She’s bringing his son home

A missing little boy triggers San Diego K-9 officer Shannon Clemens and her canine search-and-rescue partner into instant action. For the rookie cop haunted by a childhood tragedy, bringing Sawyer Evans’s son safely home is more than a job. It’s a mission she can’t fail... But forging a friendship with the father is a tactical error that could compromise her first solo assignment. Yet the deepening bond between them is almost impossible to resist...

Sawyer laced his fingers through hers.

They strolled to the end of a pier and there, under the star-speckled sky and with the gentle breeze playing over her skin, he turned her to him. With a finger, he tipped her chin up.

“You’re beautiful, Shannon. Inside and out.”

Before Shannon could think of a response, he slid a hand around her and up to rest on the nape of her neck and lowered his head.

With a sigh, she let her eyelids flutter closed as his lips touched hers. The stars overhead paled in comparison to the brilliant lights that burst against her eyelids as she gave herself over to the sensation of Sawyer’s kiss.

The touch of his lips was light. Undemanding.

But it stirred feelings in her that made her question everything.

Dear Reader,

Home to Stay is the fourth book in what is now called the San Diego K-9 Unit series!

Those of you who have read the first three books might recall that they were originally intended to be a trilogy. After finishing the third book, When I Found You, I was saddened by the prospect of saying goodbye to the K-9 Unit, its heroes and their love interests. It seems that readers weren’t prepared to say goodbye, either, as Harlequin contracted me to write a fourth book. I’m thrilled to have had this opportunity to tell the story of rookie K-9 officer Shannon Clemens, her search-and-rescue dog, Darwin, and law professor Sawyer Evans. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so.

I hope you’ll enjoy Shannon, Sawyer and Darwin’s story. I couldn’t do what I do without your support. Thank you for choosing my books to spend some time with.

If you would like to use Home to Stay for your book club, you can find discussion questions on my website at www.kate-james.com.

As always, I would love to hear from you! Connect with me through my website, Facebook page (www.Facebook.com/katejamesbooks) or Twitter (www.Twitter.com/katejamesbooks), or mail me at PO Box 446, Schomberg, ON, L0G 1T0, Canada.

Happy reading!

Kate

Home to Stay

Kate James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE JAMES spent much of her childhood abroad before attending university in Canada. She built a successful business career, but her passion has always been literature. As a result, Kate turned her energy to her love of the written word. Kate’s goal is to entertain her readers with engaging stories featuring strong, likable characters. Kate has been honored with numerous awards for her writing. She and her husband, Ken, enjoy traveling and the outdoors with their beloved Labrador retrievers.

To my husband, Ken, who is an inspiration to me every day.

I never fail to be amazed and impressed by the hard work, dedication, professionalism and sheer brilliance of the Harlequin team working behind the scenes to help make each of my books the very best it can be. I owe special thanks to Victoria Curran, Kathryn Lye and Paula Eykelhof.

When I started down the winding path to becoming published, it never occurred to me that I would realize an enormous side benefit: getting to know so many wonderful authors whose friendship, support and generosity of spirit continue to astonish and inspire me. There isn’t enough room on this page to name you all, but I would like to acknowledge two remarkable women in particular. Catherine Lanigan and Loree Lough faced enormous personal challenges over the course of 2016, and they did so with extraordinary grace, dignity and determination. Even so, they never failed to think of others, and freely gave their love and friendship. I consider myself inordinately fortunate to be one of the beneficiaries! Heartfelt thanks to Catherine, Loree and all the other Harlequin Heartwarming authors whose friendship I value more than I can put into words.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SAWYER EVANS WAS in that languid state of semi-consciousness, waking from a restful sleep. It must have been the insistent chirping of a bird outside that had drawn him from his dreams. The muted glow of the early-morning light filtering in through the tent infused him with a sense of serenity.

As a single father and a professor of law, serenity wasn’t something Sawyer experienced frequently. He smiled as he remembered that he’d categorically rejected the idea of a weeklong camping trip at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park with his sister, Meghan, and their parents when Meg had first suggested it. He wasn’t the rugged, outdoorsy type, not by any stretch of the imagination. He thought of himself as the nerdy academic, more comfortable with his head in a law book than plodding up a mountain trail. He’d felt that way even before he’d left the San Diego County District Attorney’s office to teach, which he’d done to give him more time with Dylan after Jeannette abandoned them.

Three days in, and who’d have guessed he’d enjoy the experience so much?

And Dylan? He worried about his son becoming a bookish geek like him, and constantly encouraged him to play sports and spend time outdoors. But the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with his kid. Dylan had to be the most studious four-year-old on the planet. Yet Dylan loved it here. He seemed to be in his element, despite this being his first camping trip. Dylan had been full of energy and enthusiasm ever since they’d arrived. And the exercise was doing him good. The fact that he was sleeping in, and without the nightmares that had plagued him the last couple of years, made Sawyer immensely glad he’d let Meg cajole him—maybe bully was a better word—into coming along.

Dylan was his life. He’d do anything for his son.

Sawyer rolled onto his side and tucked an arm under his head. He considered drifting back to sleep for a few more minutes as he listened to the sounds of nature and the gentle flapping of canvas...

Flapping of canvas?

That wasn’t right.

He bolted up and stared at the tent flap, unzipped and fluttering in the light breeze. He immediately shifted his gaze to Dylan’s cot. From this angle, and with Dylan’s form as slight as it was, he couldn’t tell if his son was in his sleeping bag. Sawyer wasn’t taking any chances. He scrambled out of his own bedroll and hurried over to Dylan’s.

The adrenaline rush had him gasping for air.

The sleeping bag was empty.

Sawyer burst out of the tent and glanced frantically around.

No Dylan. Anywhere.

It must have been just past dawn. The sky was tinged with the first weak rays of sunlight, and a hazy mist shimmered across the water’s surface. Meg and his mom, both early risers, weren’t up yet.

Where was Dylan?

Sawyer’s heart pounded so hard, he was surprised it didn’t slam right through his rib cage.

“Dylaaan!” he bellowed. “Dylaaan!”

His gaze was drawn to the small lake that their campsite edged, and his heart stopped.

“No. Please God...no,” he mumbled as he ran toward the water. He’d been teaching Dylan to swim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have wandered into the lake and... No! He wouldn’t think about that.

“Dylan!” Sawyer shouted again as he waded in.

A hand latched on to his arm and tugged him back. Too big a hand to be Dylan’s.

He turned and stared into Meg’s huge eyes.

“Sawyer, what are you doing? Where’s Dylan?”

“I...I don’t know where he is.” He noticed his parents standing a few feet back at the edge of the lake. “Dylan wasn’t in his sleeping bag...” His voice cracked, and he willed himself to stay calm.

“Dad, dial 911!” Meg, obviously thinking more coherently than Sawyer, called to their father. “And the park ranger.”

As his father hurried to his parents’ tent, Sawyer shook off Meg’s grasp and took a few more unsteady steps into the lake. Other than the ripples he and Meg had created, the water’s surface was smooth as glass. No disturbance...no air bubbles. He turned and brushed by Meg, hurrying toward his mother. She, too, was looking anxiously about, concern furrowing her brow.

Sawyer yelled Dylan’s name several more times, then he, his mother and Meg stood motionless and quiet, hoping for a response. Only birdsong filled the silence until his father returned. “The park ranger’s on his way. The San Diego Police Department is also sending someone,” he said.

“Okay. Okay,” Sawyer murmured, trying desperately to think coherently. “Mom, you stay here. Wait for the ranger and the cops. I’m going over there.” He gestured vaguely toward the left. He pointed again. “Meg, you look in that direction. Dad, can you search back there, behind the camp?”

Not waiting for replies, Sawyer raced back to his tent, pulled on his running shoes, then took off at a run.

He had to find Dylan. The thought of his son alone in the woods, frightened, maybe injured, terrified him. He didn’t know how long Dylan had been gone.

Animals, including coyotes and mountain lions, inhabited the forest. He remembered reading in the guide book that the California mountain king snake lived in the park, too. He couldn’t recall if the book said the snake was venomous.

“Dylaaan!”

His voice was hoarse from shouting his son’s name. Occasionally, he heard Meg or his father calling out, too, but without response.

Never a response.

They had to find Dylan.

Tripping over an exposed tree root, Sawyer landed hard on his hands and knees. He pushed back up to his feet, absently brushed at the grime and the blood, and moved on.

He hadn’t bothered with his watch when he left, and he had no idea how long he’d been stumbling around in the forest. He was barely aware of the cuts and scrapes he’d sustained running through dense growth and falling a couple of more times.

An incongruous sound caught his attention. Was it a rustling in the brush?

He paused to listen and began to wonder if he’d imagined it.

Then he heard it again. It was his name.

His mother was calling him. Her voice was faint but distinct.

Elation surged through him. Dylan must’ve found his way back to the campsite.

“I’m coming, Mom!” he shouted and thrashed through the forest, running as fast as he could.

The thorns and branches clawing at his arms and legs didn’t slow him. He ran full speed in the direction of his mother’s voice. His muscles screamed and each breath was agony, but the thought of Dylan, safe and sound in his mother’s arms, propelled him forward.

What seemed like an eternity later, he hurtled through the brushwood bordering their campsite.

His energy gone, he bent over. Panting, trying to control his nausea, his eyes landed on his mother sitting at a picnic table. He swept his gaze around, searching for Dylan.

He saw his father and Meg talking to a couple of park rangers, but he didn’t see his son. Limping over to his mother, his voice gravelly, he asked, “Where’s Dylan?” But he knew the answer. Her tear-streaked face, swollen eyes and red nose said it all.

Dylan hadn’t returned.

His mother rose, took a couple of halting steps toward him and collapsed in his arms. He held her while she wept.

When had his mother become so frail? Bird bones, he thought, as she shuddered in his embrace. Over the top of her head, Sawyer met his father’s eyes. The torment in them was a reflection of what he felt himself.

One of the park rangers walked over. “Mr. Evans, we need to speak with you.”

* * *

SHANNON CLEMENS’S DREAM had finally come true. She was now officially a member of the San Diego Police Department’s K-9 Unit. Not on probation anymore, but a full-fledged K-9 officer, with her own specialization. It hadn’t come easy. She’d worked diligently for it.

The K-9 Unit was one of the toughest in the department to get into.

