Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author
SHERRYL WOODS

“Woods is a master heartstring puller.”

– Publishers Weekly on Seaview Inn

“Compulsively readable…Though the serious issues raised are handled with honesty and integrity, Woods’s novel easily rises above hot-button topics to tell a universal tale of friendship’s redemptive power.”

– Publishers Weekly on Mending Fences

“Redolent with Southern small-town atmosphere, this emotionally rich story deals with some serious issues and delivers on a number of levels.”

– Library Journal on A Slice of Heaven

“Sherryl Woods always delivers a fast, breezy, glamorous mix of romance and suspense.”

– New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

“Woods’s latest entry in her Sweet Magnolias series (after Stealing Home ) is sure to please fans and entice new readers with…flesh-and-blood characters, terrific dialogue and substantial stakes.”

– Publishers Weekly on A Slice of Heaven

“Sherryl Woods…writes with a very special warmth, wit, charm and intelligence.”

– New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

“Sherryl Woods gives her characters depth, intensity, and the right amount of humor.”

– Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Sherryl Woods is a uniquely gifted writer whose deep understanding of human nature is woven into every page.”

– New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

About That Man
Sherryl Woods

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Friend,

I’m so excited that the TRINITY HARBOR series is back in print. If you didn’t have a chance to read it when it first came out, I hope you’ll enjoy your first visit to this charming seaside town and the chance to get to know the Spencers. Any time I get an opportunity to write about the part of Virginia where I spent so many happy childhood summers, it feels like going home to those lazy, sultry days again.

As for Daisy, Bobby, Tucker and, of course, King, there is nothing I love more as an author than writing about families and about small towns. I think in this day and age, when so many of us have scattered around the country, far from our own families, books about families and tightly knit towns remind us of the way things used to be. They give us a sense of the kind of connectedness we long for. I hope you will come to think of the Spencers and all the residents of Trinity Harbor as family and that you’ll find that Anna-Louise provides a moral compass in today’s increasingly complex world.

After you’ve read Daisy’s story, I hope you’ll move right on to Bobby’s story in Ask Anyone. The best part of these reissues is that all three titles are available now. And in Ask Anyone, I guarantee that there’s an incredible woman waiting in the wings to spice up Bobby’s life and that there will be yet another test of wills between him and his father over just about everything. Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face.

All good wishes,

For Relda and Kyle,

with thanks for all the boating background,

and for the friends–old and new–in the “real”

Trinity Harbor (aka Colonial Beach, Virginia).

You all keep me inspired.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Prologue

T he whole town of Trinity Harbor–probably the whole state of Virginia–was buzzing like a swarm of bees, and whose fault was it? His daughter’s. Robert King Spencer slammed down the phone for what had to be the fifteenth time that morning and rued the day he’d ever bred such an ungrateful lot of kids.

Daisy, of all people, his beautiful, headstrong, but previously sensible thirty-year-old daughter, was stirring up gossip like a rebellious teenager. It was exasperating. No, King thought, it went beyond that. It was humiliating.

He had half a mind to go charging over to her place and put a stop to things before she tarnished the Spencer name with her shenanigans, but he’d learned his lesson on that score. A father interfered in his children’s lives at his own peril. Better to handle things from the sidelines, subtly.

King could all but hear the laughter of his family and friends at that. It was true, subtlety wasn’t exactly his style. Never had been, but for once he could see the value in using other people to do his dirty work. His sons, for instance.

Tucker and Bobby ought to be able to straighten out this mess. Tucker was the sheriff, for goodness’ sakes. Maybe he could wave that badge of his around and get Daisy to see reason.

King sighed. Not likely. Tucker took his duties seriously. He wasn’t likely to use his office to carry out his daddy’s personal wishes. And Bobby…well, Bobby was an enigma to him. No telling what he would do–probably the exact opposite of what King wanted.

That was the way it had been lately. Not one of his children paid a bit of attention to him, or to their Southern heritage. What kind of respect could a man expect in his golden years if his own children went around stirring up the kind of trouble Daisy had gotten herself into?

