He was close enough to lean into.

Near enough to touch.

She should back away. She should stop staring at the inviting vee of skin where the base of his throat met the sturdy ridge of his collarbone. She should stop wishing she could bury her nose there and have his strong arms wrap her up and keep the terrors of the world at bay.

Maddie lifted her gaze to his. “Why are you here? You said you wanted nothing to do with me or my family.”

Edged with shadows she didn’t understand, those gray-green eyes looked deep into hers. “Some fights a man can’t walk away from. No matter how much he wants to.”

Search and Seizure
Julie Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to Kimberly McKane and Scott E. Miller for answering all my DFS questions.

For two bright, talented young people who are near and dear to my heart—Emily and Darin Binger. Thanks for being a part of puzzles and poker, Easter egg hunts and dinosaurs, family reunions and cool movies. The bond you share as brother and sister is an amazing thing to see, and reminds me of the bond I share with my brothers. Work hard, use your brains, listen to your heart and make a difference. The world is waiting for you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Julie Miller attributes her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down all those feelings she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” This award-winning author believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.

Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dwight Powers—Justice’s staunchest ally. This tough-as-nails prosecutor has a reputation for winning inside the courtroom. The last thing he wants is a woman and child around to remind him of everything he’s lost outside of court.

Maddie McCallister—A child’s truest friend. This full-figured teacher will risk her life to protect the niece and grandnephew placed in her care. But does she dare risk her heart on a man with nothing but law and order flowing through his veins?

Katie Rinaldi—She made a deal with the devil to help a friend. Reneging on the bargain could get her killed.

Joe Rinaldi—Katie’s father. Dwight put him away in prison.

Roberta Hays—The family services case worker only wanted to help.

The Hulkster and Stinky Pete—Who are they working for?

Cooper Bellamy—The Fourth Precinct cop assigned to the case. Not your typical babysitter.

Roddy—Talent scout from New York City.

Tyler—Only a few weeks old, he can bring down an entire criminal network.

Alicia and Braden Powers—Will the memories of one lost family haunt Dwight forever?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Prologue

“Excuse me, have you seen this girl?”

Madeline McCallister swallowed her fear and approached the tall, dark-skinned woman standing beneath the street lamp. She averted her eyes from the amount of skin revealed by the woman’s tight shorts and sequined halter top and concentrated on the dark eyes framed by sparkly lashes.

The black woman looked right past her, straight through to the cars that were cruising by on Tenth. The slow parade of headlights briefly illuminated the shadowed alleyways and door stoops, exposing the dangerous, sick, sad and soulless creatures of the urban night before driving past and giving them back to the darkness.

No-Man’s-Land was a foreign world to Maddie. But she had no intention of leaving until she had answers to her questions.

Holding up the worn photograph she carried like a shield, Maddie took a deep breath and made herself taller. “Excuse me, could you take a look? Her name is Katie.”

The black woman, who wore a rhinestone pendant in her cleavage that said Cleopatra, blinked once, sparing a glance at the photo. “Move along, sugar. You’re bad for business.”

No doubt. Of all the women Maddie had seen thus far, walking the streets of the neighborhood that the KCPD had dubbed No-Man’s-Land, none of them had been of the plain and sturdy variety. Certainly none of them was wearing anything resembling the loose denim jumper and tailored blouse she had on. And not one of them seemed to be affected by the August heat and humidity the way she was.

Cleopatra turned her back on Maddie and struck a pose with one hand on a very round, very revealing hip. “Sugar, go away. You’re not a cop, you’re not the competition, but you don’t belong here.”

“Neither does my niece.” Maddie darted around the other woman to stop her from walking away. “She ran away from home a couple of weeks ago. She’s pregnant. I need to find her.”

Cleopatra twirled around on her white patent leather boots with an annoyed huff. “Your girl’s pregnant? Find her boyfriend.”

Maddie fell into step beside her. “He hasn’t seen her. He’s already signed away his parental rights. They haven’t been together for months.”

“Typical man.”

Maddie wouldn’t know. Her experiences with men ran from the extreme nightmare to nonexistent. “I’m sorry to bother you while you’re…working, but I’m asking everyone.”

Cleopatra finally stopped. She glanced at Maddie, glanced at the photo. “I ain’t seen her.”

“Look harder. Please.”

The taller woman waved and winked at a car that slowed down as it passed by. “I’m trying to work here.”

“Please.”

“Sugar, do you know how many kids come walkin’ down this street? Runnin’ away from a beating or trying to find their next fix?”

“Katie’s not like that.”

“Sure. They’re all good kids. They’re just lost in a world that doesn’t want them.” Maybe Cleopatra was speaking from experience.

But that wasn’t Katie’s story. “Please, ma’am—”

“Now, sugar, don’t you go ma’amin’ me—”

“I’m looking for one girl. One child. I have to find her.”

“Ain’t the cops lookin’ for her?”

“Yes. But they’re not having any success. She’s due to give birth this month. I can’t let her go through that on her own.”

“That’s rough.” Cleopatra lifted her gaze over the top of Maddie’s head and scanned up and down the sidewalks on both sides of the street. Then she held out her hand. “Give me some money.”

“What?”

“Give me somethin’. I can’t stand here talkin’ to you when I’m supposed to be workin’.”

“Oh, I see.” Maddie fished into the pocket of her jumper. One of the homeless men she’d talked to earlier had asked for money before sending her to Tenth Street to talk to the ‘ladies,’ as he’d called them. Maddie pulled out all she had left: a twenty.

Cleopatra snatched it from her hand and stuffed it inside the top of her boot. “Now give me the picture.”

Sparkly lashes fluttered against her dark cheeks as she studied Katie’s junior yearbook picture. Maddie prayed for a glimmer of recognition.

“I ain’t seen her.” Cleopatra pressed the photo back into Maddie’s hand. “She ain’t workin’ this street, at any rate. And the mission’s been closed for over a year now, so I haven’t seen her hangin’ around for a handout, either.”

Twenty dollars for another no.

Maddie lovingly straightened a bent corner of the photo before returning it to her pocket. She tried to focus on the reassuring notion that Katie hadn’t resorted to prostitution to support herself. Two weeks ago, Maddie never would have suspected a teenager who was eight months pregnant would be in demand on the streets. But she’d seen some disturbing things since she’d begun her search.

Still, the crushing disappointment of hitting yet another dead end kept her from feeling hopeful. “Thanks.”

It also kept her from sensing the large black man who’d walked up behind her.

“Zero!”

Cleopatra’s shout masked Maddie’s own startled yelp as two big hands closed around her upper arms. The first thing she saw was all the bling on each finger and wrist. The second thing she noticed was the stale smell of rum-soaked breath as the man’s lips brushed against her ear.

“I don’t know whether to cut you or kiss you.”

Cleopatra shoved at the man’s shoulder. “Back off, Zero. She’s just lookin’ for somebody.”

“Yeah, well, look somewhere else, sweetmeat.” He grabbed the hand Cleopatra had shoved him with and tugged and twisted. Even Maddie winced at the angle at which he bent the woman’s arm behind her back. “You. Get back to work. I don’t look out for you so’s you can shoot the breeze with no lady.” He pushed Cleopatra away. “Find a customer.”

With a proud tip of her chin, the black woman straightened what clothes she had on and sauntered across the street, leaving Maddie alone with the pimp.

Zero wrapped his arm around Maddie’s shoulders, pulling her tight against his side. When he forced her into step beside him, she knew a stark moment of wondering if she’d ever get back to her car, much less see her home again.

Still, the violence sickened her. How many times had her sister shown up at the house with a sprained wrist or black eye? “I was just asking her some questions. I paid her for her time. You didn’t have to hurt her.”

He squeezed her tighter, steering her toward a secluded archway beneath a concrete stoop. “Cleo’s been hurt worse than that. Now you tell me exactly what kinds of questions you were askin’.”

As she had so many times over the past two weeks, Maddie ignored her own terror and pulled out the photo to show him. “I’m looking for my niece.”

Zero snatched the photo from her hand. “Now she’s a fine girl.”

“Have you seen her?”

“You paid Cleo for an answer. You have to pay me.”

“I’m out of money.”

Zero stopped, laughed, crumpled the photo in his fist and spun Maddie around so that he could back her into a brick wall and press his thighs and hips and other vile things against her. “You gotta pay me somehow. That’s how things work around here.”

Maddie’s blood chilled in her veins, despite the humidity that lingered so long after sunset. She stared at the thick gold chain around Zero’s neck. “I can’t do that.”

He slipped one hand behind her to squeeze her butt and tangled the rest of his fingers in her hair. “You need a serious makeover, darlin’. But I like some meat on my women. And hair this color of red could be good for business.”

“Let me go.”

Her flare of panic only made him laugh. He pulled the hair from her ponytail and draped it over her shoulder, dragging his palm over her breast. “Uh-huh. Lots of meat.”

Maddie swallowed her gag reflex and batted his hand away. “My niece is pregnant. Don’t you have any heart in you to help her?”

Zero rubbed her reddish gold hair against his nose and sniffed. “Word’s out about a clinic in town that helps young girls who get knocked up. They’ll take the girl in until she delivers. Then, in exchange for the baby, they’ll pay a nice price. I thought about letting one of my girls go off the pill just to see how much money we could get off that scam.”

Revulsion aside, Maddie lifted her gaze to Zero’s hooded eyes. “They buy the girl’s baby?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Katie wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard.”

