SECRET HERITAGE

Abigail Mayfield hopes her stalker won’t follow her to Texas—until someone breaks into her new home, leaving behind a photo of her late parents with a mysterious child. This time, with her guard dog at her side, the widowed music teacher refuses to hide. She can’t uncover why someone is after her by herself, though, not when the threat escalates from break-ins to attempts on her life. After saving her from a sniper’s bullet, FBI agent turned small-town sheriff Noah Galloway makes Abigail’s safety his personal mission. With the investigation taking them cross-country on the trail of her long-dead parents, the widowed single father can’t risk leaving his son an orphan. But Abigail needs him...because somewhere, buried deep in her past, lies a secret worth killing for.

Abby had a sick feeling.

Maybe sensing her discomfort, Noah stepped closer. “I’m not leaving your side, Abby. Not until we find out what’s going on.”

She took a deep breath. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I have my dog and my gun. I want you to leave.” Her heart was pounding. She needed time to process the information he’d unearthed about her parents.

With a locked jaw, he stood. “Fine.” That was all he said before he walked out.

Quickly packing a bag, she called Bates to her side and locked the door behind them. She needed to talk to Grammy. She had the sinking feeling her grandmother knew more about her parents than she let on.

She opened the car door when she spotted something on the seat. The dog released a low growl when Abby tensed, staring at the item in horror. It couldn’t be...

In shock, she backed away. Her life was spinning out of control and nobody could stop the madness.

Dear Reader,

The inspiration for this book came from my very own choir director. She is also a piano teacher, and I often marvel at the talent it takes to play the piano and teach voice lessons. I enjoyed creating a strong but soft woman. Southern women love hair, makeup and clothes, but have also been known to dig a fence-post hole or two. And, of course, my hero is thrown off balance when faced with such a contradictory lady. I hope you enjoy reading about Abby and Noah’s adventures as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Liz Shoaf

Betrayed Birthright is Liz Shoaf’s first published inspirational novel. She’s been writing for many years, and hopes this is the beginning of a long and fulfilling career. When not writing or training her dogs for agility trials, Liz enjoys spending time with family, jogging and singing in the choir at church whenever possible. To find out more about Liz, you can visit and contact her through her website, www.lizshoaf.com, or email her at phelpsliz1@gmail.com.

Betrayed Birthright

Liz Shoaf

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For even your brothers and the household of your father, even they have dealt treacherously with you, even they have cried aloud after you do not believe them, although they may say nice things to you.

—Jeremiah 12:6

A special note to my dad, Reverend Kermit E. Shoaf, from your baby girl. You armed me with faith and courage to face whatever comes my way, and I thank you for that. I miss you and can’t wait to see you again when my time is at hand.

To my editor, Dina Davis, and her boss, for taking a chance on a newbie. And a special shout-out to all the various departments at Harlequin who work so hard to make dreams come true.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Abigail Mayfield gripped the covers, fear icing the breath in her throat as she strained to hear the noise again. A slight sound had disturbed her sleep. She closed her eyes against the darkness and listened intently. An unnatural silence greeted her. The wind was calm and no tree branches brushed against the side of the house because she’d had them removed after buying the property.

Her eyes blinked open when she heard a small scratching sound. The stalker is here! She had moved all the way across the country for nothing. She struggled to breathe and goose bumps pimpled her arms until a cold, wet nose nudged her neck.

In slow increments, Abby forced herself to relax and silently thanked her grandmother for helping her find a trained protection dog before she moved to Texas.

“Bates,” she whispered, “did you hear that noise, boy?”

The seventy-pound, playful but dead-serious-about-his-job, black-and-tan Belgian Malinois grabbed her blanket with his teeth and tugged it off the bed. That was answer enough.

As quietly as possible, she slid out of bed, grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand, along with the Glock 19 pistol her grandmother had given her last year for Christmas. She might appear to be a harmless Tinker Bell—and had been called that on occasion—but appearances were deceiving. While growing up, her grandmother made sure she knew how to handle a gun.

“God, I need a little help here,” she whispered as they moved toward the bedroom door. The dog glued to her side bolstered her confidence. Bates would attack an assailant, but his main job was to protect her; at least, that’s what the trainer had said during the handler classes.

Tinkling glass hit the kitchen tile floor and left no doubt that someone was breaking and entering. At the top of the stairs, Abby took a deep, steadying breath. She buried her fear—the way Daddy had taught her—dialed 911 with one hand and held the pistol loosely at her side with the other. She had the advantage at the top of the stairs. If someone tried to come up, she’d fire a warning shot.

“Nine-one-one. Is this an emergency?”

Having turned the volume down before leaving the bedroom, Abby held the phone close to her ear. “This is Abby Mayfield. Someone is breaking into my house,” she whispered.

“Ma’am, leave your phone on and keep it with you. We can track you through your cell if circumstances change, but for now, give me your address.”

Abby swallowed hard. She knew what that meant. They could track her if the assailant removed her from the house. “My address is 135 Grove Street, Blessing, Texas.”

“Stay hidden if you can. We’ll have a squad car there as soon as possible.”

Abby didn’t respond because the sound of soft footsteps climbing the wooden stairs reached her ears. This scenario was the reason she’d removed all the carpet and installed wood and tile floors. She raised the Glock and Bates released a low, snarling growl. Bless his heart. The sweet animal she knew and loved sounded as if he wanted to rip someone’s throat out, and he probably would if it came down to it.

The footsteps stopped and Abby sensed the menace and hatred floating up the stairs in a thick wave of dark emotion. Whoever it was meant her harm. But why? Who disliked her that much? The police in North Carolina had asked her that question and she still had no answer.

A siren wailed in the distance. Quick footsteps raced back down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Her legs wobbled. Abby plopped onto the top step and blew out a relieved breath. Her dog licked her face and she hugged him close. “Thanks for the help, Bates. I know you’d probably be happier as a police dog, but I sure am glad you’re with me.”

The trembling in her body started small, but gained momentum as the police cruiser swerving into her driveway illuminated the front of her house.

* * *

Noah Galloway pried his eyelids open and squinted at his wristwatch—it was 3:15 a.m.—when his cell phone belted out “God Bless America,” his call tune for dispatch. He came fully alert within seconds. “Galloway.”

“Sheriff. We have a B and E in progress at 135 Grove Street. Nine-one-one transferred the call.”

Night calls were rare. B and Es, even more so in their small town. Grabbing his jeans, he dressed with one hand and held the phone to his ear. “You on your way over?”

“Yes, sir. I’m in my car right now. I’ll be there in three minutes. Don’t you worry none. I’ll take care of Dylan while you’re on duty.”

He thanked Peggy Sue—his dispatch officer and dedicated babysitter—shoved his gun into his holster, threw on a jacket and raced down the hall. Stepping quietly into his son’s room, he reassured himself that Dylan was safely tucked in bed and left the door cracked on his way out.

Peggy Sue was climbing the steps to the front porch as he opened the door.

“Isn’t that the address for the church’s new choir director?” It was a small town, and as sheriff, he made it his business to keep tabs on everything going on.

“Yes, sir. I can’t imagine anyone breaking into a choir director’s home. It’s blasphemous, is what I think.”

Noah ignored the small talk. “Is Cooper on his way?”

“Yep, I called Coop first. Y’all should arrive there about the same time.”

Before hopping into his car, he glanced back at Peggy Sue, an older woman who had taken him and Dylan under her wing when they moved to town.

She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold down the fort.”

Noah gave a curt nod and ducked his head as he folded his long frame into the squad car. He estimated he’d arrive at the scene within five minutes. Grove Street was located on the outskirts of town, where quite a few older homes had been built during the town’s more prosperous days.

His jaw clenched when he turned a street corner. Coop had flipped on his siren, and red and blue lights were streaming through the neighborhood. Nothing like alerting the perpetrator to our presence. Taking a deep breath for patience, he exited his patrol car just as his young, energetic deputy flung his car door open and presented himself as a target.

