There were things that needed to be said.

She gathered her courage. “I’m not sure there’s much to be gained from going over old ground, but—” she took a breath “—but if I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

He stared at the coffee in his cup. “If you hurt me?” he repeated softly. “If?”

He wasn’t going to let this be easy. She understood. She deserved this. “When,” she corrected. “When I hurt you.”

He looked up. “I guess I’d really just like to know what happened.”

“You left,” she said.

“I enlisted. We had discussed it. You said you would wait.”

She had intended to. And she had wanted to. Then things had happened. But nothing she could tell Bray about. Nothing she could ever tell anyone about.

Urgent Pursuit
Beverly Long

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BEVERLY LONG enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She has both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime. Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit www.beverlylong.com, or like her at Facebook.com/beverlylong.romance.

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To mothers and daughters and the love they share.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Tuesday, 4:00 p.m.

Bray got off the plane in St. Louis, Missouri, and shuffled alongside all the other passengers through the terminal. He’d slept the entire flight, but since it was just over two hours from New York to St. Louis, it was not nearly enough time to make up for the past three months, when any rest in excess of four hours a night was considered a luxury.

And when you made your living working as a drug enforcement agent, luxury wasn’t part of your everyday vocabulary. But now he had five whole days of downtime, a well-earned vacation as his boss had coined it, to catch up on his sleep.

For months, he’d been planning to travel to Missouri in November for Thanksgiving. Had expected turkey would be served at Chase’s upscale, albeit rather sterile, apartment in St. Louis. Had not imagined Chase would move the event to the family home in Ravesville—or that he’d add something else to the holiday weekend.

He’d been casual, too casual Bray now realized, when he’d asked Bray how he might feel about extending his stay through Sunday. Bray had assumed he was looking for help to get the house ready for sale.

He’d almost fallen off his chair when Chase had announced that he was getting married on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and would Bray serve as a groomsman? Bray had laughed and said, “Hell, yes.” Then Chase, apparently oblivious that at Bray’s advanced age of thirty-seven it was good to have some time to adjust to shocks, had kept going. He wanted to buy the family home, to settle in Ravesville with his new wife, Raney.

“Of course,” Bray had said. Then added, “Is there anything else?”

All Chase had said was to expect a call from Cal.

He’d had to wait forty-three hours for his youngest brother to call. And when Cal announced that Bray needed to make sure he could get time off for two trips west because he was engaged and would be married at Christmas, Bray hadn’t minced words. “I’ll come but I’m sure as hell not drinking the water. The Hollister boys are falling fast, and I’m going to save myself.”

He was happy for his brothers. But he knew that marriage wasn’t for everyone. He’d come close once, but it had been a long time ago. He’d gone to war, and Summer Wright had married somebody else.

Chase had shared that she was divorced with a couple of kids. Still living in Ravesville. Didn’t matter. He and Summer were old news.

He stepped up to the car-rental counter and took the keys for the Chevy Impala. In New York, he had a sweet little BMW convertible but he rarely drove it. Paid a hundred bucks a month to park it down the street from his Brooklyn condo. He mostly worked out of an old, beat-up Honda that was owned by the agency. There was nothing on it to steal, and it already had so many dents that the joke was he could run down some scumbag drug dealer and not even have to file a report.

He found his car in the lot and was on the road in less than a minute. Ravesville was ninety miles southwest of St. Louis in the middle of nowhere. He glanced at his watch. With luck, he’d be there for dinner.

There was a lot of traffic for a Tuesday, but finally, when he was twenty minutes out, he called Chase’s cell phone.

“Red or white?” he asked when Chase answered.

“We’ve got plenty of both. Don’t worry about bringing any wine. Meet us at the church on the corner of Main and Portland. You’re just in time for rehearsal.”

“I could slow way down,” Bray said.

“Get your sorry self here. My bride wants to meet you.”

At the edge of Ravesville, he saw the gas station where he’d worked his junior and senior years. Like most places, the gas had been self-serve. Bray had worked the inside counter, taking money, selling hot dogs and learning to hate the smell of fountain pop.

Frank Baleeze, who had owned the place, had been his dad’s best friend. Once Bray turned sixteen, he’d offered him a job.

It was probably Frank’s fault that Bray had become a marine. The man had talked about his years in the corps with such pride. Bray had wanted to be part of something like that.

When Bray had come home for his mother’s funeral eight years earlier, Frank had already sold the station and retired to Florida. Even so, Bray stopped in at the old place for gas.

They no longer sold hot dogs, and all the soda was in cans. Their main business was lottery tickets.

It was just more proof that the old saying about not being able to go home again was indeed fact.

The church was close, and Bray found a place to park. For as long as he could remember, his mother had been a regular attendee at the Lutheran church. He and his brothers had been baptized and confirmed here. His parents had both had their funerals here.

When Bray entered, he saw Chase first, standing next to a very pretty woman with short white-blond hair. Then there was Cal, with his arm slung around a stunningly beautiful woman with dark hair.

Next came hugs and introductions. Once he’d met Raney and Nalana, he was convinced that his brothers might have fallen, but they’d landed in cotton. The women were gorgeous and nice.

“Reverend Brown would like us to do a walk-through,” Raney said, pointing to the minister at the front of the church.

Clara Brown had performed both his father’s and his mother’s funerals. She was close to sixty and had a soft voice, but when she spoke, people listened. She’d known his mother better, and the eulogy that she’d delivered had been heartfelt and poignant, a fitting send-off for a good woman.

Bray waved to her. There was a middle-aged woman he didn’t know sitting at the piano. He gave her a quick nod and belatedly added a small smile. His partner on the job would have been proud. The guy, who’d recently met his one true love after a nine-month spree of online dating, was always telling him he needed to do that more. “You’re scary tough,” Mason would say. “Unapproachable. That turns people away, especially the babes. Try smiling.”

Every once in a while, he remembered.

“Nice to see you again, Bray,” Reverend Brown said. She stepped off the altar and walked toward them. “Just so you know,” she said, looking at Raney, “my ceremonies start and end on time. My assistant will be stationed with you and your attendants in the back of the church. I’m counting on the three of you,” she said, switching her gaze to the three Hollister men, “to figure out how to get yourselves out of the back room, through the side door and standing at the altar once the second song starts. Can you manage that?”

“I’ll keep him from running out the back door,” Bray said.

“No worries there,” Chase said, winking at Raney.

“I hope not,” Reverend Brown said, a smile in her voice. “It’s unfortunate that the maid of honor and other bridesmaid couldn’t be here for rehearsal, but I’m counting on the rest of you to fill them in.” Bray remembered that Chase had said that Raney wanted her two friends to be able to spend Thanksgiving with their families, so the women wouldn’t arrive until late Friday night.

No big deal. How tough could it be to walk down the aisle?

Tough enough that ten minutes later, Reverend Brown was making Raney do it a second this-time-slower time when Bray heard the sound of squealing tires and a slamming car door. Seconds later, someone pounding down the church steps to get to the basement. Then shouting. A man, loud. A woman, softer, muffled.

And the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Raney stopped midaisle, turned and started for the back of the church. Chase caught up with her in just a few steps. Four feet later, Bray clamped a hand on his brother’s neck and gently grabbed Raney’s arm. “This is your practice,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

Both Raney and Chase hesitated, and then Chase gave a quick nod. “Be careful,” he said.

