It’s a dream come true...if only she’ll say yes

He doesn’t believe in love, but Detective Bran Murphy does want a wife and family, which seem unattainable when his fiancée breaks it off. Drowning his sorrows the night before what was supposed to be the big day, he finds comfort in Lina Jurick, a woman with a sad story of her own. And then, inexplicably, she disappears without a word the next morning.

It’s a good half a year before Bran runs into Lina again, during a murder investigation. Lina is the key witness. In fact, she’s the only witness, and she becomes the killer’s next target.

She’s also six months pregnant.

The look she gave him held such misery.

“Oh, hell, Lina,” he said and rose, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. For a moment she stood stiff. He was about to release her when she made a muffled sound, leaned on him and seemed to go boneless. They stood like that for a long time. Inhaling her scent, he cradled the back of her head with one hand while he held her up with his other arm.

The hard mound of her belly felt odd wedged between them. It was like a purse or a—no, not a basketball—a soccer ball. Maybe one of those kid-sized ones. Then he had the dazed thought that what he felt between them wasn’t kid-sized—it was a kid. A whole, complete person in the making.

The fact that this particular baby might be his was something he couldn’t let himself think about, not yet.

Dear Reader,

As you may have noticed by now, I have a thing about men who have trouble admitting to the softer emotions. Of course, many of my heroes are cops, who have to be tough guys. How else can they protect themselves from the awful things they see every day? But honestly, as with so many of the themes I come back to over and over, I suspect this one has to do with my own family and childhood.

I remember meeting my paternal grandfather, who was probably a good man but was cold enough to make you shiver. I’m willing to bet that man never in his life told a woman he loved her, never mind his two sons. Dad grew up in the Depression in the worst of poverty, his mother an invalid, his father trying to keep them together. Result: a man who cared deeply, but had a really hard time issuing compliments or saying such simple words as I love you. Dad has been gone for fifteen years now, but I still sometimes think I hear his truck coming down the hill to my house. He’d show up, mow my lawn or clean my gutters, and leave, sometimes even without stopping in the house to say hi. But I always knew that was love in action.

My heroine in this book, Lina Jurick, was betrayed by a man once and doesn’t know how to trust Bran Murphy, emotionally remote. I hope you enjoy their struggle—his to accept what he feels and articulate it, hers to understand that love can be expressed in many ways.

Janice Kay Johnson

The Baby He Wanted
Janice Kay Johnson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

An author of more than ninety books for children and adults, JANICE KAY JOHNSON writes about love and family—about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. An eight-time finalist for a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, she won a RITA® Award in 2008 for her Harlequin Superromance novel Snowbound. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small town north of Seattle, Washington.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

COMPANY OF ANY kind wasn’t on Bran Murphy’s mind when he walked into the tavern. His plan was to find a stool at the bar well away from anyone else.

But there she was, sitting alone, with hair the color of dark honey laced with sunbeams flowing in waves down her back.

He let his gaze pause on her only briefly before he scanned the entire room. As with most cops, looking for trouble had become automatic. He didn’t spot any tonight. A local country band played a ballad and three couples shuffled on the small dance floor. A crowd hooted and called good-natured insults around the pool tables. People seemed to be having a good time.

He locked onto her.

She’d chosen to sit at one end of the bar, six stools separating her from the closest patron, a man hunched morosely over his drink. Completely still, she looked even more alone than the physical distance suggested. Her head was bent and she seemed to be gazing into her drink as if the glass held tea leaves that would reveal arcane secrets.

Nothing about her suggested that she sought companionship. Giving in to impulse for the second time tonight, Bran took the stool only one away from hers anyway.

She glanced his way, giving him a glimpse of a perfect oval face and gray-green eyes filled with grief or anger, he couldn’t be sure. Then she went back to pondering the mixed drink she hadn’t touched.

“Are you all right?” he asked, even though he hadn’t walked in here with any intention of being sociable, either. In fact, he didn’t know why he was here. He should have stopped at the store for a bottle of whiskey or a couple of six-packs of dark beer and gotten stinking drunk in the privacy of his apartment. But the first impulse of the evening, a sudden one, had made him turn into the tavern parking lot instead.

Hell, maybe this was smarter. He wouldn’t let himself get so drunk he couldn’t drive home, which meant he wouldn’t feel quite so shitty come morning.

On his wedding day.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you mean,” the blonde said, softly enough he had to lean toward her to hear.

Bran signaled the bartender, ordering a pitcher instead of the whiskey he’d intended.

Looked like he had something in common with the blonde. Sure as hell, neither of them was here to celebrate.

He nodded his thanks for the pitcher and poured himself a glass, then took a swallow.

“You want to talk about it?”

She gave that some thought before answering. “No.” This time she studied him. “If you’re planning to hit on me, you’re wasting your time.”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind,” he told her, although that wasn’t entirely true. No, it hadn’t, but it would have eventually, and now that the subject had been introduced, his mind stuck on it.

“Oh. Okay,” she said.

Damn, she was beautiful. Her tan was more pale gold than brown, her nose small, her mouth pretty... Skinny jeans molded to slim legs that he thought might prove to be reasonably long. Well-rounded hips and generous breasts suggested she had a genuine hourglass figure. Bran liked curves.

Paige hadn’t had many of those.

She went to the gym almost daily, determined to pare every hint of extra flesh from her body. As the wedding approached, she’d become fanatical about her diet and exercise, striving for some notion of perfection that wasn’t his. He’d given up reasoning with her. In fact, he hadn’t had much chance, since wedding preparations made her even more unavailable than she’d already been.

Paige wasn’t here. A beautiful blonde was.

As he watched, she finally picked up her glass and guzzled what looked like a mixed drink as if it was water and she was parched. A shudder went through her before she plunked the glass down on the polished bar.

The bartender, a balding guy in his forties, appeared. “You want another one? Whiskey sour, right?”

“Yes, please.”

Her choice suggested she wasn’t much of a drinker.

Bran was on his second glass when the band began another ballad. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dance floor empty.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

The blonde blinked as if she was having trouble bringing him into focus, but her voice sounded clear. “Okay.”

She slid off the bar stool and into his arms as if she belonged there. She might be five foot six, he guessed, which made his shoulder a perfect resting place for her head.

He barely moved his feet. Mostly, they swayed. He didn’t press her as close as he would have liked, figuring it wouldn’t be gentlemanly, given that he had a serious hard-on. Bran closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her head, inhaling a familiar scent that threw him back a lot of years. Mint.

A patch of the plant had grown beside the back steps of his childhood home. Even brushing the leaves was enough to awaken the fragrance. His mom used to make a sweetened drink with orange and lemon juice, orange peels and mint leaves pulled from that plant.

Until this moment, he’d forgotten all about that drink and how much he loved it. Twenty-five years was a long time.

He nuzzled the honey-colored hair, as smooth and luxuriously textured as heavy satin. The woman in his arms moved her head a little, as if she was rubbing her cheek against him. She gave a small sigh that shot straight to his groin.

The last notes of the song died, but neither of them moved for a minute. Finally, reluctantly, he released her. Her hands slid down his chest and she stepped back, shy.

Back on their bar stools, he said, “I’m Bran. Short for Brandon.” He held out a hand.

She slowly extended her much smaller, fine-boned hand. “Lina. Short for Alina.”

“Lina.” He liked that. “Well, Lina, what do you usually do for fun?”

She crinkled her nose. “Not this. Um... I’m a huge reader. Movies are fine, but usually I’d rather read.”

He smiled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” She brightened, her expression almost...hopeful.

He felt strange for a minute, as if his heart had contracted, briefly depriving him of oxygen. His voice came out husky when he said, “Really. A lot of nonfiction. Mysteries and thrillers, anything random that grabs me.”

She liked mysteries, too. They compared authors, then argued about a few books one of them had loved and the other hated. She suggested an author he hadn’t tried, and he did the same. Eventually, they segued to movies, then music. She swam laps three or four times a week at the high school pool, she told him, and admitted to having been on a youth team and her high school team.

She made a face. “I’m not built to be fast, though.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, and his blood headed south again. As far as he could see, she was built just right.

They slow danced a couple more times. Lina didn’t seem any more interested in line dancing than he did.

She had a couple more drinks. He finished his pitcher but figured he was still—barely—safe to drive, given how long he’d been working on it.

When the bartender came to offer her another refill, Bran shook his head. Lina scowled at him. “Why’d you do that?”

“Honey, you’re sloshed.”

“I’m not your honey.” She slipped off the stool and wobbled, grabbing it to restore her balance. “Not anyone’s honey.”

He was glad to hear that. “You planning to drive home?”

“Don’t know.”

“You’re not.” He took out his wallet and tossed down enough bills to cover both their drinks. “I can call you a taxi, or drive you home.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How come you’re not shlosh...sloshed, too?”

“I’m bigger than you. I can drink more without getting hit as hard.” When he stood, his head swam, but his balance was okay. He wrapped an arm around her, gratified when hers slipped around his waist and she leaned into him.

“’Kay,” she murmured.

They stepped outside into a too-warm June night. A slap of cold air would have felt good. Bran looked around the now-crowded parking lot in perplexity, unable to remember where he had left his Camaro.

He had keys, he knew he did. He patted his pocket. There they were. Just no car.

The neon sign right across the road from the tavern drew his eye. Motel. Vacancy. The “No” part was turned off. As lodging went, it was pretty basic, but decent as far as he knew. It wasn’t on the sheriff’s department radar for drug dealing or prostitution, at least.

“We should get a room,” he decided.

“No hitting on me. You said.”

“I changed my mind,” he admitted. “But if you just want to sleep, that’s what we’ll do.”

“I changed my mind, too,” she confided in a small, husky voice.

Rocketed to full arousal that easily, he steered her across the road into the motel office, where a bored kid who looked to be barely of legal age swiped Bran’s credit card and asked for a signature.

Bran took the key—yes, a real key—as well as the card with their room number on it and collected Lina from the chair where he’d parked her.

The flight of outside stairs was a challenge, but they made it, Lina giggling as he tried to jam the key in the lock. Hell, he was drunk. Sloshed. Plowed. It worried him that she was, too. Did this qualify as taking advantage of her?

The key finally turned and he pushed the door open. He all but fell in. Lina giggled again.

Oh, yeah, she was drunk.

She closed the door behind them and flipped a switch that turned on lamps on each side of the queen-size bed. Bran stood, doing battle with his conscience.

“Will you kiss me?” Lina asked timidly.

He cleared his throat. “I’d like to kiss you. But Lina... Are you going to be sorry in the morning?”

He waited, suspended in fear that she’d come to her senses now. Of course she would. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. But, God, he hoped she wouldn’t change her mind.

Little worried lines formed on her forehead as she scrutinized his face. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

“No!” He framed her face in hands that shook with an unfamiliar tremor. “Never.” He hesitated. “I’m a cop, Lina.”

“Oh.” She nibbled uncertainly on her lower lip as her eyes continued to search his. “Do you have, um, you know? A condom? Because I don’t. And I’m not on anything.”

“I do. I have a couple in my wallet.”

