A killer with a secret motive...

A mother with a secret baby

Crime scene photographer Greer Montgomery didn’t expect to witness a murder at a small-town carnival—nor to be rescued by the father of her secret baby. A storm chaser, Locke Gallagher often stares down death, but he’s never known true fear until Greer’s life is at risk. But how can he protect his newly discovered family when the killer could be anyone?

JESSICA R. PATCH lives in the Mid-South, where she pens inspirational contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. When she’s not hunched over her laptop or going on adventurous trips with willing friends in the name of research, you can find her watching way too much Netflix with her family and collecting recipes for amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. To learn more about Jessica, please visit her at jessicarpatch.com.

Also By Jessica R. Patch

Fatal Reunion

Protective Duty

Concealed Identity

Final Verdict

Cold Case Christmas

Killer Exposure

The Security Specialists

Deep Waters

Secret Service Setup

Dangerous Obsession

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Killer Exposure

Jessica R. Patch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09642-3

KILLER EXPOSURE

© 2019 Jessica R. Patch

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“I’m so frightened. I want my daughter. I want my life back.”

Locke knelt next to Greer. “I’m scared, too, if it makes you feel any better. For Lin’s safety and yours. But he’s been in this house. He knows we have a daughter, and while we’re being super careful and taking extra measures to make sure we aren’t followed...we aren’t perfect.”

She looked into his eyes and he saw her fear.

“Maybe we move Lin somewhere else,” he told her. “Or talk to the sheriff about extra protection. We’ll figure it out. You and me,” he whispered. “Okay?”

She only nodded and he refrained from wiping her tearstained cheeks. He was supposed to be angry with her for keeping his child from him. But right now, in this moment, she was so vulnerable. So frightened. He could only offer her compassion. Any other emotion he felt toward Greer could get them killed.

He had to focus on one thing only: a killer was coming. With vengeance on his mind.

Dear Reader,

Greer Montgomery was a tough character to write at first. Why would someone hide a child from a father if she knew he was a good man? It came down to her own childhood fears. Fear can be irrational, but it doesn’t make it any less real or debilitating to the one who suffers from it.

Words hold life and death, and the words Greer heard her father say the night he left molded and shaped what she believed about men, especially men like Locklin, who had some similar playful and adventurous traits as Greer’s dad. Greer had to learn to trust God. To trust that even if everyone walked out on her and baby Lin, God never would. When that peace was enough, it healed her to trust Locke and give him a chance to be the dad he desperately wanted to be, but was also afraid of.

You and I don’t have to be afraid of our pasts or how they were shaped. We do have to be brave and ask God to heal us from those fears and help us trust people in our lives who want to help and love us. I hope you enjoyed Greer and Locke’s story. I love to hear from readers, so please email me at jessica@jessicarpatch.com and sign up for my newsletter to keep in touch and be “Patched In” with all things bookish! Sign up at www.jessicarpatch.com.

Warmly,

Jessica

Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

—Deuteronomy 31:6

To Mom, for loving us kids sacrificially and unconditionally, and letting me sit out on the porch as a kid watching thunderstorms instead of making me come in the house.

Special thanks to my agent, Rachel Kent, who’s always in my corner and a joy to work with. To Shana Asaro, for her excitement about weather disaster plots and for always being a rock star editor; to Emily Rodmell, for her help early on in the story; to Susan Tuttle—the other half of my author brain and human shovel always ready to dig me out of a plot hole; and to Jill Kemerer, for helping me burrow into my heroine’s and hero’s hearts to find their fears.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Spring wasn’t the only thing in the air. Storms were rolling in, and if Greer Montgomery didn’t need the money she wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of a field on an April evening taking photos for the upgraded Goldenville Chamber of Commerce website. Nope, she’d be home snuggled up with her own little Stormie Lin, listening to her suck a pacifier and inhaling that sweet baby scent—a mix of innocence and baby powder. But Greer would work three more jobs, if necessary, to provide for her nine-month-old princess.

The Stellar Entertainment traveling carnival had spent most of last night and early this morning setting up for the week-long spring-fest. Greer had been by earlier to catch some of the action and meet with the Chamber of Commerce’s executive director—and her friend—Cindy Woolridge to discuss the vision for the website.

Most of the patrons tonight would be donning ponchos and rain boots. Alabama’s springs could be wet and soggy. But that didn’t stop families from coming out in droves to indulge in corn dogs—or, as everyone around here called them, Pronto Pups—pretzels, rigged games, a Ferris wheel and cotton candy. Greer peered into the sky. The sun had been eclipsed by thunderheads that looked a lot like spun cotton candy piled high on a stick. Breaking through the dappled clouds, lightning flashed in the distance. The scent of rain rolled in, which brought a whole different flood of emotions.

She clicked a few photos of the lit-up Ferris wheel. Perfect for the chamber website. Tourists would want to come and visit; folks moving to the area would see how family-friendly Goldenville was. Southern hospitality at its best. When she returned home a year and a half ago, she’d been welcomed with open arms. One set of feeble arms had belonged to her mother. Greer had expected to come home temporarily to help her after a mild heart attack, but Mama never completely recovered and three months ago, she’d passed into the strong arms of Jesus after a severe heart attack. Greer missed her daily. Missed that Lin wouldn’t get a chance to know her grandmother.

Another flash of lightning, accompanied by a peal of thunder, revealed the storm was fast approaching. Maybe less than thirty minutes. Greer had already taken a ton of photos this morning after her shift at the sheriff’s department. She normally worked days, but they were short a few deputies, so she’d taken the overtime and worked the night shift last night. Not much in town too sinister. Other than those thunderheads.

Locke would call them by their proper name—cumulonimbus clouds. Her tummy flip-flopped at the thought of him. But she’d been thinking about him all afternoon. She’d have never experienced a storm in all its terrifying glory if she hadn’t chased dozens with him over the few years they were together. Seen them through his shockingly blue eyes—blue like tropical waters with limbuses as black as a tempest.

She wandered through the maze of rides, games and food stands. Carnies worked to get set up. Music blared through speakers, and she gravitated toward employee campers and then to the field that widened into the woods—which gave her some unique photo opportunities to capture storms, clouds or any wild weather through the treetops. Locke taught her that, too. But their dreams of exploring the world and capturing it on film had shattered like glass in a hailstorm.