When Bray got to the top of the basement stairs, the yelling was still going on. He went fast but quietly down the thirteen steps. Rounded the corner, saw the back of a man and realized that he’d grabbed the person in front of him and was starting to shake them.

“Hey,” Bray yelled. And that caused just enough delay that he was able to get across the room, land a hand on the man’s shoulder and whip him around.

The man hadn’t touched him, but he’d felt as if he’d taken one in the stomach.

He hadn’t seen Summer Wright for fifteen years, and there she was. As beautiful as ever with her red hair. Her face was pale, and the fingers she had pressed up to her lips were shaking.

“What the hell?” The man was snarling and pushing at Bray.

Two quick moves and Bray had the man on his knees with his left arm wrenched high behind his back. “Shut up,” Bray said calmly.

“Are you okay?” he asked Summer.

She nodded.

So maybe he wouldn’t break this man’s neck. “What’s going on here?” Bray asked.

The man tried to twist away. “I’m having a damn conversation with my wife,” he said.

“Ex-wife,” Summer said. She swallowed hard and looked at Bray. “You can let him go,” she said softly.

So this sorry excuse for a man was Gary Blake. “I don’t think so.”

She licked her lips. “He’ll just make trouble for you if you don’t.”

Many years ago, Blake had been an officer on the local police force. Based on the uniform, he still was. He leaned close to Blake’s ear. “I’m going to let you up,” Bray whispered. “But if you make one move in her direction, I’m going to take you down, and I’m going to make it hurt.”

When Gary Blake was back on his feet, he whirled toward Bray. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Bray Hollister.”

He could tell the minute the name registered. Blake stood perfectly still, as if debating what to do next. Finally, he turned back toward Summer. “We’re not done,” he said. Then he walked out of the room.

Bray heard his feet on the stairs, heard the front door, heard a vehicle start. He heard all that while he watched the woman he’d once loved lower herself into a chair, as if her knees were about to give out.

“I figured you’d be home for the wedding,” she said.

He didn’t answer because he heard more noise on the stairs. Then Chase, Raney, Cal and Nalana were in the basement. Reverend Brown and the piano player were behind them.

“Everything under control?” Chase asked, looking at Bray.

Bray shrugged. Hell, no. He wasn’t in control. This woman had broken his heart. She’d chosen someone else. And he’d let that simmer in his gut for years until he’d finally believed he was over her.

And the past five minutes had proved that he’d been lying to himself for years. “Great. Just great.”

Raney crossed the room and wrapped an arm around Summer. “Don’t worry about these,” Raney said. “We’ll finish them up.”

He’d been so focused on Summer that he’d missed the twenty or so square glass vases that were on the kitchen counter behind her.

Summer shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said, her voice sounding shaky. She cleared her throat. “I’ve only got a few to wash, and then I’ll load them in my van,” she added, more confidently.

Raney looked as if she might want to argue, but instead, she gave a quick nod. She looked up at Bray. “I understand you already know Summer.”

There wasn’t a sound in the room.

“She and her sister, Trish, are handling the flowers and the food for the reception that we’re having at the Wright Here, Wright Now Café,” Chase finally jumped in. “The church is letting us borrow the vases.”

Nobody seemed inclined to want to discuss Gary Blake and what had just happened. Was it because of the potential of Reverend Brown and the other woman hearing the conversation?

Reverend Brown, astute as ever, turned to leave. “Julie and I’ll be upstairs. Nice to see you again, Summer.”

No one spoke until the door at the top of the stairs opened and closed again.

Then Nalana stepped forward, walking toward the sink where the remaining vases were submerged in soapy water.

Summer held up a hand. “No. Please. I’m almost finished, and I’m sure you all have lots of catching up to do.”

The message was clear. You have to catch up with Bray since he hasn’t been around for forever.

Summer focused on Raney and Chase. “I won’t let him ruin any part of your wedding. I promise.”

Raney shook her head. “You are not responsible for his poor behavior.”

Summer sighed. “I’m just terribly sorry this happened. It’s...embarrassing.”

“It’s not you who should be embarrassed,” Chase said. “I think I might have to go drop-kick Blake into the next county.”

“Oh, please. I’ve got a bigger foot and a stronger kick. Let me,” Cal said.

That got a small smile from Summer. Bray was happy to see that and happier still to see the easy camaraderie between Chase and Cal. It hadn’t always been that way, and he wasn’t sure why. But he liked this.

“I’ll help Summer finish up here,” Bray said.

His brothers exchanged a quick glance. “Well, okay, then,” Chase said. He and Cal, each with an arm slung around his woman, went back upstairs, leaving him alone with Summer, who was back on her feet.

“This isn’t necessary,” she said.

He deliberately rolled up his shirtsleeves, then walked over to the sink and plunged his hands into the lukewarm water. “I’ll wash. You dry.”

She pressed her lips together. Finally, she let out a loud sigh and grabbed the dull white dish towel.

They didn’t talk for the five minutes it took to finish washing the vases. Nor for the seven minutes it took to pack all twenty in two big cardboard boxes. Finally, Bray said, “Now what?”

“Now I load them in my van,” she said.

He hoisted a box up. “Lead the way.”

She started to lift the other.

“Leave it,” he said. “It’s too heavy. I’ll get it on the second trip.”

She led him up the back stairs of the church and outside. There sat an old red van that had seen better days. There were several scratches and a couple of small dents, one that looked pretty new. “What happened here?” he asked, thinking it could have been made by a man’s boot. Did Blake take his anger out on objects, too?

She smiled. “Errant football. I said it was a wild throw. Keagan said I should have jumped higher.”

“Keagan?”

“My son.”

Ahhhh, yes. The child that she’d had with Gary Blake within the first year of their marriage. Bray set the box down, perhaps harder than necessary, but he didn’t hear anything break.

He went back inside for the other box. She was standing next to the open van door and stepped aside so that he could shove the box in. Which he did—a little more gently.

“You have a daughter, too, right?” he asked.

Summer’s face softened. “Adalyn. We call her Adie. She’s five.”

“How do they feel about the divorce?” he asked.

There was enough light from the streetlight that he could see her pretty green eyes cloud over. “Probably like any kid feels about a divorce. Sad. Confused. Relieved,” she added, her voice quiet.

That pulled at his gut. Was it even possible that Blake had used his fists on them, too? “Did your ex ever—”

She walked to the side of the van, opened the driver’s-side door and got in. She started the engine. Finally, she turned her head sideways and made eye contact. “Never. He knew I’d kill him if he did that.”

Chapter Two

Tuesday, 6:15 p.m.

She had been having a pretty good day until her ex-husband had decided to show up at the church. The restaurant had been pleasantly busy, and when she’d left at two to attend Adie’s Thanksgiving Day party at her kindergarten, the sun had been shining and she’d been excited about Chase and Raney’s upcoming wedding. She and Trish were determined that the reception was going to be phenomenal. For what Chase was paying them, he deserved something special.

After the party, she’d driven Adie home and waited another half hour for Keagan to get home from school. It was his first year at Ravesville High, and he detested it when she picked him up in the van. “I’m not a little kid,” he’d say.

He wasn’t. But neither was a fourteen-year-old boy an adult. She was full-time busy trying to balance her natural tendency to keep him close and protected with the reality that she needed to let go, let him have more independence, let him make more decisions, even let him make a few mistakes.

When she’d been that age, she’d been an adult. Out of necessity. What was it Trish used to say? We were pushed out of the nest early, and we had to either fly or crash. They’d flapped their wings hard and managed to stay in the air, taking turns buying groceries, cooking dinner, doing laundry.