Paige had refused to go on the pill or a birth control patch until after the wedding. Didn’t he know how all those hormones made women gain weight? No way was she messing with her body right now! Bran had really hated the necessity of wearing a condom, but right this minute, he didn’t want to think about how he’d have felt if he hadn’t had one.

Lina laid a hand on his shoulder and rose onto tiptoe. “Then I won’t be sorry,” she murmured, and brushed her mouth over his.

The kiss exploded. He drove his fingers into that mass of silky hair, tilting her head until he found the perfect angle. Her arms came around his neck and he closed one hand over her bottom, lifting and pressing her against him. That fast, his hips rocked. He had to have her now.

Their clothes flew. T-shirts first, which caused her to start kissing and stroking his chest. Desperate, he found the catch on her bra and released the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. He propelled her backward until she came up against the bed, then lifted her and laid her down, his mouth capturing a nipple before her back hit the mattress. He licked and teased until she gripped his head and repeated, “Please, please, please.” And then he suckled. The little noises she made had him groaning and pulling back.

He told her how beautiful she was while he yanked off her boots and peeled tiny panties and stretchy jeans off her curvaceous hips and down those long legs.

For a second, one knee planted on the bed between her thighs, Bran stopped just to look. He had never even imagined a woman as sexy as this one. Her body was both delicate and voluptuous, her lips puffy from his kisses, her eyes heavy-lidded. And then there was that richly colored hair, masses of it spread across the bedspread. The disconcerting idea struck him that she also looked vulnerable. If she hadn’t been drunk, she’d be grabbing for something to cover herself.

He reared back to kick off his shoes and unbutton his jeans. Lucky he’d gone into the tavern unarmed, rare for him. His gun was locked in a safe beneath the driver’s seat of his Camaro. A tavern parking lot wasn’t the best place to leave an expensively restored vintage sports car...but damn...he’d never wanted anything in his life the way he did this woman.

His jeans fit so tightly at the moment, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser top before he cautiously unzipped. Jeans and boxers gone, he pulled out the couple condoms from the wallet, tossing one packet onto the bedside table and ripping open the second one. His hands were still shaking. He lifted his gaze to see that she had risen up onto her elbows and was staring with an expression that did amazing things to his ego. A blush rose on her cheeks even as her tongue came out to touch her lips.

He got the condom on and crawled forward until he could kiss her again, voraciously this time. He bypassed her glorious breasts and splayed a hand on her belly, circling until his fingers encountered the nest of curls the same honey shade as her hair and just as silky.

She was already so wet, his finger slid between her folds and right into her. She cried out and grabbed his arms.

“Now. Please, now.”

He stroked her for another few seconds, the limit of his self-control, before he spread her thighs and thrust deep.

She looked at him in astonishment and whispered, “Oh,” after which her eyes closed and she tipped her head back.

Considerate was beyond him. Bran couldn’t have gone slow if he’d had a gun to his head. He set a hard, fast rhythm that she matched, clutching at him as her hips rose and fell. He couldn’t have stopped the orgasm that lifted him like a monster wave and swept him forward, either. But she cried out at the same time, her tiny convulsions part of the staggering pleasure.

* * *

THEY MADE LOVE twice more. In the middle of the night, Lina had come back from the bathroom to find him awake, waiting for her.

This morning, she’d slid out of an amazing dream to find it had been real. A man’s hard body spooned her. His erection pressed against her butt and his fingers played between her legs.

She groaned and arched convulsively. He gave a low, husky laugh and closed his teeth on the bundle of muscle and nerves that ran between her neck and shoulder. Then he lifted her leg and slid into her. It felt...amazing. Unlike the night’s tumultuous lovemaking, this time he moved lazily, teasing her by not going as deep as she craved. His fingers circled and pressed until she heard her own small, broken cries.

Suddenly, he groaned, half lifted her to her knees, and drove hard and fast. She came by the third stroke, taking him with her.

They both collapsed. After a moment, he groaned.

“Now, that’s how I like to wake up.”

Lina hadn’t known it was possible to wake up to anything like that. “It was...really good.” She wasn’t even sure she was 100 percent awake. An awareness that she felt queasy suggested she was. Nothing like a hangover to ground her.

“I need a shower,” he said, kissed her nape and pushed himself out of bed.

She heard him gathering his clothes from the floor, but didn’t roll over. She hadn’t even seen his face yet this morning. Lina closed her eyes, glad at least that she could picture him. Big, solid, broad-shouldered. His dark auburn hair had been disheveled. Her fingers remembered how silky that hair was. His face was all male, but too rough-hewn to be handsome. It was his bright blue eyes, sharp, that had captivated her. Now she wondered what he’d seen when he looked at her. Had he known from the beginning that she could be coaxed into bed?

She moaned. God, what had she done? How stupid was this, getting drunk and checking into a cheap motel for a one-night stand with a guy she’d met at a tavern? A guy whose last name she didn’t even know?

Really, really stupid, that’s what.

Worse yet, she couldn’t help wondering if she had half intended to do just this. Why else had she gone to the tavern? She could have gotten drunk at home.

The shower came on. Lina rolled to her back and covered her eyes with her hands. She had to have been desperate for confirmation that she was an attractive woman. There was no other explanation for her idiocy. Finding out that David had cheated on her had damaged her self-esteem as much as her heart.

The divorce had been finalized in December.

Merry Christmas to me.

She would have said she was over him until she was hit by yesterday’s nugget of news about David and his new wife. Now she couldn’t even kid herself that he’d ever loved her.

Still...sex with a stranger in a seedy motel room?

He hadn’t felt like a stranger by the time he kissed her. He’d felt like a guy she had really liked. They had things in common. He seemed...decent. Not to mention sexy. He’d given her an out, and she believed he’d have accepted a no if she’d said it.

A funny sensation blossomed in her chest, pushing out the shame. Hope? Yes, hope. Maybe he’d really liked her, too. Maybe this wasn’t as sleazy as it seemed.

Please, God, she thought.

Deciding she needed to be dressed when he reappeared, Lina slipped out of bed and saw that he’d laid her clothes neatly on the dresser as he picked up his own. Which meant he was considerate, too.

Her first clue that she’d screwed up majorly was the icky feeling that she was leaking between her legs. Something was running down the inside of her thighs.

Panic squeezed her. Oh, God. He’d used a condom the first two times they’d...not made love...had sex. But not this morning. She had the awful memory of him tossing a single packet on the bedside stand while tearing open the other one.

He hadn’t had three.

“That bastard.”

Lina calculated quickly. It was late enough in the month, she should be safe—unless he took strange women he picked up in bars to motels on a regular basis and didn’t use condoms.

Her chest felt horribly tight and she was all but panting for breath. Get dressed. That was what she had to do next.

In the act of reaching for her clothes, she saw everything he’d left on the dresser top. A wallet, a set of car keys, a Harris County Sheriff’s Department badge and a square piece of heavy vellum paper with a crease suggesting he’d folded it to jam it in a pocket. An invitation. Her heart hammered sickeningly as she looked down at it.

Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Collins

Request the honor of your presence

At the marriage of their daughter

Paige Marie

To

Brandon Murphy

Saturday, June 23, at 3:00 p.m.

Lina got stuck on the date. She read it over and over.

Today. He was getting married today.

Forget the bachelor party. He’d decided to have a last fling, and she had obliged him.

The shower turned off.

Shaking, panicked, desperate, she yanked on her clothes, not bothering to take the time to put on her bra. She had to be gone before he came out of the bathroom. Her car key was still with the money she’d brought in the pocket of her jeans. The realization that he must have paid for her drinks flitted into her head. And why wouldn’t he have? It was still cheap sex.

She opened and closed the door as quietly as she could, trying to step lightly on the stairs. At the bottom, she took off at a run, barely pausing to check for traffic before tearing across the road. There were only three cars left in the gravel parking lot: hers, a beaten-up pickup truck and a glossy black Camaro. His, of course, she thought bitterly.

Gasping for breath, Lina unlocked the driver’s door of her car and jumped in. She could see the motel in her rearview mirror. The door to their room remained closed. Either he was still in the bathroom, or he was relieved she was gone.

He was likely relieved.

When she pulled onto the road, gravel spit out from beneath her tires.

* * *

BRAN SAW THAT the room was empty the instant he opened the bathroom door. His first reaction was shock. Then he swore viciously. How could he be so freaking stupid as to leave his wallet and car keys out here?

Both were still there, at least, his badge beside them. Man, that would have been embarrassing if she’d taken it. Losing his driver’s license would be a royal pain, too. He flipped open the wallet, relieved at the sight of not only the driver’s license, but also his debit and two credit cards. A little cash was a small price to pay...

But it was there, too. He flipped through the bills, counted. Seemed about right. Had she not even picked up his wallet?

No, of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t that kind of woman. Of course she wasn’t.

Shit, he thought, she did regret the night. The best sex of his life, and she’d run from him, ashamed. And it was his own damn fault. He’d known she didn’t do things like this, that she was drunk and not thinking straight. What had he expected? That she’d be hanging around, wanting to flirt and talk about when they’d see each other again?

He’d find her...

Yeah, and how was he going to do that? Blonde woman, twenty-five to thirty-five years old, approximately five foot six. The tiny mole he’d seen on her shoulder? Only helpful for identification if she was found dead. For all he knew, she wasn’t even from around here. If she was? Alina wasn’t a common name...but he had no idea what her last name was, or what she drove. Where she worked, or what she did for a living.

He swore and leaped for the door, but wasn’t surprised to discover he was too late. His Camaro sat out in front of the tavern, alone except for a rusting pickup he couldn’t in a million years imagine her driving.

While he’d stood here counting bills, she’d made her getaway. Bran groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

Maybe...she’d find him. If she’d even looked at his badge or opened his wallet, she had one up on him. She knew his last name and where he worked.

That was followed by the cold realization that if she didn’t come looking, it meant she didn’t want to be found, either.

And he had to honor that.

Pocketing the badge and wallet, he glanced down and saw the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the dresser. The maid could pick it up. Bran dropped a ten-dollar bill on the dresser, then walked out, feeling a couple decades older than he had a few days ago.

CHAPTER TWO

WITH ONLY A week to go until Christmas, Lina Jurick felt exceptionally unfestive. Her parents weren’t very happy that she wasn’t flying home for the holidays, but pretending to be joyous was beyond her.

It wasn’t like she was hiding anything from them. Well, not hiding very much anyway. Once she’d made the decision to carry the baby to term, she’d told them she was pregnant. The only part she’d refused to talk about was the identity of the father. She didn’t want to think about Bran “short for Brandon” Murphy, who might or might not be married.

After she’d fled, it had occurred to her that he could have gone to the tavern for the same reason she had: he was bummed. Say, because his wedding had been canceled.

That idea was slightly more palatable than the alternative, that she was a last hurrah. But not a whole lot. If his bride-to-be had stood him up right before the wedding, what did that make her, Lina? Some kind of hey-she’s-available fill-in? All cats were gray in the dark, right? And in the morning, when it wasn’t dark anymore, he’d had her from behind and never had to look at her face. If he hadn’t gotten any sex on what should have been his wedding night, he’d certainly had plenty the night before.