And she’d done it! For the last few months, she’d been conferring with the unit’s captain, Logan O’Connor, to identify the appropriate specialization for her and her police-service dog, Darwin. Well, now she was formally assigned to do search and rescue. She’d thought she might want to do explosives detection, but the incident at the San Diego International Airport half a year ago had helped her decide against it. Search and rescue presented its own challenges for her, but maybe it was destined that was where she’d end up.

She shifted her head on the pillow and watched the beautiful brown-and-black German shepherd lying on his own bed in a corner of her room. Darwin was only two years old, and was already showing exemplary skills and high detection accuracy. He was born in the Czech Republic, bred to be a service dog and had joined the SDPD K-9 Unit about the same time Shannon had. He was trained in tracking, building and area searches, article search, suspect apprehension and, like all dogs in the unit, handler protection and obedience. She was proud of Darwin, not just because she loved him, but because she’d been instrumental in his training.

Darwin moaned in his sleep and curled into a tighter ball. Shannon grinned at the way he’d tucked his snout under his tail.

She couldn’t believe that Darwin was assigned to her and she had her dream job. Here they were...partners!

When her cell phone rang, Darwin immediately looked up. Shannon glanced at her bedside clock as she reached for the phone on her nightstand. It was just after six.

“Clemens,” she said.

“Officer Clemens, this is Dispatch. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but we have an incident at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park. Usually we’d send Officer Palmer and Scout for this, but he’s not available at present.”

Shannon swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Since Darwin had strolled over, she rubbed him behind the ears. She knew that Cal Palmer, the only other SDPD K-9–Unit officer who specialized in search and rescue, was enjoying a well-deserved vacation. He and his wife, Jessica, were due to have a baby soon, and they’d decided to take their two girls on a Disney cruise before the arrival of their new addition. They were on a ship, and there was no way to summon Cal back, even if the SDPD had wanted to.

“No problem,” Shannon said. “What’s the situation?”

“We have a missing child. Four years old. He reportedly wandered away from his family’s campsite. We don’t know how long he’s been gone, but the State Park Rangers don’t want to take any chances. They’ve asked for our assistance in finding the boy. They need all the help they can get to cover the twenty-six thousand acres of forest, should it come to that.”

Shannon was familiar with the park, roughly forty miles east of San Diego in the Laguna Mountains. She’d frequented it with her family and her childhood friend, Kenny, when she was younger, and now she liked to go hiking there. In fact, she’d run training exercises in the park with Darwin.

But a missing child...that was not what she would’ve wanted for her first solo search assignment.

She tried to ignore the cold dread that slithered along her spine and wrote down the particulars.

The missing boy was four-year-old Dylan Evans. His father, a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Shannon’s heart went out to the man. She was certain the last thing he would’ve expected when he went camping with his family was that he’d wake up in the early hours of the morning to discover that his son had somehow gotten out of their tent and disappeared. Dylan was potentially alone in a wilderness that was home to mountain lions and other creatures that posed a threat to a young boy’s survival.

Oh, she was well aware of the hazards a child could face in the park on his own. Time was very much of the essence.

“I’m on it,” she said and glanced at her clock again. “I should be there in under an hour.”

She didn’t bother to shower. While Darwin ate his breakfast, she had a toasted bagel, then dressed quickly. To get her chin-length blond hair in some semblance of order, she ran a wet brush through it. She retrieved her equipment duffel from the bottom of her closet and rushed down the stairs.

Ten minutes after she’d received the call from Dispatch, she and Darwin were in her SDPD-issue Ford Explorer heading to Cuyamaca Park. The adrenaline was pumping, a good thing, since it was blocking out the dread.

She could do this. She would do this.

A child’s life depended on it.

As she merged onto I-5 San Diego Freeway South, a moment of guilt had her wondering if she should’ve told her captain about Charlie. Would that have made a difference? Would it have kept Logan from assigning her to search and rescue? It was too late for second-guessing. She’d simply have to do the best she could.

When her phone rang, she answered it.

“Shannon, it’s Logan.”

Speak of the devil. “I’m on my way,” she assured her captain.

“Good. I knew you would be. I wanted to tell you that you’re up for this. You’re skilled and so is Darwin. Two of the best rookies I’ve worked with.”

She could hear the sincerity in his voice. The pep talk bolstered her confidence. “Thanks, Jagger,” she said, calling Logan by his alias. “I appreciate your belief in me.”

“It’s earned. Give me an update when you have something.”

“Roger that.”

She focused on her driving and soon she was passing through the entrance to the park. She checked in at the ranger station and was escorted to the Evanses’ campground.

Her stomach tensed as the site came into view.

A tall, rangy man, dressed in plaid shorts, a white T-shirt and wearing black-and-white high-top running shoes, sat at a picnic table. He had his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. She couldn’t see his face, but his dark brown hair was standing on end. His arms and legs were scraped and bleeding in places, and his T-shirt had a long tear on one side.

A woman, roughly the same age and with nearly the same color hair, sat huddled against him, an arm around his shoulders. Shannon wondered, as she climbed out of her SUV and released Darwin, why his wife—assuming that was who the woman was—seemed to be holding up much better than the man.

Shannon turned her attention to the elderly couple on the other side of the table. The man was holding the woman, who was crying silently. Obviously the grandparents. Shannon waved to a ranger when he noticed her arrival. He walked briskly toward her and quickly briefed her on the situation. They’d been searching for over an hour, and had found no trace of the boy.

Shannon knew—and not just because of her police training—that wasn’t good news.

The ranger pointed out the boy’s father and signaled for her to follow him.

“Mr. Evans?” Shannon said softly when they’d reached the picnic table. The woman looked up but the man didn’t. “Mr. Evans,” she repeated, more loudly this time.

When his head jerked up, his forest green eyes—an unusual blend of green and brown—bored into hers. Their intensity triggered an involuntary urge to step back.

He had a strong jaw, straight nose. Good features. He might’ve been attractive under normal circumstances. But right now, his skin was splotchy, his hair even more disheveled from this angle, his eyes red-rimmed and his lips compressed so firmly they were edged with white. He had an angry scratch on his left cheek, just below his eye. The desperation she saw in his eyes evoked memories of Charlie and nearly destroyed her composure.

Everyone’s attention was now on her and she had to maintain control.

“Mr. Evans, I’m Officer Shannon Clemens with the San Diego Police Department. I’m here to help find Dylan.” She had to give him hope. She could see he was barely hanging on. “We’ll locate him,” she promised. She prayed they could.

Because it was too disconcerting to keep looking into his tormented eyes, she shifted her gaze to the woman. “Mrs. Evans, your son—”

“It’s Ms.,” the woman corrected her. “I’m Meghan. Dylan’s aunt.”

“Okay.” Uncertainty formed a hard, tight knot in her stomach. She wished Cal hadn’t taken this particular week off—and that her first solo search and rescue assignment didn’t involve a boy nearly the same age as Charlie had been...

Shannon forced herself to stay focused, stay sharp. “Darwin.” She pointed to her dog. “He’s trained in search and rescue. Darwin and I will do everything we can to find Dylan. Before we start, I need your help.”

The father straightened. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

She took a deep breath to brace herself. “I require something that’s Dylan’s and has his scent on it, to get Darwin familiar with it. The more recent, the better.”

He lurched to his feet. “Yeah. Sure. His sleeping bag. He was in it before he disappeared.”

“Good, but I also need something smaller. Something I can take with me to refresh Darwin’s memory, if necessary. An article of clothing Dylan slept in perhaps?”

He clenched his hands, the knuckles turning white. “He... He’s wearing the clothes he slept in.”

Twelve years later, she still remembered that all-consuming, devastating feeling of having a loved one go missing. Maybe it was wrong, but Shannon touched his arm. “Let’s see what there is in the tent that we can use,” she said gently.

She settled on a pair of socks that had been stuffed into Dylan’s sneakers. When the father said that was the only pair of shoes he’d brought for Dylan, she made a mental note to consider how far the boy could’ve wandered without shoes.

To be on the safe side, Shannon also took the T-shirt Dylan had worn the evening before and a picture the father had in his wallet.

Again she laid an encouraging hand on his arm. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to find your son.”

CHAPTER TWO

SHANNON CLIPPED A leash to Darwin’s collar. She let the dog smell both articles of clothing before storing them in her pouch, and instructed him to “find.”

Based on the information she’d been given, she estimated that Dylan had been missing for about three hours. That was a considerable time for a young boy to be alone in a forest.

But not so long that Darwin couldn’t pick up his trail. The dog’s behavior confirmed Shannon’s assessment of the elapsed time. The boy’s scent had dissipated sufficiently that Darwin was sniffing the air rather than the ground. They entered the forest at a run. Shannon said silent thanks for the hours she spent at the gym. Not wanting to break Darwin’s concentration, she matched her speed to his.

She dodged branches, leaped over fallen logs and, when she couldn’t avoid it, crashed through undergrowth to keep up with him. Once or twice when Darwin slowed, she pulled Dylan’s picture out of her pocket. Each time she looked at the image of the smiling little boy, she thought of Charlie. Her remorse over Charlie’s death, and the possibility that she might not be able to find and return Dylan safely to his father caused a constriction in her chest that made it hard to inhale.

Distracted, she nearly tripped over Darwin when he paused at a fork in the trail. He turned in circles, uncertain which way to go. Shannon let him scent Dylan’s clothing again. With a short bark, he was off once more.

Shannon was breathless by the time they reached a narrow gravel lane that appeared to be a service road. Darwin stopped and looked to Shannon for direction. When she held out the sock for him and urged him to “find,” he started down the road, but Shannon called him back.

It seemed that Darwin had lost the trail and was going to run down the road, probably because it was the path of least resistance.

She placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward to catch her breath.

She’d failed Charlie and now she was failing Dylan, too. The thought of that turned the constriction into a roiling, greasy mess in her gut.

No longer able to contain it, she bent over the bushes and lost the contents of her stomach.

Feeling steadier, she forced herself to concentrate on her task. A little boy’s life depended on it, and she wouldn’t risk his life by not doing her job to the best of her ability.

Shannon tried one more time with Darwin, but he kept wanting to run down the road. Dylan couldn’t have walked down that road barefoot. That thought had her considering the good two miles that she and Darwin had run. How likely was it that a four-year-old could’ve walked that far, and without shoes?

Had she made a mistake? Had Darwin? Had they gone the wrong way at the fork in the trail?

The park rangers had dogs and handlers searching, too. If she and Darwin couldn’t find the boy, maybe one of them would. But she knew the rangers’ dogs were multipurpose, while she and Darwin specialized in searches. Because of that, they were considered Dylan’s best chance.

