His New Nanny
Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

“They say he killed his wife.” The old man’s grizzled eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Killed her then tried to feed her to the gators.”

Amanda Rockport stared at him, unsure if he was pulling her leg. “Then why isn’t he in jail?” she asked.

“Circumstantial evidence, but not enough proof to put the man behind bars. Besides, he’s rich. Money talks and the guilty walks. You best go back to where you came from and leave Sawyer Bennett to the devil where he belongs.”

Amanda fought the impulse to reach up and rub the center of her forehead where a tension headache had lived for the past month.

“I’ve never been one to put much stock in idle gossip,” she replied. She wished she hadn’t stopped in the small café before reaching her final destination—Sawyer Bennett’s home.

She cupped her hands around the hot cup of coffee and considered doing exactly what the old man had suggested, going back to where she’d come from.

Unfortunately that really wasn’t an option. She’d used the last of her money to travel from Kansas City to Conja Creek, Louisiana. Besides, there was nothing left for her in Kansas City.

She finished her coffee and stood. “I appreciate the advice,” she said to the old man who had sat on the stool next to her at the café counter.

His blue eyes gazed at her sharply. “You’re making a mistake.”

“I guess it’s my mistake to make.” She threw a couple of dollars on the counter to pay for the coffee. As she stepped out of the café, the hot, humid air hit her like a slap in the face and half stole her breath.

She moved quickly to her car, where she started the engine and waited for cool air to blow from the vents. “They say he killed his wife.” The old man’s words echoed in her head.

Surely Johnny wouldn’t have arranged this job for her if he’d thought Sawyer Bennett was a danger. Granted her brother didn’t always exhibit the best judgment, but there was no way he’d send her to work for a murderer.

All Johnny had told her when he’d approached her about the job was that Sawyer Bennett had been a college roommate and the two men had stayed in touch over the years and that Sawyer had lost his wife recently and needed a nanny.

Think of the child, she told herself. Think of Melanie. She opened the file folder on the seat next to her and withdrew the photo of the little girl. She looked small for her age, and her eyes radiated a sadness too profound for an eight-year-old.

She knew from her brief correspondence with Sawyer Bennett that two months ago Melanie Bennett had gone mute.

With Amanda’s psychology degree and teaching background, she’d felt confident that she’d be able to help Melanie. And any job that got her away from the mess of her life in Kansas City had been appealing. Until she’d stopped for coffee and made the mistake of passing time with an old-timer seated next to her.

Now a rumble of apprehension thundered through her head, intensifying her headache. At the moment she really had no choice. She couldn’t go back. She could only go forward and hope that she wasn’t making a monumental mistake.

With a deep breath, she backed out of the parking space. Sawyer’s directions had indicated that she’d pass through the town of Conja Creek. She should have passed through. She should have never stopped for that coffee.

She left the town behind and turned down a narrow road flanked by trees dripping moss. The sunlight seemed to disappear as if unable to penetrate the depths of the surrounding forest.

Clutching the steering wheel more tightly, she found the alien landscape both forbidding and fascinating. A twist here, a turn there and she came to a clearing. The large plantation-style house filled the space, flanked by tall trees and backed by the swamp.

It was an impressive structure, with thick white columns and a sweeping veranda that seemed to go on forever. It didn’t whisper of old money, it screamed it.

She parked next to a black pickup and cut the engine, but was reluctant to leave the familiar confines of her car. They say he killed his wife and fed her to the gators. Nothing but rumor, she told herself. And she knew all about rumors and innuendoes.

She knew all about circumstantial evidence and that sometimes it had nothing to do with truth. It had been circumstantial evidence and rumors that had destroyed her life.

It didn’t take long for the car to get too hot, so she grabbed her purse and the file folder and got out. The air hung heavy, the humidity nearly visible as she headed toward the stairs that led to the porch. The silence was as oppressive as the air.

Please don’t let this be a mistake, she mentally begged. She needed this job. She needed this child in order for her to redeem herself. Drawing on the inner strength that had left her for the past couple of months, she knocked on the door.

The door creaked open, and Amanda found herself face-to-face with Melanie. The little girl’s brown eyes widened. She turned on her heels and raced away.

“Wait! Melanie,” Amanda said, taking a step into the entry, but the child raced around a corner and disappeared.

“You must forgive my daughter. She was expecting somebody else and doesn’t do well with strangers.” The deep voice came from the doorway opposite the direction in which Melanie had run.

Amanda recognized the voice from the single phone conversation she’d had with him. She turned to face Sawyer Bennett.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but he wasn’t it. She hadn’t anticipated the broad shoulders that stretched the black T-shirt he wore. She hadn’t expected him to be so tall. But more than anything she hadn’t anticipated the handsome, haunted features; the black hair or the dark green eyes that reminded her of a mysterious forest.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come and so I didn’t prepare Melanie for your arrival,” he said. “I’m Sawyer Bennett.” He stepped closer to her and held out a hand. “And I assume you’re Amanda.”

She nodded, shook his hand and tried not to notice the scent that drifted off him, the scent of something wild and slightly intoxicating. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said as he dropped her hand and stepped back.

“I trust you had no problems finding the place?”

She thought about telling him she’d stopped into the café in Conja Creek but then changed her mind. “Your directions were excellent,” she replied. “I had no trouble.”

“Good. Then we’ll just get you settled in. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you to the room where you’ll be staying.”

Amanda had always considered herself pretty good at reading people, but she found it impossible to read her new employer. She followed him up the stairs, trying to absorb the first impressions that filled her head.

The house was silent except for their footsteps whispering against the plush beige carpeting, but there was a simmering energy that pulsed in the air, and she wasn’t sure if it radiated from the house itself or the man in front of her.

Please don’t let this be a mistake. The mantra repeated itself in her head as she stared at his stiff, unyielding back. They reached the top of the stairs and passed a closed door. He stepped into the next room and gestured her inside.

It was a pleasant bedroom decorated in various shades of yellow. “You can stay in here or you’re welcome to one of the other guest bedrooms. Melanie’s room is right next door to this one and the only drawback is that you’ll share a bathroom with her.”

As Amanda looked through the bathroom she saw Melanie peeking around the corner. Her little gamin face was there only a moment, then gone. “I certainly don’t mind if Melanie doesn’t. This will be just fine.”