“Does this clinic have a name?”

“Sweetmeat, you don’t pay me or flash a badge, you don’t get an answer.”

In a surprisingly quick move, he grabbed her arm and slung her toward the street. Maddie stumbled off the curb and smacked into the fender of a parked car. But she ignored the pain radiating through her hip and elbow. Katie could be suffering something far worse. Maddie had no right to complain.

“Please,” she begged, throwing pride and safety to the wind. “Tell me what you know.”

Zero laughed and tossed the crumpled photograph at her. “You ain’ worth it, sweetmeat. Now get off my street and go home where you belong.”

Chapter One

Assistant district attorney Dwight Powers loosened the knot on his paisley silk tie and unhooked the top button of his wilted broadcloth shirt as he rode the elevator up to his eighth-floor office.

Night should have cooled the air and tempered his mood. But the midnight humidity had captured the day’s heat radiating off the concrete and asphalt of downtown Kansas City. It steamed through his pores and into his blood, melting into a suspicious tension he couldn’t quite shake.

The three-hour drive from the state penitentiary in Jefferson City had given him plenty of time to think about the parole hearing he’d attended. Plenty of time to consider the crocodile tears in Arnie Sanchez’s eyes as he apologized to Dwight for the death of his family—without ever admitting any responsibility or connection to Alicia’s and Braden’s murders.

He’d had plenty of time to replay the high-priced words that Sanchez’s lawyer had used to claim that his client was being cruelly and unusually punished by a prolonged sentence. The KCPD and the Kansas City district attorney’s office had a personal beef with his client. Sanchez’s business had suffered. His wife had divorced him. His grown sons were feuding over property entitlements, and his grandchildren were growing up without ever knowing him.

Sanchez had paid his back taxes and court costs, the lawyer claimed. He had a spotless record of good conduct during his incarceration. The State of Missouri had no right to punish a man for crimes that had only been attributed to him—crimes that the KCPD and other law-enforcement agencies had never proven. They claimed locking him up under maximum security for another five years was harsh and unfair.

Dwight scraped his palm across the blond stubble that peppered his jaw and rolled his neck to ease the weary kinks from his body.

It had taken him all of five minutes to present himself to the parole board and outline in succinct terms the crimes Sanchez had been convicted of. He’d explained in remarkably cool, detached logic that Sanchez’s ex-wife and grandchildren could visit him in prison any time they so desired. Even if parole was never granted, after twenty years he’d be free to spend as much time as he wanted with his family.

Dwight had neither option. His family was gone.

Permanently.

Courtesy of Arnie Sanchez.

The light for the seventh floor lit up and the elevator began to slow its ascent.

The parole board had voted quickly, without debate. They thanked Dwight for his time, denied Sanchez’s petition and moved on to the next hearing.

On the drive back to Kansas City, Dwight had had plenty of time to recall the cold, black fury in Sanchez’s eyes and wonder why that unspoken threat hadn’t fazed him. Maybe he was hoping that Sanchez would blow any chance for an early release by giving voice to that threat in front of witnesses.

Or maybe it was because a threat was useless against a man with nothing left to lose.

The number eight lit up, the elevator dinged and Dwight switched the briefcase to his right hand to dig the keys out of his left pocket as the doors slid open.

As soon as the elevator closed behind him, Dwight sensed trouble. Not the Arnie-Sanchez-is-beating-the-system kind of trouble. But something was off-kilter, out of place.

He peered into the long, deserted tunnel of marbled walls and shadows, letting his eyes adjust to the dim glow of the security lights illuminating the hallway. His soft-soled oxfords made no noise on the marble tiles as he headed toward his office.

The emptiness was no surprise. By this time of night, even the die-hard workaholics like himself would have gone home. And he’d passed most of the cleaning crew outside at the utility entrance, taking their first break of the night.

He listened to the cranking, whooshing sounds of the air conditioner regulating the building’s temperature against the August heat. Perfectly normal.

And yet…

Dwight crinkled up his nose. Maybe it was the whisper of cigarette smoke. Someone had broken the rules of the smoke-free building. But that wasn’t what nagged at him. Beneath the tobacco pungency that lingered in the air, he detected something fresher, sweeter—definitely out of place in an environment that typically smelled of leather attaché cases and disinfectant.

He wasn’t alone.

But he didn’t for one moment think that a friend had dropped by to pay a surprise visit. The people he called friends knew he didn’t do surprises anymore.

A slice of light cutting across the hallway diverted his attention to the emergency stairwell, where the door stood ajar. He paused in front of the inch-wide gap to listen but heard nothing beyond the usual creaks and moans of the old steel-and-limestone building that had adorned the skyline of downtown Kansas City since the Truman era.

Dwight pulled off his tie and stuffed it inside his suit jacket pocket. He’d never considered himself any kind of paranoid alarmist. But he’d learned a thing or two about survival over the years. Not just in the courtroom, but in life. He took note of details, no matter how small or insignificant they might seem. Then he processed them until they made sense.

This didn’t make sense.

Did the open door mean someone had escaped? Or snuck inside?

The roar of the air conditioner fans shut off as the thermostat leveled off. But instead of the eerie silence Dwight had expected, he heard a low, mewling noise somewhere in the dark interior of one of the offices down the hall. Had a stray cat gotten trapped inside the building? But how could a streetwise feline account for that sweet, oily scent?

His gaze dropped to a fleck of crimson, almost unnoticeable on the mottled gray-and-black pattern on the marble floor. How did he account for that?

Crouching down on his haunches, Dwight touched the dot of color. The floor was icy cold beneath the tip of his finger. But the spot was wet, sticky and definitely fresh.

Blood.

Suffused with a wary energy that heightened his senses and put him on guard, Dwight stood, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and prepping for whatever adversary lurked in the shadows.

A muted howl turned his attention back toward the hallway. The glow from the stairwell spotlighted another drop of blood. And another. The irregular pattern of droplets zigzagged across the floor, as if whoever was bleeding had staggered from side to side. Had the wounded creature struggled to get into the building? Or to reach the exit?

Dwight overruled his instinct to close the stairwell door behind him to protect his back. If the eighth floor had become a crime scene, the CSI team would want everything left just the way he’d found it.

But if it was just a stupid cat—maybe one who’d gotten into an alley fight—he wasn’t waiting for the police to find out and make the ADA their joke of the week.

Dwight followed the trail to his office and cursed. He could hear music now, something instrumental and indistinct. Had a maid left a radio on? Cut herself on a sharp object and run downstairs for help? Why not take the elevator? Why not use the crew’s walkie-talkies and call for assistance?

An image of Arnie Sanchez’s cold, black eyes popped into Dwight’s head. Just because the bastard was locked away in Jefferson City didn’t mean he couldn’t make a phone call, didn’t mean he couldn’t make arrangements to add to Dwight’s misery.

Dwight slipped his key into the outer door, but, already unlocked, it drifted open. This wouldn’t be the first time someone had broken into his office. But he had a feeling that what awaited him on the other side of the door was far more dangerous to him than any burglar or maid or injured stray.

Dwight crept through the set of cubicles that served his secretary and department clerks. The music was louder here—he could make out the wordless melody from a children’s movie now. The tune was punctuated by discordant wails from… Please, God, be that damned cat.

Clenching his jaw with a tightness that shook through him, he narrowed his gaze to the trail of crimson dots along the gray carpeting. There was a smear on the wall beside the door to his inner office, as if someone had tried to wipe it clean.

Dwight hurried to the thick walnut door that separated his work space from the others. He didn’t even bother with his keys. He pulled out his handkerchief and, as he suspected, the doorknob turned without protest and he stepped inside.

The full force of that soft, powdery scent, tinged with the odor of something slightly more pungent, caught him off guard and sucker punched him in the gut. He gripped the knob tightly, just short of snapping it off in his fist. This was a bad dream. Another one of those damn nightmares.

Only he was helplessly awake. “Son of a bitch.”

In four strides, he’d dropped his briefcase, circled his desk and taken note of the bloody palm prints on his telephone receiver and on the note tucked beneath the music box that played beside it. “No way. No friggin’ way.”

But the blood didn’t scare him half as much as the bundle sitting squarely on the middle of his desk, bawling through toothless gums and batting at the air with helpless fists.

Dwight’s jaw hurt with everything it took to keep himself from crying or cursing in front of the tiny, abandoned baby.

With shaky fingers, he unfolded the blood-stained blanket, unhooked the straps on the carrier and checked the infant. He was small, fragile and clean. Dwight’s hands were big and out of practice—and afraid. He quickly re-buckled the straps. Thank God. No visible signs of injury. The blood had another source.

“You’re okay, kid. You’re not…” His breath stuttered and caught in the tightness of his chest. The baby wailed in earnest now, and the sound shivered along Dwight’s nerves, chilling him and awakening dark things inside him.

The kid was stinky. Hungry, no doubt. Alone.

And Dwight couldn’t do a damn thing to help him.

He curled his fingers into his palms and pulled away as his vision blurred behind a sheen of tears. The tiny, blue knit cap and appled cheeks were too similar, too much of a reminder of his own son’s sweet, angelic face. A face that had been bruised and pale and still the last time he’d seen it.

“Stop that.” Dwight turned away, not sure if he was talking to the infant or the nightmare. He smashed the knob on the music box with his fist, silencing the repetitive tune. Then he picked up the folded note, scrawled on a sheet of his office stationery.