Occasionally she let herself wonder if it had occurred to him he hadn’t used a condom that last time. But, really, what difference did it make whether he’d just forgotten or made the decision to wake up the way he liked even though he couldn’t protect her? The result was the same.

At least the morning sickness phase was long past. These days, all she had to combat was exhaustion. She needed to go to bed way earlier than normal if she was going to feel anything close to human when her alarm clock went off in the mornings. And, just her luck, middle school kids rode the same buses as high school kids, tying them to a similar schedule. No, worse: her first class was at the obscene hour of seven thirty. High school teachers were able to sleep in ten minutes later.

Today, she should count her blessings. With two weeks off for the holidays, she could sleep as much as she wanted. Catch up on sleep. Store it. If she could think of anything fun to do, she was free for that, too. Wild and crazy? Not a chance. She’d used up her quota the night she got pregnant.

She could take a nap after lunch, then go for a swim later.

A nap and exercise. As a way to spend her first day of vacation, it was such a thriller, even she was depressed. Maybe Maya could get away to have lunch with her.

Maya answered her call, muted the phone for a minute and came back to say, “Yes, please.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Floyd is driving me nuts. Must get out of here.”

Lina changed from her sweats into maternity jeans and a warm sweater with enough stretch to cover her burgeoning belly and put on boots because they zipped and were less work than bending over to tie laces.

Her mood lifted during the short drive to the bank branch where Maya worked as a loan officer. Once she reached it, she idled briefly out front. Mr. Floyd, the branch manager, discouraged the use of the parking lot for friends and family. If she’d been absolutely determined, she could have squeezed her Kia into a minuscule spot behind a van, but she made a face and decided to skip it. Parking on the cross street made sense anyway; she could pick up a couple of things at the Walgreens on the other corner once she and Maya were back from lunch.

She locked up and walked past the drive-through and the ATM to the front doors, but when she tried to open one, she couldn’t. They were locked. What on earth—

Belatedly, she focused on the printed sign plastered to the glass: “Temporarily Closed—Computer Network Issues. We Regret the Inconvenience.”

How strange. Maya hadn’t said anything, so whatever it was must have just happened. Lina peered in and couldn’t see a soul, teller or customer, which wasn’t a big shock since this bank had a conference room to the right just inside and restrooms to the left. The only other windows looked in at the currently empty conference room. Past the short hallway, a second set of doors led into the bank proper, and what view she would otherwise have had was partially blocked by one of those standing height desks where you could write a check or fill out a deposit slip before getting in line. From this angle, she could only see one teller window, with no one behind it.

Presumably, IT people were working frantically. Maybe everyone else was gratefully having a cup of coffee, or Mr. Floyd had decided to hold an impromptu staff meeting to be sure nobody was allowed to waste time. Sounded like him.

Still, Maya was entitled to her lunch break. She would surely have called or at least texted to say she was delayed. And, would they really lock the doors instead of letting customers come in for an explanation of the problem?

As Lina backed away from the doors, pondering, she took out her phone. No messages, no texts.

Darn it, people had to be inside. Driving past the parking lot, she’d noticed Mr. Floyd’s dark gray BMW in its place of honor as well as a couple of other cars. Although those might belong to the IT people rather than customers.

Call Maya, she decided.

But her friend didn’t answer her cell phone. Lina didn’t leave a message.

Increasingly uneasy, she tried to decide what to do. She could wait in her car for a few minutes and then try again. Go to Walgreens and assume Maya would call when she was ready to leave. But the weirdness of this had her alarmed.

The back door was not only always kept locked, it was also steel and windowless. The only other place she could really see into the bank was the drive-through window, assuming they hadn’t pulled down the shade. No cars had gone in or come out since she’d arrived. Why couldn’t she use it as a walk-through to bring somebody to talk to her even if only to say, “Yes, we really are closed.”

She went back the way she’d come and circled the corner of the building. Feeling almost as though she ought to be tiptoeing, she approached the double drive-through with the center island. Then she saw the explanation for the lack of traffic: a sandwich board blocked the entrance to the drive-through. She presumed the same sign was tacked to the other side.

Not understanding her trepidation, Lina inched up to the window.

The shades hadn’t been pulled, but she still couldn’t see anyone. Aliens had beamed everyone in the bank up to their spaceship. IT guys had taken employees hostage until they fully understood the hideous mistake someone had made that had frozen up the bank’s computers.

Only...shouldn’t someone be laboring on one of the computers? Unless the problem was off-site, but if that was so, why wasn’t Maya answering her phone and where was everybody?

Lina’s skin prickled. She shifted a few feet to the left and with a rush of relief saw four people standing in a cluster. Mr. Floyd and Maya and two men. Okay, she’d been silly—except...one of the men held a gun to Maya’s temple.

Oh, God, oh, God. This was a bank robbery, happening right in front of her. Without taking her eyes off the scene inside, Lina fumbled for her phone at the bottom of her purse.

The bank manager shook his head. He looked scared but mulish. At the same time, Maya saw Lina with her face pressed to the glass. Her eyes widened, the terror on her face changing to something else.

The next second, her head blew up.

And then the man who’d shot Lina’s best friend turned and saw her.

* * *

LEANING BACK IN his desk chair, Bran unwrapped the sandwich he’d just picked up from the deli. He didn’t love eating at his desk, but he was trying to cram some work in so he could leave early. He had an appointment to talk to a woman who had been a neighbor of his family when he was a kid. She and her husband had lived right across the street when Bran’s little sister, Sheila, was murdered. Apparently Mr. Greaver had died a few years back, but his widow had stayed put. Bran and his brother, Zach, both cops, were trying to get in touch with everyone who’d lived nearby then. Sheila’s killer had never been arrested. Despite having no jurisdiction, they intended to accomplish what the investigators at the time had failed to do.

So far, they’d only hit dead ends, but there’d been something in Mrs. Greaver’s voice when Bran had talked to her yesterday—

The door behind him burst open.

“Murphy,” his lieutenant snapped. “Warring. Where the hell is Warring?”

Bran spun in his desk chair, surprised by the edge in his boss’s usually rock-steady voice. “Break room, to get a drink from the machine. What’s wrong?”

“Armed robbery at Snoqualmie Community Bank. First responders are on the way. I want you and Warring on it. The caller says she saw a loan officer shot in the head. If they’re still in there...”

Bran tossed the sandwich on the desk and jumped to his feet. “How did somebody manage to call out?”

“She didn’t. She couldn’t understand why the doors were locked midday, so she looked in the drive-through window.”

“Where is she now?”

“The Walgreens across the street.”

“We’re on our way.”

He caught Charlie Warring just as he emerged from the break room carrying a can of Pepsi. Seconds later, they jumped into an unmarked sheriff’s car and rocketed out of the parking lot, Charlie still groping for the seat belt as he tried to keep from spilling his drink.

“What the hell?”

Bran told him what he knew. During the drive, they both listened to the chatter on the radio. By the time they screeched to a halt outside the bank, they knew that the robbers had been gone when the first deputies arrived. An ambulance rolled up behind them. Two patrol cars with flashing lights were outside.

Charlie and Bran walked in to find the expected chaos. The uniforms had corralled customers and employees in one area, where two women sobbed and everyone else appeared distraught. One of the deputies saw Bran and jerked his head toward the counter that normally separated tellers from customers.

He stopped at a swinging half door. On the other side, two bodies sprawled on the carpeted floor. It wasn’t instantly obvious how the man in the suit had been killed, although blood soaked the carpet to one side of him. The woman’s body was another story. Blood, brains and bits of bone spattered the wall beyond her. The information had been accurate; no question, somebody had shot her in the head, and from close range.

“Jesus,” Charlie murmured. “I bank here. I think she’s the loan officer. Pretty.”

She wasn’t pretty anymore.

Bran pointed to the pile of cell phones, which suggested the robbers had had some foresight. They’d made sure no one texted out or snapped a photo of them.

Another uniform approached. Despite his attempt at stoicism, he appeared shaken. “My partner and I were the first responders. I hope the lady who called this in saw something, because nobody else did. They all agree that two masked men shoved through the doors yelling and waving guns. Customers and tellers were herded behind the counter and made to sit on the floor, facing the far wall—” he nodded in that direction “—and told to clasp their hands on their heads. They could hear what went on, but didn’t see anything. I didn’t even ask questions, and they started to babble. They tried to be helpful, but they all had different estimates of height, weight, race...” He shook his head. “Don’t think you’ll get a lot of help there.”

“Thanks,” Bran said.

Charlie offered to get things started there while Bran went looking for the witness who’d called 911. Charlie Warring was about Bran’s age. With any other detective in the department, Bran would have refused, but he and Charlie had developed a trust.

“You suppose the lieutenant has already notified the FBI?” Charlie asked.

“Undoubtedly,” Bran said with resignation. He’d never worked with the feds before, but he’d have his chance now. They were all over any bank robbery.

He found the pharmacy doors locked. A man peered at him from a distance away. When Bran held his badge up to the glass, relief appeared on the man’s face and he hurried to let him in. With a nod toward the back, he said, “The lady who saw what happened is with the manager. Should I keep the door locked?”

“No need now. The robbers are long gone. But locking up was smart.”

Bran took a moment to determine that no customers had been present when the witness came tearing in. Then he strode down an aisle and, at the back of the store, found an unlocked door marked “Employees Only.” Past a restroom and what appeared to be a break room was an office. He knocked and identified himself as police.

A woman called, “Come in.”

There were two women inside, one with her back to him, the other behind the desk. She rose to her feet at the sight of him. From the nice suit, he guessed she was the store manager. “I’m Laverne Dailey,” she said.

“Detective Bran Murphy.”

“Are the robbers still in the bank?” she asked.

“No, they were gone by the time the first unit arrived. I can assure you we’ll do everything in our power to identify and arrest them.” He heard the coldness in his voice.

The sight of those bodies had hit him harder than usual, maybe because of the location and the identity of the victims. This wasn’t a domestic, or the fallout from a bar brawl. The dead weren’t drug dealers or gang members. The bank was the kind of business where people expected to be safe. To the best of his knowledge, there’d never been a bank robbery in this county. And bank robbers didn’t usually kill.

“A uniformed officer will be stopping by to ask some questions, just in case an employee noticed activity by the bank.”

During his speech, the woman sitting with her back to him hadn’t turned around. In fact, she hadn’t given any sign she’d even noticed his arrival. She hunched over, her arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. Traumatized, and why wouldn’t she be?

Honey-colored hair was bundled on the back of her head. His gaze fastened on it. Some people’s hair was all one color. Hers had threads of pale gold, brown and red amongst the predominant dark blonde. He bet if he studied it long enough, he’d identify a dozen or more colors that together added up to a gorgeous, heavy mass of hair that...he knew.

No. It couldn’t be.

He grabbed the second chair in front of the desk, pulled it to face hers and sat down. “Miss—”

She looked up and his mouth went dry. The woman who had haunted his dreams for months looked at him with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

“You,” she said flatly.

So she had recognized his voice. Bran let his gaze move over her, and what he saw made his heart stop beating.