They’d had each other, and together, they’d managed to mostly hide a big secret.

She didn’t want anything like that for Keagan. Generally, all she really hoped for was for him to pick up his clothes off the floor and shower regularly.

Today, once he’d got home, they’d had a brief conversation, which mainly consisted of her brightly telling him about her day and asking about his and getting a few grunts in response. Then she’d left him in charge of Adie. In the past, she’d have had her mom come over to watch the kids. They loved having Grandma at the house. But in the past year or so, if she was going to be gone for only an hour or so at a time, Keagan watched Adie so that he could earn some babysitting money to buy a new bike.

She was proud of him for realizing that he needed to work for the money, that she simply wouldn’t be able to hand over a couple hundred dollars. The restaurant was doing well, and she and Trish were able to take small salaries, but by the time she paid rent and all the other assorted bills of raising children, there was little left.

She couldn’t count on Gary. He was now over six months behind in child support. And he had become more and more volatile over the past months. She still had sore ribs that substantiated that today’s incident had not been an isolated event.

But never before had it been a public event, and she was mortified. Bad enough that Chase and Cal Hollister and their wonderful fiancées should witness it, but having Bray be the one to break it up had been almost more than she could be expected to bear.

He looked fabulous. He had his thick brown hair pulled back into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, and the short beard he wore, which was so popular now, made him look super sexy and...well, even a little dangerous.

And when he’d had Gary on his knees, practically begging for relief, it had been easy to see that it wasn’t false advertising. He’d always been a tough guy. Probably why the Marines had been a natural fit. And now that he was a DEA agent, his natural persona had been fine-tuned and he was sleek and dangerous.

Gary wasn’t that tough, but he did play dirty, and she’d tried to warn Bray. Bray would find his car towed for parking too close to a fire hydrant or get a ticket for going thirty-four in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. Or worse. He’d come out after an evening meal and find his windshield cracked or his tires flat. That was what had happened to the one man Summer had dated postdivorce. Needless to say, the poor guy hadn’t bothered to call again.

And she was powerless to do anything about Gary. Because he knew the secret. He was part of the secret.

At the intersection, she stopped at the four-way sign. To the left was the Wright Here, Wright Now Café. At night, it was under Trish’s careful watch, allowing Summer to be home with the kids. If she went to the café tonight, her twin would instantly sense that something was wrong, and she’d force Summer to blurt out the truth.

No, she’d leave the vases in the van tonight and unload them tomorrow. She wasn’t ready to deal with her reaction to Bray, let alone talk about it to someone else. Plus, she’d probably left Keagan and Adie alone together for long enough. She turned right and drove the mile to her house. It wasn’t until she was pulling into the one-car attached garage that she noticed the car behind her.

For a quick minute, she thought it might be Gary, back for round two. But it wasn’t.

She got out and faced Bray Hollister, who was acting as if he had every right to follow her home and park in her driveway. “What are you doing here?” she said, almost wincing when she heard how bitchy she sounded.

It was just that seeing him again after so many years was too much. She hadn’t had time to prepare, time to put up her defenses. She’d been ready for him to be at the wedding reception, and she’d already planned on how she would handle the encounter. She’d be polite, a little distant, too busy to chat for long.

Now she felt naked and raw from her encounter with Gary, and she wasn’t sure she had the emotional maturity to go up against the only man she’d ever really loved.

“I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

“Oh.” She felt so very small. And mean. “Thank you.”

They stared at each other. She could hear Mitzi barking and glanced over Bray’s shoulder. Across the street, she could see the small white dog through the window. She was on the back of the couch, her nose pressed to the glass.

Bray turned his head to look.

“That’s Trudy Hudder’s house,” Summer said.

“Junior English?” Bray asked.

She nodded. Mrs. Hudder had introduced literature to every student in Ravesville for forty years before retiring a few years earlier.

Adie liked to play with the dog. Would listen to hear Mitzi outside and then sneak out for a quick couple of dog kisses.

Summer whipped around to make sure her children were not at the door or with their own noses pressed up against the window. The blinds were down, thank goodness. Sometimes Keagan forgot to do that when it got dark. She turned back to Bray.

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I thought we might get a drink or something.”

“I can’t. My children are home alone.”

“You have a coffeepot?”

Bray had always loved coffee, from the time he’d been a teenager. Her, too. They’d been the only sixteen-year-olds who ordered coffee with their pizza. She should lie. Tell him she gave it up years ago. When she married someone else.

“I do,” she said.

“Works for me.” He took a couple of steps toward her, closing the ten-foot gap.

This was such a bad idea. She’d avoided having a conversation with this man for fifteen years. Had been hoping to avoid it for another fifteen. She held up her hand.

He stopped.

Bray would not force his way in. That had never been his way. He had always been a gentleman.

She could give him ten minutes. She owed him much more. She motioned with her hand for him to follow her.

They went into the house through the garage. When they stepped into the kitchen, she could hear the television blaring in the family room. There were dirty dishes on the counter that hadn’t been there when she’d left less than two hours ago. There was also a big splotch of milk on the floor, as if Adie might have been trying to pour a glass and the jug had been too heavy.

She just couldn’t worry about it now.

“I’m home,” she yelled.

“Mama,” Adie said. Feet came thundering around the corner.

Summer leaned down and scooped up her little girl. “Hey, slow down,” she said, holding her tight.

Adie squirmed in her arms. She pointed to Bray. “Who’s that?”

“This is Mr. Hollister,” Summer said.

Bray waved. “Hi, Adie. How about you just call me Bray. That’s a lot easier to say.”

“Bray,” Adie repeated. “Like neigh,” she said, making the sound of a horse.

Bray smiled. “Exactly.”

Adie turned back to her. “You’re late,” she said. “We’re hungry.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll start dinner in just a few minutes,” she said. She let Adie slide down her body. Once the little girl’s feet hit the ground, she was off.

“Mom’s home and there’s a man with her.” Adie’s voice floated back to them.

The volume on the television went down. In came Keagan, his thin shoulders slouched forward, his too-long hair in his eyes.

She reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. He jerked away. He was staring at Bray.

“Thanks for watching Adie,” Summer said. “This is Bray Hollister. We...we were in school together.”

Bray stepped forward, extended his hand. It took Keagan a second, but he stuck his arm out.

“Nice to meet you, Keagan. I understand you like football.”

Keagan didn’t answer. He turned to his mother. “I thought you were going to the church for vases.”

“I...did. Remember, it’s Chase Hollister who is getting married. Well, Bray is Chase’s older brother. He’s home for the wedding.”

“Dad stopped by,” Keagan said.

“When?” she asked quickly.

“Right after you left.”

Thank goodness. She’d hoped he hadn’t come by after the incident at the church. “I saw him. He stopped by the church.”

“He seemed upset about something.”

He had seemed more volatile than usual. A simple conversation about switching the weekend the kids would be at his house had gone south so fast that she still wasn’t sure what had set him off. He hadn’t looked good, either. There had been dark circles under his pale blue eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well for some time.

Maybe trouble at work. Gossip had been swirling recently about a fight between Gary and a newly hired officer named Daniel Stone. Nobody seemed to have the details, and neither Gary nor Daniel was talking about it. Probably at the direction of Chief Poole. He was probably embarrassed that his small department was a topic of conversation.