Depositing a baby in his office was too cruel to consider any type of joke. And if this was some kind of sick message to remind him about his own son… If this was the manifestation of that unspoken threat from Sanchez…

Dwight opened the note and read the short message scribbled inside. “Son of a bitch.”

He turned his back on the baby, embarrassed to have cursed in front of the kid. “This can’t happen.” He almost crushed the paper in his fist but, at the last moment, remembered the whole concept of untainted evidence. He tossed the paper back on top of the desk. “I won’t let it happen.”

More at home taking action than dealing with emotions, Dwight pulled the cellphone from his belt and strode out of the office, leaving the smells and softness and memories behind him. He was out in the hallway, pacing the length of the cool, dark corridor before the number he’d punched in answered.

“Rodriguez.”

“A.J.” Dwight hadn’t even considered the time, but the sleepy sound of a woman’s voice in the background reminded him. “Damn.” Dwight planted his feet and filled his deep barrel chest with a cleansing breath as he gathered his wits about him. “Sorry to call so late. I didn’t mean to wake you or your wife, but I need a detective’s expertise.”

A subtle rustle of movement told Dwight that A.J. was moving out of bed.

“The ADA doesn’t call at twelve-thirty in the morning unless there’s a problem. What’s up?”

“I’m at the office.”

“You work too much, amigo.”

“I wish this was about work. It might be. I came in to check messages and… Hell, I don’t know. I’ve probably already compromised the crime scene.”

“Crime scene?” The sudden gravity of A.J.’s voice was drowned out by the renewed fussing of the infant two rooms away. “Is that a baby? Madre dios. What’s going on?”

Dwight turned and walked away again. “You once said that you owed me one after helping you and Claire take care of that incident at Winthrop Enterprises last year.”

“I meant that. Most of KCPD owes you a favor, counselor.” A.J.’s hushed voice was insistent now. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to call in that favor.”

“YOU WENT DOWN to No-Man’s-Land on your own?”

Maddie glared across the desk at the bald man who sounded more like one of her high-school students than a badge-wearing, gun-toting detective. How many times was he going to ask that same question? “Yes.”

“At night?”

“Yes. I was there last night.”

“Are you crazy?”

The detective, who looked almost ten years younger than her thirty-six, wasn’t bald so much as he’d shaved his head. And he wasn’t impressed by the temerity of her forays in the night so much as he seemed to think she was totally bonkers for taking it upon herself to help the only family she had left.

“I’m desperate, Detective Bellamy. Katie’s only seventeen. I’m supposed to be raising her and protecting her.”

“From what?”

From monsters like the man who killed Katie’s mother. From users like Zero. From a world that overlooked a woman who was shy and sensible and took advantage of a girl who was vulnerable and afraid.

“I need to protect her from whatever made her run away in the first place.”

Cooper Bellamy nodded and thumbed through the papers in his file. It was pitifully thin, considering she’d first reported Katie’s disappearance a month ago. “Let’s see. You said there was no inciting incident that prompted her to run away—no breakup, no family squabble, no change in location?”

“No. None of that.” For four years now, Maddie had done everything she could think of to provide Katie with a stable, secure home life. “She’s a normal, healthy teenager.”

“Except for the pregnancy?”

Maddie kneaded her purse in her lap, feeling the stirrings of the temper she worked so hard to keep in check. “Katie was fine with the baby. I was fine. She and the father amicably parted—he didn’t want any responsibilities to ruin his opportunity to attend Stanford, and she didn’t want a father who wasn’t interested in the baby.”

He flipped another page in the file. “Do you think she could be trying to reach her own father?”

Joe Rinaldi. The sickness that infected Maddie’s and Katie’s lives—shadowing every memory, coloring every decision.

Trust me, sweetheart. The only time I’ll send you flowers is for your funeral. He’d sent a dozen roses to the house just after Maddie’s sister, Karen, and Katie had moved in. The roses had arrived the day before Karen had disappeared from work. Two days before Maddie had been called to the morgue to claim her sister’s mutilated body.

But that was four years ago. Karen had been his obsession, his daughter little more than an afterthought. Katie had been an innocent bystander trapped in the nightmare.

But that nightmare had nothing to do with this one, right?

Maddie steeled her voice against the inevitable guilt, fear and loathing she associated with mention of her ex-brother-in-law’s name. “Joe’s in prison, serving a life sentence. He’s not a part of Katie’s life anymore. He’s not a part of our life,” she enunciated, as if saying it could make her believe it. “Joe Rinaldi couldn’t have had anything to do with Katie’s disappearance.”

“You’d be surprised what a man can accomplish from inside a prison cell if he’s determined enough.”

Hadn’t Joe made a similar promise to her on that last day of sentencing in the courtroom? A private little aside for her ears alone before the bailiff led him away?

I’ll find a way to get to you, bitch. Tellin’ those lies about me. You’re just jealous I married Karen instead of you. You turned her against me. Don’t think no jail cell is gonna keep me from giving you what you deserve.

But someone else had heard the threat that day. The prosecuting attorney, Dwight Powers. A cold, unflappable man who’d done the one thing no other man had ever done before or since in Maddie’s life—he’d saved the day. Defended her honor. Got in Joe’s face and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would be watching every move Joe made. And if he did one little thing to challenge the verdict or violate the sentencing he’d worked so hard to obtain…

“Ms. McCallister?”

There were no heroes in Maddie’s life to save the day now. She pressed her back into the vinyl chair, sitting up as straight and tall as five feet five inches would allow. She had to fight her own battles. She had to be the hero Katie could count on.

Weary from a night without sleep, Maddie wished she’d taken the time to do more than shower and throw on some lipstick and jeans. Maybe a power suit. She should have at least put her hair up in one of those sensible buns that made grown men and the high-school students in her English class take her more seriously.

She tucked one brash-colored strand of hair behind her ear and put on her best schoolteacher voice. “I don’t think Joe has anything to do with Katie’s disappearance. I’m more interested in what that man named Zero told me last night.”

The detective stopped shuffling his papers. “Zero? Hefty black guy? Lots of jewelry?”

Maddie nodded. “I’m sure he’s a pimp. I was talking to one of his girls first, a woman named—”

“KCPD is well aware of who Zero Chambers is. You don’t have any business messing with him.”

“Yes, well—” she breathed deeply to ignore the memory of his hands and body rubbing against hers “—he mentioned something about a clinic. One where pregnant women go to sell their babies. I guess it’s more profitable than giving the child up for adoption.”

“Wait a minute. Go back.” Cooper touched his fingers to the back of Maddie’s hand, where she still clutched her purse in her lap. “Zero knows about a clinic where they’re buying babies?”

Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Is Zero—this Mr. Chambers—reliable? He talked as if it were something he’d considered investing in.” Maddie pulled her hand away, embarrassed that she wasn’t a better judge of men. “Maybe he just made it up. I’m sure he was trying to shock me.”

Instead of another lecture on the foolhardiness of conducting her own private investigation, Cooper Bellamy was suddenly, intensely interested in everything she had to say. “If there’s word on the street, Zero would know about it.” He pulled out his pen and notepad and turned to a fresh page. “Now tell me again exactly what he said about this clinic.”

Hoping that she’d finally provided a lead in the search for Katie while praying that a place that bought and sold babies couldn’t really exist, Maddie carefully related the details of her encounter with Zero—minus the touchy-feely, groping part. “I can’t imagine anyone doing something so awful—taking advantage of the most vulnerable people in our society—and not hearing about it on the news.”

Detective Bellamy raised his dark eyes from his notes and looked at her as if he thought she was simpleminded. “It’s not something they want to advertise, Ms. McCallister. Those babies are for sale. They want to keep their operation way under the radar so that it doesn’t generate any press. They have to be sidestepping a bunch of legalities—medical licenses, government inspections, forged documentation, taxes.”

“Who’d want to buy a baby?”

“Wanna-be parents who can’t or don’t want to conceive themselves. Couples who’ve gotten stuck for years in the legal-adoption process or who don’t qualify for some reason. If they can meet the asking price, Junior can be theirs.” He pulled up something on his computer and scrolled down the screen.

“KCPD suspected something like this was going on.” He spared her a glance from his furtive work. “Six months ago, we had an eighteen-year-old show up in rehab. The girl’s parents claimed she’d been pregnant before disappearing on a meth binge. The girl wasn’t pregnant when she surfaced again, and she had no recollection of the baby’s whereabouts or even having been pregnant.”

“Katie isn’t a drug addict. If that girl you mentioned was a meth user, then her baby might have—” it was tragic to even suggest the possibility “—died. Katie wouldn’t take drugs, drink or smoke anything that could harm a fetus.”

Bellamy nodded, but Maddie had a feeling the detective’s interest in her search had moved way beyond Katie. “We had another vic, unidentified, show up two months back who, according to the medical examiner, had recently gone through a healthy delivery. The mother was dead, but there was no sign of the baby—alive or dead. It matches a case in St. Louis. We haven’t had any leads—”

“Dead? The mother was dead?”

The idea that anyone would treat an innocent baby like a commodity didn’t stun her as much as the expression on the detective’s face that said Zero’s story could be true.

Maddie felt the blood draining to her toes, leaving her light-headed and sick to her stomach. “Katie doesn’t want to give up her baby. She picked out names. We decorated the nursery together. We’re not rich, but we’re not hurting for money, either. She wouldn’t get involved in something like that. Not if she had a choice.”

