, her thick hair pulled back haphazardly, her face free of cosmetics. Obviously prepared for nothing more than an average day at home, she looked devastated by what had happened, her slumped posture reflecting her state of mind, her gaze directed toward the ground as if it held some cosmic secret.

As he continued to stare, she raised her head. Across the grassy slope that separated them, their gazes converged.

Nothing dramatic or heart-stopping occurred. Grant didn’t feel a jolt of awareness or a tingle down his spine. His heart didn’t leap out of his chest or even jump at all.

He merely felt empty.

Vicki Hunt had manipulated him and used him, then she’d sent him on his way. He’d known exactly what she was doing and he’d been a willing victim, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. He would have thought the old pain might surface upon seeing Andrea, but apparently it’d sliced through him cleanly, albeit all the way to the bone. He felt nothing at all.

Changing directions, he headed toward her and she stood as he came near. Up close her feelings were even more apparent, but instead of the grief he expected, Grant saw anger on her face. He wasn’t too surprised—people handled death differently.

Her voice was hoarse and throaty. “You got my message, I see.”

Grant didn’t waste any time. “How is he? Can I see him?”

“They’re still checking for internal injuries. Kevin’s in X ray right now. When he finishes there, you can probably see him, but that’s going to be a while longer.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She recited the basic facts in a dry and emotionless manner. He could tell she’d already told the story more times than she wanted.

The minute she stopped speaking, questions flooded his mind but Grant stayed silent, approaching the situation the same way he did everything in his life—as if this was an investigation he was about to undertake. He’d gather the facts, study them, then proceed.

He realized belatedly she was waiting for him to comment. “I came as quickly as I could,” he said awkwardly.

Her gaze was steady. “That’s nice. But I only called because I thought you should know what had happened. I can handle the situation.”

“I’m sure you can handle just about anything, but—”

“I can,” she reiterated. “You should have phoned first and I would have saved you the trip.”

“‘Saved me the trip’?” He repeated the words carefully. “I don’t believe I understand.”

“The way Vicki explained things, I didn’t think you’d care that much, one way or the other.”

Doubting Vicki had employed the truth in her explanation, Grant cursed under his breath. The real story could take her down as efficiently as it could him.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what your sister said?” Grant said. “It might make things easier.”

“It might,” she conceded. “But I don’t intend to share her confidences. I think it’d be best if you left.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Kevin is my son.”

“That’s stretching it a bit, don’t you think?”

Grant put on a rigid mask, his chest going tight. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m making a point. You left Vicki and Kevin. You abandoned them. That’s not the kind of thing a loving father and husband does to his family.”

His relief outweighed the sting her words brought with them. Still, a dilemma remained. Should he go along with the assessment and look like an asshole or try to convince her that Vicki had lied? Either way, he’d lose.

He stalled. “Is that what Vicki told you? That I abandoned them?”

Andrea stared at him without answering.

“Well, I guess that answers that,” he finally said. “You’ve made up your mind. I won’t try to confuse you with the facts.”

IN THE FOUR YEARS Grant Corbin had been married to her sister, Andrea had talked to the man maybe half a dozen times. On the rare occasions when everyone managed to shake free from their busy lives and meet in Courage Bay for a family get-together, something seemed to come up at the last minute that kept Grant from attending. Each time, Vicki had excused him by saying crimes weren’t scheduled, but Andrea had always wondered.

Now she wondered even more. Accustomed to facing the unknown and dealing with whatever arose, she still felt a nameless anxiety building.

He was lying to her and she had no idea why.

“My sister gave me the facts. I know what happened.”

“I doubt you know it all….” he retorted. “There were things I did that I shouldn’t have, but the same could be said for Vicki. I love Kevin, though. Surely she didn’t say that wasn’t the case.”

Andrea started to answer, then heard her name. She turned to see her mother standing by the E.R. door.

“The doctor’s here,” she called out. “He wants to talk to us.” Seeing Grant, Karen Hunt motioned for them both to come.

They walked in uncomfortable silence to the door. Grant reached out for the handle but instead of opening it, he paused and looked at Andrea. She saw with shock that he had pain in his eyes.

“Look, before we go in, I have to ask you a question.” His whole body seemed to tense. “Can you put everything else aside for a minute and answer it?”