He nodded. “I assume you have suitcases in your car? If you’ll give me the key I’ll see that they’re brought up to you.”

“I’d like to go over the particulars,” she began as she handed him her keys, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“We’ll talk later. I know you’ve had a long trip. Dinner is at six. We’ll talk after that.” He didn’t wait for her response, but instead turned on his heels and left her alone in the room.

She heard the murmur of his deep voice and when she looked into the hallway she saw Sawyer and his daughter, her little hand in his, going back down the stairs. She watched until they disappeared from sight, then she walked to the mirror above the dresser to see if the apprehension that fluttered in her chest showed on her face.

Her blue eyes reflected none of the turmoil, and her dark brown hair remained pulled back away from her features in a low ponytail that went to the middle of her shoulders. She’d worn no makeup, hoping that without it she would look older than her twenty-seven years.

She knew that Sawyer was thirty-three, the same age as her brother, and she hadn’t wanted him to think of her as Johnny’s baby sister.

She turned away from the mirror with a small sigh and instead walked over to the bedroom window and peered outside.

From this vantage point she saw the backyard. There was an area of lush lawn, then the faint dark sparkle of swamp water surrounded by tangled vegetation and gnarled, twisted cypress trees.

A narrow wooden dock with side rails extended out over the water, appearing to her as an invitation to an inhospitable wildness.

This was not a place of warmth and safety, but rather one of uncertainty with the potential for imminent danger. With an eight-year-old living here, there should be laughter and chatter. The house should teem with noise, but instead the utter silence pressed in around her. And if she listened to idle gossip it was possible that the man was as dangerous as the place.

She couldn’t think that way. She refused to let the words of a stranger in a café override her brother’s characterization of Sawyer Bennett. Still, she wished she’d done a little research before jumping at the job opportunity.

She knew Sawyer Bennett was an architect, but surely he had people who worked for him here in the house. A cook, a housekeeper, some people to work the grounds. She couldn’t imagine living in a place this size without having a staff of some sort. So, where was everyone?

She didn’t know how long she’d been standing at the window, staring out and wondering what she’d gotten herself into, when a loud thump resounded from behind her.

She whirled around to see a burly blond man just inside her room. He’d dropped her large suitcase on the floor and still held her smaller overnight bag. “Name is George. I work for Mr. Bennett.” He placed the overnight bag on the floor and when he straightened, his gaze swept her from head to toe. “Be nice to have something pretty to look at again.”

Something about his gaze made her feel like she needed a shower, but before she could say anything he turned and left. She rubbed the center of her forehead where the tension headache had renewed its acquaintance with her.

What in the heck had she gotten herself into?

AT QUARTER TO SIX Amanda left her bedroom and headed down the stairs in search of the dining room or kitchen. In the two hours she’d been in her room she’d unpacked her things, taken a shower and changed her clothes. In that time she’d heard nothing, seen nobody.

As she descended, the scent of something savory cooking made her stomach rumble in response, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since that morning.

But more than appease her hunger, she was eager to spend some time with Melanie, anxious to learn more about what, exactly, her nanny job entailed.

She ran her hands down the sides of her navy dress, hoping she was dressed appropriately. When he’d indicated that dinner was at six, she’d had the feeling that jeans and a T-shirt were not appropriate attire.

She found Melanie seated next to her father on the sofa in the living room. Sawyer rose to his feet as she entered. “Good evening, Ms. Rockport.” She was grateful she’d decided to wear the dress, as he was clad in a pair of dress slacks and a crisp white shirt.

“Please, make it Amanda,” she replied and smiled at Melanie.

“This is my daughter,” Sawyer said. “Melanie, this is the woman I told you about. She’s going to take care of you.”

“I hope we’ll be friends,” Amanda said.

Melanie stared at her warily, then gave a curt nod of her head. This was a child who would not trust easily, Amanda thought. It was going to take time and patience to earn her trust.

“I’ve invited some friends to join us for dinner,” Sawyer said. “James and Lillian Cordell. Lillian went to high school with my wife and they’re Melanie’s godparents and good friends. They should be arriving anytime. They live in the house closest to us.” He gestured her toward a chair across from the sofa.

Again she noticed the seething, just-below-the-surface energy that emanated from him, which slightly repelled and attracted her. She had so many questions for him about her position here, but it seemed as if none of them would be answered until after dinner.

Before any conversation could continue, the doorbell rang and Sawyer got up to answer, leaving Melanie and Amanda alone. Melanie stared at her folded hands in her lap. A sadness about her made Amanda want to join Melanie on the sofa and wrap her in a tight, loving embrace.

Instead she softly spoke her name, and Melanie looked up at her. “I know it’s kind of scary to meet new people,” Amanda said. “But I think we’re going to get along just fine. I don’t know about you, but I like to do all kinds of things.” Melanie tilted her head quizzically and Amanda continued. “I like to draw and I love to color. I like to tell stories and play dress up. I like to have tea parties and sometimes I even like to collect bugs.”

One corner of Melanie’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile. It’s a start, Amanda told herself. Now if she could just get even a half smile out of Sawyer Bennett she might feel a little bit at ease.

He returned to the living room with an attractive couple. “James, Lillian, I’d like to introduce you to my new nanny, Amanda Rockport.”

Amanda stood and smiled. “Nice to meet you both,” she said.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Lillian exclaimed and took Amanda’s hand in hers. “It will be so nice to have woman conversation again.” She released Amanda’s hand and went directly to Melanie. “And there’s my girl,” she said, and pulled Melanie into a tight embrace. Melanie returned the embrace, then stepped back.

“Dinner is ready, so we can go on into the dining room,” Sawyer said.

Sawyer sat at the head of the table with Melanie on his right and Amanda on his left. Lillian sat next to Amanda and James sat at the opposite end of the table.

An elderly woman Sawyer introduced to Amanda as Helen served them. Her sharp gaze perused Amanda as if taking stock of her character. Once the meal was served she silently disappeared back into the kitchen.

It would have been easy for Amanda to feel out of place. Melanie remained silent as did Sawyer, but the blond, vivacious Lillian engaged Amanda in conversation immediately.

“So, where are you from?” Lillian asked Amanda as Lillian buttered a biscuit the size of her fist.

“Kansas City,” Amanda replied.