Noah motioned Cooper to the back of his squad car and reminded himself that his deputy was new at the job. The eagerness shining out of Cooper’s eyes reminded Noah of himself many years ago, before disillusionment set in.

Before he had a chance to put his plans into motion, a woman came careening down the front porch steps. He gauged her to be about five foot three, a little over a hundred pounds with long, soft-looking blond hair. Her eyes were rounded and her mouth formed a grim line. Dressed in pajamas decorated with big pink hearts, she yelled while pointing toward the side of the house.

“He fled through the kitchen door when he heard your sirens. You’ll have to hurry if you want to catch him.” Her breath came out in short gasps.

Noah nodded at his deputy. “Go ahead, Coop.”

“Yes, sir.” Coop gave a crisp salute.

He doubted the perpetrator was still in the area—the only reason Noah allowed Cooper to go after him. Keeping a close eye on the dog that had accompanied the woman outside—and the pistol that looked much too comfortable in her hand for his peace of mind—Noah made a closer assessment of the woman shivering in front of him. He estimated her to be in her midtwenties and her eyes were dark brown. Peering deep into those eyes, he recognized courage overlapping the fear.

He shook off those fanciful thoughts. Though he’d heard the church had hired a new choir director, they’d never met. “Sheriff Galloway, ma’am. Maybe we should take this inside. The perpetrator has likely fled, but we don’t know that for sure.”

She glanced around, as if coming out of shock. The neighbors’ lights had started blinking on and he knew people would soon be in the street demanding to know what was happening.

“Where are my manners? Yes. Please come in.”

Thinking she might be a little shaky from the ordeal, Noah placed his hand on her elbow but immediately released her when the dog gave a low warning growl. The animal’s posture and demeanor indicated intensive training. This wasn’t just a pet. The animal looked like a Belgian Malinois, a dog widely used by both the military and police. It sported a short, light brown coat and black covered its face. And why does a church choir director need a trained attack dog?

“Control your dog, ma’am, and please hand me the pistol.”

She blushed and he couldn’t help but notice that the pink in her cheeks matched the hearts on her pajamas.

“I’m so sorry. Bates is a little protective,” she said, but after a moment she straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye with a glint of determination. “No, I’m not sorry. My dog did his job tonight. He protected me.”

His second impression of the woman reminded him of a soft Southern belle with some feistiness thrown in. Interesting combination. Noah glanced between the woman and the animal. “I take it he’s trained. Give him the release command and he’ll back off.”

The petite woman faced her dog. “Time to be nice, Bates, baby. Sheriff Galloway is a friend.”

His incredulity at her choice of command must have shown on his face when she turned around. Hands propped on her tiny waist, she lifted her chin a notch. “What?”

He swallowed an appalled retort. “Nothing.” He would have used a more common “off” or “back” command, but that was her business.

He glanced at the front door. “We should go inside. Let me make sure the house is clear.”

She dutifully handed him her weapon. “I have a concealed-carry permit.” She sounded as if she was just waiting for him to ask to see it. When he stayed silent, she gave him a sweet, tentative smile, and his protective instincts flared to life.

“And there’s no need to check the house. Bates would alert me if even a mouse dared to invade his territory.”

“That may be true, but I still need to check the point of entry.”

The dog had disappeared, but met them when they stepped into the house and moved to the kitchen through which she claimed the assailant had fled. Based on the broken glass pane, it was obvious how the intruder had entered the premises. The ground outside was dry and there were only slight impressions of shoes on the grass. Not enough for a print.

“That windowpane will have to be replaced and you need a dead bolt on this door.”

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

The window would be repaired before he left, but for the moment, he nodded and she led the way to the living room. Outside, the house reflected a Victorian style, and this room was decorated in the same theme. Shelves filled with picture frames lined one wall. They contained photos of children of all ages. A beautiful black, antique-looking baby grand piano was showcased in the room.

As she sat down on a love seat, she smiled and stared, a fond look on her face, at the photographs. “Those are past and present students. I teach piano lessons in my spare time. I’m also the choir director at the local—the only—church in Blessing.”

He sat on the couch across from her and stifled his protective urges. He knew nothing about this woman. She had moved to Blessing eight months ago, but he hadn’t been to church since his wife died two years earlier.

“Ma’am, describe the break-in. Anything you can remember.” She looked so innocent sitting there, her feet tucked under her and her shoulder-length hair slightly mussed. But he knew looks could be deceiving. He’d learned that during his five-year tenure with the FBI before moving back to Blessing to run for sheriff.

“I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Abby Mayfield.”

Surprisingly, she was very detailed in her account of events. Almost as if she she’d done this before. Suspicious now, he asked the normal questions, but his gut screamed that there was much more to Abby Mayfield than met the eye.

“Do you keep valuables in the house? Anything that might tempt a burglar?” Statistics showed that most thieves broke into empty homes when people were out of town. Not when they were asleep in bed. The perpetrator had a bigger chance of getting caught if people were in the house.

Fiddling with a string on the bottom of her pajama top, she bit her lip, as if debating how much to tell. Noah leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Ms. Mayfield—Abby—I can’t help you if you don’t come clean with me.”

Her chin notched up and he was momentarily pulled into the deep pools of her dark brown eyes. He pulled back, refusing to go there. He had responsibilities now. A motherless, six-year-old son. Ms. Mayfield might appear as harmless as a newly unfurled flower, but he reminded himself again that looks could be deceiving.

The dog settled at her feet, placing himself solidly between the two of them. She leaned down and rubbed his head.

“I guess I have to trust someone and you look dependable enough.”

He kept his expression all business when she lifted her eyes, as if she was assessing his trustworthiness.

Releasing a sigh, she sat up straight. “I moved to Blessing, Texas, eight months ago because there were several incidents where I lived in North Carolina.” He didn’t miss the slight tremor in her voice. “There were two break-ins at my home, but praise the Lord, I had a high-quality alarm system. There was also—” she placed her hand on the dog’s head again, as if for reassurance “—a car that I’m pretty sure tried to run me down, but nothing that could be proven.”

Noah made notes on the pad he had pulled out of his shirt pocket. “Did you report the incidents to the local police?”

She nodded. “I sure did. They were very nice and did a thorough investigation. They questioned my coworkers at church, along with all my music students’ parents. They found nothing.” Her expression turned quizzical. “It’s the craziest thing ever. I don’t have one enemy that I know of, and it’s not as if I own anything valuable. I’m a choir director and piano teacher. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt me.”

The exasperation in her voice almost made him smile. She was a cute wisp of air.

“During the investigation, did they delve into your family background?”

If anything, she became even more vexed. “There’s only me and my grandmother. My parents died in a car accident when I was six. They were both only children. Grammy is the only family I have left. She’s still in North Carolina. I’m trying to encourage her to move here, but I’m not sure what to do now. Whoever did those terrible things in North Carolina has apparently followed me to Texas.”

She shuddered and Noah had the sudden urge to take this petite woman home with him where he could protect her and keep her safe. Ignoring his thoughts, he scribbled in his notebook.

“Have you received any threatening letters or phone calls?”

“No, nothing.”

“Is that why you moved to Blessing? Because of the danger?”

“Yes, and because I didn’t want my grandmother to get hurt. She lived three houses down from me. The police didn’t even have a lead, and now this mess has followed me here.”

“How did you come to pick Blessing?”

For the first time, a full smile bloomed on her face and his heart lurched. He still missed his wife, but it had been two years since ovarian cancer had claimed her life.

“Grammy got really worried after the second break-in. The police were cruising the neighborhood every once in a while, but it didn’t stop the intruders. She hoped whoever was after me was local and would leave me alone if I moved across the country. We studied a map of Texas and she decided that Blessing, with a population of 967, would be a good place to move. It would be hard for the person after me to hide in such a small town.”