“What is it?” she asked stiffly.

“When you found Vicki…did it look like, well—”

Surprised he even cared, she instantly understood the question; she’d heard it asked more times than she wanted to remember.

“She didn’t suffer,” she said quietly. “I have a feeling the whole thing happened very quickly.”

Sympathy pushed past her anger as he flinched. He then nodded and opened the door and they went into the waiting room together.

To Andrea’s amazement, her mother and father both greeted Grant warmly, Karen wrapping an arm around his waist and hugging him tightly, Jack extending his hand. Vicki had obviously not told their parents what she’d told Andrea. Infidelity wasn’t a fault either of them would have brushed off.

Drawing Andrea’s attention away from her thoughts, the orthopedic surgeon began to speak. “The first X rays are back and I think we’re going to be able to avoid operating on Kevin’s foot at this point. He has a malleolar fracture but we can immobilize it with a plaster cast and that might do the trick….” His explanation continued, his words filling Andrea with relief. A broken ankle bone was a far cry from the internal injuries she’d been worried about.

Andrea’s gaze sought Grant’s. He had dark eyes, so dark they almost seemed black. She couldn’t read the emotions he hid, but she could feel them, their negativity seeking her out. He didn’t like her, she realized with a shock.

The knowledge unsettled her, but she decided swiftly it didn’t matter. The feeling was mutual.

STANDING BY ONE OF THE big windows in the emergency waiting room, Grant watched Karen and Jack Hunt leave a few minutes later. Now that they knew their grandson would be all right they had to deal with the sad details of their daughter’s death. Andrea walked beside them but she was going to return. She’d told him so and asked him to wait for her.

Grant turned away from the glass. He’d thought at first that Andrea had known everything but he decided he’d been wrong. Vicki had informed her sister of what she’d wanted to, making him sound like the jerk and her the golden princess. He didn’t really care what Andrea Hunt thought of him but he didn’t want her for an enemy. That wouldn’t be a good idea.

When she came back, she’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, but she put aside her grief. “Let’s go to X ray,” she said. “You can see Kevin if they haven’t begun the cast.”

Grant wanted to say something about Vicki as they headed down the hallway, something appropriate and normal, something that ordinary people might say to one another when someone died, but he’d been out of polite society for so long, he’d lost the rule book. He didn’t know how to act around women like Andrea.

Staring at the floor as they walked, he finally said the only thing he could think of to say.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he said in a low voice. “I know you and Vic were close when you were kids. She talked about you a lot.”

He was an expert at reading reactions—if a good Vice cop wanted to live to be an old Vice cop he picked up the skill quickly. Andrea was taken off guard by his words; her voice reflected her reaction and so did her body.

“She talked about me?”

“All the time. She wanted to be more like you.”

Her response was so softly spoken he barely caught it.

“Well…shit…”

He raised an eyebrow.

Her hair shimmered as she shook her head. “Why on earth would she feel that way? I’m not hero material, believe me.”

“Vic thought so.”

“Well, she thought wrong.” Her voice sharpened and so did her look.

Raising his hands defensively, he backed off. “Fine…she thought wrong.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Without a word, Andrea Hunt stepped inside and Grant entered as well. An eternity later they arrived on the next floor and they escaped, the silence between them thick and full of tension. Andrea didn’t stop until she came to a doorway that had a “Radiation” sign above it and a sliding glass window set beneath. When it rolled back following her knock, Andrea talked to someone inside, then she turned and tilted her head toward the door.

“He’s finished,” she said. “We can see him but only for a second.”

Kevin was lying on a gurney just inside the doorway, looking pale and frightened. Grant felt his heart turn over and calling the boy’s name, he hurried to the bed.

Kevin’s eyes opened slowly then widened when he saw Grant. A smile lit up his face.

Grant wanted to pick him up and whisk him away but he settled for a hug, burying his face in Kevin’s neck and breathing in deeply. The flood of emotions that followed rocked him. How could he have let this kid go? What had he been thinking?

Pulling back, Grant studied Kevin from head to toe. When he finished, he shook his head. “How’d this happen, buddy? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

He waited for the little boy to answer him but Kevin stayed silent. Grant looked toward the foot of the stretcher where Andrea waited. She said nothing, either.