But she’d officially given up making excuses for Gary’s behavior when she’d signed the divorce paperwork. Never ran him down in front of the kids, but didn’t try to build him up to be father of the year, either. “You don’t need to worry about your dad,” she said. “Did you do your homework?”

He gave her the you’re so stupid look. “We don’t have school until next Monday.”

That was right. Tomorrow was the day before Thanksgiving, and the kids were getting a nice long holiday. “Well, you can watch a little more television. Just keep the volume down,” she suggested.

Keagan looked between her and Bray. “What are you going to be doing?”

The bad mother in her so wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. Since starting high school three months earlier, Keagan had got progressively more distant, rarely volunteering any conversation and definitely not interested in anything Summer was doing.

But she was the adult. Supposedly smarter, more mature. “I’m going to have a little conversation with Mr. Hollister and then I’m going to fix dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she said.

He took the hint and shuffled out of the kitchen. The small space got quiet again. She got busy making a small pot of coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bray grab a paper towel off the roll and wipe up the spilled milk on the floor. He found the garbage under her sink.

“Thanks,” she said. She scooted around the dirty dishes on the counter. She still missed having a dishwasher, but the house had been perfect in so many other ways for the three of them that she hadn’t quibbled over small things. It was in a safe neighborhood and she could afford it. Those were the important things.

When the coffee was done, she poured cups for both her and Bray and carried them over to the kitchen table, where Bray had taken a seat. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black. Like always,” he said.

Some things never changed, but some things had changed so much there was no going back. She took a sip too soon and burned her tongue. Still, for lack of anything better to do, she took another one. Finally, she set her cup down. “So, how was your flight?” she asked.

He took a sip of his own coffee. “It’s been a long time, Summer. You really want to talk about my travel?”

Hell, no. But everything else was fraught with danger. One wrong step and it could blow up. But yet there were things that needed to be said. She gathered her courage. “I’m not sure there’s much to be gained from going over old ground, but...” She took a breath. “But if I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

He stared at the coffee in his cup. “If you hurt me?” he repeated softly. “If?”

He wasn’t going to let this be easy. She understood. She deserved this. “When,” she corrected. “When I hurt you.”

He looked up. “I guess I’d really just like to know what happened.”

“You left,” she said.

“I enlisted. We had discussed it. You said you would wait.”

She had intended to. And she had wanted to. Then things had happened. But nothing she could tell Bray about. Nothing she could ever tell anyone about. “I met someone,” she said. It was the story she’d stuck to for fifteen years.

“Gary Blake.”

She nodded.

“He’s a real prize,” Bray said, his tone bitter.

Gary hadn’t always been this way. In the beginning, he’d been...fine. Attentive. Hardworking. And she’d thought it would be enough. “Bray, did you ever marry?” she asked tentatively.

“Nope.”

The silence in the room stretched out. Finally, Bray shifted in his chair. “At the church, you said that Gary had never beaten your kids. There was something you didn’t say.”

“What’s that?”

“That he’d never beaten you.”

She was so weary. So damn tired of protecting everybody else’s interests. “He didn’t. And I would not have thought him capable of it. But about two months ago, we got into an argument because he was supposed to pay some fees for Keagan’s sports. But he was really late and the coach had told me that he was going to have to suspend Keagan. Gary got really mad and pushed me down. And...and then he kicked me. My back got pretty bruised up.”

She saw a wave of emotion cross his handsome face. “Kicked you like a stray dog,” he said, his tone bitingly sharp.

She put her hand out. Touched him. His skin was so warm. “It’s over,” she said.

“Did you report it to the police?”

“He is the police.”

“He’s got to have a boss.”

She shrugged. “I made a decision. I did what was best for me and my family.”

“By what happened today, I don’t think he’s turned over a new leaf. The next time he might really hurt you. What are you going to tell your children when you’ve got a broken jaw and a busted eye socket?”

The image made her sick. “That’s not going to happen,” she said.

“Maybe somebody needs to make sure of that,” he said.

She stood up. “Don’t you even think about getting involved, Bray Hollister. You can’t waltz back in here and...and mess things up.”

“Mess things up? Honey, I thought that was your department.”

She would not cry. She would not. “My children are hungry,” she said, her voice flat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fix them dinner.” She walked over to the door that led to the garage, opened it and reached to turn on the garage light.

She heard a sharp bark and saw that Mitzi was outside, peeing in the front yard. Trudy, already in her nightgown, stood on the front porch, staring across the street. Great.

Bray followed her out of the house. She stood to the side and let him walk past.

Trudy waved. “Nice to see you again, Brayden. I wondered if you’d be back for the wedding.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bray said. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Hudder.”

She wondered how he could sound so polite. Her voice would have come out strangled. She felt as if her throat were closing up.

Without a backward glance, Bray got in his car and started it. He backed out of the driveway and sedately drove off.

Fifteen years ago, there’d been screaming tires and a racing engine.

She closed the garage door, went back inside her house and then very carefully let herself slide down the back of the door until she was sitting on the floor.

Then she started to cry.

* * *

BRAY TEXTED CAL, telling him that he wouldn’t be there for dinner. It was the chicken’s way out, he knew, but he simply wasn’t up to the questions that either would be asked or, if everyone decided to give him a pass, would be hanging in the air, hovering, threatening to smother them all.

So, what was it like, seeing Summer after all these years?

Jarring. Exhilarating. Disappointing. Painful. His emotions were all over the place.

She was still beautiful. He’d always loved her red hair. In high school, she’d worn it longer, but now it just touched her shoulders. Her skin was still lovely, freckle-free unlike most redheads. There were a few lines by her pale green eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen years ago, but still, she looked more like twenty-seven than thirty-seven.

Her children were the undisputable proof that the years had truly gone by. Adie was a doll, with her strawberry blonde hair and her big blue eyes. And Keagan, well, he supposed he’d be a good-looking kid if he bothered to get rid of the disdain that poured off his skinny adolescent frame.

Bray appreciated that the kid had hoofed it into the kitchen quickly upon hearing that his mother had brought home a man. That told him something. It didn’t happen often. Not that that mattered. Summer hadn’t said it, but the message had been clear. We’re done. Been done for a long time.

When he’d first heard that Chase and Raney intended to get married in Ravesville, he’d fleetingly wondered if he might run into Summer while he was home. He hadn’t dwelled on the possibility, had merely considered it, decided that it would be no big deal and moved on.

All that proved was that at age thirty-seven, he was living in denial, maybe not all that different from a kid hooked on meth who said he could stop anytime he wanted.

He drove through Ravesville, making a full stop at the end of every block. The same irritating four-way stop signs had been there when he’d been seventeen. Then, he’d done a casual rolling stop, too cool in his old Cutlass convertible to be bothered by rules. And more often than not, Summer had been at his side, her pretty red hair blowing in the wind.

He turned right at the edge of town. Just like old times. On most warm nights, of which there were a lot in Missouri, he and Summer had gone to Rock Pond, the local swimming hole.

They never did a whole lot of swimming there. Instead, he’d pull the old sheet out of his trunk, spread it on the ground, and in the dark of night, he’d make love to Summer.

And afterward, she would cling to him, her sweet young body so firm, yet so soft, and tell him that she loved him and that she would always be his.

As he drove onto the property, he could see that they were still actively working parts of the old quarry, still blasting away. He went around the bend in the narrow road, got close to the section that had been filled with water for many years and killed his lights. It was not a warm night. Not much chance of encountering naked teens doing grown-up things. With little care for the cold, he got out of the car, boosted himself up onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky.