Dejected, Shannon led Darwin back to the campsite at a brisk jog. Along the way, she called Logan and provided him with an update. He said he was en route and would see her at the site.

It was hard telling her boss that she’d failed. She didn’t know how she was going to break the news to the boy’s father. How could she confess to him that her best hadn’t been good enough?

She hadn’t been able to find his son.

The pain of losing Charlie all those years ago seemed as intense at that moment as it had back then. She remembered the police officer who’d broken the news to her parents that he’d found her little brother. But by then it had been too late.

She remembered how it had felt not to know if Charlie was dead or alive...and if he was alive, to worry about him suffering. The officer back then had brought closure for Shannon and her parents. Not the way they’d hoped, but it was closure nonetheless.

There would be no closure for Sawyer Evans, at least not that morning.

The bile had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She popped a breath mint as she neared the campsite. It would be challenging not to let Dylan’s father see her emotions when she spoke with him; he didn’t need to know she’d lost her breakfast.

She saw him standing at the edge of the small lake, his back to her, legs spread, hands in the pockets of his shorts. A quick scan of the area told her that he was alone. She assumed his family was inside one of the tents. A ranger’s pickup was parked by the roadway, the ranger sitting behind the wheel and talking on his phone.

She gave Darwin the hand signal to “down-stay” next to her Explorer, poured some water in his bowl and walked quietly toward the father.

“Mr. Evans?”

His head snapped around, and she nearly cringed at the desperate hope she saw in his features and his bloodshot eyes. As the hope transformed into desolation, she understood that he already knew the outcome, because she’d returned without Dylan. His whole body sagged as if the air had been sucked out of him, and he looked so bereft, she wanted to wrap her arms around him. Instead, she shoved her hands in her own pockets, her stance mirroring his.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t find Dylan.”

Another emotion flitted across his face. Uncertainty? Relief that at least they hadn’t found him dead?

She realized he might have feared the worst, but... She couldn’t even finish the thought. “We followed his trail to a service road,” she explained. “Without shoes, I don’t think he’d have walked along a gravel road...”

“Then where did he go?”

Shannon shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

“The rangers haven’t found him either.” He gestured toward the pickup. “They said you and your dog would find Dylan. You said it, too.”

He took a step toward her. It was the look in his eyes that told her his temper was brewing. That was okay with her. Anger was better than misery, if it helped pull him out of the depths of despair.

“What now? You’re not giving up, are you?”

“No...of course not.”

She heard a vehicle approach and glanced back. With mixed relief and trepidation, she watched Logan bring his Explorer to a stop next to hers. “Ah, excuse me a minute,” she said. “That’s the captain of our unit.”

Logan climbed out, took one look at Shannon as she strode over to him and guided her to the other side of his vehicle, where they had some privacy. “Is there a new development?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

“No, um, I told you on the phone...” She choked back a sob, and angled away so she wouldn’t embarrass herself further by crying.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Shannon, talk to me.”

“I...I...”

He turned her to face him.

When tears filled her eyes and threatened to overflow, she struggled to suppress them. She was not a crier as a rule, and she would not cry in front of her boss—or worse, the father of the missing boy.

“I know this isn’t easy. Shannon... I never want you not to care, but now’s not the time to fall apart. We don’t know that the boy’s come to any harm.”

“It’s not just the boy.”

At Logan’s raised eyebrows, she took a deep breath. “When I was fourteen, my brother died. Charlie... He’d wandered into a forest. When the police found him, it was too late.”

Logan took a step back. “Why didn’t you consider that relevant information to share with me?” he demanded.

Shannon could see he was annoyed, and with good reason, she thought.

“If not when we were discussing your specialization, then you should’ve told me when we spoke on your way here.”

Shannon didn’t know what to say. Logan was right. Of course, he was right. She’d failed him. She’d failed Sawyer Evans. She’d failed Dylan. And if it came down to it...she’d failed herself, too.

She wouldn’t be surprised if her captain decided to fire her over this. He expected truth and integrity from all his officers. She raised her hands. Dropped them again.

Logan let out an aggravated breath and ran a hand over the top of his head. “I’m sorry about your brother. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost Becca,” he said, referring to his younger sister. “But you should’ve confided in me.”

Shannon’s mouth fell open, but before she could formulate any words, he continued. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said firmly. “Right now, our focus is on finding Dylan Evans.”

When Shannon’s eyes misted again, he looked at her sternly. “Shannon, if you can’t do this, say so, and I’ll have someone else work with Darwin. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but the missing boy is our priority.”

Shannon forced thoughts of Charlie to the back of her mind and nodded. “I can do it.”

Logan watched her for a moment, then nodded, too. “Okay. I brought Scout with me,” he said as he walked to the back of his SUV and let Cal Palmer’s search-and-rescue dog out of the back. “I don’t doubt Darwin...or you, but two dogs are better than one in this case. The park has a lot of ground to cover. Not that I think a four-year-old could’ve gotten far from the camp.”

She’d had the same thought earlier when she and Darwin had reached the service road. But if Dylan had been snatched by a mountain lion or a coyote... No. She’d stay positive. If she couldn’t, how was Dylan’s father supposed to?

She called Darwin over as Logan clipped a leash to Scout’s collar. “Let’s move and you can fill me in on the details as we go.”

She glanced over to where the father had taken a seat at a picnic table, his head in his hands again. His sister and parents had emerged from their tents and were clustered nearby, but she got the sense that he wasn’t aware of their presence, isolated in his own world of grief and anxiety.

“Sure. Just give me a minute, please.”

Shannon handed Darwin’s leash to Logan. She jogged to the picnic table and sat down next to Sawyer. “Mr. Evans...” She waited until he looked up at her with tortured eyes. The tightness in her chest was immediate and acute, but she didn’t flinch or avert her gaze. “We’re not giving up on finding Dylan. You have my word.”

“You said before...that you’d bring him back.”

His anguished comment intensified Shannon’s sense of failure.

Before she could respond, he held out a shaky hand and took hers. “I’m sorry. That was unwarranted. I know you’re doing your best. Please find him.”

“The captain of our unit brought another search-and-rescue dog with him. We’ll go now.”

“Okay. Good.”

She released his hand and rose.

Rejoining Logan, they gave both dogs Dylan’s scent and let them lead the way into the forest.

“This is the same trail Darwin and I took earlier,” Shannon confirmed a few minutes later.

Logan nodded but kept his eyes on Scout. If the dog lost the scent or picked up any conflicting smells, she knew Logan didn’t want to miss it.

Because of that, Logan signaled to her when Scout paused at a clump of elderberry. They both crouched down to investigate. There was a small damp patch of soil at the base of a bush. Logan bent lower. “Urine,” he said. “I’m betting Dylan relieved himself here.”

She looked around. “Yeah. Darwin and I stopped here, too. I missed the urine,” she said apologetically.

“The important thing is that we’re on the right trail,” he assured her as he placed a marker by the spot. “Let’s keep going.”

The next time they stopped was at the end of the service road where Shannon had abandoned the search. The dogs were about to bolt down the drive when Logan ordered them back.

Shannon shook her head in frustration. “The boy couldn’t have walked there. He wasn’t wearing shoes. I don’t even know how he could’ve gotten this far, but he certainly didn’t walk across the gravel in bare feet.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Then what?” she asked in a subdued voice. “Darwin and I weren’t wrong about the trail. Scout brought us here, too.”

“No, you weren’t wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Watch the dogs. Remember, search-and-rescue dogs can follow scents even if those scents are in a vehicle. See the way they’re behaving?”

Shannon nodded.

“My bet is Dylan got into a vehicle here...or was put in one. Hold on a minute,” Logan said, pulling his cell phone out of its holster.

Shannon squatted down by the road, trying to make sense of the various tire tracks in the gravel. How would a small boy who’d wandered away from his family’s campsite end up in a vehicle? She couldn’t see anything that enlightened her. Then she noticed a small pool of engine oil. It looked fresh. She glanced up at Logan. He was still talking on his phone.

Thinking optimistically, she supposed that someone working in the park could have come across Dylan. But if that was the case, Dylan would’ve been taken to the rangers’ station and would have been reunited with his family by now.

Since they hadn’t heard anything yet, that scenario was unlikely.

The alternatives unnerved her.

Could someone have happened upon Dylan and simply taken him? If not...was it possible that Dylan hadn’t walked away from his campsite at all?

“You’re thinking that Dylan didn’t wander away from the campsite?” she asked as soon as Logan was off the phone. “That he was abducted?”

“Yeah. That’s what I think. No one has contacted the rangers’ station or the division about finding a boy.” He looked around. “This is where one trail ends and another—in a vehicle—begins.”

“There’s fresh engine oil on the gravel.” Shannon gestured toward the spot. “If the dogs have the scent, should we follow it?”

Logan frowned. “No. The ranger I spoke with said the service road is at least four or five miles and it connects to a main arterial. If we’re correct that Dylan was put in a vehicle here, that vehicle had no place to go except down this road. At the arterial, the scent will be much too faint for the dogs to determine which direction it took, let alone follow it from there.”

As they made their way back to the campsite, Logan called the division to get additional resources. The Special Response Team would lead the search, and the FBI would be brought in to assist, which was normal procedure for suspected abductions. All Shannon could think of was how shattered Sawyer had looked and the small glimmer of hope that had flickered in his eyes when she’d said they weren’t giving up.

How could she explain that they thought his son had been abducted?

And why?

“What sort of salary would a professor of law earn?” she asked Logan.

“If you’re thinking of money as a motive, I’d bet he has enough. We ran him. He was an assistant DA before he switched to teaching.”

Shannon mulled that over. She checked her watch. It must’ve been at least five hours since Dylan had disappeared. “If it is kidnapping, shouldn’t there have been contact by now? A call or a ransom demand?”

Logan shrugged. “Odds are, but not necessarily. And money isn’t always the goal. As an assistant DA, he impacted a lot of people’s lives. Those he sent to jail. Their loved ones.”

When they reached the campsite, Shannon immediately noticed that Sawyer wasn’t at the table with his family. Again, he was alone. This time, he was sitting in the sand on the shore of the lake. His knees were bent, arms wrapped around them.

“Do you want me to tell him?” Logan asked.

Shannon wasn’t going to shirk her responsibilities, regardless of how difficult it would be for her. She knew Logan had more calls to make to coordinate the next steps. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll do it.”

She handed Darwin’s leash to Logan, drew a deep breath and walked slowly to where Sawyer was.

“Mr. Evans... Sawyer?” she said softly as she approached him.