Lillian looked at Sawyer in surprise. “How on earth did you find her?”

“Amanda’s brother and I went to college together,” Sawyer said. “I mentioned to him that I was in the market for a nanny, and it just so happened that Amanda was in the market for a job.”

“You know I was perfectly happy taking care of Melanie,” Lillian exclaimed. “We had lots of fun, didn’t we, sweetheart?” She smiled at Melanie, who replied with a quick nod of her head.

“I couldn’t allow you to continue to ignore your own work,” Sawyer said smoothly. He looked at Amanda, those dark green eyes of his enigmatic. “Lillian is an artist who has neglected her work for the past couple of months to help me out with Melanie.”

“An artist? What kind of art?” Amanda asked.

“I dabble in a little bit of everything,” she replied.

“She’s being modest.” James looked at his wife affectionately. “One of the things she ‘dabbles’ in is making Mardi Gras masks that are unbelievable. People come from all over the country to buy a Lillian mask for the celebration.”

It didn’t take long for Melanie to finish eating and look at her father with pleading eyes. He told her she was dismissed from the table, and it seemed she couldn’t escape the room of grown-ups fast enough.

“Poor little thing,” Lillian said when she was gone. “My heart just aches for her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sawyer replied. “With Amanda here we can establish a routine and before long she’ll be back to her old self.” He said it forcefully, as if by sheer willpower alone he could make it so.

Once again Amanda wondered under what circumstances Melanie had stopped speaking. Was it grief over her mother’s death that had stolen her desire to talk? She couldn’t wait until dinner was over and the Cordells had gone home so she and Sawyer could have a conversation about the daily work schedule and Melanie.

“You must let me show you around Conja Creek,” Lillian said to Amanda. “I can show you the best place to have your hair done, what shop carries the best clothes in town and where all the ladies have lunch.”

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have to shop or do lunch,” Amanda replied. “My number-one priority is, of course, Melanie.”

“As it should be,” Lillian replied. “But surely you’ll have some time off.” She turned her attention to Sawyer. “You mustn’t be a slave driver, Sawyer.”

“I have no intention of that,” he replied. “Amanda and I will work out an agreeable schedule that I’m sure will allow her to do whatever it is you ladies like to do in your spare time.”

“Shop,” James said, once again casting an affectionate gaze at his wife. “That’s what my Lilly likes to do.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied with a laugh.

As Amanda watched the loving interplay between James and Lillian, she felt a pang of wistfulness. She’d thought she’d had that kind of relationship with Scott, but when her life had fallen apart he’d run as fast as he could from her.

“Conja Creek. It’s an interesting name,” Amanda said.

“Conja is Cajun and it means to put a spell on,” Sawyer replied.

“Legend has it that the creek bewitches people, puts a spell on them and they never want to leave,” Lillian said. “Personally, the creek hasn’t gotten to me. I could move out of here tomorrow if my dear husband would. I’d love the hustle and bustle of Shreveport.”

“Ah, but remember, here you’re a big fish in a little pond and in Shreveport you’d be a little fish in a big pond,” James teased.

Dinner might have been pleasant if Amanda hadn’t been so aware of the simmering tension that seemed to be in the air around Sawyer. More than once throughout the meal she felt his gaze lingering on her, making her incredibly self-conscious and ill at ease.

It was after eight when the Cordells finally left and Sawyer led Amanda into his study. “I’ll be right back. I need to check on Melanie,” he said, and left her alone in the room.

A large desk dominated the space with what appeared to be a state-of-the-art computer on top. Several overstuffed chairs sat in front of the desk. Amanda sank into one of them, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her.

As she waited for Sawyer she looked around the room. One of the walls was decorated with framed photographs of buildings and homes. She assumed he’d been the architect on the projects.

Another wall held personal pictures, and she stood and moved closer to get a better view of these. There were several of Melanie. They looked to be school portraits, each one showing her a little older.

Then there were a couple of photographs of Sawyer, the woman who must have been his wife and Melanie. The woman was beautiful, a brunette with exotic dark eyes and lush lips. On the surface the photos depicted a happy family, but as Amanda studied the subtle body language, she saw a distance between husband and wife.

A distance that had resulted in murder?

There was one other picture that Amanda instantly recognized. Her brother had one just like it hanging on the wall in his office. The photo was of six young men, their arms slung around each other in easy friendship.

Amanda knew it had been taken in college. “The Brotherhood,” Johnny had told her when she’d asked about it. He’d explained that the Brotherhood had been a group of young, wealthy men all from Conja Creek.

Johnny, who hadn’t been from Conja Creek and had been at the college on a scholarship had been welcomed into the fold when he’d been assigned a room with Jackson Burdeaux, one of the men in the photo.

She sat in the chair again once more wondering if she had done the right thing in coming here. Certainly Lillian and James Cordell had seemed like respectable, decent people. Surely if they thought Sawyer Bennett had killed his wife they wouldn’t be coming over for dinner.

She straightened in the chair, tension coiling in her stomach as Sawyer returned to the room. Each time she saw him she was struck again by the attractiveness of his bold features, his chiseled jaw and thick black hair.

“I think it would be easiest if I tell you my expectations. Then if you have a problem we can discuss it.” His firm tone made her suspect he was not a man who was accustomed to having his authority questioned.

She nodded and waited for him to continue. He moved behind the desk and sat, his gaze direct and focused on her. “I need you to be here Monday through Friday from the time Melanie wakes up until she goes to bed. I have an office in Baton Rouge and will be driving back and forth on those days. You can have the weekends off.” A smile curved the corners of his lips. “You’ll be free to run the streets of Conja Creek with Lillian.”

The magnetism of his smile caused a small ball of heat to ignite in the pit of her stomach. The smile was there only a moment, then gone. “What Melanie needs right now more than anything is routine and consistency. She needs somebody she can count on, somebody she can trust, and I’m hoping you can be that person for her.”

She nodded. They had already discussed salary in their e-mail conversations, so nothing he’d said so far was a surprise. “I’m hoping Melanie and I will become the best of friends.”

He stood as if to dismiss her. “We’ll take things on a day-to-day basis. I won’t keep you this evening. I know it’s been a long day for you, and Melanie is an early riser. One last thing. My daughter is afraid of the dark. There’s a night-light in her room. Make sure it’s turned on each night when she goes to bed.”