“Kevin?” Grant asked again. “Did you hear me? What happened, son?”

When Kevin answered with only a stare, Grant turned away from the child and moved to Andrea’s side. She had a small scar beneath her right eyebrow, he noticed, a thin pale line that ran from there across her temple.

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” he whispered tightly. “Why won’t he answer me?”

“I thought you knew,” Andrea murmured, her voice so low he could barely hear it. “Didn’t Vicki tell you?”

“Vicki didn’t tell me jackshit.” He sent a confused look in Kevin’s direction, his heart tripping, then he faced Andrea again. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Kevin doesn’t talk anymore,” she said quietly. “He’s been mute since the day you left.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SHOCKED LOOK ON Grant Corbin’s face was genuine. He’d had no idea of Kevin’s problem.

He started to say more, then halted, obviously deciding not to discuss the situation in front of his son. Surprised by the show of sensitivity, Andrea rejected her momentary flash of appreciation. She didn’t want to see anything positive in the man who’d broken her sister’s heart.

Grant spoke with Kevin a little longer, then stepped away from the gurney. Andrea took Grant’s place and kissed her nephew’s forehead. “We’re going to another part of the hospital now, Kevin, and the doctors are going to put a cast on your foot. When that’s done, we’ll go upstairs to a room that will be yours while you’re here. We’ll be right behind you, okay?”

The nurse came and began to roll the bed down the hall, chatting to the little boy as she pushed him along. In the cast room, Andrea and Grant got Kevin settled, then the tech arrived. The young man quickly started a monologue on the merits of different computer games. Apparently well-versed in what kept the interest of kids with broken bones, he tilted his head toward the door a second later. Andrea and Grant took the hint and went into the corridor, the nurse telling them to come back in an hour.

Grant ran his hands through his straight dark hair. “God. I had no idea—” He stopped abruptly and looked at her. “Can we get out of here? Hospitals and I don’t get along too well.”

Curious but unwilling to ask him why, Andrea shrugged. They retraced their steps to the E.R. exit and went outside to the bench where Andrea had been sitting before. The fresh air and sunshine felt wonderful after the antiseptic smell of the hospital, but strangely enough, they also seemed to trigger her grief. As soon as she took her seat, the sorrow she’d been holding off washed over her. Vicki was gone. Her one and only sister was dead.

Her tears came in a hot wave.

Grant made no attempt to touch her or console her or voice some useless platitude, and once again, she found herself, unwillingly, impressed by his actions. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could sense what people needed, but his actions gave him away.

After longer than she would have liked, Andrea managed to pull herself together.

Handing her a white handkerchief, Grant gave her another minute, then he spoke. “What in the hell is going on with him?”

Taking a deep breath, Andrea looked up. “I thought you knew he’d been having trouble.”

“Vicki didn’t—” Once again, he stopped himself. “I didn’t know anything about it,” he said simply.

“Neither did I,” Andrea said, “but when I called Vicki the night before the accident, she said Kevin had stopped talking to her after the divorce. Apparently, he would talk at school, but not to her. She discussed the situation with a counselor and his teachers. They call the problem ‘selective mutism.’ They recommended therapy and told her not to make a big deal out of it. A lot of times children who have this condition apparently resume talking and no one ever finds out why they stopped in the first place.”

“Has he spoken to you?”

Andrea shook her head. “Not so far.”

“What about your parents? Did he talk to them?”

“No.”

Grant tightened his jaw, then looked at her. “Why didn’t I know this?”

“You would have if you’d gone to see him.”

His expression was rock-hard and she swallowed uncomfortably.

“I tried,” he said. “But Vicki always had a reason I couldn’t.”

“That’s not what she told me.”

“Vicki and I didn’t see eye to eye about a lot of things, but I loved Kevin.” He spoke tightly, his tension obvious in the set of his broad shoulders. “And I still do,” he added.

With an effort she knew was visible, Andrea regained her coolness. “Are you calling my sister a liar?”

“I’m saying there are two sides to every story. I have a feeling you’re going to need to remember that in the coming days.”

His warning startled her. Vicki had never truly deceived Andrea, but she had had a penchant for twisting the truth, especially about things that might put her in a bad light. Andrea pushed that to the corner of her mind and concentrated on the present.