He gazed up at her as if he’d just come out of a trance and scrambled to his feet. His eyes were wild as he glanced about.

“We didn’t find him,” she said.

He seemed to close in on himself and collapsed back onto the ground, elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. “What now?” he asked in a barely audible voice.

She lowered herself to the sand beside him. “We need to ask you some questions.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. “You and the others have already asked me all the questions imaginable.”

Shannon understood his frustration, but the questions so far had focused on the possibility of a child wandering away. She had to tell him what their hypothesis was and that it required a whole new set of questions to be explored—including those that would probe whether he or another member of his family could’ve had anything to do with it. “No, we haven’t,” she responded. “We suspect that Dylan didn’t wander away.”

Sawyer lifted his head and stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. “What? If he didn’t wander away, then where is he? One of us has been here at the camp since I discovered he was gone.”

As painful as it had been when she’d learned that Charlie was missing—and all because he’d wanted to be with her—it would be far worse for Sawyer once she explained the situation to him. She wished there was something she could say or do to soften the blow, but the cold, hard truth had to be said.

* * *

WHEN THE POLICE officer didn’t answer his question right away, Sawyer scrabbled around to face her and grasped her upper arms. “What do you mean Dylan didn’t wander away?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she glanced down to where he was gripping her.

Only then did he realize he was holding her and not gently. He immediately released her. Seeing the distinct marks left by his fingers below the short sleeves of her uniform shirt, he was dismayed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... Officer,” he mumbled.

She rubbed a hand over the spot on her arm. “It’s okay. And it’s Clemens. Shannon Clemens. We followed a trail to a service road. We think he was put in a vehicle there.”

Sawyer slumped back on his heels. “Someone found him? Have you checked to see if anyone’s reported finding him? To the rangers or the police?”

“Yes. Neither the park rangers nor the SDPD have received any report of a young boy being found.”

“But you think someone put him in a vehicle and...took him?” Sawyer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If someone had found Dylan, lost and alone, surely that person would have taken him to the rangers’ office or the police by now. And if not? As he realized what she was saying, the horror of it threatened to overwhelm him. “You think he’s been...kidnapped?” he asked, his voice raw.

“We think someone took Dylan. The distance he would’ve had to travel to the service road, especially in bare feet, is too far. He was probably carried, if not all the way, then part of it.” Shannon nodded to her captain, who’d just joined them, before continuing. “Based on the behavior of the dogs, we suspect a person or persons put him in a vehicle at that location.”

Sawyer staggered to his feet. Turning his back on the cops, he dragged the fingers of both hands through his hair.

He was fairly certain this was what losing one’s mind felt like. His son was missing—might have been abducted—and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. After Jeannette had left them, he’d sworn he’d protect Dylan and give him enough love for two parents.

He stumbled to the edge of the water and stared off into the distance.

Was this some incomprehensibly cruel joke the powers that be were playing on him? Three years ago his wife went missing and now his son? Jeannette might be lost to him, but he had to get Dylan back. Whatever it took. If not, he really would go insane.

If Dylan had been abducted, who would’ve done it?

“Mr. Evans?”

A male voice, so the captain, not the officer. Sawyer spun around.

“It might be advisable for you and your family to go home. We’ll need to ask you some more questions, but we can do it there.”

Sawyer looked around and noticed that the campsite was now being treated as a crime scene. There were more cops present and yellow do-not-cross tape had been used to cordon off the area.

“Dylan...” he whispered and turned imploring eyes on Shannon.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him here,” she said softly. “If he was abducted, you should be home near your phone.”

He nodded. “I...I have to tell my parents and Meg.”

“Okay. Then we’ll have someone drive you home. You can get your vehicle some other time. It’ll be fine here until then.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Didn’t they understand that he didn’t care about his damn car?

All he cared about was getting Dylan back.

CHAPTER THREE

THE AUTHORITIES WERE convinced that the young boy, Dylan Evans, had been abducted. Despite there being no ransom demand. No contact. At least not yet.

When the possibility had first occurred to Shannon, dread had washed over her. Telling the father, Sawyer Evans, what they suspected had broken her heart.

Afterward, she’d gone to Sawyer’s home with Logan, and then back to the division for the briefing of the Special Response Team. Richard Bigelow was the lead detective assigned to the case, and she was glad of it. She didn’t know him well, but he was said to be the best on his team.

The SDPD had called in the FBI to assist, standard operating procedure with children presumed to have been abducted. The FBI had assigned a special agent in charge to work with the SDPD, Gavin Leary, and another special agent, Anne Wilson, to assist.

Shannon didn’t know if her help would be required again, but took comfort in the fact that they had the top resources available on the case.

Back at her desk, she scooped kibble into Darwin’s bowl. She watched him scarf down his food. Shannon might not be hungry, but the events of the day didn’t seem to have hurt her dog’s appetite.

After he finished his meal, he ambled over and rested his head on her lap. She stroked him as she thought back to the meeting.

They’d considered all the possibilities and narrowed it down to two. Either Dylan had wandered off and someone had seized him opportunistically, or it had been planned and he’d been taken from the campsite and to the vehicle.

Everyone present had agreed that the second scenario was more probable, since the former would’ve been too coincidental and highly improbable in the middle of the night. Also, as Shannon had concluded, it would’ve been too long and arduous a trek for Dylan to walk from the campsite to the service road on his own.

But how could someone have gotten Dylan out of the tent without waking his father? The only plausible scenario they could come up with was that the boy had gone outside to relieve himself and been taken then. But that would’ve meant someone had been watching and waiting, possibly all night, for Dylan to appear. She returned to the fact that it had been hours and there was still no ransom demand.

Shannon got her laptop, put her feet up on a chair and opened a picture of Charlie.

She was fourteen when her little brother died and the events that had led up to it still haunted her.

All through her childhood, people had called her a tomboy. When she’d first heard the term, she hadn’t known what it meant. Curious, she’d looked it up online, where it said something about how the way she was didn’t follow the “female gender norm.” That hadn’t bothered her. She’d seen it as fact. When other girls her age were playing with dolls or going to tea parties, she’d been engaged in sports or building mechanical things.

Her best friend since the first grade was a boy. Kenny had been her only friend for most of her life. When her parents had another child and that child turned out to be a boy, she’d been relieved. Shannon would’ve loved her sibling no matter what, but she’d secretly worried about how she’d handle having a sister. She was okay with being a tomboy, maybe even pleased by it, but what sort of influence would she have been on a little sister? So, she’d been glad when her mother had given birth to Charlie.

There was a ten-year age gap between them, but she’d loved Charlie completely and unreservedly.

And Charlie had loved her unconditionally in return. Their mother had said he idolized her. That put a lot of pressure on Shannon to be a good role model. Charlie wanted to do everything Shannon did; in fact, their father called him her shadow. As Charlie had grown, he’d also developed an open adoration for Kenny. Shannon had worried about how Kenny would respond to a young child hanging around them. She’d been delighted when Kenny, an only child, treated Charlie as if he was his kid brother, too.

Shannon’s parents started calling them the Three Musketeers. Shannon had Googled that, and she liked the sound of it. Yeah, the three of them against the world!

Shortly after Shannon turned fourteen, something had changed between her and Kenny. At first it was subtle; with time, it became more pronounced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but their relationship just wasn’t the same. She worried that because Kenny was sixteen, two years older than her, he now thought of her as a kid. Her idea was reinforced when he’d insisted that she—and everyone else—start calling him Ken. He considered himself too old to be called Kenny. But she concluded she couldn’t have been correct about how he felt because they still saw each other as much as they used to, if not more. Then she’d fretted that it was Charlie, since Ken no longer wanted to have him around.

Shannon’s mother had sat her down and had a talk with her about Ken and their relationship now that they were teenagers, but Shannon had assured her that Kenny—Ken—was just a friend.

When Ken had asked Shannon to go for a hike in Torrey Pines State Reserve north of San Diego, Charlie had wanted desperately accompany them. Kenny had insisted that it would be a long hike, too strenuous for Charlie. Tears had coursed down her brother’s cheeks when she’d told him he couldn’t come with them.

If only Charlie had listened...

* * *

SHANNON CLOSED HER eyes and the memories came rushing back.

It was shortly after Kenny had gotten his driver’s license and he was so proud to be able to drive them to the park in his mother’s car.

As they walked side by side along a forest path, Kenny bumped Shannon’s shoulder. Shannon had been watching the shifting patchwork of light and shade on the sun-dappled forest floor, her thoughts so focused on how to broach the subject of what had caused the change between them, that the movement made her lose her footing.

He caught her with one hand on her arm, the other at her waist.

“Thanks, Kenny.” Noting his annoyance, she quickly amended her words. “Sorry... Ken.” Steady on her feet again, she tried to step away, but he kept an arm around her waist. “Um... I’m okay now. Thanks.”

Instead of releasing her, he closed the gap between them. Shannon saw his mouth open and his eyes close as he lowered his head toward hers. With an appalled jolt, she understood that he intended to kiss her. Letting out a squeal that sounded girlish to her own ears, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. She must’ve taken him by surprise because he staggered and landed ingloriously on his butt.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded, his irritation obvious.

“You...you were going to kiss me!” Shannon swiped her forearm across her mouth, almost as if he’d managed to accomplish what he’d set out to do.

Leaning back, he continued to stare up at her. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” she heard herself sputter. “You’re my friend. You’re like a brother.”

He rose and dusted off his jeans. “Is that so? Is that how you think of me?”

“Well, yeah. How else?”

She and Kenny—Ken—couldn’t reach any kind of agreement, but at least she had her answer to the question she’d been grappling with.

Something had changed between them.

Kenny no longer thought of her as a friend or a sister. He confessed that he wanted her as his girlfriend.

Shannon couldn’t think of him that way. Her mother’s warning, and how readily she’d dismissed it, came to mind.

Kenny suggested she take some time to decide. She knew she didn’t need time, since her feelings for Kenny weren’t going to change.

Kenny drove her home. He didn’t bother to get out of the car. They said a terse goodbye and, with a heavy heart, she walked into her house.

When Shannon entered the kitchen, her mother glanced over her shoulder from where she was standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” Victoria said. “Your father has a charter booked to go fishing and wants to take Charlie with him.”

“Charlie?” Maybe it was because Shannon was still in a daze from what had happened with Kenny, but she didn’t understand what her mother was talking about.

“Yes, Charlie.” Victoria turned, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Where is he?”