She leaned forward and grinned. “Did you know Blessing was founded in 1903? The leaders of the town changed the original name from Thank God to Blessing after the United States Postal Service rejected the first name and refused to deliver the mail. Isn’t that a hoot?”

Noah noted that Abby had a sweet, bubbly personality.

“Interesting piece of information. I grew up here and never heard that story. I’ll have to share it with my son. Is this the first incident that’s happened since you arrived in Blessing?”

Her smile slipped away, and he missed the warmth of it, but they had an intruder to catch and catch them he would. He was a tenacious investigator, if the media was to be believed. He may have left the FBI to run for sheriff in his hometown, but his instincts ran true. And if he admitted the truth, he was ready to sink his teeth into something more than lost dogs and domestic disputes.

He would do everything in his power to keep Abby Mayfield safe.

TWO

Abby studied Sheriff Galloway. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. The break-in had done a number on her. She’d really believed she’d left whoever was trying to harm her behind in North Carolina. She could still hardly believe anyone hated her enough to try to run her down with a car or break into her house.

But what could a small-town Texas sheriff do that the authorities in North Carolina hadn’t been able to accomplish? Remnants of a newspaper article floated through her mind, and then it hit her. “You’re that famous FBI guy from New York.” Her heart beat faster. “You rooted out those mafia guys trying to kill the mayor and saved his life. It was all over the news.”

Sheriff Galloway surely stood over six feet and sported short, dark hair. He was a handsome man, in a rugged sort of way, but when those electric-blue eyes focused intently on her, memories of the newscasts filtered through her mind.

“I’m sorry about your wife.” It had been reported that his wife passed away, but at least he still had his son. She had lost her precious unborn baby boy after receiving news of her husband’s death several years earlier.

He glanced down at his notebook. “Thank you.”

For the first time since the whole mess started, Abby felt a stirring of hope. “Do you think you can find out who’s doing this to me?”

He raised his head. A steely glint filled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

Abby sensed a fierce determination. Once he’d picked up the trail of an enemy, he would never stop. He seemed trustworthy, but she wouldn’t care to be on the bad side of this particular lawman. His hunting instincts shone bright from his eyes. She privately pegged him as a good predator hunting very dangerous parasites.

“One more question.”

“Yes?”

“Are there any irate husbands or boyfriends in the picture I need to know about?”

Sadness engulfed her as she thought of John, her dear sweet husband, gone on to be with the Lord. “No. My husband died three years ago and I haven’t dated since.”

“Any problems with the in-laws?”

“No. They’re nice people, but I’m sad to say we kind of drifted apart after John’s death.”

“Ma’am—”

“Please, call me Abby.”

“Abby. Is there anyone you can call to come stay with you for what’s left of the night?”

She shook her head. “There are people at the church I attend who would be more than willing to come, but I’ll never be able to go back to sleep, and I have Bates. He’ll alert me if anyone comes back.” She pointed at her Glock where he’d laid it on a side table. “I know how to use that, and I won’t hesitate if someone comes after me.”

The right side of his mouth kicked up in a slight grin.

“I don’t doubt that at all.”

Heat warmed her face. “When I was younger, my grandmother taught me to shoot. She was of the opinion that any self-respecting Southern lady should know how to handle a gun. I practice every once in a while to keep my aim good.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but I can’t leave you alone until the broken windowpane is fixed and the house is secure.”

He was going to stay here? Abby needed time to assimilate everything that had happened and calm down. She needed some time to herself.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll wait outside in the squad car until the hardware store opens. I’ll make sure someone comes out first thing to fix the glass.”

Abby felt bad, thinking of him sitting outside alone in his car, but not enough to ask him to stay inside with her until the sun came up.

She accompanied him to the front door and turned the dead bolt after he left. Rushing to the living room window, which fronted the house, she watched as he conferred with his deputy, who’d been waiting by his car. After a few minutes, the deputy drove away and the sheriff settled inside his car, hunkered down for what was left of the night.

The house quieted and loneliness shrouded her. After a few minutes, she turned toward the kitchen. A strong cup of coffee would lift her spirits.

Crossing the threshold of the warm, homey room, she glanced out the window over the kitchen sink, stared at the cruiser and thought about Sheriff Galloway staying there to protect her. She got a warm, fuzzy feeling until she glanced up and to the left, and spotted something that shouldn’t be there. Her smile disappeared and fear sank its vicious teeth into her belly, worked its way to her throat—almost strangling her with its intensity.

* * *

Even with the town’s limited resources, Noah refused to leave Ms. Mayfield with no protection. He’d handle it off the clock. He lowered the car window and called Peggy Sue. After checking that everything was safe on the home front and confirming his dispatcher could stay the rest of the night with Dylan, Noah stiffened when he spotted Ms. Mayfield running out the front door, waving both hands in his direction.

He left the car door open as he burst out of the vehicle, his Smith & Wesson M&P9 9 mm pistol in hand. The gun felt comfortable, an extension of his arm. He met her at the end of the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong?”

The blood had drained from her face, but she took a deep breath and composed herself. He was impressed. She had a lot of courage packed into her small frame.

“There’s something inside that shouldn’t be there.”

Before addressing her concern, he followed procedure. “Are you sure no one is in the house?”

She began to speak, but stopped, her expression uncertain.

Noah glanced at the dog. He was glued to Abby’s side. “Let me clear the house and then you can show me what you found.”

She gave a brisk nod.

It didn’t take long to check the house and Noah went back outside. “Let’s go in.”

She followed him into the kitchen, took a deep breath and pointed at a cabinet built into the wall above the counter. “That’s a picture of my mom and dad, but I’ve never seen it before.”

Noah grabbed a paper towel, opened the glass-fronted cabinet door and removed the picture, placing it on the kitchen island in the center of the room. He studied the photograph. Her parents were standing on a beach with nothing but ocean behind them, no identifying landmarks to be found. He focused on the couple. Abby’s father was a handsome man, her mother pretty and petite, same as her daughter. A smiling child was held in the father’s arms. All wore big smiles. Life looked perfect.

“Are you sure you’ve never seen this before?”

She rubbed her arms. “I’m positive. I’ve never seen the photograph or the frame. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of my parents, but none of them were taken on a beach.”

The phone on the wall awoke with a high shrill and Abby jumped. Noah held his hand up when she took a step forward. “Let me answer it.”

She nodded.

“Sheriff Galloway.”

A moment of silence filled the phone line before a strong voice almost shattered his eardrum. “What’s a sheriff doing at my granddaughter’s house at five thirty in the morning?” The woman didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I woke up a little while ago and felt the urge to start praying. You listen, and you listen good. I want to speak to Abby this minute.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Noah would have grinned at the older woman’s audacity. Abby crossed the room and Noah was glad to see her eyes shining with laughter instead of concern.

“Sorry about that. It’s my grandmother. I heard her clear across the room.”

Noah handed Abby the phone and she started talking. “Grammy? No, ma’am, everything is fine. There’s been a break-in, but Sheriff Galloway is here. I’ll explain everything in the morning...Yes, Baby Bates did his job well and I have my pistol. I keep it on the nightstand right beside the bed.” She sighed. “Yes, I do believe it’s connected to what happened in North Carolina. I’ll call you tomorrow after we know more, but, Grammy, please be careful.”

Noah’s ears pricked when Abby turned away from him and lowered her voice. “Grammy! That’s not important. Fine, yes, he’s good-looking. Now, go back to bed and stop worrying. Everything is fine.”

Noah cleared his throat, buried his grin and busied himself by looking at the photo again as she hung up the phone. She swung around and her face had turned that sweet shade of pink he was coming to adore.

“That was my grandmother.”

They both knew he was already aware of that and the pink turned a shade darker.

Noah briefly wondered what it would be like to have a grandparent who loved you enough to call at five thirty in the morning to check on you. His grandfather loved him, but the crusty old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call cuddly. He almost grinned at the thought, but cleared his throat instead.