“All I have to worry about in the coming days is my nephew,” she answered curtly. “He’s my top priority.”

“And mine, too.”

“Then we’ll stay in touch with you.” The promise was hard to make but Andrea had to do the right thing. That was how she’d been raised. “I’ll make sure you know how he’s doing.”

“I’ll keep abreast of his progress by myself,” Grant said in an equally cool voice. “I have no intention of going anywhere until my son has healed and I can take him home.”

Grant’s ominous words paralyzed her without warning. She felt like an idiot, but until this very second she’d never considered the fact that Grant might want Kevin. After everything Vicki had said, Andrea had just assumed the little boy would become the responsibility of the Hunt family. Please, God, she thought suddenly, please tell me I’m misunderstanding this.

“What about your work?” she asked. “Don’t you need to get back to L.A.?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation in five years. LAPD will keep going without me.”

“But what about—”

“He’s my son, Andrea.” Grant cut off her words, any hope she might have harbored about the situation destroyed by his steady stare. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re not going to get rid of me. I’m staying here. I love Kevin and I intend to make sure he knows that. I’ll be taking care of him from now on.”

GRANT LEFT ANDREA sitting in the hot sunshine and walked back toward the E.R., her shocked expression telling him everything he needed to know. And more.

True to form, Vicki had made Grant the bad guy, the one who’d been responsible for the breakup of their marriage. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, but somehow this final betrayal hurt more than the ones before. Maybe because he knew there was no way he could correct it. Vicki was gone and the truth of what had happened between them had died with her.

The automatic doors swished open, and Grant made his way to the phone hanging on one wall.

He called his captain first and explained what had happened. “I may need to take some time off—”

His boss responded just as Grant had thought he would. “Take whatever time you need, Corbin. The department understands—”

Grant gruffly thanked the man then broke the connection to dial a second number.

Parker answered on the third ring and once again, Grant gave out the details of Vicki’s death. He finished by saying, “Listen, Park, this may take a while to figure out. Can you hang in there for a week or so without me?”

“Hey, no problem.” His partner answered without any hesitation. “You do what you need to, Grant.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Relieved to have those two calls out of the way, Grant hung up the phone, turning as he did so. Andrea was still sitting where he’d left her, the sun blazing down on her. As he stared, she crossed one slim leg over the other.

The graceful movement was so reminiscent of Vicki, his heart flipped. Like a line of falling dominos, that motion then triggered another reaction. When he could breathe again, he told himself he was going nuts, but an immediate disquiet had flooded him. Vic had traveled in circles she shouldn’t have and had known folks he’d wished she didn’t. Some of them had been dangerous and influential. He’d warned her of the consequences that came with hanging around those people, but she’d blown him off, saying she could take care of herself.

Time and time again, he’d witnessed the downfall of the poor SOBs in the department who couldn’t turn loose of their ex-wives. He hadn’t wanted to be one of those pathetic men, but the unease Grant felt now went far beyond that.

Could there be a link between Vicki’s death and those powerful people? Highly unlikely, he decided a moment later. Too risky.

Andrea stood up, catching his gaze as she wiped her eyes. His thoughts hop-skipping, he found himself wishing Vicki had told her sister the truth, but he quickly realized what that would mean and he pushed the thought aside.

The truth was the last thing he wanted Andrea Hunt to know.

WITH GRANT by her side, Andrea headed back into the E.R., resolved to the fact that he was staying in Courage Bay but still very unhappy about the situation.

She tried to remind herself the man was Kevin’s father and it was only fair that he would want to be there. But she didn’t want “fair.”

Kevin’s bed was empty when they arrived but five minutes later the door opened to reveal Kevin’s gurney. Grant and Andrea jumped up in unison and ten minutes after that Kevin was settled into his bed, his cast an awkward appendage he didn’t quite know how to handle. Andrea fussed around him, fluffing his pillows, getting him ice and turning on the television. From his chair in the corner, Grant watched her in silence, his steady gaze making her even more nervous. Finally, as Kevin dozed, Grant came to the side of the bed where she was adjusting the railing. Again.

He put his hand on her arm. “Why don’t you go home?” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here with him. You need to slow down and catch your breath.”