He’d been a half a world away, trying not to get blown up, and the memories of this place, his time with Summer here, had kept him sane.

Everything happened for a reason. That was the mantra that his mother had lived by. Even when her husband had died too young, leaving her with three adolescent boys to raise, she’d said those words. Even when she married Brick Doogan, who hadn’t an ounce of the character that his dad had.

He’d survived four years in the military when others hadn’t. He’d clawed his way back after learning that the girl he’d left behind had married someone else, and he eventually got a college degree on Uncle Sam’s dime and a job in New York. Others had come back too screwed up to do the same. He managed to keep a whole lot of drugs off the streets and a bunch of unknown kids alive without getting a knife in his gut when others bought it. He’d built a very satisfactory life and pushed the old memories to the back of the virtual closet, where they belonged.

But now they were clawing to get out, ripping apart his gut, making him want to howl at the quarter moon.

He slid off the hood, got in and turned his car around. When he got to the end of the long lane, he turned right instead of left. He still wasn’t quite ready to go home. He drove through town. At the edge, he turned around. Drove down the main street again. Killing time.

Not true. He was looking for Gary Blake. He might as well admit the truth.

Somebody needed to teach him a lesson, and right now, it would feel damn good to put his fist through something. It might as well be Blake’s face.

He pulled over and used his smartphone to find Blake’s address. He recognized the street. As he drove the six blocks, he knew he was probably about to do something really stupid.

But sometimes a man just had to do what he needed to do.

Chapter Three

Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.

Bray was nursing his third cup of coffee when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the Hollister driveway. Chase and Cal were at the sink, washing and drying, because Raney and Nalana had cooked breakfast. He, as the honored guest, was getting to sit.

Which was helpful since he was fighting a headache that was likely a combination of jet lag, long-term fatigue and one too many beers. He’d come home around midnight. The house had been dark, but it had been easy enough to find his way upstairs, avoiding the step that squeaked and finally getting into the brand-new bed that was the centerpiece of his newly decorated bedroom.

Raney and Chase were making a home of the old place. It was unexpected, sort of like the new camaraderie between Chase and Cal. He was going to ask about that. Sometime. Just not now, when the brain cells weren’t yet all firing.

He heard the sound of a door opening and shutting. “Expecting someone?” he asked.

Chase looked at Raney and she shook her head. Cal walked down the hallway to look out the front door.

“It’s Poole,” he said.

“Who’s Poole?” Bray asked.

Cal walked back into the kitchen, exchanged a quick look with Chase and said, “The police chief. Anything we need to know about last night?”

Bray shook his head. “Why look at me?”

Nalana smiled. “Because the rest of us were in bed by nine o’clock.”

Bray returned the smile. “That’s because my brothers are both lucky sons of...guns.” He pushed back his chair. “I might as well get this.”

He waited for the knock. Counted to five, then opened the door. On the other side was a man, probably midsixties, his belly hanging over his belt, looking as if a fast walk, let alone a real chase after an enemy, would take him down.

“Bray Hollister?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m police chief Poole. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

He heard a rustle in the kitchen and knew that if he gave any indication that he was uncomfortable with the request, his brothers were going to figure out a way to get Poole off their porch.

“Sure,” he said. “Come on in.”

He led the chief into the living room and motioned for him to have a seat. The man sat in the armchair, making the cushions sink. Bray sat on the couch and relaxed back against a pillow.

“I understand you arrived in town yesterday.”

“That’s correct.”

“From New York.” The man practically wrinkled his nose.

Bray nodded. He was tempted to make a joke that living in the city wasn’t a crime the last time he’d checked. But he kept his mouth shut. Poole was uncomfortable, and that was making Bray doubly so.

“And you drove straight to Ravesville from the St. Louis airport?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you do once you got to town?”

“I went to the church on the corner of Main and Portland. My brother is getting married there this weekend.”

“And you had some conversation with Gary Blake?”

“Conversation? Is that what he called it?” Bray asked. He was disgusted. The guy tried to rough up his ex-wife and then whined to his boss because Bray had got the better of him.

“I didn’t speak with Gary. Julie Wentworth is my sister-in-law. She plays the piano every Sunday and for almost every wedding in town.”

Piano player Julie and Reverend Brown had not witnessed his physical interaction with Blake. They would only be able to report on what they’d overheard.

Not true. They would be able to support that Summer had been upset—to the point that her voice had been shaking.

“I understand you and Summer Wright were an item in high school. That was before my time in Ravesville. Is that correct?”

An item? “We dated,” he said. If Poole wanted to know more than that, he was going to have to ask somebody else.

“Uh-huh. So, after you left the church, where did you go?” Poole asked.

Bray made sure his face showed no reaction. But his brain, which might have been idle in the kitchen, was now working itself back to fighting weight. “I went to Summer’s house.”

“Why?”

“She had some vases in the back of her van. They were heavy. I thought she might need some help carrying them.”

“How long were you there?”

Bray sat up, feeling as if his pancakes were going to be on the chief’s shoes. “Did something happen to Summer? To one of the kids?”

He was going to kill Gary Blake.

The chief shook his head. “I drove by the Wright Here, Wright Now Café on my way here. I verified that Summer was working her shift, as usual. Therefore, I assume her children are fine.”

Verified. The man had made sure Summer was working. So whatever was wrong, Summer and her family were involved in some way.

“If there’s nothing else,” Bray said, standing up. He had things to do.

Poole didn’t take the hint. “What time did you leave Summer’s house and where did you go?”

Bray had a fairly good idea the man already knew what time he’d left. Perhaps he’d talked to Mrs. Hudder. He decided to cut to the chase. “I left around seven. Drove around town for a while.” No need to tell him that he’d driven to Blake’s house, that he’d pounded on the door, wanting the son of a bitch to have the guts to show his face. “I was hungry, so I went to the One Toe In Bar and Grill for a cheeseburger and some beers.”

“What time did you leave the bar?”

“Close to midnight. Why?”

“Anybody there going to be able to verify that?”

He’d sat alone in a back booth, but he’d had the same waitress for most of the evening. He assumed she’d be able to. “I think so.”

“You better hope so, Mr. Hollister.”

Bray shrugged. “Look, I’ve been a good sport and answered all your questions. Now why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re asking them?” Maybe Gary Blake’s pride had been more damaged than he’d thought and the man had gone to his boss to complain about his interaction with Bray. If he had, that was pretty damn stupid. Nothing like hanging out your own dirty laundry.

Chief Poole hefted himself out of the chair. He pulled up his pants and they immediately sagged below his belly again. “Gary Blake was scheduled to start work at seven this morning. When he didn’t show, Officer Stone drove to his house.”

“And?” Bray prompted when the police chief stopped.

“And Gary wasn’t there.”

“Big deal,” Bray said. “Maybe he got his days mixed up and he thought he had a vacation day. He’s out shopping for a turkey right now.”

“There were signs of a very fast exit from the house. A small amount of blood at the scene.”

He could see Summer’s eyes, hear the sincerity in her voice. He knew I’d kill him if he did that. “So, he cut himself shaving and went to the emergency room.”

“Maybe,” Chief Poole said. “But, you know, police officers make a lot of enemies.”

Bray wanted to see Blake’s house. Cops in small towns weren’t well trained in investigating crime scenes—they simply didn’t see enough of them.

But as much as he wanted to view the scene, he wanted to see Summer more. He had to know what she’d done. Had his questions about Blake spurred on memories that she’d been unable to deal with?