“I’ll have Deputy Cooper dust the picture frame and the break-in area for prints tomorrow.”

Bates moved into position beside Abby. Noah had always wished to be a K-9 handler, but his position in the FBI hadn’t warranted it. He’d heard a lot about the Belgian Malinois breed. Alert, ready for action and easy to train.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll stay the rest of the night in the squad car and keep watch.”

She nodded, but then stopped. “I won’t be able to sleep. Why don’t I get dressed and make us some breakfast?”

Her offer was better than sitting in the patrol car. “Sounds good.”

* * *

Abby beat a hasty retreat upstairs. She had been more shaken than she had let on. Deep down, the terror still reigned. She couldn’t believe this mess had followed her all the way to Texas. She wanted her grandmother, but wouldn’t dare move Grammy here until the situation was resolved.

She pulled pants and a sweater from an antique wooden wardrobe, shed her pajamas and dressed. In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and groaned. “My hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Not that it mattered under the circumstances, but Sheriff Galloway was a sharp-looking man. She smiled, thinking about her grandmother’s antics. The older woman was forever nudging Abby back into the dating game.

She brushed her teeth and tamed her hair before hurrying back downstairs, only to realize Bates wasn’t dogging her heels. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw why. Noah had started the coffee and was rooting around in the refrigerator with Bates glued to his side. The dog was definitely food driven, just like the trainer had said.

“You’ve stolen my baby boy’s affection.”

Noah jumped and hit his head on the rack above him. Abby rushed forward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Noah glared at Bates. “Some guard dog you are.”

Laughter bubbled up and it felt good. “He does love his food. The trainer told me to keep him on a strict diet, but I slip him a few goodies now and then.”

Rubbing his head, Noah straightened and froze when he looked at her.

Her hand reached for her hair. “What? Is my hair sticking out?”

The right side of his mouth kicked up and her heart pattered.

“No, it’s just... Never mind.”

An awkward silence filled the room and Abby practically ran to the refrigerator. “We can have eggs, toast and coffee if that’s okay.”

He nodded and took a seat on one of the bar stools.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever is easy.”

Eventually an easy camaraderie filled the room while she cooked their simple meal. She remembered spending many mornings similar to this one with John. The memory filled her with mixed emotions.

Loading the food on the plates, she placed them on the kitchen island counter, took a seat across from him and bent her head to pray. “Lord, bless this food we’re about to eat. Keep us safe and help us solve the mystery surrounding me. Amen.”

“Amen.” Noah picked up his fork and began eating. “We’ll start by making a list of possible suspects.”

Abby chewed and swallowed. “But there are no suspects. That’s what I keep telling everyone. And I have students coming for piano lessons today.”

“We’ll work around that.”

A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Are my students safe coming here after what happened?”

His jaw turned to granite and those electric-blue eyes hardened. “We’ll keep you and your students safe, Ms. Mayfield.”

Warmth and a sense of well-being filled her. She believed him. “Thank you, and please call me Abby.”

They finished eating their meal in silence. Abby glanced at the photograph still sitting on the opposite end of the kitchen island. Her hand, holding a forkful of scrambled eggs, froze halfway to her mouth.

Noah straightened in his chair and his gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

She didn’t want the photo anywhere near her, but she had to be sure. Laying her fork aside, she stood and slowly walked around the island. Chills snaked up her spine as she leaned over and studied the picture of the happy couple holding a laughing child.

Almost a living thing, dread crept into the very core of her being. “The child in the picture? It isn’t me.”

THREE

The call of the investigative hunt pulsated through Noah’s veins. Every instinct screamed this was a major missing piece of the puzzle, but Abby’s obvious devastation shook him to the core. His first impulse was to comfort her. He wanted to promise he would make this situation go away, but that wasn’t going to happen. They needed answers.

Maybe trying to find solutions to her problems would calm her down. He pulled out a notepad and pen, making it routine. “You’re certain you’ve never seen the photo before?”

Sliding into a chair across from him, she stared at the picture a moment, then jerked her gaze back to his. “I’ve never seen that picture in my life.”

“And the child? You don’t recognize the child?”

She slowly shook her head. “No. I’m an only child and I don’t have any cousins.” Her eyes brightened. “You know what? The boy in that picture looks to be about a year old. I bet this was taken before I was born and my dad is holding a friend’s child. Maybe my parents went to the beach with another couple.”

Noah’s gut told him otherwise, but he needed more information, so he kept his opinions to himself. “Let’s begin by writing down the names of any new people in your life.”

“I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt me.” Her voice rose in anger and frustration. “I love living in Blessing, and after so many months passing with no more incidents, I was convinced I’d left this mess behind in North Carolina. I was ready to bring Grammy to Blessing, but this dangerous situation has to be resolved first.”

Noah lifted a brow. Abby’s back straightened and her shoulders squared. The steel had overridden the putty, and the transformation was amazing. Determination lit her eyes. Abby would be a fantastic mother—deep down, he knew she would fiercely protect a child of her own. He pushed that crazy, unprofessional thought aside and returned to the important issue at hand.

“You said you moved to Blessing eight months ago. Besides the permanent residents in town, have any new people entered your life? Choir members, music students?”

She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I'm fairly new to town, so everyone is new to me, but all of my piano students are from Blessing. The only new people I can think of are two that recently joined the choir, but surely they didn’t have anything to do with the break-in.”

Noah raised a brow. “Their names?”

“Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming. They’re both nice people. She’s been here about four months and he joined a couple of weeks ago. He’s the best tenor I’ve ever worked with.”

Noah almost smiled. Abby was such an innocent. “So, because he has a great voice, he can’t be a bad person?”

Her lips puckered and he choked back a laugh. He hadn’t laughed much in a long time. Not since his wife died, and especially not after the threats against his son’s life in retaliation for Noah killing Anthony Vitale’s father, Big Jack. Both men had been involved in the attempt on the mayor’s life in New York, but they were only able to find evidence on the mafia father. Noah had his own reasons for living in Blessing.

“That’s not what I said.” She popped out the words, then took a deep breath. “I apologize. Please, go on, but we have to hurry. I have students coming.”

“Aren’t they in school?”

“Yes. Normally I give lessons later in the afternoon, but we have a recital coming up and the principal allowed them to miss a few classes so we can get in some extra practice. There’s an advantage to living in a small town.”

Abby’s enthusiasm was contagious and Noah’s spirits lifted. “I’ll hurry it along. We should delve into your background,” he said. “Your parents died when you were six years old?”

“Yes. They were on vacation in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and both died in a car crash. The police deemed it an accident. Neither one had any siblings. My dad’s parents passed away when he was in his twenties, and Grammy is my only living relative.”

“Where were your parents born and raised?”

Exasperation filled her voice. “What does that have to do with the break-in?”

“Humor me.”

“Fine. They were born and grew up in Mocksville, North Carolina. It’s a small town located between Charlotte and Winston-Salem.”

“Their names?” Her lips puckered again and Noah hid a smile. They’d only known each other a few hours and already he could read some of her expressions. The pucker equaled irritation.

“Lee and Mary Beauchamp.”

He dutifully wrote down their names. First, he’d do surface searches on Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming. If he had any trouble, he’d connect with a few of his old FBI buddies. As far as her parents were concerned, if they grew up and stayed in North Carolina, it shouldn’t be hard to find information. “Okay, this is enough to get me started. I’ll have Cooper bring my laptop when he comes to dust for prints so I can get to work on this.”

When she didn’t respond, Noah glanced up. Her lips were pursed.

“So you meant what you said, you’re staying until the glass pane is repaired? You don’t have to do that. I’ll be perfectly fine here with Bates, and as I said, I am proficient with a gun in a worst-case scenario. Surely whoever broke in won’t return in broad daylight.”

“Ms. Mayfield, I won’t leave until I’m convinced you’re safe.” His tone left no room for argument.

She gave him a mischievous grin. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Listening to beginner music students is not for the faint of heart.”