His touch burned. “I’m perfectly all right,” she protested, trying to ease her arm away without being obvious about it. “I want to be here—”

She cut off her protest when the door opened unexpectedly. With relief, she saw Alex standing on the threshold. Andrea went to him in two steps, giving him a hug then introducing him to Grant. The two men shook hands in a measured way, exchanging a look as well. Andrea puzzled over the moment, but it passed so quickly, she decided she’d imagined it.

“How you doing, Kevin?” Walking to the end of the bed, Alex nodded to the little boy who’d come awake at the commotion. “That’s a cool cast.”

Andrea answered for Kevin. “The doctor says he fractured one of his malleoli, but the cast should take care of it. The X rays look good, other than that.”

“Great news…” Alex put one of his fists on top the other then swung them together, as if he were batting a ball. “You get out of here, we’ll go out to the little league field and knock some balls around. Sound fun?”

Kevin nodded, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. A second later, he was sound asleep.

They tiptoed into the hall, Alex shaking his head. “Man, when I walked in that house and saw what had happened, I couldn’t imagine anyone surviving under the mess. I’m glad he’s okay.” He turned to Andrea and gave her another quick hug. “But I’m sorry about your sister.” He faced Grant next. “Real sorry. I know you’ll both miss her.”

Andrea nodded because it was all she could do. They chatted for a few more minutes, then Alex said his goodbyes. As the firefighter started down the corridor, though, Grant spoke up unexpectedly.

“Alex—wait. I think I’ll get some coffee. Can you show me where the cafeteria is?”

Pausing midstride, Alex grinned over his shoulder. “Sure thing. I won’t guarantee you’ll want to drink the coffee, though. Hospital food is hospital food….”

Her nervousness suddenly blooming, Andrea crossed her arms, leaned against the wall and watched the two men leave. The minute they turned the corner, she groaned out loud.

Grant was up to something. The only question was what.

THEY RODE THE ELEVATOR down, the tall fireman talking easily about nothing important. Grant knew a lot of men like Alex Shields; he’d grown up around them because his father had been a cop. The officers in Grant’s Homicide division were like Shields, too, for the most part. Gregarious, outgoing, friendly types. Grant didn’t know why he was so different from them, but he was. All those years in Vice had a lot to do with it, he was sure, but it went deeper than that. In the end, he’d found himself more comfortable in that life than his real one, and that’s when he’d had to leave it.

They reached the first floor and Alex pointed to the left. “The cafeteria’s right down there. You can’t miss it—just follow your nose.” He stuck out his hand but Grant didn’t take it.

“Are you in a hurry or do you have a minute?” he asked instead. “I’ll buy you a cup if you’ve got the time.”

The fireman hesitated.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Grant explained. “About Vicki and the accident. I need some details but I didn’t want to bother Andrea. I didn’t want to upset her.”

Shield’s frown cleared. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll help as much as I can.”

His words confirmed the assumption Grant had made when Shields had come in the room and Andrea had greeted him. They were more than just friends, good or otherwise. Grant filed the information away for later examination.

They got their coffee then sat at a small table near the window, Grant wishing his cup held something stronger. He took a single sip and set the mug aside. It’d been nothing but an excuse anyway.

“I want you to tell me what you saw when you went inside Vicki’s house.” He sat back in his chair, fully aware he wore what Parker called his “interrogation” look. Intense, dark, focused. “Tell me any details you can remember, no matter how small.”

Shields faced him squarely. “I saw a hellacious mess,” he answered. “That armoire weighed a ton—your son was lucky as hell he didn’t die, too.”

“Did it look like they’d been moving the thing?”

“Hard to say exactly,” the fireman answered with a shrug. “The bottom of the piece was out from the wall about a foot or two. I guess they could have been positioning it.”

“Had there been things on the shelves?”

Shields narrowed his eyes as he clearly thought over the question. “Yeah,” he said finally, “I think there might have been. I saw some broken dishes in the debris, a cup or something. Maybe a plate.” He nodded a little more confidently. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it had stuff in it.”

“Where was Vicki?” he asked quietly.

“Close to the base,” Shields replied. “She was probably right next to it when it fell. Kevin was about two, maybe three feet behind her.”

“On their backs or their stomachs?”

Shields frowned for a moment before answering. “Stomachs,” he said finally.