Shannon felt cold tentacles of dread slithering through her. “Why are you asking me? I was with Kenny. Charlie wasn’t with us.”

The spoon slipped out of Victoria’s hand and clattered to the tile floor. “Then where is he? When we couldn’t find him, we...we assumed he must’ve gone with you.”

The tentacles were constricting, and she imagined her ribs would snap at any moment. It was nearly impossible for her to breathe. “No...” Shannon’s voice was a disembodied whisper. “He wasn’t with us.”

Victoria rushed to the hallway. “Paul! Paul... Charlie wasn’t with Shannon!”

The rest of the day was a nightmare for Shannon.

The police were in and out of their home as if it had a revolving door. They visited Kenny and found Charlie’s stuffed dog on the floor of his car. They’d speculated that Charlie had followed Shannon out of the house and that while she and Kenny had gone into the garage to get her hiking boots, he’d hidden on the floor in the backseat of the car and sneaked after them when they went on their hike.

A police officer and his search-and-rescue dog were brought in to find Charlie.

They discovered his body the next day.

He must’ve gotten lost in the forest and had drowned in a creek. The K-9 officer had tears in his eyes when he told them. Shannon hadn’t blamed the police. She could tell they’d done everything possible to find Charlie. The K-9 officer had just been brought in too late, as he’d been deployed on another assignment. She’d concluded that if there were more police officers with dogs, they could’ve found Charlie in time. She knew her parents felt the same way, because they made a donation in Charlie’s memory to the San Diego Police Department Foundation to acquire and train a police service dog in search and rescue. Shannon had asked that the dog be named after Charlie. The foundation had agreed.

It was back then that Shannon had resolved to become a police officer working in the K-9 Unit. If she could save one little boy like Charlie, dedicating her life to policing would all be worth it...

Now, here she was, and she’d had that chance. And she’d failed.

* * *

IT WAS WELL past eight when Logan finished the last of his paperwork and turned off his computer. He said silent thanks that Ariana was so understanding about the odd hours he had to work. He smiled, thinking that she’d soon be his wife. Logan wouldn’t have imagined it six months ago, when he’d first met the cool and competent head of security and loss prevention for San Diego International Airport.

Logan retrieved his duffel, whistled for Boomer, his explosives-detection dog, and left his office.

He’d thought that he’d been alone in the squad room, but he was wrong. Shannon was leaning back in her chair, her feet propped up on another one, her legs crossed at the ankles. She had her laptop on her lap, but she was completely still. He couldn’t tell if she’d dozed off or not, but the computer screen was dark. He knew she’d been working long hours since Cal had left on vacation, and this should’ve been her day off.

“Hey, Shannon,” he said quietly as he approached her.

She dropped her feet to the floor and nearly knocked the laptop off her thighs as she bolted up. The jostling had the screen coming out of hibernation. “Logan. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

He smiled. “Obviously.”

She hurriedly shut down her laptop, but not before he saw the smiling, freckle-faced kid’s picture.

He pulled the chair she’d had her feet on forward and sat. What would another fifteen or twenty minutes matter when he suspected he knew what was going on. He signaled for Boomer to lie down. The beautiful near-black Dutch Malinois/shepherd mix did, right next to Darwin.

“Shannon, the boy in that picture is your brother?” He searched his memory for the child’s name. “It’s Charlie?”

Shannon nodded.

“You want to talk about it?”

She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “I just relived it in my mind. I’d prefer not to go through it again. At least not now.” She placed a finger on her touch pad, fiddled with it a bit and clicked. She turned the screen toward Logan. “And that’s Dylan.”

Logan noted the similarities in age, coloring and the wide, gap-toothed grins.

“I don’t want what happened to Charlie to happen to Dylan.” She raised her hand. “Oh, I know the situations are entirely different, but I don’t want a cop—me or someone else—to have to tell Sawyer Evans that his little boy is...is gone. I don’t want Sawyer to have to go through what my parents did. To live with having lost a child.” She reached down and stroked the top of Darwin’s head, then shook her own. “No parent should have to endure that. I know what it felt like to lose my brother and to carry the blame—”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Blame?”

With a resigned sigh, she gave him the highlights.

“You’re not to blame,” Logan said vehemently when she’d finished, but he understood her better now.

“Maybe not. However, it doesn’t mean I don’t still carry the guilt. Reason is one thing. Emotion, something else altogether.” She paused for a long moment. “Is it worse knowing someone took him? That it wasn’t an accident?”

Logan understood that the question was rhetorical, but irrespective, he didn’t have the answer. He and Ariana had discussed having children, and the idea of anything like that happening to one of them petrified him. “At least we have a chance of getting Dylan back safe and sound,” he said gently.

Logan still had to address with Shannon the fact that she’d withheld material information about herself, information that could’ve impacted the specialization he’d assigned her. Especially considering the particulars she’d just shared. But looking at her and how fragile she seemed he knew that now was not the appropriate time.

As for the abduction, if they talked it through, they might come up with something they’d missed. If not, it would at least serve to get her mind off her own loss. “Okay, let’s go over what we have.” Logan looked up when he heard the squad room door open. Seeing Ariana stride in—with her confident, no-nonsense gait, and carrying a large bag of Chinese takeout—he appreciated again how fortunate he was to have her in his life. The more he got to know her, the more he respected her intelligence and agile mind. He couldn’t ignore her beauty, either, with all that long, dark hair and her exotic features.

She dealt with many significant issues in her job. Having her perspective on this situation could help.

“I guess we won’t be going hungry while we do it,” Logan added. “Let’s move this into the conference room,” he said as he rose to give Ariana a kiss.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHANNON WAS BACK in the squad room early the next morning. She watched the flurry of activity around her and knew most of it had to do with Dylan Evans.

The boy was still missing.

She, Logan and Ariana hadn’t come up with any great revelations the evening before. Judging by the bustle around her, neither had the investigative team.

She recognized the two FBI special agents who’d been assigned to the case—Leary and Wilson. Bigelow from the Special Response Team was there too, and she knew most of the other officers, who were from the SDPD. They were filing into the conference room.

When she saw Logan enter the squad room, she hurried over to him.

“I know I’m not needed actively on the case right now, but is it okay if I sit in on the briefing?”

He looked at her sympathetically. “You have a heavy workload with Cal gone. Are you sure you have the time?”

“It matters,” she said softly.

Logan held her gaze, then slowly nodded. “Okay. Good training for you,” he said, making her feel less awkward about her personal interest in the case.

She started toward the conference room, but he forestalled her with a hand on her arm.

“If you need to leave anytime during the briefing, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

She felt his comment was a discreet reference to her emotional state the evening before. It told Shannon that Logan realized she wanted in, not just because of Dylan but also because of Charlie. She was fortunate to have such an understanding boss. “Thanks,” she said with a grateful smile.

She took a seat along the back wall, near the door rather than at the table. She was an observer, not a participant. And it would make for an unobtrusive exit should she need to leave.

“First, to recap,” Bigelow began. “The missing boy is four-year-old Dylan Evans. Dylan’s been missing for over a day, and there’s been no ransom demand. No contact with his family or the police. Dylan’s father, Sawyer Evans, is a former high-profile prosecutor with the San Diego County District Attorney’s office and is now a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Evans says he stopped practicing law and became a professor shortly after a challenging case involving a young man, Stewart Rankin, from a rich and privileged family.” He swept his gaze around the room. “Many of you will remember that Rankin killed five people in a motor-vehicle accident while driving under the influence.”

A hand went up and Bigelow pointed at the uniform.

“That’s the guy who’d been out partying with his buddies. A stag before his wedding. Drove a high-end Porsche Carrera, right?”

Bigelow nodded. “Yeah, that’s Rankin. Evans was the prosecutor. He won the case. Rankin was sentenced to twelve years in prison. His family has money and they threw a considerable amount at his defense team. Evans says the trial was brutal and his involvement, the effort and energy required, took a toll on his personal life. His wife, Jeannette Evans, left him and their one-year-old son shortly afterward, without discussion or warning. She didn’t return home from her fitness club one day. His workload had been an issue between them ever since Dylan’s arrival. Although the case was technically still open, since there was no indication of foul play, the assumption was that she’d had enough and left. There was some speculation that post-partum depression might have been a factor, but nothing conclusive was known in that regard.”

That was news to Shannon. Sawyer must have been heartbroken and reeling from his wife’s desertion. She raised her hand. “Is Jeannette a possible suspect?” she asked when Bigelow signaled to her to speak.

“I was just getting to that. I checked the case file. She simply disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Her car was in the club’s parking lot. There was nothing captured on the facility’s security cameras. Subsequent to her disappearance, there was no use of credit cards, accessing of bank accounts or contact with anyone she’d known. Ultimately and on that basis, the detectives concluded she was more than likely deceased. This is where the question of post-partum depression arose. As I said, the case remains open, but since there was no evidence of a struggle or any indication to the contrary, foul play was ruled out.”

He got up to walk around the room. “I spoke to the detective who had the lead. She said Evans hired a private investigator to look for his wife. It was his call, although the detective had cautioned that it was highly unlikely the PI would find anything we hadn’t. She said Evans was highly distraught. Understandably. He had a new kid and had lost his wife. Said they’d been together since high school.” He shrugged. “As expected, the PI didn’t turn up anything new. There were no clues as to where she’d gone or what had happened to her.

“The only thing that kept Evans functioning, according to the detective, was his kid. His son’s welfare became Evans’s priority. He changed jobs to be able to spend as much time with the kid as possible. As is standard procedure in cases like this, Evans was looked at as a possible suspect but cleared.”

Bigelow was known to be a tough cop, but Shannon could see that even he was moved.

“How could the guy have foreseen that taking his son on a family vacation would turn into a parent’s worst nightmare?” He shook his head. “Speaking of nightmares, Evans said his kid had them from the time his mother left, and only now are they becoming less frequent. Let’s get this kid back to his father as soon as we can. Special Agent Leary will cover what we’ve got so far.”

Bigelow switched places with Leary. “Sadly, not much,” Leary began. “Yesterday we went over all the possibilities with Evans. His acquaintances and neighbors, his current and past colleagues and, going further back to his tenure as an assistant district attorney, any and all people he’d prosecuted. The DA’s office is reviewing their files, too. We haven’t hit on anything, but the most likely suspects—operating on the assumption that he or she is known to Evans—are people he’d prosecuted as an assistant DA.”