She had planned to come home and nurse Mama back to health while Locke went on with the research team, documenting storm systems and tornadoes. Then she would meet back up with him and the team, helping with photography needs.

But upon arriving back in Goldenville, she discovered a shared moment of weakness with Locke—that she sorely regretted—had left her pregnant. But God had been faithful to forgive and to provide for her and Lin, whom she did not regret one iota. Lin was the good in the whole messy situation.

Greer had quickly secured a job as a crime-scene photographer and sheriff’s deputy. Law enforcement was in the blood. From her mama’s side of the family—the Buchanan side. Dad hadn’t been one for enforcing anything. That was Mama’s job. Then he’d flown the coop decades ago, only coming back to town to visit her and her older brother, Hollister, on occasion. But eventually he became as scarce as woodland creatures before a cyclone.

She snapped a few photos of the lightning to use with her new filters. Thunder rumbled as she darted in between the employees’ makeshift homes. A commotion came from one of the smaller house trailers up ahead. Not much light due to the sun setting and the blanket of ominous clouds. Greer crept toward the sounds of a scuffle.

The door was cracked open.

A man’s garbled cry sent chill bumps across Greer’s skin. She drew her off-duty Glock 43 and darted toward the camper, swinging open the door.

A man stared at her, his eyes inky and threatening. Her training kicked in. “Drop the knife. Hands up. Come out slowly. Slowly,” she commanded.

Dressed in a carnival maintenance uniform, he held up black-gloved hands, one still gripping the bloody blade. He wore a ball cap that hid his hair, but his short-cropped beard and mustache matched his eyes, his physical features distorted in the dimness.

The man at his feet stared blankly, unmoving. The amount of blood couldn’t have come from only one wound. He’d been stabbed multiple times. Greer feared she’d witnessed his last breath, last sound. “Take it easy. You’re under arrest.” No radio to call it in. But she had the situation under control. Once she got him to lie face down with his hands behind his back, she’d use her cell and get backup out here to cuff him.

A brilliant flash of lightning popped across the sky. The man kicked a bucket through the door. She batted it away, but it startled her. The killer leaped out and ran for the woods. Greer couldn’t let him get away. She rushed inside the mobile home and checked the victim’s vitals. As she sadly suspected—gone.

Sprinting through the light drops of rain, Greer spied him rushing into the safety of the trees.

“Freeze!” She raced in his direction. Eating up the field, she flew into the dense forest and paused, listening. A whiz up ahead. She moved in.

He disappeared.

Her heart pounded as she crept through the trees, brush, limbs and leaves crunching under her feet.

Come on. I need another flash of lightning. Come. On.

A burst of light shot through the night, and the man slammed her into a tree. Greer’s loose grip, due to the rain, was lost, and her gun plummeted into the brush. She swung at the killer and connected with his jaw with a right uppercut. She might be slight in frame, but her brother had been a Navy SEAL, and he’d taught her a trick or two—and she’d been kickboxing since her early twenties.

A raspy laugh belched from his mouth, and the knife he’d refused to drop glinted in the night. Her adrenaline kicked up a notch. Game changer.

She weaved and dodged him, hoping to spot her gun with a fresh flick of light. The camera hanging around her neck thumped against her chest.

No go. Jumping backward, she grabbed a large, gnarly branch and swung it at the attacker. Thoughts of her baby girl recharged her need to fight. The killer rushed her, and she tripped in the darkness, dropping the limb. They tumbled to the ground, and she screeched. But no one would hear. Not this far out. Not over the thunder. Not over the carnival music blaring.

Greer had no one to rely on to survive but herself and God. She screamed again as he shoved her into the dead winter twigs and pinecones. They cut into the back of her cropped denim jacket and T-shirt with a sharp sting. She drew up her knees, putting one against his stomach, blocking him from putting his whole body and weight on top of her. He grabbed her right wrist. She snatched his with her left hand, pulling his arm across her body and pushing with her free leg. She rolled out from under him, her camera strap snapping and sending it to the forest floor. Scrambling to her feet, she sprang into action and tore through the trees as the raindrops turned into a steady, but drizzly, rain.

Breathing ragged. Fear propelling her forward, faster. Stronger. Greer’s lungs screamed for more air, burning in protest. She’d left her hair down, and it matted to her face and eyes.

She glanced back as lightning illuminated the surroundings. He was ten feet away, closing in. Zigzagging, she smacked straight into a tree and bounced off, falling to the ground and landing with a heavy thud.

“Whoa.” The tree spoke. “Hey!” This time the voice roared, and she raised her head to see the man-tree go after the killer. Pushing hair from her eyes, Greer heaved breaths and struggled to get up. He dove onto the guy, and the attacker rolled him over. But he was quick and easy on his feet. He jumped up and put himself in a defensive position to block. Martial arts? The guy swung, but her rescuer blocked him once, twice, then landed a frontal kick, propelling him backward. There was some definite power in those legs.

“Who do you think you are?” he hollered, disgust and something familiar in his tone.

Greer’s head pounded, and her entire body blazed and ached.

The killer rushed him, and as fast as the lightning was striking, the towering oak used a series of hand motions to nail him on the ground. “Stay down!”

No. Greer stood, tottered. Couldn’t be. Had to be the blows to the head... But that voice. That confident, almost arrogant attitude. “Locklin?”

He whipped his head in her direction. “Greer...? Greer!”

The attacker made his move, and before Greer could warn Locke, he swept Locke’s feet out from under him, throwing him off balance, then bolted and fled through the woods.

Locke raced toward her as she teetered, legs like noodles. Nauseated. Headache. Trembling. He righted her as the sky lit up.

His crow-colored hair was a bit longer, shaggier, framing his face and touching his collar. Cheeks, chin and neck were scruffier. But it was storm-chasing season. A camera hung around his neck. “How bad are you hurt?” His hands roamed her face, head, back, arms.

She shrugged him away. His touch, while medically motivated, felt too intimate. Too familiar. Too perfect and safe. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking...and bleeding.” He brushed her hair from her face.

“Stop touching me.” She jerked back.