She got up from her chair, aware that she was being dismissed. “Before I leave, there’s something I’d like to ask you. I understand that Melanie quit speaking two months ago. Can you tell me under what circumstances this happened?”

He walked around the desk and moved to stand before her…too close…invading her space. His green eyes gleamed with a hard light as his lips once again curved into a smile, this one not so pleasant.

“Haven’t you heard?” he asked, and one of his dark brows quirked upward. “Melanie stopped speaking on the night that I murdered her mother.”

Chapter Two

Sawyer saw the lift of her chin that displayed a touch of bravado, which was incongruent with the loss of color from her face. She was a pretty woman, with her soft brown hair and guileless blue eyes. She smelled like jasmine, and he felt a stirring deep inside him as he breathed in her fragrance.

“If you’re trying to shock me, then you’ve failed,” she said. “I stopped at a café on my way here and heard all the rumors about your being responsible for your wife’s murder.”

“Then why did you come? Why didn’t you high-tail it out of here when you heard the rumors?”

Some of the color was slowly returning to her cheeks. “Because Melanie needs somebody. Because my brother told me you’re a good man.”

The knot of tension that had been in his chest for weeks eased somewhat at her words. He’d always believed he was a good man, but Erica’s murder had turned him into somebody he scarcely recognized.

“I didn’t kill her.” The words came from him without passion. “But I need to know how strong you are, if you can withstand the rumors, the absolute ugliness this has brought into this house, into my life. I don’t want Melanie to get attached, then you wind up running because you can’t take the heat.”

Her chin tilted upward once again. “I have no intention of going anywhere until you tell me to go.”

He nodded, satisfied with her answer, at least for the moment. “The investigation into Erica’s death is ongoing. I will tell you that I’m the primary suspect right now.”

“You said that Melanie stopped speaking that night. Could you tell me what happened? It would help me to understand her a little better.”

Frantic worry stabbed through him as he thought of his daughter. What had she seen that night from her bedroom window? If she finally started speaking again, what would she be able to tell the authorities?

“I can’t tell you exactly what happened. All I know is the night of Erica’s murder I had fallen asleep right here in my office chair and a scream woke me. I knew instantly that it was Melanie. I raced upstairs and into her bedroom and found her standing in front of the window. She was sobbing and shaking so hard she could barely speak. She pointed out the window and said, ‘Mommy’s gone.’”

Amanda’s face reflected the horror he’d felt that night as he continued. “I looked out the window to where she was pointing. There was a full moon that night, and on the dock I could see one of Erica’s shoes and the lightweight wrap she often pulled on when she was going outside. I thought she’d fallen off the dock and into the swamp water. It wasn’t until I ran down there to see if I could find her that I saw the blood and knew it hadn’t been a simple fall.”

He drew a deep breath, feeling the need for a drink, wanting to numb himself against the memories, both of Erica’s life and her death.

“So, you don’t know what Melanie saw?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly what she saw, but it frightened her so badly it stole her ability to talk. She hasn’t said a single word since that night.”

Suddenly exhausted, he moved toward the door. All he wanted at the moment was a drink, then to sleep without dreams. And he needed to get away from Ms. Amanda Rockport with her pleasing scent and cupid lips that reminded him it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. He’d stopped sleeping with Erica long before her death two months ago.

“As you can see, there’s a computer in here. Feel free to use it during the hours I’m gone if you want to keep up with e-mail or whatever. If you need something for Melanie, just let me know and we’ll get it. There’s a phone in your room with a separate number from the house phone for your convenience.” He rattled off the number, then gestured her out of the office. “And now, unless you have other questions, it’s been a long day.”

She walked in front of him, her slender hips swaying slightly beneath the navy dress she wore. “Will I see you in the morning?” she asked as she paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

“Probably not. I’ll leave early to drive into Baton Rouge for a day at the office. I’ll be home for dinner. If you need anything or have questions, Helen, our cook, will be able to help you.”

“Then I guess I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her ascend. Something about her looked fragile, a shadow in her eyes, a touch of sadness to her features.

He hoped she was stronger than she looked, because he needed somebody strong and determined to stand by Melanie. He needed somebody who wouldn’t be chased away by rumors and a murder case that seemed to point a finger at nobody but him.

When she’d disappeared from his sight, he returned to his office and pulled a bottle of Scotch and a glass from his bottom drawer. He poured a liberal amount, then sat back in his chair and took a sip, enjoying the smooth warmth that slid down his throat.

This was what he’d done on the night of Erica’s murder. He’d sat in here and had drunk Scotch and seethed and stewed. He’d imagined his life without her, and the vision had been pleasing.

He’d been sick of her lies, the cheating and the knowledge that, not only was she tired of playing wife, she’d been tired of playing mommy. It had been that night that he’d made the decision to get her out of his life.

He now downed the Scotch and got up from the chair. He shut off the light in the office, then walked to the living room and stepped out of the French doors that led to the stone patio.

The moon had been full that night, and it was full again tonight. From this vantage point he could see the dock extending out over the glittering swamp. The hanging moss from the cypress trees appeared like gigantic silvery webs spun by gargantuan spiders.

The swamp was never silent. Insects buzzed and clicked a nighttime melody that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

His thoughts went back to the woman he’d invited into his home, into his daughter’s life. Amanda Rockport wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She was prettier than he’d imagined, not that he had any interest in pursuing anything romantic with her. She was his daughter’s nanny and nothing else.

He smiled with a touch of bitterness. Now wouldn’t that just set the local tongues wagging. He could just hear them speculating that he’d gotten rid of one woman to make room for another.

His smile faded. The way things were looking, he wouldn’t have time to stir up more rumors or start a relationship. The way things were looking, it was very possible he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison for Erica’s murder.

DESPITE THE LONG DRIVE the day before and the equally long evening, Amanda awakened early the next morning. The stress of a new place and a new bed to get used to hadn’t stopped her from sleeping well. She got out of bed and padded over to the window where the sun had yet to climb completely above the tops of the trees.

Vapor rose from the water, shrouding the swamp in a haunting mist. Kansas City, Missouri, didn’t have these kinds of views. It was a sober reminder to her that she was far away from home and dependent on a man who may or may not have murdered his wife.

She shook her head as if to dislodge this thought and instead left the window and crept through the bathroom and paused at Melanie’s bedroom doorway.