If she was trying to get rid of him, it wasn’t working. “I’ll take my chances.”

A car horn blared outside and Noah jumped to his feet, one hand automatically reaching for the gun in his side holster.

“Settle down, cowboy, that’s probably Trevor, here for his piano lesson.” He glared at her, but her eyes twinkled as she moved toward the foyer.

He bolted in front of her and reached the door first. Her brows rose in question and he cleared his throat, feeling like a rookie. He didn’t like the sentiment. “I’ll go first and make sure the front yard is clear.”

She chuckled and he opened the door and they stepped out. A white SUV sat idling at the curb. Noah recognized Mrs. Johnson’s vehicle. Her son, Trevor—with whom Noah was well acquainted—threw open the passenger door and shuffled up the sidewalk with hunched shoulders. His eyes rounded when he spotted Noah standing beside Abby.

Stopping on the bottom step, his head whipped back and forth between the adults.

“You in trouble with the law, Ms. Mayfield?” he asked, his voice filled with something akin to admiration.

Amused, Noah waited to see how Abby would respond. She patted her hair down and released a nervous laugh. “Trevor, you know better than that. Sheriff Galloway just stopped by to check on me.”

Trevor moved up the steps, patted her arm and gave Noah a sly grin. “It’s okay, Ms. Mayfield, I won’t tell anybody the sheriff was at your house first thing in the morning. That is, if you can find it in your heart to let me skip piano lessons today.”

Abby’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “Trevor Johnson, I can’t believe you just tried to blackmail me. Sheriff Galloway has a very good reason for being here, and it’s none of your business.” She pointed a finger at the front door. “Now, march right into the living room and prepare for your lesson.”

Trevor’s shoulders slumped as he slowly trudged into the house.

Abby’s cheeks were pink with frustration and Noah’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. “The kid’s a terror. A few weeks ago I had him doing community service—picking up trash—for a minor infraction.”

She waved a hand through the air and talked fast. “I don’t want to know what that boy’s been up to. I better get inside before he destroys my house.”

Noah laughed out loud and it felt amazing. He gave her a small salute. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

The woman disappeared into the house, and Noah scanned the front yard while pulling his smartphone out of his pocket. He typed a text instructing Cooper to bring his laptop to Ms. Mayfield’s house and added a note to swing by his house and pick him up a change of clothes, but then he changed his mind and cleared the text. Instead, he told Cooper to come to Ms. Mayfield’s and plan to stay for an hour or so. He’d go home, take a shower, make sure things were well on the home front and pick up his laptop. Cooper texted back and said he was on his way.

Noah slid his phone back into his pocket and checked the surrounding area again. He wouldn’t have insisted on staying close to Ms. Mayfield if the break-in had been a normal grab and run. His intuition—one that had served him well during his tenure at the FBI—was screaming that trouble had followed her from North Carolina and the situation was more complicated than either of them imagined.

Hearing mangled piano notes filter out the front door, he opted to stay outside and sat down on the porch swing to await the arrival of his deputy. He pulled his phone out again. He’d check in with his grandfather, Houston, and make sure he was available to take care of Dylan in case Noah found himself tied up longer than expected.

For the first time in a long while, he was excited about work. Moving to Blessing had been the right thing to do, but truth be told, he missed being in the FBI. The big cases. The camaraderie between agents. He missed it all, but Dylan was safe in Blessing, and his son was the most important thing in his life.

* * *

Abby waved at Mrs. Johnson as she picked up Trevor after his piano lesson. Going back inside the house, she closed the door and released a deep sigh. Her dog sat on the floor, his eyes tracking every move she made. “Mercy, Bates. That was a long hour. That child is a terror. As much as I’d love to have a houseful of children, I think I might pass if I thought I’d get one like Trevor.”

Bates canted his head to the side and Abby chuckled. “I know. We take what God grants us, and we’re to be happy about it, but I’m still going to say a prayer for Mrs. Johnson. She’s been blessed with such a...unique child.”

Abby glanced around the foyer. She rubbed both arms as the previous night flashed through her mind. She still couldn’t believe whoever was after her in North Carolina had followed her to Texas. She hadn’t tried to hide or cover her tracks. She and Grammy had hoped it was someone local to North Carolina and the move would get rid of the problem. The worst part of the situation was that Abby couldn’t think of a soul who would do something like this to her.

The police in North Carolina had interviewed everyone she knew and come up empty. The entire thing was scary and frustrating. She headed into the kitchen and gave Deputy Cooper a curt nod. He had a pained expression on his face as he took a sip of coffee, no doubt from Trevor’s less-than-sterling piano skills, but she didn’t feel sorry for him. He had opted to sit out the piano lesson in the relative safety of the kitchen after Noah fled the scene and left his deputy to babysit. The repairman had come, fixed the glass pane and left. She didn’t understand why Cooper was still there. As she had learned in North Carolina, the police didn’t offer personal bodyguard protection for a mere break-in.

Cooper stuck his nose back into the newspaper in his hands, and she picked up the landline to call her grandmother. She needed to hear a familiar voice.

“Hello.”

“Grammy? It’s Abby.”

“Girl, I’ve been worried sick. It’s about time you called.”

Abby closed her eyes as her grandmother’s loving voice washed over her. “Sheriff Galloway left his deputy here with me and I had a piano lesson, but everything’s fine.” The handset was wireless and she stepped into the foyer, lowering her voice. “Grammy, you’re not going to believe this. Sheriff Galloway is the FBI agent who saved the life of New York’s mayor.”

Silence.

“Grammy?”

“I remember reading about him in the newspaper. It was a big deal back then. He cut the head off the mafia beast in New York. They still bring it up in the news periodically. Everyone claims he’s an ace investigator, that he never gives up or backs down until he has his man. Wonder how he ended up becoming the sheriff in Blessing?”

Uneasiness scaled down Abby’s spine. Grammy made an effort to sound normal, but Abby sensed that something was amiss.

“Grammy, is something wrong? Is everything okay?”

A nervous chuckle filled her ear.

“Of course it is.”

Maybe Abby was imagining things. “Well, if anything happens, call me immediately.”

“Same with you, sweetie. I better go now. The bridge group is meeting for lunch.”

“Okay. And, Grammy?”

“Yes?”

“As soon as this is over, we’re moving you to Blessing. My house is large enough for both of us.” Her grandmother was fast approaching her mideighties, and Abby had been trying to encourage her to move in with her for several years now. Her grandmother always insisted she needed her own space, but Abby knew the older woman was secretly hoping Abby would start dating and eventually get married and have a house filled with her own family.

“I’m coming to Blessing, but we’ll talk about whether I’m moving in with you later.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

Feeling better after a shower and change of clothes, and after lining up Grandfather Houston to take care of Dylan in case he was tied up for a few days, Noah knocked on Ms. Mayfield’s front door. A warning bark echoed through the house and Noah felt better knowing she had the dog.

But not better enough to leave her alone in the house. He couldn’t justify spending city money on personal protection, so he’d called the mayor and taken a week’s vacation. Hopefully, Cooper could handle anything that came up at the station.

He didn’t examine his motives too closely. Ms. Mayfield was a resident in his jurisdiction and he would do everything in his power to protect her. At least, that’s what he told himself.

He grinned when Cooper opened the door with his hand on his holster.

His deputy blew out a deep breath. “I sure am glad to see you, Sheriff.”

“Piano lesson that bad, was it?”

His deputy rolled his eyes. “Ms. Mayfield must have a ton of patience.”

Itching to get to work, he waved Cooper out the door, onto the front porch. “Listen, I put in for a week’s vacation so I can work on Ms. Mayfield’s problem. There’s more here than a mere break-in. Her life may be in jeopardy. I’m putting you in charge at the station.”

Cooper’s eyes widened and his chest puffed out. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

Noah almost chuckled at the eagerness in his deputy’s eyes. “I know you’ll do your best. Just call me on my cell if something comes up that you can’t handle.”