“Okay, I’m backing off.” He held his hands up as a boom of thunder breached the wooded barrier.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just...rattled. But fine.” That wasn’t completely true. Greer was far from fine. Things were happening so fast. She’d been attacked. Locke Gallagher was here. The past was rushing in, as were thoughts of what she needed to do now as a law enforcer. She was flustered, panicked and afraid.

“I get it, Greer. We gotta go, though. Now.”

She nodded, snagged her cell phone from her denim-jacket pocket and turned on her flashlight. “I need my gun and camera. Help me find them?” She hurried and called in the crime, giving the last known location of the killer and which camper the victim would be in.

Locke stood like a statue, rain slicking his hair to his face.

“Please,” she begged. “I have to get back to the crime scene. Get photos.”

Locke shoved rain-drenched hair from his face. “What is going on?” His words were laced with frustration.

“Did you not hear me call it in? I witnessed him murdering an employee. With this weather, time isn’t on my side.” She searched the area for her gun and camera, rain soaking her to the bone.

Locke finally helped her. “Here.” He found the gun by the tree.

“Thank you.” She needed to answer his questions. Have some kind of conversation. He’d have a million questions, but rain would wash away possible evidence, and a killer was on the loose. She had to focus on her job first, then she’d muster some courage to talk to Locke. “What are you even doing here, in town? In these woods?” she asked as she found her camera, then jogged through the woods and into the field to the campers.

He kept her pace.

Locke couldn’t be here. Not in Goldenville. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m chasing a cluster of storms in the surrounding areas. Be about a week or so.”

That was too long. This was a small town. He’d no doubt bump into Greer at the store, a café, the park. And he’d see Lin.

And he’d know he had daughter. A daughter he’d never laid eyes on. Never met.

Because Greer had kept it a secret.

To spare their child from the future heartache of knowing she was never wanted by her father.

* * *

Locke ran with Greer across the field to the carnival employee campground. Rows upon rows of RVs and campers created a temporary home base for the traveling crew. Locke was no stranger to this kind of living. Especially during spring and summer storm seasons. Greer was supposed to be on the team, too. But she’d come home to help her mother and dropped him faster than a twister descending out of the sky, ignoring all his calls and texts. He’d taken the obvious hint that things were over, which shattered his heart in a million pieces. He’d been too cowardly to show up on her doorstep and face the rejection in person. It had been easier to lick his wounds alone and fake it until he made it.

He’d been debating giving her a courtesy voicemail, as she wouldn’t answer his calls, to let her know that he’d be in her hometown for a week or so with the group of scientists he worked with. Could he slip into town for the week and her not know it? He was leaning toward “yes,” when Greer had literally smacked into him in the woods. No hiding now.

Locke had been capturing this small storm on his own time. The earlier weather hadn’t been conducive to tornadoes so he’d been using it in his free time to collect photos for his online web gallery. He’d created a large platform and made a name for himself as a storm photographer. Even National Geographic had purchased a few images and done a piece on him and his role working with this team to discover more about why some storms produce tornadoes and others don’t. They were working to help stretch tornado warning times for people.

He hadn’t expected to find Greer. Certainly not battling a crazed dude in the woods. He thought he’d heard screams earlier and was making his way toward them when Greer had slammed into him. Then he’d seen the attacker and realized the woman was in serious danger. He hadn’t known it was Greer until she’d called him by his full first name. Locklin. He’d been so stunned and distracted that the man got away. How had she witnessed the crime? Why was she hanging out around employee living grounds and why was she calling in crimes like it was her...? “Do you work for the police now?”

They dashed through a row of campers, and Greer slowed down. “Sheriff’s department. Deputy and crime-scene photographer when they need one. Thus, me needing to get photos.”

Locke had met her in one of their criminal justice classes, but they’d gotten to know each other working for the college paper. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest since you’re a witness to this crime?”

“Are you serious right now? It’s about to storm. I’m the only one around. Who else is going to do it?”

She had a point. And it wasn’t like Locke was in law enforcement now. He’d dropped out. School wasn’t for him, and he never wanted to follow the Gallagher-Flynn lineage into the military and law enforcement. Locke just chased storms and had disappointed everyone, as usual, including Dad. God rest his soul.

Greer shined a light and entered the gloomy scene. Locke followed but stayed outside the door. He wasn’t dumb enough to contaminate a crime scene. The deceased was lying in a pool of blood. This right here—this was why Locke never wanted to go into the criminal justice field. His stomach wasn’t fragile, but he detested violence. The marring of humans. The evil. His heart couldn’t handle this day in and day out.

Dad would probably consider it weak. Locke simply didn’t like looking at death every single day. Greer used a broom handle to lift debris and then she went to work clicking the camera as if she hadn’t been chased and attacked in the woods. He admired her tenacity. Her drive to help fight injustice.

But Locke would rather use his camera to capture the terrifying glory of a whirlwind. Even in the wake of its destruction, there was still beauty and wonder to be found. In that tragedy, communities rallied to support one another. He had hundreds of photos of humanity doing its best.

Police sirens sounded.

“Who was this guy?” Locke asked, and studied Greer. Maybe she wasn’t as held together—he caught her hands trembling.

“Don’t know yet.”

“You probably need a doctor or something.”

She paused and poked her head outside the camper; a gentleness softened her features. “I sincerely appreciate your concern. But honestly, Locklin, I’m good. I’m not trying to ignore you. I just... I gotta work. Gotta do the job and it helps me not think about the fact I almost bit it out there tonight.”

The thought of that sent a shock to his system. But if she said she was okay, he’d go with it. Greer was a strong woman. She wasn’t blowing him off like she had almost two years ago. He’d try to be more patient. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue he possessed, though. It required being still and Locke had always struggled with being still. School, church, events and the list went on. He was full of energy and always antsy. Just the way he was made.

Lights flashed in the distance. Sheriff’s deputies had arrived. They went to work sealing off the scene and forcing Locke to the other side of the tape, where he stood in the rain getting wetter with each second. A chill had already numbed his skin but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he was sure she was safe. Didn’t matter that other police were around and were capable.

“Sir,” another crime tech said. “I need to collect evidence from your hands. Deputy Montgomery said you hit the attacker’s face. I’d like to get a sample before this storm washes it away.” Locke complied while the officer did his thing. Another deputy walked up—he was an inch shorter than Locke’s six-foot-one frame. “I’m Deputy Crisp.”