She was pregnant. The curve of her belly was unmistakable. Bran wasn’t an expert on pregnancy, but she had to be past the first three months or so, when women didn’t much show. She wasn’t swollen so big he’d worry about her going into labor right now, either. If he had to guess—

Jesus. If he had to guess, he’d put her at five or six months.

Six months ago, almost to the day, he’d made love to her without using a condom. He’d worried about that for a long time, even as remembering what it felt like to have her without the irritating barrier of latex heated his blood.

When he lifted his stunned gaze to her face, he found wariness had joined the grief and myriad of other emotions already there. Bran opened his mouth but had just enough self-control to close it before he said the obvious. Did you plan to tell me? Later, when they were alone, he’d be asking that question. Right now, he had a job to do. And she’d seen something horrific enough, he wasn’t about to kick her when she was down.

“Ms. Dailey, may we borrow your office or the break room?”

The manager understood what he was asking. “Please, stay here,” she said, coming around the desk. “Lina, are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”

“That’s a good idea,” Bran said. “Something with sugar. She’s in shock.”

“I don’t need—” Lina’s brief defiance collapsed. “Thank you. But no caffeine, please.”

Laverne Dailey squeezed her shoulder. “Of course not.”

Lina and Bran sat in silence until the manager returned with a 7Up. Bran cracked it open and handed it to Lina. “Drink. The sugar will steady you.”

After a moment, she nodded. The door closed quietly behind Ms. Dailey.

Lina took a swallow, but her hand was shaking, so he took the can from her and set it on the desk. “I need your full name,” he said, wincing at how stiffly that came out.

He read the desperation in her eyes. “I wasn’t imagining things, was I? Maya is dead.”

“I’m afraid so. Maya...?”

“Lee. She is...she was a loan officer. And my best friend,” she whispered, desolate.

Battling the need to draw her into his arms, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss, and that you had to see something so terrible.”

She sucked in a breath. “Jurick.” She spelled it. “That’s my last name. I’m Alina Jurick.”

“You live locally, I take it.” He couldn’t help the wryness in his tone.

Her eyes slid away before meeting his again. “Yes. I live in Clear Creek and teach at the middle school.”

“What do you teach, Lina?”

“Social studies.”

Bran only vaguely recalled his long-ago middle school classes. Social studies had been a mishmash of history and government, maybe a little anthropology and archaeology thrown in. He’d have liked to ask more, like why she had chosen to work with kids that age, but made himself stay on topic.

“Okay. You came to do some banking.”

She shook her head. “No, Maya and I were going to have lunch. I talked to her about fifteen minutes before I arrived. I parked on the street instead of in the lot, because her boss doesn’t even let employees park there, never mind friends.”

He heard about her perplexity when she found the doors locked in the middle of the day, and resisted asking why the hell she hadn’t called the cops right then.

“It was the sign,” she said.

“Sign?”

“It was taped to one of the doors.” She told him what it said.

“It’s not there anymore. Which means they grabbed it on the way out.”

“I think there was another one at the head of the drive-through. If they were in a hurry, they might have left that one.”

“Good,” he said. “Give me a second.”

Charlie answered immediately and promised to send someone out to check.

Bran returned his phone to his belt.

“It did seem strange,” Lina said. “But...normal strange. You know what I mean? I sort of knew something was wrong. But, um, there’s this feeling of unreality. Who expects something like...” She wobbled to a stop, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Bran lunged out of his chair and grabbed the wastebasket, putting it in front of her. She bent over and retched. When she seemed done, he found tissues on a credenza and gave her a handful, then urged her to sip more of the soda. At some point in there, he’d come to be crouched beside her, rubbing her back.

The look she gave him held such misery, he said, “Oh, hell, Lina,” and rose, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. For a moment she stood stiff. He was about to release her when she made a muffled sound, leaned on him and seemed to go boneless. They stood like that for a long time. Inhaling her scent, he cradled the back of her head with one hand while he held her up with his other arm.

The hard mound of her belly felt odd wedged between them. It was like a purse or a—no, not a basketball—a soccer ball. Maybe one of those kid-size ones. Then he had the dazed thought that what he felt between them wasn’t kid-size—it was a kid. A whole, complete person in the making.

That this particular baby might be his was something he couldn’t let himself think about, not yet.

Once he would have sworn her belly quivered, but probably all of her had.

Finally, she sighed and didn’t so much ease back as collapse onto the chair. “I’m sorry. You must have more important things to do than wait while I freak out. I guess you need to hear what I saw, don’t you?”

“I do, but you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Anybody would have been shaken up.”

He didn’t recall ever being reluctant to push a witness to tell her story like this before. Bran hoped he was a compassionate man, but softer emotions weren’t in his repertoire.

“I couldn’t see anyone else. There had to be tellers in there.”

She didn’t want to ask whether they were dead, too, he guessed.

Bran resumed his seat. “Two tellers, two customers. The robbers made them sit on the floor behind the counter, hands on their heads, facing away from the confrontation you saw. They’re shaken up, but not hurt.”

She gave a jerky nod, then continued, telling him she hadn’t really looked at one of the two men, but she knew he’d worn a ski mask. “So I couldn’t have seen his face anyway. I think he was shorter than the other robber. Mr. Floyd—that’s the bank manager—isn’t tall. Like five foot eight? They were about the same height. He was thin. He had a gun, too.”

This he, Bran supposed, was bank robber number two, not Mr. Floyd. “Was he facing you?”

“No, he was mostly turned away. I think he was threatening Mr. Floyd, who was refusing to do something.” Her beautiful eyes widened. “Mr. Floyd...was he hurt?”

“I don’t have identities yet, but a man was killed as well as your friend.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered. Her knuckles showed white as she wrung her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling helpless. “Saying no to armed men threatening him wasn’t very smart.”

“No.” Lina was quiet for a minute. “Maya didn’t like him. I don’t think any of the employees did. He was really full of himself, and sanctimonious. You know? It would be just like him to think he could stand up to those men because he was important and principled and of course they’d back down.”

In other words, the guy was both a prick and an idiot.

He watched Lina collect herself. “The other one, he had the barrel of his gun pressed to Maya’s temple. She looked so scared.” She swallowed. “Maya saw me.”

“What?”

“I think she kind of jerked and—” Lina did some deep breathing “—he shot her. Her head just...”

Bran covered her writhing hands with one of his. “Try to step back, as if it was a movie and not real. Did the guy pull the trigger because he was startled? Or do you think he’d been ordered to kill her?”

She stared at him, but he could tell she was replaying what she’d seen. “I think Mr. Floyd had been told that if he didn’t cooperate, they’d kill Maya. And he wouldn’t, so they did.”

“That’s what I think, too,” Bran said gently. “Her seeing you had nothing to do with her death.”

“Yes, but—” She gulped. “He shot her and then he turned. He saw me.”

Bran’s blood ran cold.

She shuddered. “And...and I saw him.”

“He wasn’t wearing a mask?”

She shook her head. “Why would he let anyone see his face?” she begged.

He didn’t know. They must have known law enforcement would be watching the robbery within half an hour. Banks all had cameras.

“He couldn’t shoot you through the teller’s window,” Bran said slowly. “They’re bullet-proof.”

“I don’t know if he even came to the window. I ducked, really fast. And then I ran straight across the drive-through lanes and the side street instead of going to my car or...or to the alley to try to hide. In case he burst out the front or back door.”

“That was smart.” He fought to hide the rage and fear that made it hard to breathe. “Lina, did you recognize him?”

She shook her head, but some crinkles formed on her forehead. “Not really, although...he looked sort of familiar. Do you know what I mean?” she appealed to him. “He might just have had an ordinary face, but it’s like, oh, if you see someone out of context and can’t place them. They’re a stranger, but not.”

“Like a grocery checker you notice at the next table when you’re eating out.”

“Exactly like that,” she said gratefully. “But it was such a quick glimpse...”

“If his face doesn’t show up clearly on video, we’ll have you sit down with a police artist. However briefly you saw the man, I’m betting the artist and you can come up with a portrait.”

She looked doubtful, but said, “I’ll try.”

“What worries me is that he saw you, Lina. You’re memorable, not ordinary.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. I had no trouble recognizing you.” If he sounded a little dry, who could blame him?

“Yes, but you and I—” Color rose in her cheeks. “We...”

He knew what they’d done.

“I mean, we spent quite a while together. Talking and...”

Yep. And. They’d done a lot of that, too.

Blushing furiously, she said, “The other people in there must have seen something. And...and they’d have heard what was said.”

“If we get anything useful from those who were in the bank, I’ll worry less about you. From what I heard before I came over here, I’m not optimistic. It’s also possible he’d just pulled the mask off when you saw him.”

She stared at him, stricken. “If he did...that means he was going to kill Maya either way, doesn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so” was the best he could do. The video could be grainy; the guy’s face might be caught at an angle so that distinguishing features weren’t clear. Or no camera had pointed the right way to capture his image at the moment he’d been unmasked. But her friend had had a close look at him.

“Oh, God.” She hugged herself again.

Very aware of the passing minutes, Bran said, “Lina, I have to get back to the bank. You and I need to talk, but we’ll save that for later. I’m only going to ask one thing right now. Is that baby you’re carrying mine?”

She seemed to shrink into herself, making him feel like a bastard, but he had to know. After a minute, her head bobbed. “Yes.”

Damn. It was like seeing someone running out in front of his car, knowing he would never be able to brake in time. His vision had sharpened and time slowed, but his reactions had slowed, too.

He could only nod. “All right.” Really? It was all hunky-dory? No problemo?

Do your job. “Lina, I won’t be able to get away for hours. I don’t want you to go home until we know more, in case the guy did recognize you. Do you have family close by? Or a friend who will let you spend the night if necessary?”

She stared at him. “But... I don’t have anything with me. Except my purse.” Looking more like a satchel, it sat by her feet.

“As soon as I break free, I’ll come get you. Then we’ll figure out what to do. But if you’re the only one who saw his face and this guy by any chance did know you, he can’t afford to let you identify him. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her face so white he was afraid she might keel over. But her back stayed rigid. “Yes. I saw what he’s willing to do.”

Damn. She had.

“Tell me where you’ll be.”

“Let me make a call.” She dug in the bag for her phone, and a moment later was talking to someone. She finished by saying, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Thank you, Isabel.” The call ended. She told him the friend’s name and address.

He took her phone from her and added his number to her contacts, then put hers in his phone. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

They both thanked the manager on the way out. As they crossed the street, Bran said, “I’m going to have you take a look at the parking lot. Do you remember what vehicles were here when you arrived?”

“Yes.” They walked past the bank so she could see the lot. “Those are the same cars that were here then.”

“Okay. Where did your friend park?”

“I noticed it on Maple.” That was the street they’d just crossed. My car is only half a block from hers.”

“Is that why you parked where you did?”

“No, there wasn’t any room in front of the bank.” She saw something on his face. “They didn’t park in the lot, did they?”

“No, they’d have gotten as close to the front door as they could. Preferably blocking any view of the bank from passing traffic.”

“Close to the front...there was a gold Camry. I noticed it because my parents have one like it. And a cargo van. My car is really small, so I could have squeezed in between the van and the Camry, but I’m not very good at parallel parking and it would have been tight.”