Leary held up his hands when murmurs broke out across the room. “I know that takes us back three years or more, but we can’t ignore it. We’re paying particular attention to the people who’d been convicted. Especially those who received long sentences, as well as their family members. We also looked at associates—in and out of prison—where applicable. Anyone who’d been recently released. Five made it to the top of our list. First up is Stewart Rankin, whom Detective Bigelow just mentioned. He’s serving twelve years in the George F. Bailey Detention Facility. Next is Donna Thompson, convicted of being a drug mule for one of the Mexican cartels, serving a seven-year sentence. With her, there could be a cartel angle, depending on how integrated she was with the organization.”

“You should talk to Rick Vasquez about that,” Logan interjected. “Rick and his narcotics-detection dog, Sniff, were instrumental in taking her down. Rumor had it she was personally involved with one of the Sinaloa cartel’s lieutenants. Although we didn’t get any of the cartel’s key operatives, the takedown was significant because of the size of the seizure and, perhaps more importantly, the closing down of one of their most lucrative smuggling routes.”

Leary nodded. “If it impacted the cartel and/or there was a personal relationship, that moves her up the list. We’ll talk to Vasquez.”

Shannon glanced over at Logan, but his expression was inscrutable. If the Sinaloa cartel had anything to do with Dylan’s abduction, that was bad news. They wouldn’t have done it for financial gain.

“But before we get too concerned about the cartel,” Leary said, “my opinion is that if it was them, we would’ve heard by now—one way or another. They wouldn’t have taken the kid for money.”

That confirmed Shannon’s belief.

“To them, whatever Evans could pay would be a drop in the bucket. If they took the kid, it would’ve been for revenge. And in Thompson’s case, we’re going back nearly four years. I doubt the cartel bosses would’ve been this patient if they wanted retribution.

“Third on our list is Colin Jansen, serving life for killing a man in a barroom brawl when he hit him on the back of the head with a pool cue. Jansen reportedly has anger issues, and he has associates on the outside. Number four is Nadine Crosby. She was twenty-three at the time she was convicted of the attempted murder of her mother and her mother’s then-boyfriend. Diagnosed as a psychopath, she fits the profile, and the fact that she was released a few months ago moved her up our list to fourth position. However, she’s solidly alibied for the time of the abduction. Rounding out the top five, we have Norman Blackstone, a fifty-six-year-old father of four who defrauded his employer of nearly a million dollars. Evans sent him to prison for five years. That covers the probables.”

Leary nodded at Bigelow. “Anything you want to add?”

Bigelow shook his head. “No, other than to say that the DA’s office is continuing to go through all of Evans’s case files. Anything else?” he asked the room in general.

A hand shot up. “What are the chances that Evans might be behind it?”

Bigelow inclined his head. “That’s a good question. As usual, we’re taking an in-depth look at the family. We haven’t gotten a red flag in our discussions with Evans. We’ve interviewed the other campers in the area and got nothing from them, either.” He scanned the room. “A complexity in this case is that the boy is the second member of Evans’s immediate family to disappear. That’s too coincidental for my liking and warrants closer scrutiny. It would answer the question we’ve been grappling with of why the father didn’t wake up if the boy was abducted from the tent.”

“Is it worth looking at the missing wife again?” someone else asked.

“Yes. We’ll review Jeannette Evans’s file, although as I said, the investigation into her disappearance had ruled out the possibility that Evans played any role in it.” Bigelow frowned at his notes. “On the other hand, if it is Evans, if he was involved in her case, where’s the body? And if he’s responsible for his son’s disappearance, where would he have taken the boy?”

There was murmuring in the room, but Bigelow ignored it and continued.

“We brought in the air support unit with infrared capabilities,” he continued. “Their lack of results, combined with what our search-and-rescue dogs have indicated, leads us to conclude the boy was no longer in the park when Evans sounded the alert. But we know he didn’t leave the place until we escorted him home.”

Shannon realized it was standard procedure to look at family members in child-abduction cases, yet hearing that Sawyer was a possible suspect made her feel defensive. She couldn’t believe it. Yes, she was going on a gut feel, but a lot of good police work depended on well-honed instincts. She’d been the first cop on the scene, the first to speak to Sawyer. He couldn’t have faked the raw grief and distress she’d seen.

“Evans’s parents are retired, and we’ve found no reason to suspect them. The sister, Meghan Evans, is single and a marine biologist working for the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in their Marine Biology Research Division. We don’t suspect her, either,” Bigelow said.

When the briefing was concluded and all the questions answered, Shannon left the conference room, along with everyone else. She didn’t know if the others felt as dejected as she did. Yeah, cops hoped they’d never get so callous that they didn’t feel for the victims, but Shannon had to wonder if she’d be able to deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis.

She focused on her work and got some satisfaction when she and Darwin were called out and located an Alzheimer’s patient who’d wandered away from Ocean Crest Hospital; they were able to return him unharmed to his family. They also helped apprehend a man who’d crashed a stolen vehicle, injuring an elderly woman, and had fled the scene. He blew well over the legal limit and, right now, was warming a bench in a holding cell.

But her thoughts kept drifting back to Sawyer Evans and his son, Dylan. How could she not be emotionally engaged when a child’s well-being was at stake? And it wasn’t only about the boy. It was the father, too.

There was something about Sawyer... He stirred up feelings in her that were unprecedented in her experience, and she couldn’t set them aside. Was it empathy she felt because of Charlie?

She tried to take comfort in the fact that the investigation was a top priority. The assistance from the FBI added much-appreciated resources.

But no new information had emerged. The time factor associated with when Sawyer had left the DA’s office made it less likely that one of the people he’d prosecuted was responsible for the abduction, but the investigative team could not ignore it, as they had no other leads.

Shannon knew the SDPD and FBI couldn’t discount a random, opportunistic abduction either, improbable as it seemed. In addition to tapping their combined manpower, they were appealing to the public for help.

Missing-child posters went up across San Diego County. She’d heard that Sawyer had used his own resources to broaden the distribution. It wasn’t just because Shannon was focused on the case that she saw Dylan’s smiling face everywhere she went.

Shannon knew that as more time passed, concerns about the boy’s safety intensified. The first twenty-four hours were crucial, and they’d pulled out all the stops in their search.

But those critical early hours had now passed.

Sawyer had come into the division midday. His eyes had been vacant until they met hers. He’d paused, and she’d felt a brief connection before he moved on to catch up with Bigelow.

Sawyer must’ve been going out of his mind. For Shannon and her parents, it had been a little over a day until they learned Charlie’s fate. She remembered vividly those excruciating hours of not knowing.

Long after Sawyer left, the raw pain she’d seen on his face haunted her. She knew it was contrary to department policy, but she had to contact him. Offer him whatever comfort she could.

She hoped that if this turned out to be a second transgression, it wouldn’t end her career with the K-9 Unit when it had barely begun.

She thought about going to Sawyer’s home at the end of her shift. She knew the address. She’d been there with Logan on the day of the abduction.

Even if she was to step over the line and contact Sawyer, going to his home uninvited was decidedly wrong. She’d stop by his office instead. She debated staying in uniform and decided to go in civilian clothes. After all, it wasn’t official police business. She didn’t want to create any false expectations.

She’d worked the seven-to-three shift. If she changed quickly, she could be at the Thomas Jefferson School of Law by four, a time she assumed was within the normal hours of a professor. She wouldn’t call first, since she couldn’t explain over the phone why she wanted to see him. She didn’t entirely understand it herself.

She’d take her chances. If he was giving a lecture, so be it. Then she’d leave a message.

At the school, she got Darwin settled in the climate-controlled comfort of her Explorer and followed the signs to the faculty offices.

Sitting behind the reception counter was a slim young woman with a pretty face and a mass of wavy auburn hair falling nearly to her waist. The name plaque on her desk said Miranda Smith.

Shannon absently ran her hand through her own short hair. The word tomboy flitted through her mind. The presence of this beautiful, feminine woman made her feel self-conscious.

Miranda glanced up and smiled, revealing perfect, even white teeth. “May I help you?”

Well, at least Shannon had nice teeth, too. The braces she’d worn for the better part of two years as a teen had ensured that. She smiled back and walked to the counter. “I’d like to see Mr., ah, Professor Evans, please, if he’s available.”

Miranda’s smile faded immediately and her eyes clouded. “I’m sorry, but Professor Evans isn’t here. He’s taking some time off...” Of course he wouldn’t be at work while his son was missing! Shannon should’ve thought of that. She was obviously more affected than she’d realized. “Yes. Thank you,” she murmured. She pulled out a business card and a pen. Jotting her personal cell phone number on the back, she handed it to Miranda. “I’d appreciate if you’d ask him to call me...when he gets a chance.”

The receptionist accepted the card and glanced at it. Her eyes rounded. “You’re with the police? Is there news?” she asked hopefully. “I can try to reach him at home right now.”

Shannon shook her head. “I’m sorry, no.” She suddenly wanted to take the card back and leave. This was a bad idea, but it was too late to undo what she’d done. “Please just have him call me. There’s no urgency.” She thanked the receptionist and quickly left.

Inside her Explorer, she grasped the steering wheel with both hands and rested her forehead on it. How dumb was that? she asked herself.

CHAPTER FIVE

SAWYER SAT ON his sofa, head back, eyes shut. He’d closed the shades. He didn’t want to see sunshine, nor did he care what time of day it was.

He’d never felt so helpless, or so distraught, in his life.

He wanted to rage. He wanted to lash out.

He wanted to give in and break down.

But his lethargy prevented all of it. And what purpose would any of those reactions serve?

They wouldn’t bring his son home.

Not knowing where Dylan was... Maybe injured...

No, he refused to think about that.

As a father, he’d sense if harm had befallen his son. Wouldn’t he?

His parents. Meghan. They’d all wanted to stay with him.

He couldn’t handle company. He couldn’t bear their pain. The weight of his own was intolerable.

He just wanted to be alone.

And he hated being alone, in his own head, with his own thoughts. It was a dangerous place for him right now.

He wanted to be with Dylan, but that was impossible.

The sudden jangle of his phone startled him.

He kept his cell phone within reach at all times. Wishing. Praying. Hoping beyond hope that it would be the police. Calling to say they’d found Dylan. Safe and unharmed.

But whenever the phone had rung, it’d been his mother or father, his sister or a friend.

He picked it up and checked the call display.

It was his office.

He couldn’t imagine what they’d want. He’d advised the dean he’d be off until further notice. When he’d told her why, there’d been no further questions.

So why was Miranda calling?

He nearly put the phone back down, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Sawyer, how are you?” Miranda asked as soon as he answered.