Cooper swallowed hard. “Sheriff, I know you think I’m a country bumpkin, and I also know the only reason I got this job is because my daddy is the mayor, but I’m proud to be working alongside someone with your experience. I’ve already learned a lot from you.”

Noah nodded at the gangly twenty-three-year-old staring at him with an earnest expression on his face. “You’ve come a long way.”

Time to get down to business. “You find any prints while dusting?”

Cooper shook his head. “I took Abby’s prints for matching, and called in a favor to get the prints run quickly. I ruled out all the smaller prints that would belong to her students—who are all kids—and I didn’t find anything else. The intruder must have worn gloves.”

The information didn’t surprise Noah. From the beginning this case hadn’t felt like a routine B and E. “Okay, head back to the station and call if you need me.”

“Yes, sir,” Cooper said with a big grin on his face.

Noah took a deep breath and opened the door. He had a strong feeling Ms. Mayfield wasn’t going to be happy with him dogging her every step.

FOUR

Abby was irritated with Sheriff Galloway for camping out in her home, but deep down, she was also relieved. This whole mess had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

She closed the front door behind her last piano student of the day, turned the dead bolt and grinned as she hurried upstairs to clean up before choir practice. The sheriff had settled himself in the kitchen to work on his laptop, and sound carried well through her historic house. He was probably pulling his hair out by now.

She freshened up in the bathroom and made her way to the kitchen. The sheriff, with Bates lying by his side, glanced up as she sailed through the doorway. “We have just enough time to grab a bite to eat before heading to church.” She raised a brow. “I assume you’re accompanying me to choir practice?”

Earlier, they’d had a heated discussion about why he needed to hang around, even though secretly she was relieved that he was there while her students were coming and going throughout the afternoon.

He pushed his computer aside and half rose. “What can I do to help?”

Abby opened the refrigerator door. She had to get dinner on the table. They could talk while they were eating. “Not a thing. We’re having leftover lasagna. I’ll just stick it in the microwave. It won’t take but a few minutes to heat.”

The doorbell rang as she put the casserole dish into the microwave and stuck several slices of garlic bread in the oven.

The sheriff scrambled out of his chair and moved in front of her as she headed toward the foyer. “I’ll answer the door.”

She thought he was being a little overprotective, but bit back a retort and allowed him to answer the door. Standing close behind him, with Bates on her heels, a surprise greeted her as Noah opened the front door. An older gentleman with slightly stooped shoulders gave them a wide grin with a perceptive look in his eyes as he glanced back and forth between Abby and Noah. But most astonishing was the child standing next to him. The boy had to be Noah’s son. The youngster was a duplicate of his father, and his interested, electric-blue eyes seemed to be taking her measure.

“My name’s Dylan, and you’re the choir director at church,” he blurted out.

Smiling, Abby made her way around Noah and squatted in front of the boy. “Yes, I surely am, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you.”

The child shot his father a disgruntled look before turning to her. “Gampy said I had to stay with him because you were having some trouble and needed my dad. Gampy said we came here to offer help in your time of need, and we won’t turn down a good meal if it’s in the offering.” The precocious child lifted his chin. “Dad and Gampy can’t cook, and we don’t go to church, but a lot of my friends take piano lessons from you and I’ve seen you around school.”

Abby grinned and stood. Dylan was certainly a font of information. “That’s right. I come and play the piano when the school is having a special event such as the yearly Christmas play.” She grinned. “Which will be coming up soon. As soon as my recitals are finished, we’ll start working on the play. You’d make a great Joseph. Why don’t you try out for the part?”

His grin revealed a missing front tooth. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

The older man stuck out his hand. “Name’s Houston Galloway.” He nodded at Noah. “That’s my grandson—” he pointed at Dylan “—and this here’s my great-grandson.”

Abby shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Galloway.”

“I’d be happy for you to call me Houston.”

Noah’s grandfather and son were a delight. “I’d be happy to call you Houston.”

Realizing time was running short, Abby motioned them inside. “Come on in. I have to get to choir practice soon, but we were just about to eat. There’s enough lasagna for four if you’re hungry.”

Two sets of eyes lit up, one young and one old.

Houston spoke for the both of them. “We knew Noah was over here and were hoping you would say that. As Dylan said, us guys don’t know our way around the kitchen too much.”

Abby ignored Noah’s soft snort and led everyone in. Evidently his grandfather was taking care of Dylan while Noah was protecting her.

They moved into the house but came to a standstill in the foyer. Bates stood ready and alert, but his eyes were filled with longing as he gazed at the child. Dylan reflected the same expression.

“A dog,” he breathed, awe filling his young voice. “What’s his name?”

Abby grinned. A dog and a boy. A match made in heaven. “His name is Bates.” She glanced at Sheriff Galloway. “It’s fine if they play, but you’ll have to give permission.”

With wide, excited eyes, Dylan begged his father. “Can I, Dad?”

Sheriff Galloway squatted in front of his son and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bates is a trained attack dog. He’s a working animal and you’ll have to be careful. You can play with him as long as you’re in the same room with us. Now, approach him from the side and squat down beside him so he can sniff you. From a dog’s perspective, that’s the proper way to greet him.”

Abby’s heart pinged at the tender way Sheriff Galloway—a hardened former FBI agent—treated his son. A pang of loss gripped her. Her own son, had he lived, would now be over three years old. She stowed away the painful memories and watched as Dylan followed his father’s advice. Bates sniffed all around the child and licked his face.

They all laughed and the group moved into the kitchen. “Everyone take a seat. I’ll have dinner on the table in a jiff.” She laid the table with plates, silverware and napkins, then nuked the whole dish of leftover lasagna and pulled the bread out of the oven. Dylan’s eyes rounded when she filled his plate.

“We don’t eat like this at home. Dad buys those frozen dinners and sticks them in the microwave.”

Abby laughed. “Well, you’re having a homemade dinner tonight. When I cook, I always make a lot because I love leftovers.” She said grace and everybody dug in. If not for the dangerous incidents that kept happening, Abby would almost feel at peace, but one look into Sheriff Galloway’s eyes reminded her that her life would be unsettled until they had some answers.

When they finished eating, Abby stood. “Leave the dishes. I’ll clean up after choir practice. I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”

The sheriff stood. “I’ll drive you there.”

Houston gave her a peck on the cheek and winked at her, his faded blue eyes twinkling. “That was a mighty fine dinner, Ms. Mayfield. Dylan and I are much obliged. We’ll head on and get out of your hair.”

Abby gave both of them a hug. “It was my pleasure. Y’all come back soon.”

She stood at the door and watched as they walked down the sidewalk and climbed into an old truck.

A throat cleared behind her. “I’m sorry they showed up unannounced. My grandfather tends to live by his own rules.”

Abby grinned. “They’re quite a pair. I enjoyed both of them.”

* * *

While waiting for Ms. Mayfield to gather her things, Noah processed the information he’d gathered. Both choir members, Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming, had checked out on a surface search. If they didn’t find some answers soon, he’d give them a second, deeper look.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Noah decided to give Sheriff Brady in the Mocksville, North Carolina, police department a quick call to follow up on the previous incidents involving Ms. Mayfield. Maybe Brady had discovered something new.

The phone rang twice before it was answered.

“Mocksville Police Department.”

“This is Sheriff Noah Galloway. I’d like to speak with your sheriff.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll connect you to Sheriff Brady.”

“Thank you.”

A few seconds passed. “Sheriff Brady speaking.”

“I’m Sheriff Galloway, calling from Blessing, Texas. There’s been an incident here that involves a former Mocksville resident and I’m gathering information.”

A long sigh filled his ear. “I assume you’re calling about Abigail Mayfield. I’m aware she moved to Texas about eight months ago. Her grandmother calls me frequently.”

After hearing Abby talk to her grandmother on the phone, Noah could imagine the older woman demanding answers.

“What happened this time?” Brady interrupted Noah’s musings.