“Locke Gallagher.”

“I’m gonna need your statement. I’ve already gotten Deputy Montgomery’s.”

Locke gave him the lowdown, while keeping an eye on Greer as she talked with other deputies.

When Greer finally slipped out from under the tape, he headed straight for her.

She cocked her head. “You don’t have to stick around, Locke. They got everything they needed and as I said before, I’m okay.” She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small pouch. She tossed it to him. “Poncho. Though, it’s a little late for staying dry.” A smirk pulled at her lips as if she was totally fine, but her eyes betrayed her.

“I know I don’t need to stay. I want to. And I know you too well. You’re not okay.” It was clear Greer didn’t want anything to do with him. He got that. He’d repeatedly been over her reasons for going cold turkey on him. She might have changed her mind about the traveling life. And the bigger one—the night they’d crossed a line—could have seriously factored into her not returning. He’d made a huge mistake. Shouldn’t have let it get so out of control. Epic fail on his part and he blamed himself completely. Not that he hadn’t moved on since she’d broken his heart—he had—but of all the adventures Locke ever loved, Greer was his greatest. Couldn’t they even be friends?

“Greer, I should have known you’d be here working.” A tall man with thick silver hair approached. Locke hung back but could still hear the conversation.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m not letting this one get away.” She told him what happened. “What we know right now is the vic’s name is Fred ‘Flip’ Bomer. He’s worked the Stellar Entertainment carnival for eight years. Done an array of things from games to running the bumper cars. Thirty-seven. Not married. The carnival manager, Rudy Dennison, is getting us his file, but you know that’s going to be thin. Carnivals don’t require background checks or too much information.”

“True. Listen, I appreciate you taking the initiative and getting the photos, but you were attacked. Get some rest. Let Crisp take it from here.” The fatherly figure laid a hand on her shoulder. “You sure you don’t need medical attention?”

Greer bristled. “No, sir. I’m going to work with Burt on a sketch of the man who killed Flip and attacked me. Manager said they have multiple maintenance workers on staff. We’re rounding them up now. I need to stay on this. Need to ID this guy.”

He seemed to debate the idea. “Let Crisp and Garrison do it. When they get the workers corralled, you can make the ID.” He gave her a slight side-hug. “Glad you’re okay.” He then turned to Locke. “Sheriff Randy Wright.”

“Locke Gallagher.”

“Thank you for being in the woods.” He squinted, rain dripping off his poncho. “Why were you out here in the woods?”

Locke glanced at Greer. The truth was he was trying to figure out what to do about seeing or not seeing her while photographing nature. “I’m with a group researching storms. Y’all have several supercells coming in this week, prime weather for twisters. I photograph them.”

“A storm chaser?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “Glad you were here. Not that I don’t think Greer could have made it out, but sometimes we need a little help.”

“I guess so.”

The sheriff shook his hand again and left them alone as the rain let up. Wasn’t over yet, though. “Locke, I’m safe. Seriously, you can get back to what you were doing,” Greer said.

“I know.” But he didn’t want to leave. “How long will the sketch take? I can wait. We can get dry...and get coffee?”

“I’m not sure. And I worked all last night, picking up overtime, so I’m pretty tired.” As if on cue, she yawned, then sheepishly grinned. His heart slammed into his throat. Those wide, thick lips on a heart-shaped face. The straightest nose he’d ever seen. Her chocolate-brown eyes revealed true exhaustion. But there wasn’t a measure of fear in her tone—she was so like the Greer he used to know. Used to love.

Overtime and exhaustion, he understood. “Okay...well, maybe sometime this week?”

She shifted and shoved a thick mass of wet hair from her face. It still cascaded past her shoulders all in one length. Probably the same corn-silk blond, but now damp from rain it was the color of sand after the ocean washed over it. Man, he’d loved her hair. “I’m going to be pretty tied up now with this case.”

“Too tied up you can’t eat?”

“I work more than one job, Locke. I’m a part-time photographer. Family portraits, senior pictures, community events. You know, the kind you never wanted to be. The kind that boxed you into nine-to-five.”

He had said that. There was too much adventure in life to settle down and do one single thing every day. Too many places to see, too much to experience. Not a single storm was the same. The thrill. The challenge. Locke did what he wanted, when he wanted. At one time, Greer was onboard and living that life with him. And they were having fun, were happy. “There’s no challenge in that,” he teased.

“Try getting four children under the age of six to all sit still and face the camera and smile at the same time.” She half laughed, but it seemed sad. “It’s not the wild adventure you chase, but it’s satisfying. I like documenting family milestones and memories. I like keeping my town and county safe. I like the people. I like this life.”

Whole lotta like. No mention of love. Once, she’d told Locke she loved chasing storms. Loved capturing them. Loved...him. “I’m glad you’re happy, Greer. I’ve never wanted anything else. I guess...guess it just stinks you couldn’t be happy with me.” There, he said it. “But I’m over it.” She needed to know he wasn’t going to be stalking her and groveling. She’d made clear what she wanted. And he wasn’t a part of it. “If that’s what’s holdin’ you back from having a meal or coffee with me. Friends is cool. I can do friends.”

Greer cleared her throat, glanced away. “Good, okay,” she whispered. “I’ll...I’ll think about it.”

Better than “get lost.” “Hey, you witnessed a murder tonight. This guy...are you worried he’ll come back?” She was clearly worried about something. Would he try to finish her off? The thought sent a blip of panic to his chest. “You want me to see you home?”

“No.” A flash of fear splashed through her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I can see myself home.”

“Not saying you aren’t capable or anything.” He shrugged.

“We’ll find this guy, Locke. Probably tonight. I’m not worried.” She lowered the hood of her poncho now that the rain had stopped. She wasn’t fooling Locke. Greer’s hand had a tremor and the truth showed in her eyes. She wasn’t only shaken, she was scared. It had crossed her mind that he would try and finish the job. Even if it was a fleeting thought. It was there. Locke could read it on her face. “I have to get back to work.”

An awkward silence ballooned around them.