Sawyer leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. How did she think he was, with his son missing for almost two days?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was a stupid question.”

There was nothing to be gained by making Miranda feel bad. She was a smart, well-intentioned young woman. He understood why no one knew what to say to him. “It’s okay, Miranda. Why are you calling?”

“I have a message for you that I thought you’d want.”

“Yeah?” He had no interest in messages. Unless it had to do with Dylan. “Who’s it from?”

“San Diego Police Officer Shannon Clemens.”

Sawyer leaped off the sofa. “When did she call? What did she want?”

“Um...”

He softened his tone. “Sorry, Miranda. Go ahead.”

“Uh, she didn’t call. She stopped by. She left her cell phone number.”

Sawyer wrote it down. “Thanks, Miranda. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Sawyer, I’m so very sorry. We’re all thinking of you and praying for Dylan’s safe return.”

“Thanks.”

Sawyer hung up almost before she’d finished. Shannon Clemens was the officer with the dog. He’d immediately trusted her. She seemed to truly care. She’d given him hope...

With unsteady fingers, he dialed the number Miranda had provided.

Please, God...please, God, he chanted in his head as the phone rang once. Twice.

On the third ring, she answered.

“Ah, Officer. It’s Sawyer Evans returning your call.”

“Oh, Mr. Evans... Sawyer, um, thank you for calling me back.”

“Yeah. Sure. Do you have news about Dylan?” He recognized the sound of desperation in his own voice but couldn’t help it.

“No... I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“But...but...” Now he was stammering. If she didn’t have information, why had she contacted him? “I don’t understand.”

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Dylan, and that I couldn’t find him for you.”

Sawyer brought back the image of the police officer. Youngish. Twenty-eight or nine. She was maybe five-five or five-six, slim, and she’d looked competent and steady. She had short blond hair in an edgy cut that, under different circumstances, he might’ve thought of as sexy. Well-defined features and a full, expressive mouth. And her eyes had caught him. They were a vivid sky blue, he remembered, and they’d had an intensity. Her eyes had told him that what she did was more than a job to her. And when she’d promised she’d do her best, the sincerity in those eyes had made him believe it. But even her best hadn’t been enough to bring Dylan back to him. “You’re calling to apologize?” He realized he hadn’t been getting any sleep and his mind was a mess, but her call made no sense to him.

“Well, yes.”

Her voice was soft. Somehow it dulled the sharpest edges of his despair.

“The department is doing everything possible. The FBI is involved, as you know. I wanted to tell you that I understand what you’re going through and—”

“You understand?” Sawyer tightened his grip on the phone until his knuckles ached. “How can you possibly understand what it’s like to have your child go missing?”

“Not my child. No. But my brother went missing. He was the same age then as Dylan is now. I saw what my parents went through. I was very close to my brother,” she added.

Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been harsh and was sorry about it. He couldn’t imagine anyone understanding what he was experiencing, but she probably could, more than most people. “How much time had passed before your brother was found?”

“A day.”

Dylan had been missing for over a day. Going on two. As a former prosecutor, he knew the statistics about missing children. “What happened to him? To your brother?”

He heard her inhale sharply.

“Charlie got lost. In Torrey Pines State Park.”

Also a forested area with wildlife. Yeah, there were similarities. Sitting back down on the sofa, he took a long drink of the beer that had gone warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.” He laughed bleakly. “I’m not myself right now.”

“How could you be?”

Again, her voice soothed him. “The police found Charlie?”

“Yes.”

The tone of her voice said more than the single word. “Was he hurt?” Sawyer wasn’t sure he was prepared for the answer, but he had to ask.

“Charlie... He drowned in a creek.”

Sawyer pressed a hand over his eyes. He remembered the terror he’d felt standing at the edge of the lake by their campground, and praying that nothing like that had happened to Dylan. “I’m very sorry.”

“It was a long time ago...”

Her voice was sorrowful. Maybe this wasn’t the same, but here finally was someone who could understand what he was going through, without amplifying his personal pain. Being a police officer, she might be able to give him details he needed. Maybe she could keep him from going completely crazy. All of a sudden, Sawyer wanted to talk to her.

He glanced at his watch. No, not today. “Officer Clemens...”

“Shannon,” she corrected him.

“Shannon, can I buy you a coffee? Tomorrow sometime, if you’re free?”

There was a brief hesitation. “It’s my day off. I could meet you anytime.”

“Good. How about the Starbucks on East Harbor Drive? Do you know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Two thirty?”

“That works for me.”

* * *

SHANNON ARRIVED AT the coffee shop ten minutes early. She ordered a latte and sat at a table with a clear view of the entrance.

Since she’d spoken to Sawyer, she’d incessantly questioned the wisdom of what she was doing. Why was she having coffee with a man whose son was missing? What could it lead to, if not heartache? He expected information from her; she was bound to disappoint him. He’d know as much or more from Detective Bigelow and FBI Special Agent Leary than she did from Logan and the departmental briefings.

The last thing Sawyer needed was another complication.

The last thing she needed was another complication.

Sawyer hadn’t been cleared yet as a possible suspect in his son’s abduction, although she was certain he would be, in due course.

And his wife’s? She knew that Bigelow and Leary were taking another look at that. But she didn’t believe he would’ve done anything to harm his wife, either. Still, seeing him today was a bad idea and maybe she should leave before he showed up.

Too late for that. Shannon noticed Sawyer the moment he walked in.

He wore faded jeans. Not the designer type a lot of men were wearing these days. He’d paired the jeans with a blue-and-white striped button-down, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His hair, a deep brown with chestnut streaks, looked only slightly more orderly than it had the day his son went missing. She was struck again by the strength of character evident in his face. The strong jawline, straight nose and sensitive eyes made him very appealing.

He’d lost weight. Was it possible to lose enough weight in two days for it to be noticeable? He was tall, but his build was lanky. He couldn’t afford to lose much more.

She knew him to be thirty-six. She’d read the file. He’d looked his age when she’d first met him. Today? He appeared older than his years. There were deep lines etched across his forehead and bracketing the sides of his mouth. His eye sockets were hollow and had dark circles beneath them, but his eyes warmed briefly as they connected with hers.

No, he didn’t seem like a man who’d harm his own son. Departmental procedures or not, if she could help ease his pain or be a sounding board for him to release some of it...

He raised an arm in a halfhearted greeting and walked toward her. She rose and held out her hand.

His grip conveyed hesitation, despite its strength.

“Can I get you a coffee?” she offered.

“No. No, that’s fine. I’ll buy my own.”

He was back a few minutes later and slid onto the chair opposite her.

“I’d like to clear up one thing, if that’s okay?” Sawyer asked.

Her nerves hummed. “Sure.”

“You’re not here on police business, are you?”

She felt like squirming in her seat, but resisted. She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not.”

He nodded. “I just want to be clear on that. Can I call you Shannon?”

“Yes. Of course.”

He closed his eyes. With an unsteady hand, he rubbed his forehead. “This is all surreal. I have moments when I convince myself that it’s a nightmare and I’ll wake up any minute. Then I realize I am awake, and Dylan isn’t with me.”

He opened his eyes, and what she saw in their depths tore at her heart.

“I don’t know how to cope. How I can go on one more minute, never mind an hour. But then I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Shannon could see by the tensing of his jaw and the pulse jumping at his temples that the effort to contain his emotions was costing him.

“Is there anything at all that you can tell me that I haven’t already heard?”

She wished... Oh, God, she wished there was. Anything that would in any way ease his pain. “I’m sorry. I’m not involved in the investigation.”

“Okay.” He looked away abruptly. Even in profile, she could see the sheen of his eyes, the tension in his features. When he glanced back at her, he seemed more controlled. “I want to ask why you contacted me, but I can’t help thinking that would be rude. So, I’ll ask you another question, if that’s okay.”

She nodded once more.

“How are your parents?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t understand the relevance of the question.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did your parents deal with the loss of a child?”

Shannon went with her instincts. She placed her hand on top of Sawyer’s. “You can’t think about that.” Maybe there was something she could say to ease his mind. “We—the SDPD and the FBI—have no evidence to suggest that any harm has come to Dylan. You have to stay positive.”

She saw him swallow, then clear his throat. “I’m grateful to hear that. Thank you.” He groped for his coffee mug and took a drink. “I suppose you know about my wife?”

“Yes. It was mentioned in a briefing.”

“Dylan hadn’t celebrated his first birthday when she went missing. For the police it’s a cold case, but under the circumstances, they think she died...as do I.” He rubbed the bottom of his nose with a finger. “You probably know all this, but in law, there’s an assumption that a person is alive until there’s reason to believe otherwise. Seven years is the usual amount of time. Then, legally, she’ll be presumed dead, but for all intents and purposes, the evidence—or lack thereof—points to her having died.

“I’ve lived with it. Never knowing with one hundred percent certainty if she was still living or not. Hoping month after month, then year after year that the police were wrong. That one day she’d come back to us. But she never did...”

“It must have been dreadful for you to live with that uncertainty,” Shannon responded. “How did Dylan take it?”

Sawyer seemed surprised by the question. “Oh, he was so young. A psychologist I consulted advised me to keep things as normal as possible for him. I told Dylan that Mommy had to go away. He seemed to accept it, but then the nightmares started.” Sawyer turned away and shook his head. “I suppose even at that age he knew. A few months after the police told me they presumed Jeannette to be...gone, on the recommendation of the psychologist, my mother and sister helped me pack up her belongings. Having everything around probably kept her alive in Dylan’s memory...and made it harder on me.

“At first, I insisted that we keep everything in storage, just in case... I ended up donating all her belongings to charity.” He turned back to her. “I’m sorry. That was probably more information than you wanted.”

“No. That’s okay,” she told him, her own voice not quite steady.

“The police looked at me as a suspect in her disappearance,” he said.

Shannon could see in his eyes—more brown than green now—the torment that still caused him.

“I know they’re looking at me now in Dylan’s disappearance, too.” He made a sound of frustration. “Maybe I’m even the prime suspect because it’s the second time a member of my family disappeared.”

Shannon opened her mouth but had no response, because his assumption was correct.

He held up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Intellectually, I know the odds and I can’t argue with it. Emotionally? It’s a different matter. Most importantly, they’re spending valuable resources eliminating me as a suspect. I’d like them to get on with it and clear me, so they can focus all their energies on finding Dylan and determining who is responsible.” His voice faltered and he lowered his gaze.

“You can’t give up hope,” Shannon said, more sharply than she’d intended.