But Cooper wasn’t listening now. He was on his feet, glancing through the deserted rows of paired-off desks and cubicle walls that filled the Fourth Precinct’s Detectives Division.

Katie wouldn’t sell her baby. Where would she meet such people? Why?

For the first time in twenty-nine days, Maddie hoped that Katie was just another teenage runaway.

The blood of determination started pumping through her veins again. Maddie braced her hand against the desk and rose to her feet. “Katie’s in more trouble than I thought, isn’t she? She might already be dead.”

Cooper’s own color blanched, as if he just now realized how many gruesome details he’d shared. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just thinking out loud. I’m sure your niece will turn up perfectly fine. The baby, too. The possibility of that clinic is just something we were briefed on. Something to watch for. If it happened in another town, it could be happening here. But we don’t have any proof of that yet.”

Maddie didn’t want his apologies and reassurances; she wanted cold, hard facts. “You think it’s a possibility, though, don’t you? That this baby-selling clinic exists. That Katie’s a part of it.”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“She’s important to you now because she could be a lead on a major case.”

“Just sit tight for a sec. Please.” He waved toward the chair beside his desk and urged her to take a seat. “Let me run this story by someone else. Make sure I’m not crazy for even considering it.”

Maddie hesitated. Was this a brush-off or a reason to hope? “What about Katie?”

“Ms. McCallister, if your niece is involved in an illegal-adoption ring—whether by choice or against her will—then I can guarantee you that every resource KCPD has will be put into finding her. This could be a huge case.”

“And if this adoption ring doesn’t exist?”

“We’ll still find her.”

He asked her to sit one more time before zipping toward a door marked Captain. But Maddie hugged her arms around her middle and chose to pace instead.

Whether Katie was involved in a major criminal operation or just a seventeen-year-old girl, confused and alone on the streets, Maddie was beginning to fear that she’d never see her again.

Chapter Two

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

The Fourth Precinct’s briefing room was generally empty on a Saturday morning. But drawn like bees to a dewy flower, a surprising number of plainclothes and uniformed officers alike had gathered around the front table. Some of them weren’t even on duty. Grown men spouted nonsense words; professional women cooed. Stories about kids and grandkids and kids some hoped to have one day filled the air like a party.

Dwight hovered near the back of the room, staying well away from the happy throng. His all-night marathon of answering questions about the baby’s mother and what the blood in his office and on the note might mean made him testier than usual. “There’s no way I’m taking it home with me.”

“He’s not an it, Dwight,” A. J. Rodriguez insisted. “His name is Tyler, and even though he’s only been around a couple of weeks, he’s still a living, breathing human being. You have to deal with him.”

“No, I don’t,” Dwight enunciated, in case there was someone on the planet who didn’t yet know just how little he wanted to be responsible for the welfare of a child. “I bought him a bag of diapers and some formula. I gave you my report and turned over all the case files you requested. The Department of Family Services is on the way to take care of the kid from here on so he’s not in any danger. If they can’t locate any family, they’ll find someone else. I’ve done my part.”

“Nice speech. But I don’t think you really believe that you can write off that kid.”

Dwight didn’t even blink. “Believe it.”

The Latino detective wore his guns, his badge and his usual cool-under-fire expression. Dwight hadn’t rattled him one bit. “If what the note says is true, that baby is the grandson of a man who murdered his wife and terrorized his family. Maybe he is in some kind of danger.”

“Then it’s a good thing I turned him over to you.”

“What happened to the bulldog prosecutor who goes to the mat for victims who don’t have the right kinds of allies? Where’s the man who had the cajones to back me up when the DA said my wife had only imagined that bastard hit man who was after her? People count on you, counselor. That baby’s counting on you.”

“That baby doesn’t know me from Adam.”

“His mother knows you.” A.J. held up the handwritten letter that had been sealed in plastic and labeled as potential evidence.

Dwight already had the desperate adolescent words memorized.

Dear Mr. Powers,

I wanted to talk to you in person, but I can’t stay any longer. It’s probably better this way. I always bawl at goodbyes.

Let me introduce you to Tyler. He was born August 2nd. I have something important to take care of, so I can’t be a mom right now. But I need to know that my son will be okay.

I don’t know how to say this so a judge will believe it, but I’m giving him to you. I remember my aunt reading an article in the newspaper a long time ago that said you had lost your son, so I figured there’d be room at your house. Please take care of him. You can change his name if you want, though I think Tyler Powers sounds pretty cool. Don’t forget to tell him how much I love him.

You saved me from Daddy when no one else could. Now I’m asking you to save my son, too.

Someday, I hope

The last sentence had been scratched out without being completed. Then the letter was simply signed

Thanks!

Your friend,

Katie Rinaldi

Dwight pulled back his jacket and splayed his fingers on his hips. He breathed deeply, trying to ease the tension that corded his shoulders and arms. Troubled as he was by the letter, the blood and the abandoned baby, he was hardly equipped to play the role of savior. “According to my files, Katie can’t be more than seventeen years old. She probably just contacted me because I’m the only attorney she knows.”

A.J. didn’t buy the argument. “She doesn’t want an attorney. She thinks you’re some kind of superhero who’s gonna save the day.”

Dwight edged toward the door when the kid began to fuss and the buzz of conversation turned to who wanted to hold the baby next. A superhero he wasn’t, not if an infant’s needy cries could turn him inside out like this.

“Hell, A.J., I barely know this girl. I prosecuted her father four years ago. Outside of my office and a few minutes in the courtroom, I’ve never even had contact with her. It doesn’t make any sense to leave the kid with me.”

A.J. pulled out his notepad and glanced at a notation. “When I ran Rinaldi’s name through the system, I found out that MODOC moved him to its mental-health facility in Fulton, Missouri, for psychiatric testing. His sentencing said he’s not to have any contact with his daughter, right? Maybe some paperwork got mixed up in the transfer or there was a glitch in supervision and he found a way to get a message to her.”

A chill of suspicion temporarily cooled Dwight’s pulse. “I just saw Warden Vaughn yesterday at a parole hearing. He would have mentioned if the Department of Corrections had had any trouble with Rinaldi.”

Unless he’d been so focused on keeping the man who’d ordered the murder of Dwight’s wife and son in prison that Ralph Vaughn hadn’t wanted to bother him with details on another prisoner. Dwight swiped a hand across his scratchy jaw. He needed a shave, a shower and a few hours of guilt-free sleep.

Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen.

But he sucked it up, voided his own needs and gave A.J. the relevant feedback he was seeking. “It’s worth looking into, I guess. Rinaldi tried to pass himself off as some kind of Ichabod Crane in the courtroom. He tried to convince the jury that a skinny guy with glasses couldn’t possibly have committed murder. But there was something missing when you looked him in the eye. Like a conscience. It wasn’t any mild-mannered accountant who cut up his wife like that.”

A.J. dotted an I and closed his notebook. “So if this potentially crazy, definitely violent dad did somehow contact his daughter, that could spook her. Make her fear for her own life or her son’s. Make her turn to someone she trusts for protection—namely you—whether that threat was real or perceived.”

Dwight worried about the possibility of Katie Rinaldi being in danger, even as he shook off the notion that he could serve as her protector. “I’ve got issues of my own right now, A.J. I need to be out of the picture.”

“We can handle the investigation and keep tabs on Rinaldi’s activities. The mom’s already on our missing-persons list. But until we hear differently from family services, this document states that you’re the baby’s guardian.”

“That letter would never stand up in court.”

“Forget the legalities for two seconds.” A.J. thumped him in the chest. “What’s it telling you, right in here?”

Dwight absorbed the flick against his skin like a heavyweight punch. Sure, with Joe Rinaldi as a father, Katie had been given a bum deal. Her abandoned son wasn’t getting such a hot start in life, either. But Dwight couldn’t fix those kinds of problems.

“You’re killing me, A.J. Give me murderers, rapists and drug runners to deal with any day. But not that kid.” He searched for logical reasons to back up his emotional claim. “I’m forty-three. Old enough to be his grandfather. I’m single. I work hellish hours. I have enemies. He needs…” Dwight fisted his hand in a frustrated plea. But he had to say the words. “The kid needs somebody who can be a father to him. That isn’t me.”

Damn the man. A.J. never even batted an eye. “When are you gonna let go and move on, amigo?”

A vein ticked along Dwight’s jaw, the only betrayal of the emotions he held in check. “Maybe when I find something to move on to.”

“I think you just did.”

The baby cried, right on cue. And while half a dozen police officers surged forward to help, Dwight slipped out the door into the hallway. There were consequences to caring that he wanted no part of ever again.

He squeezed his eyes shut against a gruesome image that was half memory, half imagination. Had Braden cried out like that, lying in his car seat on the edge of that deserted road next to his murdered mother? Had Dwight’s son suffered any pain that fateful night? Or, like Alicia’s, had Braden’s death been mercifully quick?

“Counselor.” A.J.’s low, emphatic voice cut through the haze of guilt and grief.

He should have known his friend wouldn’t give it a rest.

“I know. Live in the present, not the past. Fill your life with meaningful work, acknowledge your fears and all that other crap.” With a little embellishment, Dwight could recite the advice he and his trauma-recovery therapist had been discussing on and off for over five years.

But recovering from grief and guilt was a hell of a long way from being recovered.