“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone relaxed. He didn’t want her to freeze up. “Describe the van to me.”

“It was white, with panels instead of windows along the side. On the back, too, I’m pretty sure. I remember thinking I wouldn’t like having to rely totally on mirrors.”

“Was there a company name on the side or the door? A decal of any kind? A bumper sticker?”

But she was shaking her head. “Nothing. I doubt I’d have noticed a bumper sticker. I mean, I barely glanced at the back of the van when I was thinking of trying to squeeze in behind it.”

“I don’t suppose you noticed the license plate.”

“Not a chance.” She hesitated. “I guess it might have caught my eye if it had been an out-of-state license or a custom one.”

That was his guess, too, given how extraordinarily observant she had proved herself to be.

With a hand on her arm, he nudged her into movement again. “Getting away was the smart thing for you to do. You had no reason to focus on the van.”

Cops clustered outside the bank’s front door. The medical examiner was just going in. Bran nodded at him.

“Which car is yours?” he asked Lina, looking to the cross street.

“The Kia.”

He had her point out her friend’s, too, before asking, “You feel steady enough to drive?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. Anyway, it’s not that far to Isabel’s.”

He insisted on walking her to her peanut of a car and watched as she wedged herself behind the wheel and adjusted and fastened the seat belt. How in hell did women who were eight months pregnant still reach the pedals?

Shaking the thought off, he waited until she had closed the door and then rolled down the window to look up at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Keep an eye out behind you on the way. If any other vehicle seems to be sticking with you, I want you to come right back here. Call me, too. Don’t wait until you get here. Do you understand?”

Lina bit her lip but nodded.

“And call if you remember anything else you think I should know.”

“I will.”

“If it looks like I won’t make it before bedtime, I’ll let you know. This Isabel understands you might have to stay, right?”

“Yes. She teaches at the middle school, too. We’ve gotten to be good friends.”

One hand flat on the roof of her car, Bran looked down at her. “I’d suggest you have a glass of wine, but I guess you can’t do that.”

She actually tried to smile. “Probably one glass wouldn’t hurt anything, but I made a no-alcohol, no-caffeine vow once I realized I was pregnant.”

“You don’t smoke, do you?”

“No. I never have. And I wouldn’t.”

Feeling foolish, he nodded. “I’ll call, Lina.”

Without another word, she pushed a button so her window glided up and put on her turn signal before pulling out onto the street. Afraid she’d get a ticket if she didn’t? No, he thought; Lina Jurick was a law-abiding citizen. A good girl, who had done something very uncharacteristic the night she’d gone to a cheap motel with him.

Standing where he was for longer than he should have, watching until the little Kia turned out of sight three blocks away, he wondered if his promise to call had sounded reassuring to her, or whether she’d taken it as a threat.

He swore under his breath. Would she ever have told him about the baby if they hadn’t come face-to-face? Part of him was scared shitless. And part of him...he didn’t know...and couldn’t take the time to untangle it all.

Bran turned and walked into the bank.

CHAPTER THREE

WAITING WAS REALLY HARD.

After one look at Lina when she first arrived at the Moreno’s house, Isabel sent her two kids to their bedrooms. Then she sat Lina down in the kitchen and insisted she nibble on soda crackers and drink ginger ale while she told the whole, awful story.

Well, she didn’t mention that, to complete the trauma, she had just come face-to-face with the father of her baby. Who happened to be the investigator.

Not even Maya had known who the father was. All Lina would ever say was that it had been a mistake. Admitting that she’d gotten drunk and willingly had repeated sex with a complete stranger in a cheap motel room? No.

Steadier, Lina was able to have a bowl of soup and half a sandwich with Isabel and both kids, who were told only that Lina was waiting for a friend to call. At three and five, they nodded incuriously and chattered away. Predictably, they were excited about Christmas. Their tree was up in the living room, but without gifts under it.

“Carmen might be able to keep her hands off them,” Isabel said, once the children had trotted off to the living room to watch a Disney movie on DVD, “but Ricky never could. They’ve both been hyper from the minute I left work Tuesday.”

Of course, the women’s conversation reverted quickly to the horrific scene at the bank. Isabel had met Maya through Lina and had to deal with her own shock.

“In Clear Creek!” she kept exclaiming.

Lina felt the same. She read in the newspaper about things like this happening, but it never did in this small, rural county. Except now she wondered if she hadn’t been naive. Crimes of some kind must occupy Bran and all those other cops she’d seen swarming the bank.

Eventually she wound down as if her battery was failing. She had to ask if there was someplace she could nap. She was afraid she’d have had to lay her cheek on the table and sleep right there otherwise.

Once alone, exhaustion claimed her before she could shatter. It was as if her body had to shut down.

Hours later, she woke up disoriented. Night had somehow fallen. She’d have been completely in the dark if not for a night-light glowing softly on the dresser.

She was in Carmen’s room, Lina remembered. Posters, wallpaper border and curtains all featured horses. Five-year-old Carmen had told her earnestly that she wanted to grow up to be a horsie rancher and a ballerina. She was dainty enough to be a ballerina, but admitted to having been on a pony only twice. Mama and Papa—she had looked daggers at her mother—wouldn’t buy her a horse.

Lina stumbled to the bathroom across the hall where she washed her face and brushed and braided her hair. For a minute, she stared unseeingly into the mirror.

Oh, dear God. Maya. She wanted it to have been a nightmare, but knew better.

From the smells, Isabel must be cooking. Lina felt queasy, as if the morning sickness had reappeared.

Isabel looked her over anxiously when she appeared in the kitchen. “You look better. Would you like a pop? Or juice?”

That might help. Lina poured herself a glass of cranberry juice and sat down. “I’m being useless. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t have let you help,” her friend said. She nodded toward the bag Lina had plopped at her feet. “You should call the detective. He called me because you weren’t answering. I think you scared him.”

“I didn’t hear it ring.” Lina checked her phone. He’d tried her four times and left two messages. Listening to them, she realized Isabel was right; he did sound worried.

He answered on the first ring.

“I’m sorry,” she said before he could say anything but her name. “I took a nap. I must have really conked out.”

“So Isabel said. She checked on you for me.”

“She did?”

“I’m winding things up here. Why don’t I come over? I can update you on what we’ve learned, and then I think you can safely go home.”

“Oh, thank goodness! Does that mean the camera was pointing at him?”

“Not exactly. I’ll explain when I get there.”

Either somebody was within earshot or he was determined to sit down face-to-face with her.

Or it wasn’t really the bank robbery and Maya he wanted to talk about. He wouldn’t confront her about the pregnancy here, with Isabel and maybe Eduardo or the kids within earshot, would he?

If not, he’d want to follow her home. There’d be no escaping the conversation she dreaded.

The one we have to have, she reminded herself. She’d always known she would have to tell him about the baby and give him the chance to be involved in her life. She just...kept putting it off.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll wait until you get here.”

“Ten minutes,” he promised, and was gone.

He hadn’t asked for directions, but she supposed he could find any place, even if it was within the city limits and therefore not in his jurisdiction, which was unincorporated county.

Predictably, Isabel insisted they should at least stay for dinner. She’d made plenty. Lina thanked her, but said, “Detective Murphy is a police officer. He feels obligated to tell me some of what they’ve learned, but after that he’d probably like to just get home.”

“But it will be ready—” Isabel laughed and shook her head. “I have this ridiculous need to feed people. I’m turning into my mother. Ignore me.”

Laughing for the first time in many hours, Lina hugged her petite, dark-haired friend. “If you’re turning into your mother, it can’t be such a bad thing. And if you mean it about dinner, I’ll ask Bran—I mean, Detective Murphy—when he gets here.”

Isabel’s eyes sharpened at Lina’s slip, but she didn’t comment on it. “Either way is fine.”

Bran had been more than kind today, but the closest thing to real emotion she’d seen on his face was the shock when he recognized her...and saw that she was pregnant. Otherwise, he’d been guarded, even remote. She couldn’t imagine him wanting to sit down with a cheerful family to share their dinner.

When the doorbell rang, she let him in, feeling an immediate punch of awareness. He wouldn’t have to say a word or do anything to dominate any gathering. He did that with just his physical presence and those piercing blue eyes that took in everything.

“Why don’t you come in and meet my friend?” Lina suggested.

“Sure.” He took one step in and inhaled. “God, that smells good. I’m starved. No lunch.”

“We’re invited to stay for dinner. Eduardo should be home any minute. They have two kids, though...”

His stomach chose that moment to rumble, and one side of his mouth tipped up. “Do you think there’s really enough to go around?”

“I’m sure.”

She’d barely introduced him to Isabel when they heard the garage door rising. Lina didn’t know Isabel’s husband well, but had liked what she’d seen of him. He was a strong, stocky man not that much taller than her, his skin much darker than his wife’s. His kids raced to greet him, and he had a huge smile as he tossed each one into the air in turn before gently setting them down.

Then he looked at Lina. “Isabel called to tell me. What a terrible thing to happen, and for you to see it...”

“I appreciate Isabel taking me in. And—” she smiled at the little girl “—Carmen letting me borrow her bed for a nap.”

She had started to introduce the two men when it became apparent they already knew each other.

The next thing she knew they were all seated around the dining room table eating chile verde con puerco with refried beans and warm corn tortillas. Lina guessed Isabel had been cooking all afternoon, but maybe it was one way she enjoyed using her days off. Lina barely nibbled at her dinner, hoping no one noticed, but Bran ate enough for both of them.

He answered a few questions from the adults about the robbery, careful not to say anything the kids shouldn’t hear, then began talking to Eduardo about his business, Clear Creek Power Equipment. It sounded as if he had rented equipment from him a few times. He had also investigated a burglary from the business.

Isabel taught biology and coached the girls’ soccer team. “They asked me to take over the basketball team, too,” she joked, “but I had to admit it isn’t my sport.” They all laughed at that. Isabel might have been five foot one. Her husband teased her, saying she could make a basket if she were standing on his shoulders.

After accepting hugs and promising to call, Lina and Bran left.

“I’ll follow you home,” he said, his tone completely inflexible.

Shivering, Lina didn’t argue. Snow had been forecast for the next day or two, and she wondered if it might start falling tonight. They could hardly stand out here on the sidewalk and talk.

Bran’s black Camaro hugged her bumper all the way home. At her complex, he parked illegally but stuck something on his dashboard that she assumed said Police or the like, and followed her into the lobby where she collected her mail before leading him to the elevator.

As it rose, he said, “Your friends are nice people.”

“They are. You already knew Eduardo.”

“Because of the investigation.”

The elevator doors opened and they went down the hall to her apartment. “And you rented equipment to work on your house,” she said, curious about him.

“I live in an apartment, too. I’ve been helping my brother work on an old place he’s restoring. I’d have said it was a dump, but it’s starting to look good.”

She unlocked the door. “You’re lucky to have family nearby.”

“He only moved here this spring. We’d...lost touch.”

Lina wondered about the hesitation, but only nodded. Once inside her apartment, she watched as he assessed it, starting with the small, decorated tree that sat on a tabletop, then taking in her bookcases, furniture, the opening into the kitchen.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked, as much to fill the silence as anything.