The little girl was asleep, burrowed beneath the pink ruffled bedspread with only the top of her head showing. Amanda softly closed the door of the bathroom, then took a quick shower.

When she was finished and dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt, it was just after seven. She checked in on Melanie once again. Seeing that she was still asleep, Amanda crept down the stairs.

There were two things she wanted…coffee and information and not necessarily in that order. Assuming that Sawyer had already left, she went into his office. Even though he’d given her permission to use the computer, she felt like an intruder as she sat in his chair and punched the power button.

As she waited for the computer to boot up she was aware of the scent of him lingering in the room. A combination of earthy cologne, of shaving cream and the underlying wisp of some kind of alcohol.

Last night she’d wanted to ask him more questions about the murder, but there had been something slightly forbidding in his eyes.

When the computer was up and running she went to a search engine and punched in the words Erica Bennett and murder. The search yielded half a dozen results, all from the Conja Creek Gazette.

The first article she pulled up was the initial report of the murder. It was brief, telling only that the body of Erica Bennett had been pulled out of the swamp and foul play was suspected.

The second article detailed the crime more completely. Erica Bennett had been stabbed six times before being shoved or falling into the swamp. She had been pregnant at the time of her murder. Sawyer Bennett was being questioned about the death of his wife. The rest of the articles indicated the investigation was ongoing and no arrests had been made.

Amanda leaned back in the chair, stunned by the knowledge that Erica had been stabbed, and equally surprised that she’d been pregnant. So Sawyer hadn’t only lost his wife, but he’d lost an unborn child, as well.

She shut down the computer, her mind whirling as she headed for the kitchen to find a cup of coffee. Helen stood at the stove. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Amanda entered the room.

“If you’ll take a seat in the dining room, I’ll serve you breakfast,” she said, no trace of friendliness in her voice.

“I’m not much of a breakfast eater and I’m not a guest. I work here, so I’ll just have my coffee in here.” She pointed to the round oak kitchen table.

“Suit yourself,” Helen replied, pulling a cup from the cabinet. She filled it with coffee, then set it in front of Amanda at the table.

Amanda slid into one of the chairs and watched the old woman as she began to peel carrots at the sink. “Have you worked here a long time, Helen?” she asked.

“Long enough,” Helen replied, offering no more information. Amanda took a sip of the coffee and stared out the window, where again she could see the place where Erica Bennett had lost her life.

“So, you knew Erica?” she finally asked.

“If you want gossip you’ve come to the wrong place.” Helen turned to look at her. “I don’t carry tales, and even if I did, I don’t know you well enough to talk about personal things. For all I know you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“I have no intention of going anywhere,” Amanda countered.

Helen’s gray eyes studied her coldly. “Time will tell. Death came calling at this house and I got a feeling in my bones that bad things are still to come. I figure you’ll be out of here within a week.” She turned back to the sink.

Amanda took another drink of her coffee. She’d hoped to make an ally of Helen, but it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. She was truly on her own.

At that moment Melanie came into the kitchen. Still clad in her pajamas, her dark hair sleep tousled, she offered Amanda a shy smile, then slid into the chair opposite her at the table.

“There’s my darlin’,” Helen said, her gaze warm as it lingered on Melanie. “How about some French toast this morning?”

So the old woman had a soft spot, and that spot seemed to be Melanie, Amanda mused. Perhaps her unfriendliness toward Amanda was because she was afraid Amanda would get close to Melanie, then leave.

“Did you sleep well?” Amanda asked Melanie. Melanie nodded. “After you eat breakfast and get dressed, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do today.”

The day passed surprisingly quickly. After breakfast and getting Melanie washed and dressed for the day, the two of them played an educational game that Amanda had brought with her.

Even though Melanie didn’t say a word, Amanda recognized that the child was bright and had a good sense of humor. She also noticed that Melanie was eager to please, and when she did something wrong she flinched, as if anticipating a blow.

It concerned Amanda and she made a note to discuss it with Sawyer. Lunch was a picnic on the back patio. After they ate, they went for a walk, where Amanda kept up a running commentary about the bugs they encountered.

They were returning to the house when they met George, who carried a green-stained machete and whose gaze swept over Amanda. Melanie immediately drew closer to Amanda, her little body tense.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Little Bit and the new nanny.” He swung the machete up over his shoulder. “Getting settled in all right?”

“Fine, thank you,” Amanda replied, and placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder.

He wiped a hand across his broad brow, where sweat trickled down. “You need somebody to show you around town, Ms. Nanny, you just call on me. Erica, she liked the places I took her.”

A deep chill swept through Amanda. “Thank you, George, but I doubt I’ll have time to do much sightseeing. Come on, Melanie, we’d better get inside and get cleaned up for dinner.”

As they walked away, Amanda could still feel George’s gaze burning into her back as his words whirled around in her head. Did George have something to do with Erica’s murder? How dangerous was the handyman?

Sawyer didn’t make it home in time for supper. She and Melanie ate in the kitchen and after dinner played another board game.

It was almost eight when Sawyer walked into Melanie’s bedroom where the two were stretched out on the floor. Amanda quickly got to her feet as Melanie ran to her father and threw her arms around his waist.

If Amanda had any concerns about Sawyer being abusive with his daughter, they were dispelled as she saw the fierce love that lit Melanie’s eyes as she hugged her daddy.

Amanda tried to ignore the faint tension that curled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. He looked unbelievably handsome in black slacks and a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms dusted with dark hair.

The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on her employer, especially a man who had a dark cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. Besides, even if he was innocent, he was a wealthy man who certainly wouldn’t look for a wife among the hired help.

But she couldn’t ignore the way her heartbeat accelerated and a slight breathlessness swept over her whenever he looked at her.

“And now it’s bath time for you, my little one. While you take your bath and get ready for bed I’m going to see if Helen left me something to eat, then I’ll be back up to tuck you in.” He straightened and looked at Amanda. “And after I tuck in Melanie, I’d like to see you in my office.”

It was almost nine when Sawyer ushered Amanda into his office and gestured her toward the chair in front of the desk. He’d changed from his slacks and dress shirt into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his muscled chest.

“You don’t look any the worse for wear after today,” he observed as he sat behind the desk.

“We got along just fine,” she assured him. “She’s very bright.”