Katie Rinaldi and A.J. were asking too much of him. “Tell you what, if that kid needs legal help, I’m your man. Pro bono, no questions asked. If I can’t handle the case personally, I’ll hook him up with the best attorneys in the business. I’ll pay for his care—hell, I’ll pay for his college—if I have to.” Dwight leaned in, using his size, strength and crisp, deep voice to make his point. “But I am not letting some panicked teenage girl turn me into a daddy again. I’m not responsible for that kid—period. End of discussion.”

The screech of a metal-chair leg sliding across the floor punctuated Dwight’s closing argument and diverted his attention down the hall into the main room. Normally a bustle of activity, the baby in the conference room and the weekend hours had left the detectives’ desks practically deserted.

Except for one young, exasperated officer. “Ma’am—”

And one shapely, compelling woman who’d shoved her chair aside to pace a circle around his desk. “That’s it? He’s going to look into it?”

The detective scratched the back of his shaved head. “Captain Taylor said he’s taking it to the commissioner herself. You just have to be patient.”

The woman spun around, the fires of anger and frustration coloring her cheeks. “No, I don’t have to be patient. I’ve been patient for twenty-nine days.”

“Ma’am—”

She raked her fingers through her hair, scattering the shoulder-length waves. “I’ve been patient all my life. And where has it gotten me? Waiting here, twiddling my thumbs, while you get permission to launch an investigation. I’ve seen for myself what’s lurking out there on the streets. And a lot of it isn’t pretty. I don’t know that waiting is an option my niece has, so don’t ask me to be patient!”

Dwight wasn’t sure if it was the woman’s distress that caught his attention or the color of her hair. It was a memorable shade, like a shiny copper penny, and it fanned against her shoulders and neck. He knew that hair. The last time he’d seen it, though, it had been twisted up, under control—prim, even—not free and flowing and bouncing with every shake of her head as it was now.

Dwight rarely forgot a name, and he never forgot a face. Though the packaging was different, there was something familiar enough about the thirtysomething female that he instantly started sorting through remembered details until he could place her.

“She’s an underage girl,” the sturdy redhead went on, articulating her words in a precise, passionate voice, “out there on her own.”

“Ma’am—”

“What if she’s hurt? Or worse? You have to do something now.”

“Ma’am, I—”

“Quit ma’aming me!” Red stopped her pacing, took a deep, steadying breath, and squeezed her palms to her temples. “Oh, God, I sound like that hooker now.”

Hooker? A.J. nudged Dwight’s elbow. “Looks like Bellamy’s got his hands full.”

Dwight was still processing the details.

“I know you’re upset—” Bellamy tried again.

“You think?” The woman braced her hands against a rounded set of hips and prepped for round two of the battle she was fighting. “What does it take to get you people off your butts? What if you’re already too late to help Katie and her baby?”

Katie. Bingo.

Baby. Salvation.

The band of tension squeezing Dwight’s chest eased with the satisfaction of details finally falling into place. At the same time, a layer of guilt lifted from his conscience and he almost—almost—smiled with relief.

Though he’d never have suspected she had a mouth like that, he remembered the woman now. Four years ago, she’d worn a bland, shapeless dress instead of curve-hugging jeans and a sheer-sleeved peasant blouse. She’d been so soft-spoken and stoic on the witness stand that he’d had to ask her to speak up.

There was a fire in her now he hadn’t noticed four years ago. Or maybe it hadn’t been there. Maybe that tight clench of desperation lining her full mouth had ignited the flame inside her.

Dwight didn’t believe in coincidence, but he knew enough about how lives interconnected and twisted around on themselves to know that the Joe Rinaldi case, the baby in the conference room and this woman were all connected. Something was up. Something big. He just had to figure it all out.

And Red was going to help.

“Excuse me a minute, A.J.” Dwight was already moving toward the argument in the main room.

Some men might see a woman in need of a gallant rescue. Others might walk on by, thinking her size and attitude meant she could take care of herself. Dwight saw his chance to do right by Tyler Rinaldi without exposing himself to the emotional risk of caring for the child.

Dwight smoothed his lapels and straightened his collar as he went, donning an air of authority he wore as easily as his tailored suit. Shading his voice with a pinch of arrogance, he addressed the detective while the redhead paced away from the desk. “Is there a problem, Detective?”

Cooper Bellamy was a good three inches taller and more than a decade younger than Dwight. But the bald detective seemed relieved that backup of any sort had arrived. He offered a deferring nod. “Sir.”

“Yes, there’s a problem. I’m—” Red spun around but halted mid-charge, swallowing her words on a quick, stuttered breath “—oh, um, you.”

Though Dwight tried to see her as nothing more than a means to an end, he got caught up in the darkening tint of her deep blue eyes. Two seconds ago, she’d been circling Bellamy’s desk like a lioness in her cage. Now the energy seemed to drain from her like a popped balloon.

Her breasts heaved and a blush of color started beneath the drawstring at her cleavage and crept all the way up her neck. Her hand and Dwight’s gaze went to that same stretch of creamy, rosy skin. Despite his ill-timed fascination with the generous dimensions of her figure, he was more intrigued to see her backbone sliding into place as she overcame whatever had temporarily sidelined her and extended her hand. “Mr. Powers. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Maddie—”

“I know who you are, Mrs. McCallister.” Dwight wrapped his bigger hand around hers, liking the firmness of her grip. “You sat with Katie Rinaldi at her father’s murder trial. Offered key testimony. You stood up to his threats and helped me put him away.”

With her pale, alabaster skin, she couldn’t hide the remnants of her temper. Or was that embarrassment staining her cheeks now?

“Wow, you do remember me.” Her grip trembled before she pulled away. She tucked her hair behind her ears and offered him a wry smile. “Mrs. McCallister was my mother, though. I’m just Ms. I’m Katie’s legal guardian now.”

“Even better.”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “Better than what?”

Instead of giving her the satisfaction of a straight answer, Dwight took her by the elbow and gestured toward the conference room. “Ms. McCallister? I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

WITH A NOD TO A.J., Dwight cleared the conference room and closed the door. He hung back, leaning against the door frame to watch Maddie and Roberta Hays, the DFS caseworker, verbally duke it out. Mrs. Hays—a skinny sixtyish woman who seemed to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning—had arrived twenty minutes ago. She flashed an ID from family services and announced that she was here to take the baby.

Dwight might have been content to allow the authorities to handle the kid’s placement if he hadn’t already gone to the trouble of introducing Tyler to his great-aunt. But guilt made a mean conscience. And while he wanted nothing to do with that baby, leaving Red to fend for herself against the State of Missouri felt like abandoning a client in the middle of a case.

Aunt Maddie, as she’d called herself when picking up the boy, was a natural talent in the maternal department. She’d cried when he first told her Tyler was Katie’s son. Tears of overwhelming emotions that couldn’t be contained. Tears that turned her eyes a deep shade of midnight-blue and made him squirm with the urge to say or do something to make her pain go away.

When she’d finally smiled, caught up in her grandnephew’s bright gaze, that tight fist of discomfort inside him released its grip. Then she’d cried some more before wiping her tears and getting down to the business of tending to the infant. She’d fed him a bottle, changed his diaper and soothed the little one to sleep with a gentle, husky tune that had pricked Dwight’s nerves into an uneasy state of awareness.

Sturdy was not, perhaps, the kindest—or most apt—word Dwight could have used to describe Maddie McCallister. This more mature, more vibrant version of the plain, quiet woman he remembered filled out the curves of her jeans and gauzy blouse. Yet she wasn’t poured into them, trying to pretend she was something she wasn’t. His eyes lingered longer than they should have on the plump breast where she cradled the infant as she answered the caseworker’s questions and asked a few succinct queries of her own.

“Who else would he be?” Maddie argued. “I don’t understand why I can’t take him home with me.”

Roberta Hays tucked her spiky salt-and-pepper hair behind her ears and shrugged an apology. “It’s a matter of proper identification. DFS needs irrefutable proof that this baby is Katie Rinaldi’s son before we can turn him over to a family member.”

Maddie adjusted Tyler onto her shoulder and patted his bottom. “What kind of proof?”

“Blood tests. DNA. A birth certificate would be nice.” Mrs. Hays packed the items Dwight had purchased into the diaper bag she’d brought with her. “You’d be surprised at how desperate some people are to have a child, Ms. McCallister.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“They’ll bypass legal-adoption channels and claim abandoned babies as their own.” She continued on when Maddie would have protested the veiled accusation. “Ever since that Baby Jane Doe’s body was found in the city dump last year, the demand for babies in the Kansas City area has skyrocketed. Everybody wants to save a child.”

“Baby Jane Doe was murdered,” Maddie pointed out through clenched teeth. Was she afraid that would be Tyler’s fate, too, if she let him out of her arms? “I would think you’d be glad that people are stepping forward to accept responsibility to keep our children safe.”

“Not if it means separating a child from his real family.”

“I am Tyler’s real family.”

Roberta shrugged. “Your last name’s different, your niece isn’t here to verify—”

“Because she’s in trouble.”

“You have to admit, dear. You look suspicious.”

“What?”

Roberta shook her head, then grimaced as if even that small movement made her weary. “You’re an unmarried professional woman. Childless. A little past your prime, if you’ll pardon the expression. Your biological clock must be ticking off the wall.”