He shook his head. “Not when you won’t be having any.”

“It’s no trouble...”

“Thank you, Lina, but no.” He nodded toward her sofa. “Why don’t you sit down?”

She did, her apprehension making her feel like a child who knew she was in trouble. So much for having the upper hand because this was her territory.

“What did you mean by not exactly? Did you or didn’t you see his face?”

Bran sat in a maple rocking chair facing her across the coffee table. “There’s not a good view.”

“How can that be?”

He sighed. “Cameras are aimed in front of the tellers, not behind them. One placed to the side let us see your friend and the manager with the two men, but it wasn’t a good angle. Both men wore knit ski masks. They stormed in, brandished weapons and yelled to intimidate the employees and the two customers who were in the bank at that point. Only one teller was at work, and she froze and didn’t push the alarm. They took away everyone’s cell phones. As I said, they were made to sit on the floor with their backs turned. According to one of the women, they were told that the first person trying to sneak a look would be shot.”

“So none of them did.”

“No. They were scared out of their skulls. None of them could even describe body types. They all agreed both men were big, which is typical when witnesses are scared. They did confirm that you were right about what was going on. The manager was refusing to open the vault. The robber who did the talking said they’d kill the woman if he didn’t do what they wanted. He said no again.”

A whimper escaped her.

He half stood, then sat again, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry, Lina.”

She took some deep breaths and was finally able to nod.

“When the guy grabbed your friend, she fought. From what we can see on the video, it looks like she hooked her fingernails in the knit mask and pulled it sideways. He wouldn’t have been able to see at all. Subduing her, he couldn’t fiddle with it to align the eyeholes, so he wrenched it off. After he shot her, he grabbed it and put it back on. He wasn’t without it for more than a minute, if that.”

“But Mr. Floyd would have seen him, too.”

“Yeah. That was a death sentence for him, I’m afraid. That and—”

She could tell he didn’t want to finish the thought. So she did. “And trying to stand up to them?”

“I’d have put it a little differently,” Bran said. “If he’d cooperated from the beginning...”

Maya and he would both be alive. Lina swallowed and nodded.

“We’ll definitely want you to sit down with the artist,” he continued. “A couple of FBI agents arrived, and they’re pretty excited that you saw him. It turns out they’ve been after these two for a while.”

“What do you mean? Have they robbed other banks?”

“This is at least the third, and there’s a possibility of others. These guys have used the signs before. They took them away when they left after the two previous robberies, but witnesses had noticed them and remembered the wording, which was identical to what you saw and to the one taped to that sandwich board. You were right—they did take down the one on the door as they fled, but left the one at the drive-through. Unfortunately, neither have any fingerprints. These guys are careful.”

Hung up on what he’d said at the beginning of that last speech, she asked, “What do you mean, a possibility of others?”

“There’ve been a couple others in the past eighteen months that were so similar, it’s likely the same two guys. Ski masks, yelling, making everyone sit behind the counter with their backs turned. No one saw signs.”

“If no one happened to come to the door or try to go through the drive-through...”

“Exactly,” he said.

“I remember the news mentioning several bank robberies not that long ago,” she said, trying to recall details. “But weren’t they down south?”

“The two where we know they used the signs were both in Pierce County. One in Tacoma, one in Lakewood.” Two hours away, then. “The others that may be linked happened in Issaquah and Monroe.”

So, midway. Both were at least an hour drive from Clear Creek.

“Because of the string of robberies, we’re assuming the two men are not locals,” Bran said. “The agent in charge of the investigation suspects that they live in Pierce County, but decided it was getting too hot down there for them to risk hitting another bank in the area. Some had taken additional precautions, including armed guards, and these two were smart to be nervous.”

“That’s why you think I don’t have to worry.” She felt lighter, suddenly.

“It’s likely that the guy just had one of those faces that isn’t especially distinctive.”

“Have they killed anyone before?”

He shook his head.

Lina absorbed the information. So much anger rose in her, for that instant she was almost glad Mr. Floyd was dead, too. If not for him, Maya wouldn’t have died. He’d put the bank’s money ahead of her life.

They sat in silence for long enough, she had trouble making herself look at Bran. Could he tell what she was thinking? If she didn’t say anything else, would he go away?

If he did, that would only give her longer to tie herself up in knots. Ask. You have to ask.

She took a deep breath. “Are you married?”

He jerked, rocking the chair. “What? Why would you think—” Then he fell silent.

“I saw the invitation. You left it on the dresser. It was...it was your wedding day.”

“Oh, hell.” He sounded weary. “That’s why you took off, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not married, Lina. I wouldn’t have slept with you the night before my wedding, for Christ’s sake. How could you think—”

“I didn’t know you. I still don’t know you.” With an effort, she calmed herself. “But you were planning to get married.”

“We’d called it off a couple days before I met you.” He made an odd sound. “She called it off.”

“It’s not very flattering to me, either way,” Lina said. “All I knew was that I’d been stupid.” So much for calm. Every tumultuous emotion she’d felt today coalesced into a burst of rage. “You didn’t use a condom!”

“No.” Honesty and regret showed stark on his hard face. “I didn’t even think about it until later. I’m sorrier than I can say. I...worried.” He paused. “I tried to find you.”

Because he was afraid he’d gotten her pregnant, not because he wanted to see her again. Good to know.

“If you saw the invitation, you knew my name.”

She bent her head and focused on her hands, clenched into fists on her thighs. “Yes.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” For the first time, anger crackled in his voice, too.

“Yes.” She made herself lift her head and meet those blue eyes. “I swear I was.”

“When?”

“Soon.” She’d been telling herself the same thing for months. Soon. More honestly, Lina said, “Before she’s born.”

He looked stunned. “She?”

“Yes. I had an ultrasound. I’m having a girl.”

“You mean, we’re having a girl.”

She didn’t blame him for the renewed anger, even though she had good reason to be mad, too. “It’s we if, well, you believe this is your baby. And you plan to take responsibility.”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I believe you. And of course I do. This is my fault.”

“This?” She shot to her feet. “If you see this baby as some horrible mistake you feel duty-bound to take responsibility for, forget it!”

Instead of fighting back, he let out a pained sound and rubbed both hands over his face. “Lina, will you sit down?”

She wanted to tell him this was her baby and he could take a hike. But she suspected her volatile emotions had more to do with hormones and the horror of the day than with anything he’d said. Slowly, she lowered herself again to the sofa.

He sounded inexpressibly weary when he said, “You’ve had time to come to terms with it. I haven’t.”

“You’re right,” she said stiffly. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you consider an abortion?”

She closed her eyes and made herself be honest. “Briefly. I was...pretty freaked out. But, you know, I’m thirty-two. I want to have children. I can be a good mother on my own.”

“You won’t be on your own.”

She couldn’t deny that financial support would be welcome. A teacher’s salary wasn’t fabulous. Even if she could work up until the birth, she would miss the last three months of the school year, which would eat up a fair amount of her savings.

“Do you have other children?” she blurted. Why hadn’t she wondered before?

“No. God, no. I’ve never been married.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You?”

“I’m divorced.”

At her answer, emotion crossed his face. She couldn’t quite decipher it.

At last he nodded. “There’s more we’ll have to talk about, but right now I just want to say one thing. From here on out, this baby ties us together. It would help if you could trust me.”

He hadn’t gotten mad. He almost sounded...gentle. Lina took some deep breaths and remembered the hope she’d felt that morning six months ago, before she saw the wedding invitation. What had he done that was really so awful? Face it, she’d readily agreed to spend the night with him. He had gone so far as to give her an out when he asked if she’d be sorry in the morning, and she knew in her heart he wouldn’t have taken her to bed if she’d said yes, or even maybe.

Not using a condom had been unbelievably stupid, of course, but he’d probably been hungover.

She was making excuses for him.

Well, who was she to talk? The responsibility had been shared. Drowsy or not, she should have thought about a condom, too.

And...he was right. He would forever be her child’s father.

“I...I think I can,” she said shakily. “Trust you, I mean.”

“Thank you.” Instead of leaving, he asked, “Do you feel all right? You’re not having any problems?”

“So far, no big problems. I was sick to my stomach for a couple months, but mostly right now I just need more sleep than usual.”

He gazed at her, unblinking. “What do you mean, so far? And do you have problems that aren’t big?”

“Nothing ominous.” Although she worried constantly. “My blood pressure is a little higher than the doctor would like. She’s leaning on me to get plenty of exercise, which I’m doing. Otherwise...things can go wrong later in the pregnancy, but that’s rare. I’ve always been healthy. My mother had no difficulties in childbirth.” When he failed to look convinced, she added, “It is all natural, you know.”

“Do you feel the baby moving?”

She smiled and looked down to see that she had laid an open hand on her swollen belly. “Yes. It’s amazing. The first time—” she lifted her head “—it was a flutter, like a butterfly inside me. But she’s already getting stronger. She’ll be kicking me before I know it.”

He appeared unwillingly fascinated. “I’ve never really been around many pregnant women. Today I wondered how you’ll manage to drive when you get further along.”

She made a face. “I don’t know. I want to work as long as I can, though, which means driving.”

“At least you’ll have the summer.”

“Combined with maternity leave, it’ll give me nearly six months off, thank God. I have a bad feeling that leaving her in day care will be hard.”

Lina would swear he was making calculations, but he didn’t share them with her. Instead he shook his head after a minute. “Man.”

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning.”

“But you were going to surprise me with the news one of these days anyway, weren’t you?”

Lina didn’t like the sardonic note in his voice. He didn’t believe she would have told him. She’d have liked to be offended, but couldn’t really blame him. After all, she’d procrastinated for months.

“I would have.”

He rose abruptly and said, “I’ll let you know when we get the sketch artist scheduled. The holiday may complicate that. I assume you’re off work.”

“We go back the fourth.”

“Can you make yourself available tomorrow for the FBI agents to interview you?”

“Yes.”

His gaze settled on her Christmas tree before returning to her. “Are you expecting family?”

She wasn’t expecting anyone. Did she have to tell him the truth? He’d think she was pathetic.

“My family lives near Minneapolis. Flying didn’t sound like fun right now—” she touched her stomach “—so I decided not to join them.”

He frowned a little. “Won’t you be celebrating with friends?”

“Maya—” Her voice hitched. “Maya was my best friend.”

“I’m sorry I reminded you.”

“Did you think I’d forget?” she asked incredulously.

“No.” A man she suspected was rarely hesitant, Bran lingered, looking down at her. “You’re likely to have nightmares, Lina.”

“I didn’t this afternoon when I napped.”

“It’ll all catch up with you.” On that cheerful note, he nodded. “I’ll call in the morning. Lock up after me.”

She followed him to the door. He hovered momentarily just outside as if he wanted to say something else, but finally dipped his head again and walked away without looking back.

Lina closed the door and locked it, then sagged against it, the painted steel cool beneath her forehead. Thoughts and images tumbled in her head like clothes in the dryer.

Maya staring at her. Her head... The monster seeing her. Tearing across the street, expecting a bullet to strike her any moment.