“Be careful chasing those storms,” she said. “Hope you find what you’re looking for, but also I kind of hope you don’t.” She grinned. Genuine again. Sincere.

No one wanted tornadoes ravaging their towns, and about twelve years ago, three had come through this county, tearing them to pieces. A state of emergency had been declared. But over time, the community had rebuilt, with some outside help. That’s why this research was so important.

“And thank you. For...being in the woods and coming to my aid. All that martial arts training paid off.”

Finally, a real thank-you. The soft side of Greer. The side he’d always admired. One of the many facets he fell in love with. “Well, when you have uncontainable, boundless energy and your dad’s military, and a cop, he finds a way to burn it off and prepare you for your calling.” One he never felt called to. He ran his hand through his wet hair and shivered. “But you’re welcome.”

“I really gotta go now.”

With that, she spun and disappeared into the rain-soaked night.

* * *

Sitting in her car, soggy, freezing, exhausted and sore, Greer laid her head on the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. After stomping away from Locke, she’d worked with the sketch artist and hung around a little longer at the scene until Sheriff Wright basically tossed her in the car and sent her home. Too much had happened tonight. Death. Her near-death and then Locke showing up. She was grateful that he’d been there. His usual self. Brave. Kind. A little snarky and humorous and attentive. For being a man she was sure had ADHD, he never seemed to have an issue giving her his undivided attention, and it hurt beyond belief, so she’d avoided him. Old feelings. Fear. Guilt. Locke had a daughter, and he didn’t even know. He’d never wanted children. He’d been adamant about that up front. They got in the way and wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle—his words. They would cramp everything. So Greer had taken the chicken’s way out and not told him.

But tonight proved in a small way that she had made the right decision to protect her daughter by not telling him the truth. He’d said it himself, years ago—he would not be boxed in. Locke had always rebelled against social norms and family expectations. He wanted to live the way he chose. No chains. No being tied to what the world said being an adult ought to look like. And no children.

They’d been dating a year when the conversation came up again about having a family, and it had turned into an argument. Locke hadn’t changed his mind and never would. Greer had been so head over heels in love with him that she’d agreed and wouldn’t bring it up again. But Greer had always wanted a family. A husband who wouldn’t leave. Who wanted his child always and forever. Clearly, that man wasn’t Locke. She’d considered breaking it off after that last heated discussion, but she’d loved him too much and couldn’t make the tough choice.

Then Mama got sick. And she found out she was pregnant. That made the decision for her.

Besides, Locke was finally getting his dream, making a mark on the storm-photography world. Greer didn’t want to rob him of that. But mostly, she was terrified he would give it all up for them and one day he’d do exactly what her father had done—abandon them. Locke would feel imprisoned by his own daughter. Greer’s pregnancy would be nothing but a trap, a means to get her way of having a family—at least that’s how he’d eventually see it. He’d blame his child and Greer for all the years he lost. Just like Dad. Then he would walk out and Lin would have to live with the same fear, the same guilt, the same heartache as Greer. Dad’s words to Mama echoed in Greer’s ears every day.

“You got pregnant and trapped me! I never wanted this life. I want to do what I want. I want my life back.” And Dad had left Mama.

And Greer and her older brother, Hollister.

The pain had been overwhelming. Greer would never let Lin experience that kind of heartache. She was no one’s prison. She would never have to grow up feeling unwanted or unloved. Greer would never reject and abandon her.

But now, as she sat in her driveway, she wondered how in the world she was going to keep Locke from finding out. Deep in the marrow of her bones, a whisper formed that he had every right to know and always had.

Fear held her hostage from listening to it.

She climbed from her vehicle, exhausted. Her best friend, Tori, had already offered to keep Lin for the night since it was so late, and she was available to watch her tomorrow. Tori’s job as a nurse at the hospital allowed her to keep Lin a couple of days and nights a week, depending on what shift she was working. Greer didn’t have a lot of money for day care, so she appreciated having friends who could help. She still had medical bills for Mama. A house payment. Insurance. Ugh. The thought of bills only further soured her mood.

Trudging up the walkway to the small home Mama had lived in, Greer held back tears. Being a single mama was no joke. No one to help her. No one to help carry the pressures of daily life, finances or parenting. Fear and dread of how she was going to manage each day, how she was going to provide for Lin. But she wouldn’t change it. And she’d move heaven and earth to make sure Lin was happy and had everything she needed to feel loved and successful. Like her own mama had, working extra shifts and jobs at Christmas to provide for Greer and Hollister. As children they’d never appreciated or understood the sacrifices Mama had made.

Greer knew now.

She unlocked the front door and entered. Still smelled like Mama’s White Diamonds perfume. The ache swept through her empty stomach and clutched her ribs.

As she switched on the lamp in the cozy living room, Greer’s hairs on her arms rose. She froze and scanned the area. Nothing looked out of place. Her adrenaline raced again. Too much commotion and devastation tonight. She was paranoid.

Creeping down the small hallway, she entered the only bathroom in the two-bedroom home and switched on the shower to scalding hot, then closed the door to let the steam rise. Greer popped into the nursery, turned on the light and inhaled Lin’s scent. She missed her baby girl. She entered her bedroom, which the bathroom separated from Lin’s, and stripped off her outer hoodie, tossing it into the hall to wash. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She had dozens of carnies to question. Hopefully they’d find this guy tonight. Maybe she should have stuck around regardless. But she was no good to anyone or to the investigation right now with so little sleep.

Hairs on her neck spiked.

She whirled toward the closet, reaching for her gun as the killer from the woods lunged and knocked her to the bedroom floor before she could grab it.

TWO

Locke haphazardly punched his steering wheel, sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut, but during storm-chasing season he didn’t pay attention to haircuts or daily shaving. He was parked down the street from Greer’s. It wasn’t hard to find. Not when he’d been here before.

It was after midnight, and the last thing Locke wanted to do was wake up Greer’s mom, especially since she was in bad health. But after going back to the camper park, showering and getting dry clothes on, he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. He had this ball in his gut that kept signaling red flags.

Locke groaned and went with his gut. He turned his lights off as he pulled behind Greer’s silver CR-V. If she still had the same bedroom, he could tap on her window. Probably terrify her after what happened earlier tonight, but he didn’t want to wake the entire house. He slipped around back and tiptoed to the room Greer had slept in when he visited.