“Excuse me?” Shock and frustration colored Maddie’s skin and Dwight shifted squarely onto his feet, half obeying the urge to join the fight.

“I’m just saying you fit the profile of someone who raises a red flag when it comes to custody and adoption. It’s not a flat-out no, but our policy is to do some extra research into the prospective caregiver in a situation like this. We don’t want the legal parents to show up and have to tell them their child is gone.” Raising her hands in a placating manner did nothing to soothe Maddie’s defensive expression.

“If Katie could be here, I’d give her Tyler in a heartbeat. In the meantime, I would hope that she’d be a little less worried about whatever she’s going through if she knew her son was safe with me.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but my hands are tied. You might get a judge to rule in your favor but not until the courts open on Monday. And then you have to get scheduled on the docket and get tests done and paperwork filed. In the meantime, Tyler’s in the custody of DFS. I have to place him in temporary foster care.”

“He’s already lost his mother—for the time being,” Maddie emphasized. “He shouldn’t lose the only other family he has.”

Maddie McCallister was a fighter. But she was losing an uphill battle.

Dwight stepped forward and interrupted the debate. If his conscience dictated that he be here, he might as well be doing something useful.

“Mrs. Hays.” The older woman faced him, her hangdog expression and fatalistic tone indicating a need for lunch, sleep or, perhaps, early retirement. Dwight offered her an easy way out of having to maintain her tough stance. “As Katie’s legal guardian, Ms. McCallister has the credentials to be a qualified foster parent.”

“Of course.” Maddie’s blue eyes perked up. “I was Katie’s foster mom before the court awarded me full custody after the trial.”

Roberta was slower to catch on to his logic. “That’s all well and good, Mr. Powers, but that doesn’t prove she’s family.”

“You have to place Tyler in temporary foster care—for the rest of the weekend, at least.” He tilted his head toward Maddie. “She’s your temporary solution.”

“Well, I suppose I could call my supervisor to check Ms. McCallister’s license. If her name’s already in the system—”

“It is,” Maddie chimed in. “My foster-care license should still be valid.”

“And I’ll vouch for her personally,” Dwight stated in a deep dare-you-to-contradict-me voice that had swayed juries and now prompted a pair of deep blue eyes to gape at him in surprise.

Roberta’s skinny frame seemed to gain strength at the prospect of someone else shouldering her responsibilities while she got the rest of her Saturday off. “I suppose.” She turned to include Maddie. “The boy seems to like you, at any rate. But just until Monday. Then I will have to insist that we do everything by the book as far as any long-term placement goes.”

“Sounds like a fair compromise.” Dwight nodded his agreement.

“Yes.” Maddie’s hopeful energy eclipsed the taller woman standing beside her. “I’ll contact a judge on Monday, do blood tests, whatever you need. Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’d better.” The hint of a smile subtracted years from Roberta’s face. She glanced from Maddie to the baby, then back to Dwight before grabbing the cellphone and a pack of cigarettes from her purse. “Just let me make a couple of calls. My supervisor, Mr. Fairfax, will be out on the golf course today. It’ll take me a few minutes to track him down.”

Dwight watched the older woman scuttle past him out the door, wondering how long it would take her to place the calls and get her nicotine fix before she returned. Wondering how long it would be before he could clear this crisis from his life and get down to some serious, solitary paperwork.

“Thank you, Mr. Powers.”

Dwight dragged his attention back to Maddie. She was smiling again. Not that weary expression of relief that had marked Roberta Hays’s features but a bold, full-lipped curve of unabashed gratitude. Her azure gaze boldly held on to his from across the room, and her wide smile transformed her plain features into something remarkable. A chink in Dwight’s defensive armor scraped open, exposing the strangest desire to smile back.

But, no, that would only encourage conversations and connections. And she was too into her momness for him to be able to handle anything other than this brief, businesslike transaction.

Dwight cleared his throat, breaking the expectant silence and flattening her unanswered smile. “Well, if that’s all you need, I’m out of here. It’s been a long night.” He thumbed over his shoulder to the door. “The detectives or Mrs. Hays will answer any other questions you have. Good luck with everything.”

Chapter Three

Good luck?

The man who’d come to her rescue four years ago after Joe’s trial didn’t seem willing to play hero a second time.

But what kind of professional dismissed a frightened woman, an innocent baby and an unsolved mystery that had literally landed on the middle of his desk with a good luck? Maddie had been ignored by men more than once in her life. But she’d never had one so openly eager to escape her company.

She shifted Tyler into one arm, already falling in love with the precious weight of him and soft smells she inhaled with every breath. Dwight Powers’s broad, unyielding back triggered a different, more volatile reaction inside her as she followed him out into the hallway. She braced her hand to catch the door before he accidentally closed it in her face.

“Hey.”

A storm brewed in Dwight’s gray-green eyes as he turned to face her, despite his politely calm voice. “Was there something else?”

“We’re not finished here,” she insisted, tilting her chin and pretending there was nothing intimidating about the height and breadth and dour countenance of the man blocking the exit. “Aren’t you concerned at all about Katie? I was hoping you could tell me something more.”

He propped a forearm on the frame beside her head, bringing those turbulent eyes and that unrelenting jaw even closer. “Trust me, I know very little about how the mind of a teenage girl works.”

Maddie fought her body’s urge to retreat a step as Dwight’s shoulders filled her peripheral vision. Tyler stirred against her as if he’d absorbed her tension, even in his sleep. She slowly rubbed his soft, warm back, for her own comfort as much as his. “You’re the one she entrusted her son to. You must have some idea why.”

“Actually, I don’t.” He glanced down at Tyler, his nostrils flaring as if something about the baby’s sweet talcum-powder smell offended him. But his expression shuttered so quickly that Maddie wondered if she’d imagined his reaction. “I’m sure it was just an impulsive mistake. She’d want you to have him.”

“Mr. Powers.” In a bold move fueled by fear, frustration and way too little sleep, Maddie grabbed a fistful of Dwight’s lapel and tugged him back into the conference room. He was startled enough to let the door close, giving them privacy once more. When her thighs bumped into the table behind her, Maddie loosened her grip and brushed at the wrinkles she’d put in the summer-weight wool.

But just as the warmth and hardness of the body beneath that suit jacket registered through her fingertips, Dwight stopped her hand, pushed it away and retreated a step. “What do you want from me? Legal advice? Money?”

That warmth must only be skin-deep. “I want answers. I want my niece back. I need to know why she turned to you.”

“I wish I knew.”

He turned away and circled the end of the long, narrow table. Without missing a beat, Maddie mirrored his path, pacing along the opposite side. “I’m very grateful to you for convincing Mrs. Hays to let me keep Tyler. I didn’t even know he’d arrived. Believe me, I’m relieved to know that he’s all right. But now I’m really worried about Katie. Did she have a healthy delivery? Is someone taking care of her? What if…” Maddie paused. She didn’t know where all these words were coming from or when she’d developed the nerve to say them, but she refused to give voice to the possibility that Katie hadn’t survived Tyler’s birth. “She’s like a daughter to me. I won’t rest until she’s home safe, too.”

“Detectives Rodriguez and Bellamy can answer your questions better than I can.” He spared her an annoyed glance before pivoting back toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“No.”

He slowly turned and glared at her. “No?”

“No.”

As they faced off across the table, Maddie could see it. She finally understood why Katie had left Tyler with Dwight Powers.

The evidence was in Dwight’s massive shoulders and blunt, unsmiling features. It was there in the flecks of silver camouflaged in his trim, wheat-colored hair. The brawny lawyer radiated strength—not just the physical kind, but strength of will and character and life experience. It was there in the square set of his jaw, the succinct articulation of his voice, the keen intelligence and inexplicable shadows in his storm-cloud eyes.

The resentment Maddie felt, knowing Katie had more faith in Dwight Powers than in her own flesh and blood, ebbed, even as her pulse tripped into overtime under his intense scrutiny. It still hurt that Katie hadn’t trusted her enough to share whatever troubled her, that her niece thought it was smarter to run away than to rely on her. It broke Maddie’s heart to know that, despite her best efforts to be there for her, Katie had chosen to go through childbirth on her own.

Dwight Powers might be a grouchy old bear who needed a few lessons in PR and patience. His bold, intriguing face might need a shave and a smile to make it handsome. But an enemy would think twice about going after anything he held dear.

Katie would feel safe with Dwight Powers standing between her and whatever threat pursued her. He’d stand like a rock between the world and her baby.

If he was so inclined to take such a stand.

This hard-edged attorney had little in common with the hero who’d stood for a few moments between her and the monster who’d killed her sister. So far, Maddie had seen little evidence of this older Dwight caring enough about anything, except a speedy departure, to believe he would fight for her niece.

But Katie had faith in the ADA. Though Maddie was less willing to put her trust in such a hard, heartless man, she prayed that the teenager was right. “Detective Bellamy said Katie left you a note. Can you, at least, tell me what she said?”

Lines furrowed beside his gray-green eyes. “Ask Detective Rodriguez. He took possession of the letter.”

“I’m asking you.”

“You wouldn’t like what she had to say.”

“Tell me, anyway.”

His chest heaved in a mighty sigh. He splayed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “She wants me to call the baby Tyler Powers and tell him she loves him. She didn’t say a damn thing that would give us a clue as to where she is or what’s got her so spooked.”

Tyler Powers? Maddie fought to ignore the fateful implication that changing Tyler’s name meant Katie didn’t think she’d be back to claim her son. “So, you agree—Katie’s running from something.”