And then the shock of having Bran walk in.

At least she’d gotten the dreaded meeting over with, but...

From here on out, we’re tied together.

Lina moaned and bumped her head repeatedly against the door.

CHAPTER FOUR

BRAN SHOULD HAVE gone straight home, but his car seemed to steer itself across town to his brother’s house. Christmas lights glittered like icicles around the eaves, and a warm glow from the windows told him Zach and Tess were still up. He glanced at his watch: 7:34. Of course they hadn’t gone to bed. Bran realized how unbalanced he felt. With a snort, he thought, Unbalanced? How about stupefied? His damn head was spinning. The day felt as if it had already lasted twenty-four hours at least.

He turned off the engine but hesitated. He should have called first. And...was he really ready to tell anyone else?

Bran guessed he must be, or he wouldn’t be here.

With a sigh, he got out and crossed the lawn, bounding up the steps to the porch. He rang the bell and waited. No surprise, Zach had put in a new front door with a peephole. He worried about Tess, and for good reason. After the two of them witnessed an ugly crime committed by another sheriff’s deputy, she had been terrorized. Even though Andrew Hayes, the deputy, had been convicted of attempted first degree murder for trying to kill Tess, Zach hadn’t let down his guard. Bran didn’t blame him.

Zach opened the door. If he was surprised, it didn’t show. There was still tension between the two of them—reconnecting after twenty-five years wasn’t easy—but tonight Bran saw only welcome.

“Hey, come in. I hear you had an exciting day.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

“It was a little out of the ordinary,” Bran agreed. “I was heading home, but somehow I ended up here.”

“Have you eaten? We have leftovers.”

“Thanks, but I had a good dinner. I’d sent Lina—uh, our principal witness—to a friend’s house, and when I went to get her, they fed us. Best Mexican food I’ve eaten in years, if ever.”

A slightly raised eyebrow told him he hadn’t distracted Zach from his slip. But it didn’t matter—wasn’t he here to spill his guts?

“Bran!” Tess had popped out of the kitchen and, smiling, came toward the two men. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, something she’d taken to doing lately. No, not lately—since her wedding day. She’d apparently decided Bran was her brother-in-law, so by God she’d treat him like family whether he liked it or not.

The odd thing was, he did like it, even if he hadn’t said so. He liked Tess. She was a gutsy woman. He liked that she was making his brother happy. Their screwed up childhoods had left Zach determined never to marry or have a family, a resolve that crashed and burned when he couldn’t run from Tess. Keeping her safe had meant keeping her close.

“If this is a bad time...”

She frowned. “Don’t be silly. Do you want a beer?”

“Uh...thanks. Sure.”

“Zach?”

“Yeah, I’ll take one, too.”

They got comfortable in the living room, which was one of the first rooms they had finished remodeling. The day Bran came to help replace the roof, the wood floors in the whole house were worn, and there had been holes in the walls in here. Zach had applied a thin coat of plaster over the new wallboard, and now they were a creamy white while the hardwood floor gleamed. The star on the Christmas tree in front of the window almost touched the ceiling.

This house looked like a home now. Disquieted, Bran realized it had come to feel more like home to him than his own apartment did. He had dinner here at least a couple times a week, and often spent one of his days off helping Zach work on the place.

Tess reappeared with two bottles of a dark German beer, smiled and said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“No, you can hear this unless there’s something you want to get back to,” he heard himself say.

“Of course I want to hear.” She plopped down on the sofa next to Zach, who wrapped an arm around her.

At first sight, anyone would have been able to tell the two men were brothers. Both were an inch or two above six feet, athletic. Zach’s features were cleaner cut, making him handsome and Bran...not. At least in his opinion. Zach had dark hair, Bran a deep auburn darkened from the carrot-red he’d been born with. Both had blue eyes the same color as their mother’s, a fact that disconcerted Bran when he thought about it. He’d turned his back on her a lot of years ago and still wasn’t happy to have been forced to accept her in his life. Again, because of Zach.

Tess was a cross between sex goddess and girl-next-door with her scattering of freckles. She was tall enough to have modeled, had thick, glossy, maple-brown hair and green-gold eyes. Bran wasn’t oblivious to her sexual appeal, but hadn’t been slammed with it at first sight the way his brother was. Good thing, as it turned out.

Now Lina, she’d hit him hard. If he’d had her number, he’d have called her within twenty-four hours. Truth was, he hadn’t so much as touched another woman since the night with Lina. He had convinced himself it was because of Paige and the last-minute cancellation of their wedding, but he knew better now. He hadn’t been able to get Lina out of his head.

Nobody said a word. Their expectant expressions spoke for them.

He groaned and tugged at his hair, which was more characteristic of Zach than him. Getting started wasn’t easy. “The night before my wedding—what should have been my wedding—I got drunk.”

Zach nodded, even though he, like Bran, wasn’t much of a drinker.

“I should have gone home, but I didn’t. I went to a tavern, and I met a woman. We spent the night together, but I didn’t know anything but her first name. When I got out of the shower in the morning, she had taken off.”

“With your wallet?” his brother, the cop, asked.

“No. She hadn’t touched anything. I made some attempt to find her, but with only a first name, I struck out.” He hesitated, suddenly wishing he hadn’t invited Tess to sit in on this confession. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh, dear,” she said.

He grimaced. “The one solid witness to today’s bank robbery? It’s her. Lina. Lina Jurick. And she’s six months pregnant.”

Zach swore.

“She didn’t know how to find you, either?”

That was Tess, optimistic about human nature.

“She knew,” he said grimly. “Turns out, I’d had the damn wedding invitation with me. While I was in the shower, she saw it. That’s why she took off.”

“O-oh,” Tess breathed.

“She swears she was going to tell me before the baby was born. It’s a girl,” he added. “What it comes down to is, I’m going to be a father.”

“Shouldn’t you insist on some testing?” his brother asked. “To be sure you are the father?”

Bran shook his head, sure at least about this much. “Lina isn’t like that. She teaches at the middle school. She’s a thoroughly nice woman.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “My head is spinning.”

“How much did she see today?” Zach asked.

Bran told them about the robbery and about his own initial fear that the killer might know Lina. “Doesn’t sound likely, though,” he concluded. “She says he has one of those faces. Not ugly, not handsome. Not memorable. His head was shaved, and she isn’t sure if he was partially bald or what. She thinks he might have had an earring but didn’t see any tattoos. The feds will be sitting down with her in the morning, and the sketch artist as soon as we can line it up.”

“But tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, that complicates things.”

“So, back to Lina,” his brother said. “What’s your plan?”

Wheels had been grinding in his head since he’d set eyes on her at the pharmacy. “Spend time with her,” he heard himself say. “Unless I don’t like her, I’ll marry her.” He shrugged. “Why not? I intended to marry. I want a family. With her, I already have one.”

Amusement glinted in Zach’s eyes, but Tess gaped at him.

“Just like that?” She sounded outraged. “No special fondness required? If that’s not a recipe for disaster!”

“Why would it be?” he countered. “I liked her when we talked. And we did talk quite a bit that night. We’re attracted. We’re having a baby together. Not so many years ago, that alone would have guaranteed a wedding.”

“But it doesn’t anymore. Bran, what if you fall in love with someone else? What if she does?”

He’d kill the son of a bitch, that was what. Bran blinked at the violence of his reaction to the idea. No, he decided, there was nothing surprising about it. She was carrying his baby. She was his, even if she didn’t know it yet. He didn’t share, and when he made a commitment, by God he kept it, and he expected the same of her.

“I’m closing in on forty,” he said. “It’s not happening.”

“So you were drunk that night,” Zach said thoughtfully, rather than asking how old Lina was. “What about her?”

Suddenly wary, Bran asked, “And that matters how?”

“She was at a tavern on her own, maybe getting plastered. Either that wasn’t so unusual for her, which makes me think you should ask some more questions before she puts your name on that birth certificate, or it was unusual for her, in which case you have to ask yourself what was going on that had her there.”

He stared at his brother, who was right. He should have asked himself exactly that. Why hadn’t he? Because she seemed so nice? What kind of idiot was he?

After a minute, he nodded. “Okay.”

“Does she have family in town?” Tess asked.

“No. Doesn’t sound like she’s going anywhere, either.”

Her forehead crinkled. “She won’t be by herself for Christmas, will she?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t get a straight answer.” He hesitated. “The loan officer Lina saw killed? Maya Lee was her best friend.”

A gasp escaped Tess, who pressed a hand to her mouth. Even Zach looked disturbed.

“She was there because they were supposed to have lunch together. In no time, it’s going to occur to her that, if she’d suggested an earlier time, her friend would be alive. Or she’ll come up with some other reason to start blaming herself. I told her she’s going to have nightmares,” Bran said. “I didn’t like leaving her, but I didn’t have a lot of choices.”

“Do you think she’d join us tomorrow night?” Tess asked immediately, with the generosity he’d come to expect of her.

“Your dad will be here.” Not, thank God, his mother, who had plans with her current husband—number five—and stepkids. Bran would have preferred never to see her again, but he had been polite at Zach’s wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the next time he had to be polite to her.

“So?”

“I don’t know, Tess. I’ll...think about it. She may not want to.”

“She’s going to be the mother of your daughter, no matter what. That makes her family, in a way.”

“I told her that, but I don’t think she’s quite over finding out why I was there getting plastered that night. She was offended to think I was supposed to get married the next morning. I think she figures she was some sort of stand-in.”

His brother’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t she?”

Bran scowled. “No.”

His brother smiled. “You being mad and depressed didn’t have anything to do with you taking a woman you didn’t know to bed.”

“I wasn’t depressed.” He didn’t deny the mad part. “I had no intention of picking up a woman. All I wanted was a few drinks. She and I hit it off. That didn’t have anything to do with the damn wedding.”

Zach’s smile widened. “Then bring her tomorrow. Let us meet her.”

He sighed and took the first swallow of his beer. “I’ll try.”

Zach asked about Mrs. Greaver and Bran’s appointment to see her this afternoon. He had, at least, thought to call her instead of being a no-show. She’d sounded the tiniest bit relieved.

“If you’re tied up with this bank robbery, I can get in touch with her,” Zach offered. “Or has the FBI taken over the whole show?”

“Actually, these two haven’t been bad to work with. They seem to want to collaborate.”

His brother grinned. “You mean, they need minions to do their bidding, don’t they?”

Despite his mood, Bran grunted a laugh. “Probably.”

Not until he left half an hour later did he wonder if he hadn’t stopped by to see Zach and Tess because he was hoping they’d suggest he bring Lina. Something about that small tree with only a few presents under it in Lina’s apartment had saddened Bran, damn it, even though he wasn’t big on holidays himself. This year, he hadn’t bothered to decorate because he wouldn’t be spending Christmas Eve or Day at his own place. Last year, he’d been stuck joining Paige’s family. The year before, he ignored the holiday. This year was different. He had family again.

Discovering he was being driven by impulses lurking in his subconscious didn’t make him happy. He used his head; he didn’t make decisions because of emotions.