“How long are you expecting to be in town, Mr. Hollister?”

“Through Sunday.”

“And you’re staying here at this house?”

Bray nodded.

“Good,” the chief said. “I want to know where I can find you if I have more questions.”

Bray didn’t answer. He simply watched the man walk to the front door and let himself out. He counted to three before his brothers got to the living room.

They each had the same worried look in their eyes. Probably right now were thinking of good defense attorneys.

“Listen,” he said, “I didn’t do anything to Gary Blake.”

“Blood at the scene,” Chase said.

“Small amount. I heard the man,” Bray said, irritated. He’d been back in town for less than a day, and Gary Blake, who had caused him so much heartache years ago when he’d married Bray’s girl, was still causing trouble. “There’s probably a list of people a page long that want to get Blake for one reason or another.”

“Summer,” Cal said.

Bray didn’t say anything.

“You don’t think she did something, do you?” Chase asked.

Bray had no idea what Summer was capable of. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think I better ask her.”

* * *

SUMMER HAD REALLY never thought much about Charlie Poole. He’d been Gary’s boss for about five years. He was polite to her when he came into the restaurant, ordered two eggs and bacon with a side of biscuits and gravy every day of his life, and tipped poorly.

She’d never had cause to worry about him until now, when he’d come in and asked if he could speak to her privately.

“We don’t have much private space,” she said.

He said nothing. She put down her coffeepot, led him back to the kitchen, smiled at Milo, the grill cook, to let him know that everything was okay and took a spot in the corner, where she could keep an eye on the dining room through the small window in the swinging door.

She felt sick when the chief told her why he was there. Gary. Missing. Blood at the scene. An open gallon of milk on the table. A half-eaten bowl of cereal. The back door unlocked and not closed tight.

What the hell? Her first thoughts were of her children. What would she tell them?

But before she could get her head around it, Chief Poole started asking questions.

“I understand you were at the church yesterday,” he said. “That you and Gary were in the basement.”

Julie had probably mentioned it to her brother-in-law. She was a lovely piano player but a terrible gossip.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you two had much to do with each other anymore.”

“We share children,” she said. “This coming weekend was Gary’s weekend to have them, but he needed to switch.”

“Why?”

She’d wondered the same thing. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal to switch. But because she would be busy catering the wedding, she’d pushed back a little. That had seemed to set him off. “I don’t know.”

“So after you left the church, you went straight home?”

“Yes.” It dawned on her that the chief hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened at the church between her and Gary. Was it because Julie had given him enough that he’d realized that his second-in-command might have been in the wrong and he didn’t want any additional documentation of the fact?

And speaking of documentation, the chief wasn’t making any notes. He had yet to pull his notebook from his pocket. In his left breast pocket, he had the same kind of notebook that Gary never went anywhere without. Once, early on in the marriage, she hadn’t realized that he hadn’t removed it from his pocket and she’d put it in the washing machine. That had caused a crisis that involved attempting to dry out thirty or so small pages because he’d needed those quick notations to fill out the endless reports that he’d hated.

Maybe the chief had a really good memory. Or maybe he realized that she didn’t have anything to gain by harming Gary.

“And did you have any visitors last night?” he asked.

She wasn’t trained in police work, but thought she might be a better interrogator than the chief. He clearly already knew that she had indeed had a visitor. Perhaps he’d already spoken to Mrs. Hudder. Or to Bray.

He’d been upset when he’d left her house. She’d known that he was having difficulty dealing with what she’d told him. Had he taken out his anger on Gary?

Had Bray become sucked into the tangled relationship that she had with her ex? It was a horrifying thought. When would her bad decisions stop hurting Bray Hollister?

She was confident that he would tell the truth, that he would not run from it. He’d always had more character than her. “Bray Hollister stopped by. He didn’t stay long. Then I fixed my children dinner, watched some television and went to bed by ten.”

“Can anyone verify that you were home all evening?” he asked.

Had she been wrong about his intent? Was she really a...suspect? She pressed her hand to her empty stomach.

Hell, yes, there were times I wanted him gone, she wanted to say. But admitting that she’d spent valuable time she didn’t have as a single parent imagining how nice it would be if he would simply disappear wasn’t going to help her.

“No,” she said. “But I was.” She looked through the small window in the door and saw that four new customers had come in while she’d been talking with the chief. They were looking around, staring wistfully at the coffeepot, probably wondering where the heck she was. “I really need to get back to the dining room,” she said. As Milo flipped his pancakes, he was slapping the flat end of his stainless-steel spatula on the hot grill, letting her know that he was watching and ready to assist if she needed it.

“Just a couple more questions,” Chief Poole said, holding up his hand. “Has Gary ever done this before, just disappear unexpectedly?”

Once or twice toward the end of their marriage, he’d been gone for a few days. Getting his head together. That was what he always told her. She suspected that involved a stack of chips and a deck of cards, but by then, she hadn’t really cared enough to probe.

“Sometimes to fish or to gamble.” It dawned on her that the chief probably knew Gary as well as she did. That made this an even more awkward conversation.

The chief nodded. “I probably should check to see if his rods are still there.”

She didn’t say anything, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

“Do you know anybody who had a particular beef with Gary?”

She sighed. “He’s been a cop in the same community for more than fifteen years. I imagine there are any number of people who aren’t fond of him. The speed trap out by the high school is particularly irritating and probably hasn’t endeared him to many.”

“Anybody with a complaint more serious than a moving violation?”

“You’d know better about that than me,” she said.

“I may want to talk to your children.”

“Not without me, and not until I’ve talked to them first,” she said, her voice stern. She didn’t care if he was the police chief.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. He took a step. Stopped. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this conversation between us,” he said. “You know how gossip spreads in Ravesville.”

She did. And it would make people uneasy if they thought that something had happened to one of their police officers.

She nodded, and Chief Poole pushed open the swinging door, walked the length of the café and left through the front entrance. Thirty seconds later, Summer followed him out of the kitchen, smiling, greeting customers, putting on the show of her life. But her head was whirling. So much so that she delivered eggs instead of French toast to one of her favorite customers. Apologizing profusely, she ran back to the kitchen to get the order replaced.

“What’s going on?” Milo asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Summer promised.

She took another quick minute to pull her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed the button for Gary’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She waited for the beep. “Gary, it’s Summer. Listen, please call me. It’s important.” She pressed End.

Maybe she should call Trish, too. She knew Gary pretty well. Maybe she would have some ideas.

No. It wasn’t the type of news a person delivered over the phone.

Was the chief serious that he intended to talk to her kids? Would he wait and give Gary time to show himself?

For the first time in a very long time, she wished she could suddenly make Gary appear. What the hell was he up to now? Was it possible that he was really in trouble? Did this have anything to do with the absolutely horrible mood he’d been in?

She had lots of questions and no answers. She went back to the dining area and cleared two dirty tables.

She heard the soft tinkle of a bell and looked to the front door. Bray Hollister, his expression giving nothing away, walked in and took a seat at the counter. He wore blue jeans, a blue-and-gray flannel shirt, a dark gray insulated vest and cowboy boots. Every woman’s eyes in the place followed him, whether they were twenty years old or sixty. He positively oozed sex appeal.

She contemplated going back to the kitchen for the rest of her life. “Morning,” she said, mindful that just three stools away were other customers. “Coffee?” she asked, holding up the pot.

Bray nodded.

She poured the cup and slid it in his direction. He took a sip. “Busy day?” he asked.