“If she shares any of your stubbornness, Ms. McCallister, I imagine that handing her baby over to me was a last resort. So, yeah, she’s scared of something. Of course,” he paused, but his gaze never flinched from hers, “the blood we found in my office might have something to do with that.”

“Blood?” Maddie’s own veins seemed to stop up. Then the blood rushed to her feet and her breath got stuck in her chest. Dwight’s face blurred in front of her eyes. Katie wasn’t coming back. “Katie’s hurt?”

Dwight reached straight across the table and gripped her shoulder. He grabbed the chair beside her and shoved her down onto it. “Easy, Red.”

Red? Maddie pressed a hand to her clammy forehead. She felt so dizzy that nothing made sense. “Of course, the blood would be red. What…what happened?”

The table groaned as it took Dwight’s weight. And then she felt something warm press against her arm, pushing Tyler closer to her chest. The warmth stayed, radiated across her chilled skin and woke her from her stupor.

She’d nearly dropped the baby!

Maddie blinked Dwight back into focus. She hugged Tyler tight with her own strength and apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep last night and I skipped breakfast this morning—it’s hard to tell, I know. Katie’s been gone for a month and I’m just tired of being scared for her.”

“It’s okay.” He waved aside her rambling excuses. “Stuff happens. You’re tough.”

She glanced down at the large, battle-scarred hand still braced against her forearm. What Dwight Powers lacked in charm and subtlety he made up for in solid, steady strength.

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” Maddie’s self-deprecating laugh never quite left her throat. With a last wishful look at Dwight’s blunt, masculine fingers resting against her sleeve, Maddie rose. It was nothing new to realize she had to stand on her own two feet. “I suppose I’d better put Tyler down before I get distracted again. Do you mind holding him for a minute while I get his carrier ready?”

Dwight jerked his hand away and shot to his feet when she lifted the baby toward him. His face creased with something like pain—shock, perhaps—as if she’d just asked him to strip naked to see if his chest and biceps were really as big as they looked under that jacket.

“I’m sorry. I…”

With a deep noise she could only describe as a wordless curse, he plucked the carrier off the table and tossed aside the blanket. He loosened the strap buckles, adjusted the stand and locked it into place with an efficiency that indicated he’d done the task before. He set the carrier on the table between them and folded the yellow blanket into a neat square before pausing for an audible breath. Maddie felt her own held breath seeping out along with his as the burst of physical activity ended.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Now she could see that he was looking at the smeared drops of crimson that could be nothing other than blood on the corner of the blanket. He tossed the material aside and pulled out a clean cover from the bag Roberta Hays had brought. “I should have dropped that bombshell with a little more tact. We don’t know for a fact yet that it was Katie’s blood. The crime lab is going to do some checking. At any rate, they didn’t seem to think there was enough of it to indicate a serious injury. It could be related to childbirth—if it’s even hers.”

Maddie pressed a kiss to the crown of Tyler’s head, still trying to make sense of Dwight’s reaction—make that overreaction—to her request for a helping hand. “And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

“You wanted the facts. There aren’t many to share.”

Maddie nodded, corralling her fear the way she had for the past month. The way she had for so many years when she’d known Karen had been in danger and that every effort to help her had ultimately proved futile. She laid Tyler in the carrier and strapped him in place. Then she covered him with the blanket Dwight had set out. “I appreciate hearing at least that much information. It’s more than the police could tell me.”

“I’m sure they’re doing their best to find Katie.”

Maddie tried not to scoff. “They’re more interested in locating that illegal-adoption clinic that may or may not exist. If she’s not mixed up with that, then I’m afraid they’ll never find her.”

Dwight angled his head toward the door, shifting his whole body in that direction. But when she thought the conversation between them had ended, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and turned back to face her. “When was the last time you heard from Joe Rinaldi?”

She imagined that abrupt change of topic was a useful tactic to use in the courtroom to catch a witness off guard. But any mention of the ex-brother-in-law who had butchered her sister put Maddie on alert.

“I haven’t. We have an unlisted number, and the Department of Corrections keeps him locked up pretty tight.” But Dwight’s hesitation only upped her suspicions. “Why?”

He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Joe Rinaldi is being transferred to a new prison for a psychiatric evaluation. Could he have contacted Katie without you knowing it?”

“He’s not allowed to call or write her. And if he had, surely Katie would have told me.” You’d be surprised what a man can accomplish from inside a prison cell if he’s determined enough. No. She couldn’t go there. “Is Joe getting out?”

“He’s getting transferred. There’s a difference.”

“But for you to mention it, you must be concerned—”

“You wanted me to tell you everything I know. Now I have. Here.” As he slipped his wallet back into his pocket, he held out a business card. “I’ll report to KCPD if I hear from your niece again. Detective Bellamy’s young and ambitious, but I’ll make sure he keeps you informed and that Katie doesn’t get lost in the shuffle of pursuing a bigger case. You can call me if you don’t hear from him soon.”

Maddie took the card, trying not to make too much of how quickly he pulled his hand away from hers. “What about Joe?”

“I’ll keep you posted on anything I hear from that end, as well. Let’s hope he’s proved perfectly sane and MODOC puts him right back where he belongs.”

“Let’s hope.” Maddie summoned a smile. Whether it was his intention or not, Dwight Powers had given her the best comfort she’d known in a month. Maybe not in a tender here’s-a-hug-and-some-reassuring-words kind of way. But his straightforward taking-care-of-business bluntness went a long way toward easing her fears and making her feel as though she wasn’t in this battle all on her own. “Thanks.”

“KCPD will find out what Katie’s running from and bring her home.” The tight set of his jaw told her this last point wasn’t open for negotiation. “But I’m not an investigator. I’m not in the protection business. You and I are done here. Understood?”

So much for allies and support.

“And you can get me a list of all state-sanctioned adoptions in the past twelve months?” Cooper Bellamy pushed open the conference-room door, ushering in Roberta Hays ahead of him.

“If they’re public record,” Roberta huffed. “Not all of them are.”

Cooper seemed unfazed by her halfhearted answer and unaware of the tension that filled the room. He was grinning as big as a boy at an amusement park. “Ms. McCallister?” He nodded to Dwight. “Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but I’ve got some photos I’d like her to look at.”

“You’re a go,” Roberta stated. Maddie barely minded the odor of cigarette smoke stinging her nose as the social worker gave her a thumbs-up sign. “I just need to know where to reach you in case…”

Detective Bellamy opened a folder on the table in front of Maddie and dealt out five pictures. “Do you recognize any of these girls? Would your niece have contact with any of them?”

An auburn-haired teenager with a heart-shaped face jumped to her attention. “That’s Whitney Chiles. A friend of Katie’s. They sing together in the show choir.”

“And what about…”

While Maddie’s multi-tasking brain answered the pertinent questions and filtered out the rhetorical ones, her thoughts were focused on the man who gave her one last, hard look before striding from the room without a good-bye. A man of immeasurable strength who had an aversion to smiling. A man who would do only his job and nothing more.

Dwight Powers had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Katie. Or the baby.

Or with her.

So why did she feel as if her best hope had just walked out the door?

OH, MAN. THERE must be an elephant sitting on her head.

Katie Rinaldi tried to roll over to a more comfortable position. But a bombardment of fireworks and clashing swords exploded inside her brain.

She groaned. At least, she thought that was her voice. Her tongue felt swollen, her throat was scratchy. She was so thirsty.

Her breasts were tender and her joints ached from being twisted up like a pretzel while she slept. Or had she passed out? And why the hell wouldn’t that elephant get off her head?

“She’s movin’.”

“Make the call.”

“We call when she’s awake, not before.”

“You gave her too much juice. It’s been twenty-four hours.”

“You finally got some shut-eye, didn’t you? I told you this one was trouble from day one, when she came lookin’ for us, instead of the other way around. You should be thankin’ me instead of complainin’.”

“The boss is the one who’ll be complaining if she doesn’t come out of it soon.”

Who was arguing? Where was she? Was it morning or night? And what was that foul, rancid smell? Somebody seriously needed a breath mint.

“C’mon, darlin’.” Rough hands shook her. She curled up into a ball and tried to escape back into the comfort of oblivion.

“No.” There was something very important she needed to do today. But she couldn’t get her brain around the concept of opening her eyes, much less remembering that…thing…she needed to do. Her mind was floating. Funny, since her head felt so heavy. “Just a little longer. Please.”

“Wake up! Where’s the kid? Katie!” The little one smacked her hard across the face.

Her eyes popped open. “Tyler!” The cry grated through her dry throat. She grabbed her empty belly and squinted her surroundings into focus. “Where’s my baby?”

“That’s what we want you to tell us.”

Katie’s thoughts grew more coherent as the blow carved a path through her muddled brain. Not them again. No, no, not this place. She crawled into a sitting position. How the hell did she get back here? Had they recaptured Whit, too?

“Oh, my God,” she rasped. Tears filled her eyes. She’d really screwed up.

She was back in the hospital bed. Neat white sheets. IV stands. Antiseptic smells. Even a call button beside her on the blanket. But this wasn’t really a hospital.

And neither the tall porker on her right nor the garlic-chewing shrimp on her left was a doctor. Or a male nurse. Or even an orderly.