His eyes gleamed with pride. “She is, but equally important is the fact that she has a loving heart.” The light in his eyes was doused as quickly as it had shone. “I’m assuming you didn’t get her to talk.”

“I didn’t try to get her to talk,” Amanda replied. “Melanie has no reason to trust me right now, and the last thing I want to do is push her to do something she obviously doesn’t want to do.”

He leaned forward and for a moment his eyes shimmered with such torment she felt it deep inside of her. “Then why doesn’t she trust me? She must know I’d never hurt her, that I love her more than anyone else on the face of the earth.”

The momentary vulnerability on his features ripped through her, and she wanted to grab his hand, stroke his brow, give him a comforting touch. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned back in the chair to distance herself from the impulse.

“I can’t answer that, Sawyer. Elective muteness is difficult to understand and we can’t know what’s going on inside Melanie’s head.” She frowned, realizing she sounded clinical and detached. “She’ll talk, Sawyer. When she’s ready she’ll talk, but Melanie is the one in control of that, and we just have to be patient.”

The moment of vulnerability disappeared as his eyes glittered once again. “Patience has never been one of my strengths. I want what I want when I want it.” The strength of the statement coupled with his gaze, which seemed to linger on her lips, caused her breath to catch in her chest.

“Unfortunately, you aren’t in control of this situation,” she replied, hoping she didn’t reveal how she felt. She straightened in the chair. “I read the news reports about your wife’s murder.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to interject his wife into the conversation, needed to remind herself that he was a grieving man rather than an attractive, single hunk ready for a relationship.

Before he could reply, a scream pierced the air.

Chapter Three

Sawyer shot out of the chair and raced from the room. He knew that scream. Oh, God, but he knew that scream. Melanie! He took the stairs two at a time, vaguely aware of Amanda hurrying behind him.

His heart crashed against his rib cage as the scream came again. The sound of sheer terror ripped through him. The minute he entered the dark bedroom, he saw his daughter silhouetted in front of the window.

As he grabbed Melanie and pulled her tight against his chest, Amanda flipped on the overhead light. The sleep glaze in Melanie’s eyes fell away and she uttered a single small sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When he realized it must have been the darkness of the room and a bad dream that had tumbled her out of bed and not some physical threat, he relaxed a bit.

“Shh, it’s all right,” he soothed as he stroked down her trembling back. “It was just a dream, just a very bad dream.” Although he said the words, he knew it was a very bad memory that had caused his daughter to scream.

While he held and tried to calm her, Amanda took the night-light out of the wall outlet. He was almost relieved that they had left the office. As he’d sat talking to her, all he’d been able to think about was whether her lips tasted as soft and yielding as they looked, or if her sweet-smelling hair felt like silk.

It was a dangerous train of thought. The last thing he wanted or needed was the complication of a woman in his life. His life was complicated enough as it was. No matter how attractive he found Amanda Rockport, he’d do well to remember he had more important things on his plate…like staying out of prison.

Within minutes Melanie had calmed and been tucked back into bed. Sawyer got a new lightbulb out of her dresser drawer and changed the burnt out one in the night-light.

He remained in the doorway until he was certain Melanie was once again asleep, then he stepped into the hallway where Amanda awaited him.

“The bulb in the night-light needs to be changed once a week, no matter what,” he said. In the close confines of the hallway her scent eddied in the air, the bewitching scent of night-blooming jasmine.

“Will she be all right?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

“She should be fine for the rest of the night. She has occasional nightmares. That’s why the nightlight is so important.” He swept a hand through his hair as a deep sorrow cut through him.

Would Melanie forever be scarred by that night? He should have made different choices. Guilt and recriminations ripped him up inside. He should have done things differently, then none of this would have happened.

She took a step toward him. “Children are amazingly resilient, Sawyer.” She placed a hand on his forearm, her long slender fingers warm on his arm. “She’ll be fine in time.”

There was a softness, an innocence about her that he wanted to fall into. Somehow in the past couple of years he’d forgotten about kindness and innocence and the inviting softness that some women possessed.

He stepped back from her, and her hand fell to her side. “The problem is I don’t know how much time I have.” He motioned her toward the stairs and away from Melanie’s bedroom. “I don’t know when there’s going to be a knock on the door and Lucas Jamison will be standing there with an arrest warrant.”

They started down the stairs. “Lucas Jamison? Is he a policeman?” she asked.

“He’s a good friend, but he’s also the sheriff.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. He wasn’t ready to call it a night, wasn’t prepared for the nightmares his own sleep would probably bring.

“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she agreed, and followed him into the kitchen. She sat at the table while he put on half a pot to brew.

When the coffee began to gurgle into the glass carafe he turned back to face her. “What are you doing here?”

A tiny frown danced across her forehead. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why would you leave your home to travel to a small bayou in Louisiana to take a nanny job and work for a man you’d never met? I’ve seen your credentials. You could have a job anywhere.”

“I had a job at a local middle school in Kansas City, but I decided I needed a change.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. He had the feeling that there was more to her story than she was telling.

Even though she was Johnny’s younger sister, before hiring her he had done a thorough background check. He knew she had no criminal record, had never been married and, until a couple of months ago, had worked as a counselor at the middle school she’d mentioned.

Her eyes shone as she finally met his gaze. “I’m here to help Melanie, that’s all that’s important to me. And that should be all that’s important to you.”

Secrets. Everyone seemed to have a couple. He poured them each a cup of coffee, then joined her at the table. “Melanie likes you,” he said.

“I like her.” She took a sip of her coffee and studied him above the rim of the cup. She placed her cup back on the table and wrapped her fingers around it. “She seems rather tentative, as if she’s anticipating me yelling at her…or hitting her.”

Her words created a small ball of rage inside him. He tamped it down and took a drink, then replied, “My wife was a woman who didn’t particularly enjoy motherhood. She was often impatient with Melanie.” He took another drink to stop himself from speaking ill of the dead.

“It’s obvious that Melanie adores you.”

“I think that’s one of the reasons I’m not in jail at the moment.”

She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Lucas is aware that Melanie saw something the night of Erica’s murder. I think he figures if Melanie saw me kill her mother that night then Melanie would have nothing to do with me now.”