“Busy enough,” she said.

“Had a visit from the chief yet?” His voice was pitched low.

“Yeah. You?”

He nodded. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.

No. She was a mess. “I think so.”

“Got anything you need to tell me?” he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t touch your ex.”

She believed him. Relief flooded her system. “I didn’t, either.”

He studied her. Then nodded. “Okay, then. What now?”

“Now I figure out what the hell happened to Gary before it bleeds over and affects me or our children.”

Chapter Four

Wednesday, 11:00 a.m.

“But before I do that,” she said, “I have to talk to my kids. Chief Poole said he might need to question them.”

Bray picked up a sugar packet. Set it down. “He’s doing his job. A man is missing. A cop. He needs to turn over every rock that he can.”

“But they’re my rocks. My baby rocks,” she said.

She would be the kind of mother who would protect her children with her last breath. “They might know something and not even realize it. You might, too,” he said, his tone suggestive. “Tell me about your ex.”

“I’ve got customers to wait on,” she said, clearly not interested in his suggestion. He understood. He really didn’t want to talk about the son of a bitch, either. There weren’t many that could make the claim, but Gary Blake had bested Bray, in all the ways it counted. Reason enough to hate him.

If Blake was screwing around somewhere, oblivious to the concern he’d left behind, dismissive of the blow his children would bear when they heard he was missing, well, Bray was going to hand him his lunch, and the guy would need a blender and a straw to eat it. “What time does Trish come in to relieve you?”

“Normally at two and works until nine. But it’s Thanksgiving eve, so we’re not open tonight. The café will close at two today and reopen at six on Friday morning. And with any luck, Gary will come in for his coffee to go at eight thirty, just like every other day.”

“You’re still going to talk to your kids today?”

She nodded. “I have to pick them up at Trish’s. She’s babysitting. I know I need to do this but I’m not sure what to tell them.”

“The truth. But maybe not the whole truth.”

She let out a huff. “That’s my specialty,” she said in a disgusted tone. Then she walked away.

What the hell did she mean by that? Bray contemplated that question for the next three hours as he sat on the stool. Summer stopped filling his coffee cup and generally ignored him until he flagged her down and ordered a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich for lunch. She hadn’t said a word when she’d slid the plate in his direction, but it didn’t escape his notice that she’d remembered to add a side of mayonnaise so that he could dip his French fries.

Finally, ten minutes after she’d put the closed sign in the window, all the other customers were gone except him. “I’m going with you when you talk to your children,” he said.

“They don’t know you.”

“I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

That shut her up. She got out the vacuum and plugged it in. He grabbed it out of her hand. “Let me help,” he said. “You can get out of here faster.”

It had been driving him crazy for the past three hours watching her literally fly around the room. Taking orders, clearing tables, making pot after pot of coffee, taking cash at the register up front. He’d wanted to jump in and help but had known that would spread like wildfire through the small town. The fact that he’d been sitting at the counter for an extended period probably already had tongues wagging. He’d recognized a few people from his high school days. Had nodded at one or two, but nobody had approached to engage in conversation.

After the floor had been vacuumed and the counters wiped down, and she’d rolled a tray of clean silverware into white napkins, Summer excused herself to use the restroom. Seconds later, the cook pushed through the swinging door.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Bray Hollister.” He’d been gone a long time, but he was pretty good with faces. He didn’t think he’d ever met this man. He was probably midfifties, slight build but wiry, with hair pulled back into a ponytail like Bray. However, his was much longer and almost black. His face had several scars, none of which he’d got from working behind a grill. “Who are you?” Bray asked.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that you understand that Summer and Trish Wright are special to me. If you mess with them, you mess with me. And that would be a mistake on your part.”

Most people wouldn’t even attempt to intimidate Bray. But this guy was a natural. Bray appreciated his intensity and willingness to take him on.

He was glad that this man was in Summer’s corner. “I don’t intend to mess with either of them. I’m an old friend.” Bray heard the bathroom door open.

“I’ll be watching you,” Milo said.

“All finished?” Summer asked the cook.

“Thirty minutes. Then I’m out of here.”

“Don’t work too late,” she said. “Uh, Milo, this is Bray Hollister. He used to live in Ravesville. Bray, Milo Hernandez. Best grill cook this side of the Mississippi.”

If she noticed the stillness between the two men, she ignored it. “Milo, I have something to tell you.”

The cook looked at Bray.

“He can stay,” Summer said. “He knows.”

And in a very controlled way, Summer told the man about her conversation with Chief Poole, the suspicions that foul play might be involved. His expression never changed.

“The chief asked me to keep this quiet, but I wanted you to know,” she said. “You’re like family.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Keep your ears open. If you hear anything, call me right away.” She gave the man a quick hug. Over her shoulder, he made eye contact with Bray.

“I’ve got this,” Bray mouthed.

The man gave a sharp nod. “Call me if you need me, Summer.” He went back into the kitchen.

“He’s something,” Bray said.

“He was a godsend,” she said quietly. “He arrived in Ravesville just weeks after Rafe’s death.” She looked at him. “You may not know. Trish was married. To Rafe Roper. He wasn’t from around here. But he worked construction, and when they built the new mall near Hamerton, he rented a house near here. Trish fell hard and fast, and they got married just months after he arrived in town. But sadly, just nine months later, he went on a float trip, you know the kind, with inner tubes and coolers of beer. Somehow he got separated from his buddies and drowned.”

“Poor Trish.” He had always really liked Summer’s twin.

“It was horrible. The worst of it all was that his body was never recovered. Trish was devastated. She couldn’t work. I couldn’t expect her to. I thought we would lose the restaurant for sure. I couldn’t keep it going on my own. And then Milo turned up.”

“Out of the blue?”

“He’d been in prison. Not a lot of places will give an ex-con a job.”

“But you did.”

“From the very beginning it felt right. He saved us. Worked like a dog. And then when Trish finally was able to come back, he stayed.”

“I think he’s fond of the two of you.”

“It’s mutual. He didn’t like Gary. I think it was the natural dislike between a cop and an ex-con.”

Maybe. Or maybe Milo was just a good judge of character. But he didn’t say that. There was nothing to be gained from running down Blake at this point.

Summer shut most of the lights off in the café, leaving on the one behind the counter. She locked the front door from the inside and then led Bray out through the kitchen. Milo had his back to them, cleaning the grill. Summer stopped. “Are you sure you won’t come for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked the man.

He half turned. “No, I’ve got some things to do,” he said. “But it means a lot that you’d invite me,” he added.

“If you change your mind, just show up. You know we’ll have plenty of food,” Summer said, opening the back door.

Her red van was parked in the alley next to a big garbage Dumpster. “My car is out front,” he said. “Swing around and I’ll follow you to Trish’s.”

“She’s just a half mile west of town,” Summer said.

Bray waited until Summer had unlocked her door and got in before jogging around the side of the building to his own car. As he turned the corner, his eye automatically scanned the area. The habit had saved his life more than once.

Today, he didn’t see anything unusual. Nobody hanging by his car. Nobody across the street, watching the entrance of the café. Nobody...

Wait. The building across the street was a redbrick three-story. On the first floor was an office. Frank Oswald, attorney at law. The windows were dark. Evidently no pressing legal matters to attend to on the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

The second and third floors were apartments with four large arched windows spread across the face of the building. There it was. Second floor. Second window to the left. A shadow. A man had been standing at the window, watching the café. When Bray had rounded the corner, he’d moved fast, stepping aside, out of view.