Noah filled him in on the B and E. “She has a trained attack dog and we responded quickly. The intruder fled the premises. No one was hurt, but there is an interesting twist. At some point, someone left a photograph of Ms. Mayfield’s parents standing in front of the ocean holding a child. She claims the child isn’t her. The picture was placed inside a glass-fronted cabinet in her kitchen. I don’t know if the intruder left the picture during the break-in, or if it was left at another time. Ms. Mayfield filled me in on the incidents that happened in your jurisdiction and I called to see if anything new has surfaced.”

“Nothing solid.”

Noah sensed the man holding something back and he was determined to dig it out of him. “I’d appreciate anything you can give me, including your opinion.”

“Fine, but be aware this is pure conjecture. I don’t have a shred of evidence to back it up.”

“Understood.”

“It’s just interesting that these incidents began after her husband was killed in a car crash several years ago. There were no other cars involved. It happened in the Blue Ridge Mountains and he went over a cliff for no apparent reason. The car was checked thoroughly and Mr. Mayfield was tested for drugs and alcohol. Everything came out clean as a whistle.”

“What led you to check on the husband’s death?”

“I interviewed everyone connected to Abigail Mayfield and came up empty, so I dug deeper. Turns out Mr. Mayfield had a big life insurance policy and that’s why I checked on his death.”

Goose bumps pricked Noah’s arms. “How much?”

“I’ll put it this way. Ms. Mayfield is a wealthy woman by most people’s standards. Her husband was insured for half a million tax-free dollars. There was nothing to indicate foul play regarding her husband’s death, and I couldn’t find one person who had anything bad to say about Ms. Mayfield. The whole thing doesn’t make any sense.”

“I appreciate the information.”

“Let me know what you find out and call if I can help in any way.”

Noah slowly tucked his cell phone back in his pocket.

Was Abigail Mayfield the innocent choir director and piano teacher she appeared to be, or did she have a sinister side? One capable of murdering her husband for monetary gain?

With these unsettling thoughts in mind, Noah watched Ms. Mayfield descend the stairs. He followed her out the front door and waited while she locked the house behind them. They climbed into his patrol car and he headed toward Blessing’s one and only church. His mind ran a gauntlet of different scenarios. He’d witnessed the underbelly of society during his tenure at the FBI, and nothing would surprise him, but deep down he didn’t believe—or want to believe—that Abby was capable of such violence. Her voice brought him out of his musings.

“Okay, I’m a straightforward woman, Sheriff Galloway, and I want you to lay your cards on the table so we can get past whatever’s bothering you.”

She surprised him with her frankness. “How did you know something was bothering me?”

“Sheriff—”

“Call me Noah.”

“Fine. Noah, and if we’re going to be spending time together, you can call me Abby. Now, spill.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. Abby might look like a beautiful rose, but the woman had grit and he did want answers. “I just spoke to Sheriff Brady.”

Eagerness filled her voice. “Has he found any more information on the occurrences in North Carolina?”

“Not exactly.”

“What, exactly, did he say?” Exasperation replaced her enthusiasm.

“He hasn’t found any new information on your case, but he did bring your husband’s death into question.”

“What?” Genuine bewilderment came off her in waves.

Noah didn’t think she could fake that. “During the investigation, Sheriff Brady didn’t come across one person in your life who came under suspicion. Because of that, he expanded his investigation and discovered your husband had a rather large insurance policy.”

Silence filled the car. Noah took his eyes off the road for an instant and glanced at Abby. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red and she looked ready to explode. Easing the car to the side of the road, he brought the vehicle to a stop.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? No, I’m not alright. Are you telling me Sheriff Brady thinks I would murder my husband for such a piddly amount of money? I’ll tell you this right now, my husband was a good man, and he was worth a whole lot more than half a million dollars.”

Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Noah felt like a heel. Abby was either playing on his sympathy or she was telling the truth. He wanted to believe the latter. Her emotions were too raw.

“And I’ll tell you another thing that only my grandmother knows. I was pregnant when my husband died.” She pulled a Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. Her voice wobbled when she spoke again. “I lost the baby not long after he died. I was devastated. I-it was a baby boy. And just so you know, I used part of the money to move to Texas, put some aside to take care of my grandmother as she grows older and gave a substantial amount to a local orphanage in memory of my son.”

Noah felt bad for even bringing it up. “Ms. Mayfield—Abby—I believe you. I’m sorry I brought up such painful memories.”

She blew her nose again. “Thank you.”

“Truce?”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Truce. Now, get me to choir practice before I’m late.” Her tone was filled with false bravado, but he let it go.

He guided the car back onto the road. “Yes, ma’am.”

The church was only five minutes away and Noah canvassed the outer perimeter of the church grounds as Abby hurried up the front steps of the building. A few minutes later he slipped inside, slid into a pew at the back of the church and settled in. He counted twenty people and wondered if Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming were in attendance. He really didn’t think they were involved, but he’d ask Abby to introduce them before everyone left.

His attention was drawn to Abby’s elegant hands as they flowed over the keys of the antique baby grand piano. He wondered how a church this small had raised enough money for such a nice piano, and then it hit him. Abby’s piano at home was a Steinway and he suspected she had purchased the church’s piano with part of the insurance money. He would check out the orphanage donation, but he believed her. His internal antenna had convinced him she was innocent.

He subtly checked out each choir member. They were all smiling and seemed to appreciate the work Abby was doing as their director. His attention zoomed in on a guy seated in the back row. He had a strong, male voice that rose above the others.

The man had to be Walter Fleming. He was tall and distinguished looking. The guy would be right at home working as a banker.

Noah closed his eyes as the old hymns he remembered from childhood washed over him. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled in his soul and he breathed deeply.

He really wished—

The music stopped and he opened his eyes as Abby said a closing prayer before the group started to disperse. Several people spoke to him as they left, and he stood when Abby scurried down the aisle—the woman did everything so energetically—with the tall, distinguished man at her side.

“Noah—Sheriff Galloway—I don’t believe you’ve met Walter Fleming.” Her words came out in a rush. Subterfuge was not one of Ms. Mayfield’s—Abby’s—finer points.

“Walter, the sheriff gave me a ride to church, and since you’re new in town, I thought you’d like to meet him.”

The man had a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Walter.”

Walter nodded briskly. “You, too, Sheriff.” Fleming patted Abby on the shoulder and Noah stiffened as a jolt of jealousy shot through him. It was unwarranted. He’d only known the woman for two days. He contributed the feeling to being her protector. “I’ll see you early Sunday morning if you don’t mind running my part for me again before the service.”

“I’ll be happy to. See you then.”

Fleming left and Noah raised a brow at Abby.

She huffed out a breath. “I thought you’d want to meet him.”

Noah grinned. “I did. Good work. I take it Joanne Ferguson wasn’t here?”

“No. And she didn’t call or email, either. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, let’s get you home.”

As they were leaving, something struck the old wooden door behind them, mere inches from Abby’s head.

Noah knew exactly what the sound meant. He grabbed Abby, twisted her around, threw open the church doors and shoved her back inside the building.

A multitude of emotions crashed through him as he held Abby, wrapped in the safety of his arms, against the back of the closed door. He had a burning desire to protect her. Fear for her well-being roiled through him. She trembled and his emotions intensified.

“It’s okay.”

She pulled out of his arms, took a deep breath and lifted her chin. He admired a woman who could pull herself together so soon after being shot at.

“Did someone just—”

“Yes. Someone shot at you and they used a silencer. It suggests a professional hit.”

Her eyes rounded, but it didn’t take long for her to take in the information. Tight fists landed on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “I want to catch the person doing this.” Noah moved back when she took a step forward. “I’m tired of being afraid to look over my shoulder. I can use myself as bait and lure whoever is after me out into the open. It’s time to set up a sting operation.”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate his brain. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. There’s a good chance we’re dealing with a professional killer.”