“But, that’s not necessarily true,” she replied. Once again her eyes darkened. “Children often rewrite reality to make it more comfortable, to make it feel safe. Children also have the capacity to create a fantasy and make it real to them.”

“Do me a favor, don’t mention those kinds of things to Lucas. I have enough problems as it is.”

“I can’t imagine any reason I’d have to speak to the sheriff.” She frowned. “But I’d like to ask you about George.”

“What about him?”

Her frown deepened, and her fingers laced and unlaced in her lap. “He mentioned today that if I wanted to go sightseeing he’d be happy to take me the same places he used to take your wife.”

Sawyer sighed, leaned back and raked a hand through his hair. “George is a lot of talk. I know he told Erica about several clubs in town at one time. If he’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll talk to him.”

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t want any trouble,” she said hurriedly. “If there’s nothing else? I’m more tired than I realized.”

He stood and shook his head. “I’d like a check-in from you each evening after Melanie is in bed. I want to know everything that’s going on with her, what happens in the hours while I’m at work.”

“Of course,” she said, standing. She carried her cup to the sink and rinsed it, then started for the doorway.

“I assumed you read the reports about my wife’s murder? Then you must know that she was pregnant at the time of her death.” She stopped walking and nodded, her blue eyes shadowing with a touch of sympathy.

“I read the newspaper accounts this morning,” she said.

“What the newspaper accounts couldn’t tell you was that the baby wasn’t mine.” Her eyes flared slightly with surprise, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amanda.”

He released a deep sigh as she disappeared out of the kitchen. He took his cup to the sink and added it to hers, then left the kitchen and returned to his study.

Once there he poured himself a glass of Scotch, then walked over to the wall that held all the pictures. His gaze focused on the picture of Erica. She’d been insanely beautiful and selfish and unfaithful.

He wasn’t sure when the affairs had begun. For all he knew she’d started seeing other men soon after their wedding. It didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was that Melanie had already lost one parent. He didn’t want her to lose him.

His gaze moved to the picture of the six men. The Brotherhood, that’s what they’d called themselves when they’d arrived at Riverhead College, the prestigious private school in southern Missouri. They had been five young men, best friends, from the wealthiest families in Conja Creek.

In those four years of school, they’d shared kegs of beer, lots of laughs and a solemn promise to have each other’s backs.

He stared at the face of Lucas Jamison, Sheriff of Conja Creek. Good friend, fellow member of the Brotherhood, but despite the promise they had all made to each other so many years ago, how long would Lucas be able to overlook the damning circumstantial evidence and keep him out of jail?

THE BABY WASN’T HIS.

The words played and replayed in her mind the next day as she and Melanie set up for a tea party in Melanie’s room. As Melanie arranged her stuffed teddy bears into chairs at the miniature table, Amanda unboxed a tiny tea set that probably cost as much as a month’s rent on her apartment back home.

The baby wasn’t his. That meant that before her death Erica had been having an affair. That knowledge certainly added a nail into the coffin of suspicion where Sawyer was concerned. Everyone probably believed that he’d found out about the baby and killed her in some kind of jealous rage.

But despite the evidence, there was a big part of Amanda that wanted to believe, needed to believe, that he was innocent.

“I see you have Ms. Panda Bear at the head of the table,” she now said to Melanie. The black and white bear was slightly bedraggled. “She must be a favorite of yours.”

Melanie nodded and smiled at the bear as if it were a beloved sibling, then she gestured Amanda into one of the two empty chairs.

The little teapot was already filled with apple juice, and Helen had promised fresh-baked cookies in fifteen minutes. As Amanda sat at the table, Melanie walked over to the massive wooden toy chest and nearly disappeared into it as she rummaged around. When she stood back up she held two feather boas in her hands.

She walked over to Amanda and placed the bright-pink one around her shoulders, then slung the purple one over her own and giggled with delight.

“I see we’re dressing for tea.”

The voice came from the doorway, and Amanda whirled around to see Lillian standing there. “Lillian!” she exclaimed in surprise, wondering how the woman had not only gotten inside the house but had climbed the stairs without being heard.

“Looks like fun,” she said.

“Would you like to join us?” Amanda asked.

Lillian smiled. “No, but I have a message to deliver from Helen.” She looked at Melanie. “Helen says if you come to the kitchen the cookies are ready and there’s a bowl of frosting that needs to be licked.”

Melanie’s face lit up as she looked at Amanda. Amanda stood and pulled the boa from around her neck. “Go on,” she said. “We can have our tea party later.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth before Melanie disappeared from the room. Lillian laughed. “She’s a doll, isn’t she?”

“She seems very sweet and easy to get along with,” Amanda agreed.

“But troubled.” Lillian’s smooth smile fell away, and she moved to the window to stare outside. “I wish we all knew what she’d seen the night that Erica was murdered. I wish we could take that vision out of her head and see the guilty person behind bars.”

“Do you know who Erica was having an affair with?” Amanda asked.

Lillian turned from the window to look at her. “So…Sawyer told you she was unfaithful?”

“He told me that the baby she was carrying at the time of her death wasn’t his.”

Moving away from the window, Lillian sighed. “Erica was my best friend, but she loved keeping secrets. She was beautiful and full of life, but she was also the most selfish, indulgent, amoral woman I’ve ever known.” Tears filled her eyes. “She could also be generous and fun loving, and I miss her so much it’s terrible.” She blinked back the tears and drew a deep breath. “And no, I have no idea who Erica might have been sleeping with at the time of her death.”

“Isn’t it possible that it was her lover who killed her?” Amanda asked. She didn’t want to upset Lillian, but it was possible she might unconsciously hold a clue.

“I’m sure Lucas is looking at that angle,” Lillian replied. “So, less than forty-eight hours in the house and Sawyer has already convinced you of his innocence?”

“You don’t think he’s innocent?” Amanda asked.

“I adore Sawyer. I think he’s a good man, but even a good man could have been pushed to extremes by Erica.” She laughed drily. “There were times I wanted to throttle her.” Her laugh strangled in her throat as tears once again filled her eyes.

Amanda wasn’t sure how to respond and thankfully at that time Melanie reappeared in the doorway, a platter of freshly baked cookies in her hands.

“Ah, I see the tea party is about to begin,” Lillian said. “You two go ahead. I just stopped by to see how you were getting along.”

Amanda walked with her to the bedroom door. “We’re doing fine.”