Greer screamed.

Locke’s heart leaped into his throat.

Another shrill scream, but it came from outside. Hurrying, he rushed around the side of the house as Greer bolted through the patio doors.

The killer burst through after her, clobbering her to the ground.

Blood turning hot and adrenaline spiking, Locke flew to the attacker and grabbed him by the collar, then hurled him into the air and two feet from Greer. He landed with a thud and a curse. Stalking toward him, Locke had no intentions of letting this creep get away again.

The guy hopped to his feet and raced behind the house toward the neighbor’s. Locke gave chase. With every stride, he grew angrier. How dare this guy try to come back? No one was going to hurt Greer. No one.

Locke gained on him as he hurdled a chain link fence into a backyard. Locke scaled the fence and turned the corner. Something smacked him upside the head, knocking him to the ground in a daze. He glanced down. The aluminum lid to a trash can was lying beside him. A flash of the attacker sprang over another fence.

Giving his head a good shake, Locke stood and rubbed his cheek. That was going to bring a nice, fat headache in a few hours. Greer might be hurt, and the attacker was now too far away to chase. Locke ran back to her house. This time, he knocked on the side patio door that she’d run through.

Greer opened it, looking worse for wear, hair hanging in knotted clumps. Same wet clothing she’d had on earlier. Dirt, grime and tears streaked her face. Her hands shook uncontrollably. Without thinking, he yanked her to him and crushed her in an embrace. She winced, and he eased up. “Greer,” he whispered. “Are you hurt? Did he... Did he hurt you?”

She sniffed against his chest. She’d always fit perfectly, her head coming right under his chin. “No. I haven’t been home long enough to go through this again.”

“How did he get in?” Locke asked.

“Everything looked fine when I got home, but the window to the laundry room was broken. He got in through there.”

How would the attacker know where she lived if he was a maintenance worker at the carnival?

“I don’t suppose it would be too difficult to find out where I live. It’s a small town. He couldn’t have followed me. He was here when I got home.”

Guess she’d been thinking the same thing. The sound of the shower running caught his attention. “Did you call it in?”

“Yes. Deputy Crisp is out searching for him. I’m assuming he got away.” She didn’t pull away from him, and the familiarity pooled like warm goodness in his stomach.

“He did. Which reminds me. Can I have a couple pain relievers?”

Greer broke the hug and peered up at him. Lightly, she touched his cheek with her quaking fingers. She caught his eye, and their gazes held. Suddenly, she wrenched her hand away and strode to the cabinet by the fridge. “What did he get you with?” She fetched him two ibuprofens and a bottle of water.

“Metal trash lid.”

“Ouch.” She grabbed a pack of frozen peas from the freezer and handed them to him. “You’ll want this.”

Locke scanned the kitchen. The house was quiet. Too quiet. “Where’s your mama? Is she okay?”

Greer looked away. “She—she passed three months ago. Another heart attack.”

His stomach bottomed out. “Greer. I’m...I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t called him, which smarted, but not as much as it hurt to see her breaking. Greer and her mama had been close. The whole family had been after their dad left. He didn’t know the entire story. Greer never spoke of him, but it had been a devastating blow to them all. “I know what you’re going through.” His dad had been gone much longer, but the emptiness was always there. He wished Greer would have called. Leaned on him. He could have helped her.

She wiped her eyes.

He placed his bottle of water on the sink. A wall of awkwardness built between them. “Why don’t you go get dry and warm, and I’ll make us some coffee or something. Then I’ll fix that window.”

Greer glanced behind her and a new wave of fear covered her face.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you, and I doubt he’ll be back.” Tonight. But he had a sneaky feeling this wasn’t over. This guy was set on taking out the one witness to a murder, and he didn’t seem to care that Greer worked for the sheriff’s department. That made him brazen. Bold. Locke wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s not that,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back and—and we should talk, Locklin. A major conversation.”

Locke swallowed down a mountain of nerves. Well, he’d wanted answers. Guess he was about to get them. “I’ll make it strong then.”

“You definitely should.” Worry etched her brow. “And you don’t have to stay. You...won’t want to.” She muttered the last part and he wasn’t sure he heard right. Nothing could make him leave.

“Greer, a man tried to kill you multiple times tonight. Let’s just say what we both know. He has no intention of letting you walk away after having seen him.” He wasn’t trying to scare her, but she was acting delusional. “Your colleagues obviously didn’t solve the case after you left. I’m not leaving you alone. I want to stay.”

“I’m trained.”

“I don’t care.” He wasn’t budging.

“The department is going to do drive-bys every thirty minutes. Fingerprint the window. I’m not scared.”

Liar. She was terrified. He just wasn’t sure why some of that fear seemed to be directed toward him. “Go take care of yourself. The only way you’re getting rid of me is to call the police and say I’m trespassing, and after I saved you twice tonight, that feels like a crummy and ungrateful thing to do,” he jested, trying to lighten her up, to relieve some fear and tension. He would keep her safe. “I may not be a gun-toting cop or Navy SEAL, but I’m more than capable of holding my own and watching out for you.”

Greer inhaled deeply. “I know. Now, you make coffee and I’ll only be a second.”

“Okay,” he offered and slowly moved to the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs. “I’ll be right here making eggs and coffee.” And trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

She rushed from the kitchen.

Locke laid the carton of eggs on the counter, then peeped into the living room and down the hall. The door to a bedroom closed. Back in the living room, a baby swing and toys littered the floor. She’d said she had side jobs. Was she babysitting or running a day care? The wall above the couch caught his eye.

A collage of photos. Those weren’t there the last time he visited. There had been a huge painting of a meadow. He remembered because he’d loved it. It was only missing a tornado right down the middle.

He switched on the lamp by the couch and gaped.

Blood whooshed in his ears, leaving him dizzy. Photo after photo of a baby girl. Newborn pictures. One in a little tin washtub chewing on a rubber duck. But it wasn’t the clever poses that nearly brought him to his knees. It was the black-as-night hair. The blue eyes that stared back at him. The dimple in her right cheek. Locke touched his right cheek, felt the dimple there.

His sight landed on a newborn picture with footprints and handprints beside it and a birthdate.