Sawyer’s eyes, when he raised them, were dark and gleaming. “My question about your parents. When they did hear... How does a parent handle that? I...I don’t know if I could.”

His voice faltered on the final words. It was more than Shannon could tolerate. She rose and sat on the chair next to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “You have to stay positive,” she implored.

He stiffened for a moment, then lowered his forehead against hers.

Not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and rubbed his back, much as she would to comfort a child. She felt a connection to him, but it was so fleeting she wondered if she’d imagined it.

He straightened and raked his hair back, while Shannon returned to her own side of the table.

“I’m sorry about dumping all of that on you.” He seemed to take in his surroundings, as if he’d only now recognized that he was sitting in a public place. His gaze returned to Shannon and she felt that link with him again.

A moment later, he broke eye contact. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re doing.” His eyes softened. “I really do.” He stood and regarded her with sad eyes. “My life is shambles right now. I don’t know how to do something normal like have coffee and a conversation. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

CHAPTER SIX

SHANNON FELT BAFFLED and unsettled as she drove away from the coffee shop. With the resources available to the SDPD, combined with the expertise of the FBI, they had to be able to find Dylan and return him to his father. What was the point of being a police officer, if you couldn’t help in situations like this?

She checked her rearview mirror, signaled and made a quick U-turn. It was her day off, but she wanted to see Logan.

There had to be something she could do.

“Do you have a minute?” Shannon asked from the doorway of Logan’s office.

His surprise at seeing her was evident, but he gestured for her to enter and have a seat. “What’re you doing here today?” he asked.

Shannon noticed a loose thread at the hem of her shirt and fidgeted with it. When she glanced up, Logan was watching her intently. She wondered if she’d made two colossal mistakes in the same day, but there was no taking back her meeting with Sawyer and no avoiding her discussion with Logan. “I know I’m not on the Dylan Evans case, but I was wondering if there’s anything new with the search.”

“Nothing of substance. Are you asking because of Charlie?”

“No,” she whispered.

Logan pushed back in his chair and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “We’ve already established that the missing boy hits close to home for you. You need to be honest with me.”

“This isn’t about Charlie,” she asserted. “Or not entirely. I... I’m concerned about Dylan. He’s been missing for over two days. That’s not a good sign.”

Logan tapped his fingers on his thigh. “You’re right. It’s not. But we’re doing everything we can to find him.”

She nodded. “If Darwin and I had gotten there faster, maybe...”

Logan rose, moved around his desk and sat down in the chair beside Shannon’s. “You know better than that. You’ve been here long enough and you’ve had enough training to appreciate that based on Darwin’s reaction, whoever took the boy was at least an hour and a half ahead of you.”

She felt the tears stinging her eyes and was horrified to think that she’d embarrass herself by crying in front of her captain again. She lowered her gaze. “I can’t help feeling I failed.”

Logan leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, forcing her to make eye contact. “You did everything by the book.”

By the book maybe, but could she have done more? She was afraid to say anything, since her emotions were a maelstrom, rioting just under the surface and threatening to break free. She pressed her lips together and glanced away.

“Shannon, I need you to be the very best officer you can be. It would be counterproductive for me to tell you that you did well if that wasn’t the case. Look at me,” he instructed, drawing her attention back to him.

“I’m deeply sorry about what happened to your brother. This is the last time I’ll say this, but you should’ve told me about him. I want you to understand why. No one would be unaffected by a child’s disappearance. For you, those feelings are compounded and could—I’m not saying they did—but they could impact your performance. Don’t keep salient facts from me again. Are we clear?”

“Yes. So noted,” she managed. “Is there anything wrong with me monitoring what’s happening with the case?”

“Not from the department’s perspective.” Logan sighed. “On a personal basis, I can’t see that it’s good for you. I’ll leave it to your judgment.”

“Thank you.”

Logan got to his feet. “Go home. Try to put it aside.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder before moving behind his desk again.

Shannon walked out of Logan’s office, knowing that what he asked of her would be impossible. And she knew there was no way Sawyer could put it aside for even a heartbeat.

* * *

SHANNON HAD JUST returned from a long walk with Darwin when her personal cell phone rang. It was Sawyer.

“I’m sorry I left you at the coffee shop the way I did,” he said. “Especially after you were kind enough to get in touch with me. I can’t seem to say or do anything right these days.”

“That’s okay.” Nobody could expect him to think clearly with what he was going through.

“I just want you to know that it matters to me that you care,” Sawyer continued. “It gives me hope that it’s not just you, but that everyone who’s looking for Dylan cares, too.”

“They all do. I can promise you that.”

“And thank you for telling me about your brother. I wish you’d never had to go through that, but knowing you did... Talking to you helped me, because you understand in a way that not many people could. I just want to tell you how much I appreciate that.”

She felt a tightness in her chest. “I’m glad it helped. If you want to talk, feel free to call anytime.”

After they said their goodbyes, Shannon got a Coke from the fridge and took Darwin out to the back patio. As the first stars blinked awake in the darkening sky, she hoped that wherever Dylan was, he was safe and would soon be home with his father.

She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d encouraged Sawyer to call her, but he took her up on her offer.

During the next week, she and Sawyer spoke every day and sometimes more than once. She knew he was receiving official updates from the department, but she tried to fill in as many of the details for him as she could—without going too far.

And provide support, to the extent that she was able to.

She felt him gradually opening up to her in his sorrow, and she despaired that she couldn’t provide him relief from the agony he was living with, since the investigation kept coming up empty.

Each day that passed, she struggled with the ethical dilemma of developing a relationship with him. There wasn’t any plausible reason to suspect he had anything to do with his son’s disappearance, but in the absence of evidence pointing to anyone else, he hadn’t been completely eliminated.

Shannon tried to tell herself that she wasn’t attracted to Sawyer. How wrong would that be, to fall for a man under these circumstances? She berated herself for taking advantage of his weakened state. Would he be talking to her, if not for her connection to his son and the bond—as tenuous as it might be—because of Charlie? She kept reminding herself that she should maintain an emotional detachment.

But she was incapable of doing it. She was drawn to Sawyer in a way she couldn’t remember being drawn to any other man.

Layered over the question of ethics was the self-reproach of not telling Logan what she was doing. Yes, he’d okayed her sitting in on the briefings and keeping herself up-to-date on the investigation, but what would he say if he knew she had feelings for Sawyer Evans?

She took a sip of her beer and eyed Logan on the other side of the table. It was the K-9 Unit’s monthly Friday night get-together at The Runway, a bar close to San Diego International Airport. Logan’s girlfriend—fiancée now—worked as chief of security and loss prevention at the airport. Shannon remembered how intimidated she’d felt by the highly competent, drop-dead gorgeous Ariana Atkins when she’d first met her during a police investigation at the airport six months ago. No question she respected Ariana. Was probably a little awed by her. But since Ariana and Logan had gotten together, she’d had a chance to know her on a personal level. Now she considered her a friend.

Shannon watched as Logan slid his arm around Ariana’s shoulders and whispered something in her ear that had Ariana blushing. Who would’ve thought that the professional, unflappable Ariana—who’d helped them bust a major smuggling ring operating at the airport—would blush? Then again, who would’ve thought the tough and emotionally reserved Jagger would fall so hard?

Maybe she was just a little envious of the obvious love Ariana and Logan shared. What they had was the love of a lifetime. She glanced around the table. She could say the same about Rick and Madison, and Cal and Jessica. Cal and Jess had just gotten back from their vacation. They still had that honeymoon glow about them, and it had nothing to do with the light tans they’d acquired aboard the cruise ship.

Although Shannon had been in relationships before, she could safely say she’d never been in love. With a certain wistfulness, she turned her attention back to the interplay between Ariana and Logan.

“Is everything okay?”

Shannon jerked slightly and turned to her left. Madison Vasquez, the veterinarian responsible for the SDPD’s canines—and K-9 Unit sergeant Rick Vasquez’s wife—was watching her with concern.

“Yes.” She took another sip of her beer. “Why do you ask?”

Madison’s eyes were probing. “I’ve known you since you joined the K-9 Unit. What is that now? Eight months?”

“That’s about right.”

“You’ve always struck me as focused, with a laser-sharp mind and a terrific attitude.”

Shannon felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Um, thanks. That’s high praise coming from you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You look distracted tonight. Unhappy.”

She exhaled heavily. “It shows?”

Madison squeezed Shannon’s arm and nodded. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Shannon cast a furtive glance at Logan. When she looked back at Madison, she realized her tactical error.

“Work-related problem, then?”

“Yeah. No. Not really.” Her eyes shifted to Logan again. He was laughing at something he, Ariana and Cal had been talking about. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

“Uh-huh. I hope you know you have friends here.”

When Logan’s phone rang, they all fell silent. He had a brief conversation, obviously with Dispatch.

“Yeah. Got it. We’re on it.” He sent an apologetic look around the table. “Sorry to cut our evening short, but Rick and I have to go.”

“Aw, man,” Rick complained halfheartedly.

“Sorry, pal. The Vice Squad got a tip that one of the drug cartels has something big going down across the San Ysidro border tonight. The rest of you enjoy the night out.”

Jessica grinned at her husband. “How nice! You can stay with us for girl talk.”

Cal shot his wife a pained expression. “You sure you don’t need me to come in on whatever’s going down, Jagger? Scout and I can track any fleeing suspects,” he suggested hopefully.

“No. You and Shannon can stay.” Logan chuckled. “Not up to the company of four beautiful women?”

Cal grimaced. “I think I just remembered something I need to do.”

“What?” Jessica asked with a skeptical look on her face.

Cal grinned sheepishly. “I’m sure something will come to me on the drive home. Will you be okay getting back on your own, Jess?”

Jessica laid a hand on her protruding stomach. “I think I’ll manage. I’m also happy to be the designated driver if anyone needs a ride, since I’m not drinking.”

“Okay, but if you feel anything, even a twinge, you promise to call me?”

“Yes, I promise.” She smiled at him. “I’m a doctor. You can rest easy. I’ll know when it’s time.”

“Glad that’s settled.” Rick pushed his beer away, rose and kissed Madison in a way that Shannon was certain would’ve made her toes curl if she’d been on the receiving end.

“Is it okay if...?” Madison asked Rick.

He touched his lips to her forehead, then tenderly ran his hand down the length of her curly red hair. “Sure.”

“What was that all about?” Ariana asked after the men had left.

“Well, this isn’t exactly how we’d planned to announce it,” Madison said, her face glowing as she pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “We’re expecting a baby!”

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