Grant registered the information in silence, then spoke slowly. “She’d had the piece retrofitted with wall brackets so it’d stay up in case of an earthquake. Did you see whether or not those had been unscrewed?”

“I didn’t notice,” the fireman said. “We had our hands full getting them out. I could call the Courage Bay Police Department and have the examiner phone you, though. I know they sent a unit to the scene so they could file a report.”

Grant shook his head. “I appreciate the offer but I’ll contact him myself a little later.”

He could feel the other man’s curiosity. Grant couldn’t satisfy it, though. Shields was too close to Andrea and anything Grant said would find its way back to her, he was sure.

“What else can I do?” Shields asked.

Grant met the fireman’s gaze. It seemed steady and honest and Grant had the fleeting thought that Alex Shields was just the kind of man a woman like Andrea Hunt would hook up with—good-looking, strong, a real all-American type. An unexpected pang of regret hit Grant, but he pushed it aside and shook his head. “I think I can handle it from here.”

THE EVENING PASSED QUIETLY, Andrea on one side of Kevin’s bed, Grant on the other. From time to time she looked at the man who sat in the shadows but for the most part, they each pretended the other one wasn’t there. For Andrea, that wasn’t an easy task.

Grant seemed to dominate the space—not because of his physical presence but because of his overwhelming intensity. She felt as if she could hear his heart beat and see his blood rushing through his veins. The reaction was weird and she told herself she was imagining things, but as the hours passed and the hospital became quieter, the feeling grew. After a while, she decided their bodies had synchronized in some strange fashion, her heart matching his rhythm, his breathing keeping time with hers.

The strident sound of the telephone brought her out of the bizarre thoughts. The unit was on Grant’s side and he answered it before the first ring stopped.

Andrea’s eyes went to the sleeping child in the bed. He was completely under. Nothing could have penetrated his exhaustion, or the painkillers the doctor had given him.

“Andrea?” Grant spoke her name in a whisper as he held out the phone. “It’s your mother….”

She nodded and came around the bed, taking the receiver from him. “Mom?”

“I had to call and see how Kevin was,” her mother said. “Is everything all right?”

“He’s sound asleep,” Andrea answered. “They put the cast on and brought him up after you guys left. He was too tired to do anything but zonk out.”

“That’s good,” she said with relief in her voice.

Andrea wished she could blurt out her concerns over Kevin’s future, but with Grant five feet away, she didn’t dare. The discussion would have to wait until she had her parents alone.

“Are you okay?” Andrea asked instead.

“It’s been tough,” her mother answered. “We…we took care of everything.” She made a sound halfway between a cough and a sob. “The services will be day after tomorrow. In the afternoon.” She recited the details with excruciating precision. Even though Andrea didn’t want to hear about caskets and flowers and music, she let her mother talk until everything was out.

“Are you going to stay there tonight?”

Andrea glanced at Grant. He’d switched places with her and was now sitting in the chair she’d abandoned. His cheeks were dark with unshaven stubble, the circles under his eyes darker still.

“Yes, I am,” Andrea said firmly. “I want to be here if Kevin wakes up and gets scared.”

“Good, good… I think that’s a good idea.”

The Hunts were a tough bunch but Andrea could hear the strain in her mother’s words. They said goodbye and Andrea hung up the phone.

GRANT WATCHED ANDREA. When he’d returned to the room after his conversation with Alex, she’d been quiet and subdued. He hadn’t tried to talk to her but sooner or later, he’d need to ask her some of the same questions—and probably more—that he’d asked the fireman. If something had happened in that house other than an accident, Grant had to know. Until he was sure, though, he wasn’t going to say a word to Andrea.

He stood and stretched, then looked down at Kevin. He was sleeping peacefully. He caught Andrea’s eye and spoke. “Is your mom all right?”

“She’s tired,” Andrea answered. “They went to the funeral home and made all the arrangements.”

“Your parents are good people,” he said. “And strong. They’ll come through this just fine.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “You will, too.”

She seemed surprised by his words of praise but she didn’t comment.

“When are the services?”

She told him then fell mute again. The stillness between them could have been awkward, yet it didn’t feel that way to Grant. It felt right. And that, in turn, seemed strange. In all their years of marriage, he and Vicki had never shared a silence like this.