No. Didn’t take a professor to do the math.

This child was nine months old.

Nine months of pregnancy.

Eighteen months ago, Greer had left him.

Why? Why would she do this? He lifted the most recent photo from the wall. Even without a DNA test, it was crystal clear that this child belonged to Locke.

He was a father.

He had a daughter.

His eyes burned and moisture blurred the photo in front of him. He blinked and focus came back. He trailed his index finger over the baby’s face. She was... She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Mischief in her eyes already. She had Greer’s thick lips and straight little nose.

His lungs squeezed. Emotions swept through him like a roller coaster. Pride. Joy. Fear. Confusion. Despair. Loss.

Anger.

He camped on anger. How could Greer do this? Keep him from his child. From being a dad. Was she never going to tell him? What if he’d never shown up in her hometown? What if he’d come by tonight and she hadn’t been attacked? Would Greer have even let him inside?

“I was hoping to tell you before you saw all this,” she whispered.

He pivoted and held up the photo.

Greer slid her gaze from the photo to Locke’s face and her lip trembled, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t try to explain or toss a weak excuse his way.

“Where is she?” Fear flooded him. “Is she here?” Was she in the house when a killer broke in? His heart galloped, and he stormed down the hall, taking a hard left and flipping on the light in the room Greer had once used.

A perfect pink-and-pastel nursery came into view. He smelled the baby powder and sweet scent, and his knees buckled. But his daughter was nowhere to be found.

Greer stood at the door. “She’s with my friend Tori,” she whispered. “She babysits her some when I’m working and she doesn’t have a shift at the hospital. Sometimes another friend, Cindy, watches her.”

Locke didn’t know what to say first. He was flooded. Overwhelmed.

“How could you, Greer? How could you hide this from me? Do this to me?” With every question, his voice rose and his pulse rocketed.

“Locke, you said you didn’t want children.”

He collapsed into the rocking chair, dropping his head into his hands. He had said that and he’d meant it at the time, but he didn’t have a flesh-and-blood child to see or touch or talk to. Now he did and that changed things.

He was furious for the betrayal. Terrified of what this now meant. How was he supposed to be a dad—not just a dad but a good one? Yeah, he’d told Greer that he didn’t want kids. Yeah, his excuse was his on-the-go lifestyle not being conducive to children. But that wasn’t the deep-down-inside reason. That reason was too embarrassing to reveal. Especially to the woman he’d wanted to pledge his life to. It was too raw, making him too vulnerable. It would have shown her who he really was and she would have left him. She’d left him, anyway, in the end, but not for the truth. Not for the real reason he didn’t want to be a father.

The truth was, Locke couldn’t handle disappointing and failing one more person. Most definitely not his own flesh and blood. He’d been a screw-up his whole life. It was easier to let Greer believe the superficial excuse.

“You said you didn’t want them, either, but here you are. A mama. You didn’t put her up for adoption. You changed gears and didn’t allow me to change them. That’s not fair.”

Greer sighed. “No, it’s not. And that has crossed my mind several times in the past few months. I even picked up the phone to call you...but I didn’t. And I can’t change it now. I don’t know where we go from here.”

Locke wasn’t sure, either. His biggest fear had come true in two seconds flat. Underneath that fear, though, was a powerful need to see his baby. It pulled at him like gravity. He may not have wanted a kid, but he had one now. And he wanted her.

“I want to see her.”

“It’s the middle of the night. She’s asleep.”

Locke worked his jaw, studied the room. “I want to see her first thing this morning, Greer.”

Greer exhaled a shaky breath, but she nodded. “I understand if you want to leave now.”

She understood nothing. “No, I can’t leave. As much as I want to.” He needed to clear his head. Think things out. There was so much to process and his mind was going billions of miles a minute. “Because some crazy is out there trying to kill you. So, I’ll be staying.” He paused beside her. “Make no mistake, though. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you.” She’d hidden a human being from him and if he hadn’t come to town, he still wouldn’t know! That was unfair no matter what he’d said about having or not having kids. It didn’t matter how terrified he was knowing he was a father. This was his baby. His. Baby. “But you’re the mother of my child. So, I won’t let anything happen to you. For my child’s sake.”

At the door, Greer sniffed. A sliver of him wanted to go and comfort her. But he was aching inside and needed to be alone.

“I’m taking the couch.” He marched down the hall and into the living room.

He fell onto the sofa, face in a throw pillow. Greer’s bedroom door quietly clicked closed and everything he felt, everything he’d missed out on, every slice of her betrayal, broke through and washed out his eyes on to the sagging couch.

* * *

When the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., Greer rolled over and turned it off. She hadn’t slept a wink. After Deputy Crisp fingerprinted the window, she’d spent most of the night sobbing and begging God to help her figure this out. She’d never seen Locke so angry, though he had every right to be. Every right to hate her, to be disgusted. But he’d never understand her reasons. Locke wouldn’t believe he’d ever resent them and walk out one day. Her own dad probably hadn’t even thought that at first. One day it would happen. Locke never looked much to the future. He lived in the now. That was his way. She’d done what she thought was best. Right or wrong. She couldn’t take it back.

Now that Locke knew, Greer feared what he might do. What if he tried to take Lin from her? And do what with her? Take her to live in campers while he chased storms? Just toss her in a car seat with a toy camera as he raced with twisters? Hardly. But he was extremely impulsive to say the least, so Greer couldn’t be sure what he would or wouldn’t do.

When he’d shown up at her house after rescuing her again, she had been terrified, but then he’d taken her and held her against him. All the comfort and warmth she’d needed, he’d provided. His tenderness had been overwhelming. Twice he’d risked his life for her.

But now his protection was only due to the fact they shared a child. Any tender feelings he had were gone. Better that way, anyway.

That wasn’t the only terrifying thing sending her heart into arrhythmia. Locke was right when he said a killer wanted her dead. Somehow, the man in the maintenance uniform had discovered where she lived and she wasn’t safe. Greer had barely gotten free from his grasp a second time. Barely made it outside. If Locke hadn’t been there—again—she might not have made it at all. And what if Lin had been home? Her baby wasn’t safe, either. This guy wasn’t going to stop coming for her.