Why?

He wanted to pound up the stairs and demand answers. But there was Summer’s van. So he ignored his instinct and let the person believe his surveillance had gone undetected.

He got in his car, started it and pulled away from the curb. Summer drove three miles under the speed limit. He wasn’t sure if that was normal or whether she was trying to delay the conversation with her children.

Three minutes later, a half mile out of the city limits, Summer put on her left turn signal. She pulled into a long lane that led up to a sprawling brick ranch with a side-load garage with the door up. There was no car.

There was probably an acre of yard and several different gardens that were bare now but would likely be lush with flowers in the spring and summer.

“Sure she’s home?” he asked, once he joined Summer at her van.

“Yeah. Her car is in the shop. I’m going to take her to pick it up.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s too big for Trish, but it’s the house that she and Rafe bought together. I don’t think she can let go of it yet.”

A big German shepherd raced around the corner of the house. He stopped short with a low growl when he saw Bray.

The front door of the house opened and Trish stepped outside. Bray would have recognized her anywhere. She still wore her red hair to her waist, as both she and Summer had done in high school.

“Duke,” she called. “Settle down. He’s a friend.” She came off the porch and hugged Bray.

The dog stopped growling, but he looked at Bray with serious black eyes. Bray was confident that if he made one wrong move toward Trish or Summer, the dog would rip him apart.

“It’s good to see you,” Trish said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said simply. But because there was no need to dwell on the past, he didn’t. “Nice dog,” he said. “I hope,” he added with a wink.

Trish smiled. “Don’t worry about Duke. He was a stray, just showed up one day. But from the minute I took him in, he’s been devoted to me. He was super easy to train. Summer’s kids adore him.”

“How were they?” Summer asked.

“Adie talked nonstop and I got a couple full sentences from Keagan, so I think, overall, it was a pretty great day.”

“Good,” Summer said.

Trish stared at her sister. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the café?”

Bray wasn’t surprised. Trish and Summer had always been in tune with each other. There really was truth to the notion that twins were able to sense things about each other.

“Something weird is going on,” Summer said.

Trish said nothing, but Bray could see by the set of her jaw that she was preparing herself for bad news. This was a woman who’d had a few blows already in her life.

“Chief Poole came to see me today. Gary didn’t show up for work. And when Daniel Stone went to his house, there were signs that he abruptly left, and a small amount of blood was found at the scene.”

“Oh my,” Trish said. “Weird and very creepy.” She looked over her shoulder as if to verify that the kids were still inside. “I guess it’s good that he thought to tell you.”

“He was questioning me. I’m a suspect,” Summer said.

Trish sucked in a breath. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, senseless—”

“Stop,” Summer said.

Bray wanted to smile. In addition to being able to practically read each other’s minds, these two were fiercely protective of each other. He remembered getting his car egged by Trish when she’d seen him with another woman once, not realizing it was a friend of the family he’d picked up from the airport.

“Chief Poole said he might need to talk to the kids. I can’t let them get surprised by this.”

“Of course not.” She turned and took a step toward the house. Then stopped. “What do you think happened to Gary?”

“I have no idea. He’s been even more moody than normal lately. But this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in Ravesville. I’m scared.”

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“I did. Goes right to voice mail.”

“He’s done this before,” Trish said.

“I told Chief Poole that. But this seems different.” Summer squared her shoulders. “But I swear to you, if he’s somewhere warmer, with a fishing line in the water, I’m going to strangle him with it.”

Trish smiled. “I hope you didn’t mention that to Chief Poole.”

“No. But he probably knows enough about our situation that he wouldn’t be surprised.”

Trish opened her front door and motioned for Summer and Bray to enter first. She followed them in, with the dog close to her side.

“Hey, guys,” Summer said. “Mom’s here.”

Again, Adie came running around the corner. Bray wondered if the little girl ever walked anywhere. She stopped fast, almost pitching forward, when she saw Bray. “You came back,” she said.

He smiled at her. “I did. Remember my name?”

“Bray-Neigh,” she said.

“Close enough,” he said.

Summer stuck her head around the corner. “Keagan, can I see you for a minute?”

The kid ambled into the kitchen. He wore pajama pants and a faded green T-shirt. “Yeah,” he said, ignoring Bray.

“Come here,” Summer said to her children. She led them over to the kitchen table and she sat down. She pointed for them to take chairs. “I have something to tell you,” she said. “I don’t want you to be worried or scared. I do want you to understand what’s happened.”

“What, Mama?” Adie asked.

“This is about your dad. He was expected at work this morning and he didn’t show up. Chief Poole is concerned about that.”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off,” Keagan said.

“He’s not at the house,” Summer said. “Do either of you know anything about where your dad may have gone? Did he say anything to you yesterday?”

“He said, ‘’Bye, Adie,’” the little girl said.

Summer leaned forward and gave her little girl a hug. She looked over Adie’s shoulder at her oldest child. “Keagan?”

“He was mad that you weren’t there,” Keagan said. “Nothing too odd about that.”

Bray could tell that it pained Summer to hear her child so coldly remark upon the relationship she had with her ex.

“It’s possible,” she said, “that Chief Poole might want to talk to you about your dad. All you need to do is tell the truth. Whatever it is, just tell the truth.”

“Did something bad happen to Dad?” Keagan asked.

“I don’t know,” Summer said honestly. “But what I do know is that a lot of good people are concerned about him and doing their very best to find him. I think they will. I do.”

Keagan looked at Bray for the first time. “I think it’s strange that something happens to my dad the same day you show up.”

Bray didn’t take offense. In fact, he gave the kid some credit. Hearing that his dad was MIA but still being able to piece together information told him the teen was probably a good thinker.

“Keagan,” Summer said, censure in her tone.

Bray waved it away. “I’m a federal agent, Keagan. In New York City. I arrest drug dealers. I’m good at following clues. And I’m going to do everything I can to find your dad.”

“Why? You don’t even know him.”

“You’re right. But I’ve known your mom for a really long time and I’m doing it to help her.”

“Whatever,” Keagan said. He looked at his mother. “Now what?”

“Now we go on about our lives,” she said. “We don’t know that something bad has happened to your dad. Everything may be just fine and there’s a good explanation for why we can’t find him. I don’t want you to worry. In fact,” she said, looking at Trish, “we have to take Aunt Trish to pick up her car in Hamerton. After that, we can swing by the mall. We need to pick up a few things for Chase and Raney’s wedding reception, and I thought we might have dinner at Capaghetti’s.”

“Spaghetti at Capaghetti’s,” Adie said in a singsong voice. “And garlic bread. Is Bray-Neigh coming, too?”

Summer looked at him. “Not today, sweetheart,” Summer said. “Mr. Hollister is in town to see his family. I’m sure he’s anxious to get back to them,” she added, definitely letting him know that he wasn’t welcome on their little excursion.

Summer’s pushing him away was a familiar pain. Trish was frowning at her twin. He understood. It had been the same way fifteen years before, when he’d come back to Ravesville only to learn that Summer had married Gary Blake. When Summer had refused to give him any reasonable explanation, he’d gone to Trish.

“I don’t get it,” she’d said. “I love you, Bray. You know I do. But she’s my sister.”

He’d left quietly fifteen years ago. He could do it again. He stood up. “Nice to see you again, Trish,” he said.

“You, too,” she whispered.

He looked at Summer. “Be careful.”

“Go get your things, kids” was all she said.