Her shoulders slumped, her face crumbled and his heart melted. Those adorable, soft brown eyes found his. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t live like this the rest of my life.”

“Let’s deal with tonight first. I’ll call Cooper. He’ll check the grounds of the church and we’ll get you home.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and it was his undoing. “Trust me to help you, Abby. This is what I do.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m very good at my job.”

She nodded and he reached for his cell phone. Before he had a chance to call his deputy, he heard the familiar sound of a timer going off. He grabbed Abby, shoved her back out the church doors and down the front steps, and shielded her body with his as they hit the ground.

The explosion in the church covered Abby’s scream. The shooter wasn’t trying to kill her with a bullet, he’d wanted them back inside the church where all evidence would be destroyed in the fire. A second, fiercer explosion lit the night sky. Someone wanted Abby Mayfield dead and they were willing to blow up a church to make it happen.

FIVE

Abby spit dirt out of her mouth and coughed as she tried to lift her head. Her eyes felt scorched and her throat burned from the smoke. She could barely breathe beneath the heavy weight covering her.

Noah! Is he okay?

Facedown on the ground, she tried to move, but froze when he stirred on top of her. Relief slammed through her when he whispered against her neck, “Don’t move. If the shooter is still here, we want him or her to think we’re dead.”

Her heart slammed against her chest and she whispered a quick prayer. She wasn’t ready to die, and Noah had a son to raise. It would be her fault if that sweet young boy was orphaned. “Dear Lord, please, please, please keep us safe until help arrives.”

Noah stayed quiet and Abby took short, gasping breaths until a siren wailed in the distance. Within minutes, Cooper’s patrol car swerved into the church parking lot and skidded to a stop. Noah’s deputy opened the driver’s door and took position, using the door as cover, his gun raised through the open window. Abby’s fear and tension lessened when soft lips moved against her neck.

“At least Cooper followed proper procedure. There might be hope for my deputy, after all.”

Her anxiety lessened, but there was someone who wanted her dead badly enough to blow up a church, and they might still be out there. A shiver of fear racked her body and she hated it. She’d never been afraid of anything and she refused to start now. She had faith that God was in control and Noah would solve the mystery surrounding her. He didn’t know it yet, but she was going to help him. Her grandmother had always taught her to face fear head-on.

A passing thought of the beautiful, Steinway baby grand piano that she had donated to the church—now burning to ashes along with the rest of the building—brought forth a blaze of fury.

“Abby, can you get up and run to the car?”

“You bet I can.” She swiped the hair out of her eyes. “I’m fine, just shaken.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do. On the count of three, I want you to stand as fast as you can and run to the car. Jump in through the driver’s-side door, climb into the back seat and lay down on the floor. I’ll be right behind you.”

He didn’t give her time to think. He counted to three and she scrambled to her feet. He used his body as a protective shield as she stumbled to the car. Once inside, she crawled into the back seat and nose-dived to the floor.

She heard Noah whispering instructions to his deputy.

“Looks like the shooter is gone, but we won’t take any chances. You cover me to the tree line. I’m going to check the perimeter of the property. I know the general trajectory of the bullet. The perp was up high, possibly perched in a tree.”

Abby squeezed her eyes shut when Cooper gave a shaky response. “Are you sure, Sheriff? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Cooper, you’ve been trained for this and you can do it. Stay focused and cover me.”

Noah’s voice oozed authority, command and encouragement. A true leader. In that moment, Abby’s heart—one that had slammed shut after losing her husband and unborn child—opened just the tiniest bit.

She prayed until she heard Noah’s voice.

“All clear.”

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but finally another siren wailed in the distance and Noah spoke again. “I don’t think there’s going to be much left for the fire truck to save.”

Abby closed her eyes against an invasion of disbelief and devastation. Fire truck, as in one? Blessing’s only house of worship was burning to the ground and it was her fault. The building, over a hundred years old, had tremendous historical value. It was irreplaceable.

The back door of the patrol car opened and Noah held out a hand. She grabbed it and allowed him to help her from the floor and out of the vehicle. Both of them coughed and stood in morbid silence, watching as four firemen fought to douse the flames.

God’s house was slowly being reduced to a smoldering heap of burning timber. Abby curled her hands at her sides and gritted her teeth. “This is my fault. I led whoever is after me to Blessing and now they’ve destroyed the church.”

Before Noah could offer platitudes, she turned to him. Soot covered his face, but she didn’t see any burns. “You saved my life. Are you okay?”

“Abby, this isn’t your fault. We’ll find the person responsible.”

“Yes, we will, and they’re going to go to jail for burning this beautiful building. And my piano.”

Cooper joined them. “The fire chief says it’s a total loss. I hope the church has insurance.” A sad, quiet moment passed as they stood, staring at the burning building.

Abby spoke up first. “I’m now taking an active role in this investigation, so get used to it.”

His sudden grin threw her off balance.

“What?”

His smile widened. “Ever since meeting you, I’ve thought of you as a steel magnolia. A sweet Southern belle with a spine of steel.”

The description stunned her for a moment, but then she realized she liked it. She liked it a lot. “You can thank my grandmother for the steel side of my personality. At least you didn’t call me Tinker Bell.”

“Now that you mention it—”

“Don’t even say it.”

* * *

The next morning, Abby cracked her eyes open and carefully stretched her body to work out the kinks. Before going to bed, she had taken a long, hot shower to get rid of the horrid, smoky stench and relax her muscles. Hitting the hard ground and having a large man slam his body on top of hers had left a few bruises. But she wasn’t complaining. Noah had saved her life.

Bates jumped on the bed, sat on his haunches and stared at her. She chuckled at the dog’s antics. “Come on, Bates, baby, give Mama a morning snuggle. I sure could use one.”

He licked her face and rooted his nose against her neck. She laughed, but after a few minutes pushed the dog away. “Enough. I have to get moving. I have a ton of things to do today.”

The familiar interlude put things in perspective.

Abby put the finishing touches on her makeup and wondered if Noah was up. He had insisted on staying in her guest bedroom—she would never tell Grammy that a man she wasn’t married to had stayed in her house overnight. The doorbell rang, and Bates was already standing at attention in front of the door when she hit the top of the stairs. The dog was alert but not concerned. He always stayed quiet, but she was beginning to understand his body language. The person ringing her doorbell was not an enemy.

Noah sped out of the kitchen just as she reached the foyer. “I asked Cooper to bring me some clothes.”

She smiled. “Good morning, Sheriff.”

He didn’t smile back. Something was wrong. He opened the door and there stood Cooper with a suitcase in hand.

“Got here as soon as I could, Sheriff. Ms. Newsome’s cat got stuck in a tree again and I had to get him down. Sam’s an ornery old tabby. Bit me on the hand while I was rescuing him.”

Noah grabbed the suitcase. “Thanks. Call if you need me.”

He was about to shut the door but Abby scooted around him. She frowned at Noah as she passed and then blessed Cooper with a big smile. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee?”

Cooper reacted to the dark look on Noah’s face. “No, ma’am. I appreciate it, but I have to get back to the station.”

The deputy practically ran off the porch before Abby could say a word. She rounded on Noah. “That was rude.”

He ignored her and turned toward the kitchen. “Come on. I got a pot of coffee going.”

She followed him, fixed a cup for herself and sat down across from him. They stared at each other. The situation reminded her of two circling dogs. She didn’t care for the suspicious look in his eyes. She’d always been a straightforward person, and she leaned on that trait now, even as her heart plummeted.

“Spit it out, Sheriff. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

* * *

Noah wanted to believe Abby Mayfield was exactly who she claimed to be, but during his tenure at the FBI, he’d learned things were seldom as they appeared. He had to separate his emotions from the facts and do his job.

Firming his resolve, he organized his thoughts and maintained a mask of professionalism. “I need more information on your parents’ histories. Did they always live in North Carolina, or is it possible they lived elsewhere before you were born? Anything you can remember will help.”

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