And, sure, he’d surprised himself with the announcement that he was going to marry Lina, but the decision itself was entirely rational. It disturbed him a little that his equally rational decision to marry Paige had blown up in his face the way it did, but he was grateful now it had. Lina was a better choice. He’d have stuck to the commitment he made to Paige, but the truth was, he’d been finding he didn’t much like her as the wedding neared.

When she called it off, he’d been mad as hell. He’d never imagined himself in love with her, so it had been his pride that took the hit. Driving through the dark streets on the way back to his lonely apartment tonight, he admitted to himself for the first time that she had made the right choice for both of them. She wanted more than he could give. What he’d never seen before was that he had wanted more than she had to give, too.

Something was happening inside him, and it didn’t feel good. His chest felt compressed as he tried to figure out what it was he did want, beyond wife and kids. Home.

He didn’t have an answer.

* * *

THE PAIR OF FBI agents came to Lina’s apartment. Never having met a real, live FBI agent, she felt intimidated as she let them in. One was a woman, which helped her relax. Probably in her forties, the first thing she asked was when Lina was due. The man, way younger, appeared increasingly uncomfortable as the two women discussed pregnancy and childbirth.

He finally growled, “Can we get on with it?”

His partner grinned. “Scared you, did we?”

They did get down to business, making Lina repeat everything she’d already told Bran and then some. They asked some good questions. She was able to make what she thought was a pretty accurate estimate of height for the robber who had shot Maya. She remembered that mud had splattered the tires and bottom of the doors and sides of the cargo van, something she didn’t think she’d told Bran.

“It looked recent,” she said, thinking it out. “I mean, it was dry, or mostly dry anyway, but if they’d driven for hours I’d have thought more of it would have fallen off. You know? It had to have been from the day before, when it rained.”

“It might have rained here, but it didn’t in Seattle,” Agent Novinski, the woman, said flatly. She took out her phone and did a search. “Or in Tacoma.”

“Ruts and holes on a dirt road can stay muddy for quite a while, though,” Lina pointed out.

“That’s true,” Novinski agreed, but Lina could tell she wasn’t satisfied.

They wanted a better description of both the men than she could give them. No, she had no idea what color the second man’s eyes were. He had been looking at Mr. Floyd, not toward her. Wiry, short for a man. She was sure the hand that held the gun was encased in the kind of thin glove doctors and nurses wore.

They were even more dissatisfied when she couldn’t be sure what color eyes the guy who’d shot Maya had.

“But you say he stared right at you,” the male agent said.

“Yes, but you know how thick the glass is, and I was looking through it at an angle. Plus, I’d just seen my best friend get shot.” She glared at both of them. “It was horrible. Do you know what happens when somebody gets shot in the head?”

Clearly they did. Special Agent Novinski, the woman, had the grace to appear regretful.

“I was beyond shocked, and terrified, too. I can still see his face and the way he looked at me, but I didn’t think, oh, he has blue eyes.”

Naturally, at that moment she pictured Bran Murphy’s eyes, a vivid blue. She wished, quite passionately, that he was here. He wouldn’t let these two badger her.

“My best guess is hazel or light brown. You know, kind of in between.” She frowned. “I don’t think he had really dark hair, either. Even shaved, his head would have looked different if he did. His jaw would have been darker, too. He was definitely Caucasian.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I looked at him for a total of maybe ten seconds. This is the best I can do.”

Eventually they gave up and departed, leaving her feeling drained. Lunch might help, she thought, but didn’t move. Even making a sandwich seemed like a herculean effort. She wished suddenly, selfishly, that she had gone home for Christmas. Maya would still be dead, but her death wouldn’t be so brutally real. Lina wouldn’t be the only person who could potentially identify one of the men who’d robbed at least three banks.

And, oh, yeah, she’d still be in deep avoidance about telling Bran he was going to be a father.

Her phone rang. His name came up. For some reason, she didn’t hesitate to answer the call.

“Are they done with you?” he asked.

Stung, she said, “Hi. Yes, I’m fine this morning. Thank you for asking.”

There was a short silence. “Are you really fine?” he asked, in a different voice.

“No.” She closed her eyes. “I mean, yes, I’m okay.”

“Have they come and gone?”

“Yes. I don’t think I satisfied them, but I can’t see through walls and ski masks, so they were bound to be disappointed.”

“They were hopeful.” Was that a smile in his voice? “Can I bring you lunch?”

Her stomach came to attention. “What kind of lunch?”

“I was thinking pizza, but if you’d rather I could stop for deli sandwiches.”

In the interests of not gaining too much weight, Lina tried not to indulge often, but pizza sounded like exactly what she needed right now. “I would love pizza,” she admitted. “Can you make mine half veggie?”

“You don’t eat meat?”

“I just want to know I’m eating something healthy along with all the fat, okay?”

She heard a rusty sound that might be a chuckle. “Good thinking. Give me half an hour.”

And he was gone.

* * *

“I DON’T LIKE the sound of that,” he said flatly.

“Of mud?” Lina seemed bemused. “Why?”

He had set down his slice of pizza, wiped off his fingers and quickly checked his phone, to find that the last rain in south King County or Pierce County had been eight days earlier.

“Because it suggests they were staying up here for at least the previous day. They wouldn’t have picked up mud on the highway or in town.” The bank was actually outside the city limits because of recent growth the Clear Creek council members hadn’t been farsighted enough to anticipate, to their current frustration over lost tax dollars. A good percent of homes in the rural county were on dirt or gravel roads that developed potholes and ruts. Very few homes on acreage had paved driveways, either.

“Well, doesn’t that make sense anyway?” Lina asked. “I mean, Tacoma to here is kind of a long commute.”

He gave her a look she ignored. After two slices of pizza, she was full, which left her free to speculate.

“Plus,” she continued, “surely they’d have wanted to, I don’t know, scope out the bank in advance. Why did they pick that bank and not Chase or Opus or Whidbey Island Bank?”

He sighed. Starting at the crack of dawn, he’d watched videos from another local bank until his eyes were crossing. Charlie was doing the same, as were several borrowed deputies. The FBI had generously taken the footage from the bank that had been robbed. They’d let the locals waste time on banks the pair hadn’t targeted.

“You’re right. We’re going back a couple of days, thinking we’ll see the same face appearing at a couple of other banks. They are unlikely to have gone in together, because two men would draw more attention than one alone.”

“What if one of them was in Snoqualmie Community,” she suggested, “oh, ages ago and knew the layout was perfect and the only window on the street looks in at a conference room instead of the bank proper?”

“But why would he have been if he’s not a local?”

“He has a girlfriend or just a friend up here who needed to stop at the bank one day when they were together? He’d go in out of professional curiosity, wouldn’t he?”

Bran did not want to believe either of those slugs had any reason to feel at home in Harris County, because if that was the case, the likelihood became greater that he had somehow encountered Lina and that the spark of familiarity she felt was because she had actually encountered the creep.

“We have to look,” he said.

“I know.” Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, she made a face. “I’m sorry. You know what you’re doing. I won’t think of anything you haven’t already considered.”

He braced himself. “I don’t mind hearing ideas, but that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.”

Her wariness showed. So did her belly. He was still shocked at the way arousal had slammed him when she opened the door. Not once had he ever noticed a pregnant woman at the grocery store and thought, Wow, she’s sexy. Apparently Lina was different.

Part of it, he guessed, was the fact that she was carrying his baby. And then there were all the memories of that night, and especially of the morning when he’d made her pregnant. God, it had been amazing. He’d never felt anything like that before.

Also, unlike the day before, she wasn’t making any effort to disguise her pregnancy. No coat or thigh-length sweater. Nope, over black leggings she wore a stretchy black top that clung like a second skin to the generous curves of her body. Maybe she’d planned to do yoga or something. Her feet were bare, too. He kept finding himself fascinated by her long toes and high arches. With the nails unpainted, her feet looked innocent. Maybe she couldn’t reach them anymore, it occurred to him.

Her cheeks were turning pink, which meant he was staring.

He felt some heat in his own face. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Why?”

“Because my brother and sister-in-law suggested you join us for dinner.”

Her mouth fell open. “You told them about me?”

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“I don’t know! We haven’t decided anything!”

“You decided to admit that you’re pregnant with my child.”

“Yours? Like you own her?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said, exasperated. Why would she flip out because he’d told his brother she was pregnant?

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you tell them how it happened?”

Until this minute, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might mind, and why. Oh, crap. Should he lie? Be honest?

No lies, he decided, not ever. “I did,” he admitted.

Lina’s glare felt like the midday, equatorial sun. He’d wake up in pain tomorrow. Her voice, in contrast, was exquisitely polite if also steely. “Then you may tell them thank you, that I appreciate their kindness, but no, I can’t join them tonight.”

He had to fix this. “They’re not judgmental people, Lina. Once they knew your due date, they’d have figured out when you got pregnant. That alone would tell them I’d done something stupid.”

“Which stupid thing are you talking about? Not wearing a condom? Or did you mean, being careless enough to leave the wedding invitation lying in plain sight? But wait. Maybe you did that on purpose to make sure I didn’t hang around with any illusions, like hoping that we’d just had a beautiful beginning.”

“We did have a beautiful beginning,” he snapped, then was shocked when he realized what he’d said. But he tried to be honest with himself, and he’d felt something unfamiliar that morning. The timing might have sucked, but the woman and he had meshed in a whole lot of ways.

She blinked a couple times, obviously taken aback. “Why would you say that?”

Bran rolled his shoulders. “Because it’s true. I don’t make a habit of picking up women in bars. Yeah, I had too much to drink, and yeah, having Paige dump me at the last minute like that stung, but that’s not why I wanted you. You’re beautiful, and you seemed sad, and I liked you.” He felt awkward. “I would have asked you out if you’d still been there when I came out of the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Lina nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. Her gaze shied away from his momentarily before connecting again. “I would have said yes.”

“Good.” It was too soon to suggest marriage, even if he’d like to have it settled. His plan to create a family had stumbled over an obstacle, but now he had another chance. One he liked even better.

One step at a time, he told himself. Zach was right, he’d need to find out why she’d gotten drunk and had sex with a stranger. This wasn’t the moment, though, especially not if he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with her.

So, keeping his voice gentle, he said, “You didn’t answer my question about tonight. Do you have plans?”

After a moment, she shook her head.

“Then won’t you come with me to Zach’s? I’d really like you to get to know my brother and sister-in-law.”

She searched his eyes, her own betraying more vulnerability than she’d probably like. “Are you sure I’m welcome?”

“I’m sure.”

Her knotted hands clenched and tightened a couple times. “Okay. I admit, I wasn’t looking forward to tonight, especially not after...you know.”

He nodded. “I do know. Uh... I’d better get back to work. I’ll pick you up at five thirty, if that works.”

“Thank you,” she said with dignity. “Can I bring anything? I mean, food?”

He guessed there’d be plenty, but he said, “Don’t rush out to the grocery store, but if there’s a dish you can make easily, Tess would probably appreciate it. I know she’s baking a ham.”

She told him she’d think of something, and escorted him to the door. Bran wanted to touch her, but the way she held herself aloof told him that wouldn’t be smart. Soon, he told himself. He’d just achieved a significant win. He shouldn’t get greedy.

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