Katie lifted her hand up to her aching cheek and winced at the sharp pinch of pain around her wrists. She looked down. A thick plastic band, as secure as handcuffs, was bound around her wrists.

Next time, escape wouldn’t be so easy.

If she had a next time.

“She’s with us now. Make the call, Fitz. Welcome home, darlin’.”

While the big man pulled out his cellphone and punched in a number, Stinky Pete sat on the edge of her bed and mocked her with a smile. She’d seen that same sort of leer before—on her father’s face when he looked at her mother.

As a little girl, Katie had never wanted to leave the room when she saw that particular smile because she knew that the minute she was gone that smile would vanish. And her mother would bear the full brunt of the savagery beneath that smile.

Katie lowered her eyes and sank into the pillow, trying to make herself as small and insignificant as possible. She didn’t feel like the brave crusader anymore, out to save the world one friend at a time. She didn’t even feel seventeen. With those dark eyes laughing at her, gloating over her, she felt like a scared little girl again. She wanted to go home. Aunt Maddie would keep her safe. Aunt Maddie would love her baby.

“Tyler?” she whispered.

“Not here, darlin’.” Stinky Pete pinched her chin between his thumb and finger and forced her to look at him. “We thought maybe you could clue us in. He’s bought and paid for and we want him back. What’d you do with him?”

Her plan had failed. Maybe she hadn’t helped anyone, after all. Just because she was in a private room now didn’t mean Whitney had escaped. They might have recaptured her friend, as well. She could be tied up and drugged somewhere else in the building. Or Whit could be dead. And it would be Katie’s fault. Instead of helping her friend, she’d gotten her killed.

Katie had made a critical mistake in calling for help. She’d trusted the wrong person and given away their location. Now she was back with Stinky Pete and his big buddy, the hulkster.

But if she was here—and they were asking these questions—that meant they didn’t have Tyler. A perverse sense of hope tried to take root. Thank God. Mr. Powers would take care of him. Even if she didn’t survive this, her baby would be safe.

Her mother had made the same sacrifice for her. Katie felt through the thin cotton of her gown for the chain she wore and closed her hand around her mother’s ring.

The big man named Fitz held out the phone. “The boss wants to talk to you.”

The boss? There was someone else these two goons answered to? Other than the grandmotherly midwife who’d help deliver Tyler, Katie hadn’t seen anyone else but the other girls. Katie held up her battered wrists. “I can’t hold the phone.”

The little man with the scary eyes and false smile grabbed the cellphone and pushed it against her ear. “Talk.”

Katie caught a startled breath and obeyed the command. “Hello?”

The voice on the phone was sickeningly familiar. “I’m very disappointed in you, Katie. I went out of my way to help you and this is how you repay me?”

By the time the call had ended, Katie was numb with fear.

But Tyler was still safe. Please, God, let him stay out of harm’s way.

She heard the big man speak. “The boss wants us to take out some insurance. Something to improve the new mama’s cooperation.”

Stinky Pete grinned. “Now that should be interesting.”

Insurance? There was nothing these men could do to make her tell them what she’d done with her baby. Nothing. She’d die first.

Katie had resigned herself to doing just that by the time the needle pricked her arm, filling her head with the weight of that elephant and sending her back into oblivion.

MADDIE ROCKED BACK and forth slowly, softly singing her own version of an old movie song about fish swimming and birds flying and loving dat boy of mine.

Tyler had finished his bottle, burped like a pro and drifted off to sleep. But Maddie was in no hurry to put him in his bassinet. She loved the warm, gentle weight of him nestled against her and found his contented slumber a balm to her own fractured sense of peace.

Katie had done a wonderful job taking care of herself during her pregnancy. The vitamins, exercise and careful diet had produced a healthy boy.

But Maddie was no closer to understanding why Katie had run away. What had changed in the girl’s life? As Dwight Powers had suggested yesterday morning, something pretty drastic must have occurred for Katie to risk Tyler’s health and her own during the last month of her pregnancy.

How could she not have seen it? She and Katie talked every night over dinner. Had she not been listening?

Maddie replayed those last few evenings together in her mind. Maddie had talked about the summer class she’d been teaching; Katie about the classes she’d be taking in the fall. With tutoring from her favorite aunt to compensate for the first few weeks of school she’d miss, Katie had been thrilled that she’d still be able to finish high school and graduate with her own class. She’d be forced to give up most of her extracurricular activities, but a couple of her best friends had promised to still come to the house to hang out, keep the gossip fresh and help with the baby.

Katie had been a little despondent about not having her mother around to see Tyler. But more than once, she assured Maddie that she’d fill in just fine as a grandma.

Joe Rinaldi’s name hadn’t come up.

The baby’s father hadn’t come up.

One evening, Maddie and Katie were commiserating over swollen ankles and the summer heat; the next, Maddie was alone with a note in her kitchen.

Dear Aunt Maddie,

You know I love you more than anything in the world, right? Well, maybe just a nanobit less than I’m gonna love Tyler or Amanda. But don’t be frightened if I’m gone for a while.

I need to take care of something. Something I know you’d understand if I could tell you about it. But I promised to keep it secret.

I’ll always remember how you tried to help Mom. How you’ve always helped me. It’s my turn to pay it forward now.

I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Love ya,

Katie

What did she mean? What sort of debt did a seventeen-year-old have to pay that would be shrouded in such secrecy?

Tyler cooed in his sleep and Maddie smiled for his benefit. “Where’s your mommy, sweetie? What’s so important that she can’t be with you right now?”

Even if the baby couldn’t understand, Maddie refused to mention the possibility that someone else might be keeping mother and son apart.

Not for the first time, Maddie considered the neatly cut stump of Tyler’s umbilical cord and the tiny little ring ready to fall off his circumcision. Wherever Katie had been, whatever she had done, Tyler had received medical care.

Had Katie? Maddie still hadn’t shaken the memory of the blood on Tyler’s blanket or Dwight Powers’s blunt words about the blood in his office. “Please don’t let it be your mama’s,” she whispered into the darkness.

Was Katie in good hands, recovering from the delivery? Was she in a hospital far away or close by? Had she been in an accident and lost her memory and forgotten her way home? Was she, God forbid, in that secretive baby clinic that Cooper Bellamy and the KCPD were so anxious to investigate?

One phone call. That’s all Maddie needed. One call from Katie to tell her where she was and Maddie would move heaven and earth to bring her home.

“She’ll be here soon.” Maddie made the foolish promise to herself and the boy. “And then your mommy can rock you to sleep. That’s how it should be. That’s how it will be.”

Tyler dozed as Maddie rocked in the old walnut chair handed down from her grandmother. It was one of the few surviving family treasures. If it had gone to her sister, Karen, it would have been destroyed. Busted up with an ax and burned in the fireplace. Thrown across a room. Backed over with Joe Rinaldi’s pickup truck in one of his sick, controlling rages.

A silent tear ran down Maddie’s cheek and soaked into the bodice of her white cotton nightgown.

Karen had once confided that it was the not knowing that scared her most during her marriage to Joe. Would Joe be in a good mood when he came home from work? What would set him off this time? Was he asking a question to make conversation? Or putting her through a test she was bound to fail?

Karen had described a scary place inside her head where she’d lived 24/7.

And while Maddie had witnessed the external effects of Joe Rinaldi’s abuse, she hadn’t truly understood the internal fears her sister had lived with until now. Not knowing Katie’s fate—imagining the worst, trying to plan a way to make things right, praying it wasn’t foolish to hope—had to be the truest hell Maddie had ever gone through.

Sometime later, after the twilight shadows had muted the primary colors of Tyler’s nursery to shades of gray that matched Maddie’s mood, she got up from the rocking chair and put Tyler in his bassinet. She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Good night, sweetie. See you in another four or five hours.”

She would have stayed there even longer, just standing in the shadows and watching him sleep, if the flash of headlights hadn’t streamed through the window and swept across the room. It was enough of a visual alarm to wake her from her wistful yearnings and remind her that she needed to get some sleep, too, if she was going to do Tyler any good tomorrow morning.

Maddie padded on bare feet to the window and adjusted the curtain. She paused a moment to rest her head against the bright yellow frame and look out across the familiar northern Kansas City neighborhood that had been her home all her life.

She saw the familiar one-and two-story houses set close together with deep, narrow yards. She saw the familiar cars and trucks parked in the driveways, lining the street. She saw the familiar trees and gardens, the street lamp at the corner.

But tonight, the homes felt less friendly, less familiar. The shadows seemed darker, the sleeping windows like spiteful, spying eyes. It had to be her imagination, fueled by fear and fatigue. “Where are you, Katie?”

As if to answer, a sixth sense led her gaze to an unfamiliar car—gray or dirty black—parked across the street, just beyond the fringe of light cast by the street lamp. There was nothing extraordinary about the car, nothing alarming or sinister about the metal or rubber or glass. It just felt…wrong. It didn’t belong in her familiar world.

Maddie sighed, shook her head and let the curtain close. She had enough to worry about. She didn’t need to imagine enemies or curious eyes where none existed. The Dixons, who lived catty-corner across the street, had two teenage boys. One of them had probably bought a new car or had a friend over for the night. Or maybe Cooper Bellamy had made good on his promise to step up the KCPD’s efforts to find Katie. Chances were that was just an unmarked police car with an unseen protector inside.

But before Maddie climbed into bed, she checked the window from her room. The car was still there. Dark. Out of place.

And she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone in the darkness was watching.

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