Lillian placed a hand on Amanda’s forearm. “Why don’t we do lunch on Saturday? I’d love to show you around, and I imagine Sawyer is planning on being home for the day.”

“He hasn’t told me his plans for the weekend,” Amanda replied. “He mentioned I should have weekends off. If that’s the case, I’d like to have lunch.” It would be nice to have a woman friend, somebody she could talk to, perhaps confide in. It would also be nice to see a little bit of the town whose name implied bewitchment.

“Great, I’ll call you and we can firm up the plans.” She smiled at Melanie. “Aunt Lilly will see you later, okay, sweetheart?”

Melanie nodded, and with a wave of her fingers, Lillian left the room.

The tea party was a success, but as Amanda played pretend with Melanie she couldn’t help but think about what little Lillian had told her. Erica had been sleeping with somebody at the time of her death, somebody who had gotten her pregnant. Was it possible that that somebody had killed Erica so that the secret affair would never see the light of day?

Sawyer was home in time for dinner, and as they shared the evening meal Amanda mentioned to him Lillian’s visit and the question about the weekend plans.

“I’ll be home all day Saturday so you’re free to take off and have lunch with Lillian or whatever,” he said. He was still dressed in his business clothes and looked unbelievably attractive. He’d shucked his suit jacket and had his white shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his muscled forearms.

He smiled at his daughter. “I’m sure we can find something to occupy ourselves, right, sweetie?” Melanie nodded and gazed at her father with adoring eyes.

Could she have seen her father stab her mother to death, then shove her into the murky swamp water and still look at him as if he hung the moon?

Amanda reminded herself that it wasn’t her place to discern whether Sawyer Bennett was guilty or not. Her job was to take care of Melanie. Nothing more, nothing less.

Melanie had just been excused from the table to go upstairs to her room when a knock sounded at the door. A moment later Helen ushered in a tall, dark-haired man wearing the brown uniform of the local sheriff.

“Lucas,” Sawyer said and stood.

“Evening, Sawyer.” He looked curiously at Amanda.

“This is Amanda Rockport, my new nanny,” Sawyer replied.

“Sorry to intrude,” Lucas said. He directed his focus back to Sawyer. “We need to talk.”

“So talk,” Sawyer replied and sat back down. He gestured to the chair Melanie had vacated.

“You might want to discuss this in private.” Lucas shifted from foot to foot.

“If this has something to do with Erica’s murder investigation, then I have nothing to hide from Amanda. If you don’t need the privacy, then I don’t. Take a load off, Lucas, and tell me why you’re here.”

Amanda watched as Lucas folded his long body into the chair. The tension between the two men was palpable in the air, and Amanda didn’t know whether she should excuse herself or not.

“I’ve got pressure, Sawyer, pressure to make an arrest,” Lucas said.

“Then find the person responsible and do it,” Sawyer replied smoothly.

Lucas rubbed the center of his forehead with two fingers, as if fighting a headache. “I’m doing my best, but I’ve got no other viable suspects, nothing to go on and all fingers pointing at you.”

“Then arrest me.” Sawyer’s voice was deep, filled with suppressed emotion.

A knot of apprehension twisted in Amanda’s stomach, a knot formed by more than a little bit of selfish need. She didn’t want Sawyer arrested. If that happened she’d be out of a job and she didn’t want to go through the process of finding another one. Besides, even though it had only been two days, she’d grown incredibly attached to Melanie.

“Ah, hell, Sawyer, I’ve known you all my life. I know you aren’t a killer.” Lucas dropped his hand from his forehead, his dark eyes pained. “But I just wanted to let you know that the pressure is on and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to stop the inevitable.”

Sawyer held his friend’s gaze for a long moment. “I don’t want you to jeopardize your position because of friendship.”

“I’ll try to buy you some more time, but I thought you should know that unless we can find a decent lead to follow or a person of interest to investigate, the mayor and the DA are going to push for your arrest.” He stood and Sawyer rose, as well.

“I’ll see you out.”

As Sawyer and the sheriff left the dining room, Amanda tried to still the beating of her heart. So, the noose was tightening around Sawyer.

If he went to jail, she supposed Lillian and James would take Melanie, and Amanda would be forced to return to Kansas City.

And what will you do there? a little voice whispered in her head. Fall back into the dark depression that you suffered before you took this job? She thought of the reason she’d been forced to resign from the job she had loved, remembered all the people who had distanced themselves from her, people she’d thought had been her friends.

She couldn’t go back there. She’d have to start all over someplace else. She was jolted out of her self-absorbed pity party as she thought of Melanie.

She’d lost her mother, and if Sawyer were arrested she would lose her father. No matter how close the child felt to the Cordells, it wouldn’t be the same as having a parent to raise her.

Amanda’s heart ached for her. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents. An aunt and uncle had raised her and Johnny when their parents had died in a car accident. As loving as her aunt and uncle had been, it hadn’t been the same as being raised by loving parents.

Melanie needed her daddy, more than ever now, and Amanda needed this job. She was pulled from her thoughts as Sawyer returned to the living room.

While Lucas had been present, Sawyer had appeared relaxed, but now his lips were nothing more than a thin slash in a face taut with strain.

He sat in his chair and looked at her, his dark green eyes empty and hollow. “Time is running out for me. Eventually Lucas will have to make an arrest, and I’m the only suspect around. I’ve got to find out who Erica was having an affair with before her death, because my gut tells me that’s who murdered her.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

His features relaxed a bit and he looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe. Tonight after Melanie goes to bed I’m going to search Erica’s room again and see if I can find anything that might give me some answers. Maybe you’ll see something that I missed before, something that the authorities didn’t notice when they searched.”

“Sure, I’ll help you look,” she agreed.

“Come to my office after Melanie is asleep and we’ll get started then.” Some of the stress lines smoothed out as he stood once again. “And now I’m going to find my daughter and play a game with her. I’d better spend every moment possible with her in case…” He frowned and allowed his words to fall away, then left the dining room.

Amanda grabbed her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table next to her plate, her heart throbbing with anxiety. What on earth had she stepped into? And why, despite all the evidence to the contrary did her heart tell her that Sawyer wasn’t guilty?

She could only hope that she and Sawyer found something tonight in the dead woman’s belongings, something that pointed to the real guilty party.

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