Today was going to be a long day. They had to find him. Put him away. It was the only way Greer and Lin would be safe. But before she could get to work and do her job, she had to take Locke to see Lin.

After cleaning up, she found him sitting at the kitchen table, eyes red-rimmed and hair disheveled. Didn’t look like he’d slept, either. She wasn’t sure if she was going to get more heat or if he’d blown his top and now would be less harsh. Either way, she’d take whatever dish he served up, whether hot or cold, and eat it without complaint.

“What time does she wake up?” he asked quietly.

“About now. I’ll call Tori and let her know we’re coming. Do—do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“I don’t want anything, Greer,” he murmured. “Just my daughter.”

She swallowed the ache in her throat and nodded, then went into her bedroom to call Tori—the only person in town who knew everything. Tori had been her best friend since third grade. When she reentered the kitchen, Locke had changed clothes and looked like he’d shaved. A duffel bag hung over his shoulder. The fact he’d freshened up to meet his nine-month-old baby girl sent a wave of warmth and grief through her.

He silently followed her outside.

“Do you want to ride together?”

“I do not.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. “Tori lives on a farm on the edge of town. She homesteads.” Now she was nervously babbling. “Just...follow me.”

As she neared Tori’s farm, her stomach knotted, and she felt like she might throw up. She pulled up behind Tori’s car. Locke was behind her in his Ford F-150. He followed her to the screened-in door at the side of the house. Tori met them at the door.

“This is Locke.”

“Hey,” Locke said, devoid of his typical charm and friendliness.

“Nice to meet you. She’s...she’s in her high chair.”

They entered the kitchen; the smell of toast and coffee permeated the room. Greer’s heart swelled when she saw Lin sitting in a wooden high chair with a few rice puffs on her tray. “Hi, baby girl,” Greer cooed.

Lin looked up, gave her that wide grin and banged on her tray, squealing. Nothing made Greer feel more loved and wanted. Locke hung back. His bravado, his anger, gone. He almost seemed nervous. Shy. Uncertain. Greer lifted Lin from the high chair and kissed her chubby cheek. “Mama missed you, baby girl. Did you have fun with Miss Tori?” She kissed her again and slowly brought her to Locke.

“I have some work down in the root cellar. I’ll be there if you need me.” Tori left them alone, and Greer brought Lin to him.

“She’s going through stranger anxiety so she may not warm up very fast,” Greer said.

“And do you know what that feels like, Greer? To be a stranger to your own child?” he whispered. “Does she have a name? I don’t even know my daughter’s name.” Anguish swept through his tone, and regret panged in her heart.

“Locklin, meet Stormie Lin. But she goes by Lin. L-i-n.”

Moisture formed in his eyes. “Lin,” he whispered. “Stormie Lin,” he whispered again. He looked at Greer, blinked back the moisture. His blue eyes were bright. Clear. “What’s her last name?”

Greer’s dream had always been to carry his last name. Her daughter should as well. “On the birth certificate it’s Gallagher. But around here, she’s Lin Montgomery.”

Locke sniffed, studied Lin. “At least you gave her my name legally. Thank you.”

A thank-you. Greer bit her lower lip. Locke reached out, hesitated, then touched Lin’s cheek. “Hey,” he said with a soft baby-talk tone. “Hey, Lin.”

She peered at her daddy, into identical eyes, with a somber expression. He tickled under her chin. “Do you know who I am?” He became more cheerful as if working to draw a smile. “I’m your...daddy.” His voice choked with emotion on the word. “Can you say ‘daddy’?” he asked.

Lin wrapped her pudgy hand around his finger on her chin and blew spit bubbles.

Locke chuckled, and she squealed.

“Can I...hold her?” he asked.

“We can try, yes.” Greer slowly passed Lin to Locke. “Go see your daddy, baby girl. It’s okay.”

Lin swiveled toward Greer but allowed Locke to take her in his arms. Greer had been in those arms many times. Surely, Lin would feel the strength and security in them, as Greer always had. The feeling of protection. She only hoped her baby girl would never have to live with those strong, safe arms leaving her.

Locke took her hand and kissed her baby knuckles. “Hey.”

Bless him, he had no clue what to say or do, but his affection was clear. Burning bright in his eyes. “You are so lovely, little girl.”

Greer turned and squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears.

“Did you know that? Did you know you were so lovely?” he asked again.

Greer faced them, watched. Lin put her hand on his cheek and squeezed.

“Mmm...you got a grip there, kiddo.” Locke laughed. “Good solid grip.”

Greer chuckled, and Lin laughed with her.

“Well, she likes you.”

“She should. I’m her dad,” he said strongly. “I want to know everything, Greer. I want to know everything I missed. Because I’ve missed it all. You have to understand that, right?”

Greer bit back tears. “I didn’t want us to be in your way. You’d just signed the two-year contract. I hadn’t. You were working your way into your dream. And...”

“And what?”

How did she explain that she knew he’d end up abandoning them? He’d just argue with her. “And, I’m sorry.” Sorry for this whole mess.

“Me, too.” He rubbed Lin’s soft cap of raven hair. “It curls when it’s wet, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“It does.”

“So does mine.” He grinned.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you everything. Show you photos. Videos.” Whatever he wanted. But that didn’t make the fear go away. Seeing his gentleness didn’t give her hope. Dad had been fun with her, too. When she was little, he’d called her precious. “But I have to go to work, Locke. A killer is out there, and you’re right. I’m not safe until he’s behind bars.” She couldn’t let Locke see how terrified she truly was. He might try to take Lin away or something. She had to appear confident. Brave. In control. But she had never felt more helpless and out of control.

“New storm system coming in today. Around two. I have to work, too, but I want all the time I have with her. You owe me that.”

“I know.” But what about after? All the time he had. Meaning he wasn’t going to have a lifetime. Her anxiety ramped up and all she felt was her own rejection. Same rejection Lin would feel if Locke thought he could waltz in and out.

Lin wiggled in Locke’s arms and reached for the high chair.

“She wants her juice.” Greer handed it to her. “Let’s go in the living room.” She had about an hour before she needed to be on her way to the carnival. Interviews to conduct. A murder to investigate. She wasn’t sure what scared her most right now.

The killer or Locke.

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