He sat down again and leaned his head against the leather chair. On the other side of the room, Andrea did the same. A moment later, their eyes met over Kevin’s bed.

Andrea looked away first.

CHAPTER FIVE

SHE WOKE TO THE SMELL of coffee. For half a second, Andrea thought she was back at the fire station, then she opened her eyes. Grant stood before her with a mug, steam rising from the top as he held it out. The coffee was black and hot and she drank it down, her eyes going to the bed and the small boy who still slept.

“He didn’t wake all night,” Grant said. “Barely moved. A couple of times, I actually got up and made sure he was still breathing.” His expression immediately turned sheepish as if he’d said more than he’d intended.

“It’s the painkillers,” Andrea replied. “They have strange effects on kids—they either sleep like a rock or get wired.”

Outside the room, the nurses were talking and laughing, the sound providing a sharp contrast to Grant’s next question. “Does he know Vicki’s dead?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I didn’t bring it up because I—I wasn’t certain how to explain it,” she confessed. “Or if I even should.” She raised her eyes, her throat constricting. “How do you tell a kid his mother is gone?”

“I’ve done it,” he said, “but it’s not something I want to do again.” He paused, his voice heavy with dread and the knowledge of what was to come. “He’s got to know, though. One of us has to do it.”

“Let me.” She could tell her words surprised him. They surprised her, too, but all at once she wanted to spare Grant that horrible task. Her reaction might have had something to do with the way he looked. Sometime during the night, he’d gained a haunted look.

Being the man he was, he started to object. “That’s not what I meant! I think—”

She interrupted him. “It’ll be easier for Kevin if I do it. If you tell him, he’d want to be tough and not cry. This isn’t the time for that.”

She could see he wanted to argue but couldn’t because he knew she was right.

When Kevin finally woke up, he was groggy and fussy but he calmed down as Andrea talked to him, his gaze returning continually to the corner where his father sat.

Andrea reached over and smoothed Kevin’s hair after he finished his late breakfast. “Do you know where I work, Kevin?”

He shook his head.

“I’m a paramedic,” she said. “I work at the fire station and ride in the ambulance. When someone gets hurt, I take care of them. It’s a pretty important job.” She stopped briefly as if just now considering the idea. “Maybe when you’re feeling okay, I could take you down there. You could meet the firemen and see the trucks. Would you like that?”

A tiny smile broke out and he nodded again.

“All right, then,” she said. “We have a date.” The explanation of her job brought her momentarily back into the real world. She glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon on Wednesday, the second day of her forty-eight hours off. By now, everyone at the station knew what had happened, but protocol was protocol. She should call in. Immediately she realized she could use the opportunity to phone her mother, too. She looked down at Kevin again.

“In fact, I have to tell my boss where I am, just in case he might need me. The call might take a while so I’m going to step outside to make it. While I’m gone, you can visit with your father, how’s that?”

Kevin’s reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed her hand and began to scream.

GRANT JUMPED to his feet and lunged for the bed, but instead of making things better, this had Kevin shrieking louder. Within seconds, every nurse on the floor had arrived and Grant and Andrea were both pushed into the hall.

Grant turned on Andrea in fury. “What in the hell did you do to him?”

“What did I do to him?” She looked at him with an incredulous stare. “What did you do is the question.”

“What did I… What are you talking about? One minute you were standing there talking to him and the next thing I know, he’s screaming his head off.”

“You didn’t hear what I asked him?”

“No.” He wasn’t about to explain that his mind had been exactly where it’d been the day before—on his growing concern that Vicki’s death hadn’t been an accident. “I…I was thinking of something else. Something to do with…with work.”

She gave him a withering stare, then repeated what she’d said to Kevin. Grant’s mouth fell open and he blinked in confusion.

“Are you sure he understood you?”

“He understood completely. What’s confusing about ‘visit with your father’?”

Grant shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t want to believe Vicki would have poisoned Kevin against him but what other conclusion could he reach?

“Why is Kevin scared of you, Grant?” Andrea asked with suspicion.

“He isn’t scared of me, dammit! I’ve been in the room with him all night long and he didn’t have a problem. You saw us talking yesterday—did he look scared of me then?”

His question stopped her. “No,” she admitted, “he seemed fine at that point.”

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