Respect was important to a man. King had always liked being a mover and shaker in Trinity Harbor. He figured he deserved it, since his very own ancestors had wandered over from Jamestown to start the town. That pretty much gave him the right to have his say about everything that went on, from raising Black Angus cattle or growing soybeans to politics. Most people actually listened. Being a Spencer in this town still meant something. Or it had until a few hours ago.

Nope, it was clear that Daisy didn’t give two hoots for tradition or bloodlines or any of the other things that made the South great. She was just hell-bent on getting her own way, no matter what it did to her daddy, her brothers or the family reputation.

It was her mother’s fault, of course. Mary Margaret–God rest her soul–was the one with the modern ideas. Let her shoulder the blame for Daisy’s behavior, even if she had been dead for twenty years. She should have done something–though he couldn’t say what–before she went and abandoned them all.

Since Mary Margaret wasn’t around to fix things, though, it was up to King to save Daisy from herself. He prided himself on being clever when clever was called for, and today certainly seemed to be one of those days. He had the headache to prove it.

1

D aisy Spencer had always wanted children. She just hadn’t expected to wind up stealing one.

Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. She hadn’t exactly stolen Tommy Flanagan. The way she saw it, nobody wanted the boy. His father was long gone and his pitiful, frail mother had had the misfortune to die in the recent flu epidemic. The story was the talk of Trinity Harbor and had been for weeks now.

While they searched for relatives, Social Services had placed Tommy with three different foster families in as many weeks, but Tommy wouldn’t stay put. He was scared and angry and about as receptive to love as that vicious old rooster Daisy’s father insisted on keeping over at Cedar Hill.

Despite all that, Daisy’s heart just about broke when she thought of all the pain that ten-year-old had gone through. She figured she had more than enough love to spare for the little boy who’d been one of her brightest Sunday school students, a boy who was suddenly all alone in the world, a boy who’d lost his faith in God on the day his mother died.

Daisy’s own faith had been tested half a dozen years ago when she’d been told she would never have children of her own. The news had almost destroyed her. It had destroyed her relationship with Billy Inscoe, the only man she’d ever loved.

All Daisy had cared about was having children she could shower with love. Adoption would have suited her just fine.

But Billy hadn’t been able to see beyond the fact that his fiancée was barren. Billy had wanted sons and daughters of his own. He’d wanted his blood running through their veins, proof of his manhood running through the streets. He’d wanted to start a dynasty as proud as the Spencers’. When Daisy couldn’t give him that, he’d taken back his ring and gone looking for someone who could.

With the exception of Daisy’s minister, nobody knew the truth about what had happened between her and Billy. Daisy kept quiet because she’d been so humiliated by the discovery that she wasn’t woman enough to give Billy what he thought he needed from a wife. Billy had been discreet for his own reasons.

Her own father thought the broken engagement was the result of some whim on her part, as if she’d turned her back on marriage because she thought someone better might be waiting around the next corner. He couldn’t conceive of the possibility that his handpicked choice for her had been the one to walk out, and Daisy had let him have his illusions.

And so, until this morning Daisy had pretty much considered her dream of a family dead and buried, right along with every bit of respect and love she’d ever felt for Billy Inscoe.

The last few years she’d thrown herself into her job teaching history at the local high school. She was advisor for the yearbook, the drama club and the 4-H. She taught Sunday school classes. She took her friends’ children fishing on the banks of the Potomac River and on outings to Stratford Hall, the birthplace of Robert E. Lee, or Wakefield, the birthplace of George Washington, both of which were nearby. She gardened, nurturing flowers and vegetables the way she’d always wanted to nurture her own babies.

Heaven help her, she’d even brought home a cat for company, though the independent Molly spent precious little time with her mistress unless she was hungry. And as if to mock Daisy, she’d just had her second litter of kittens.

In another era, Daisy would have been labeled a boring spinster, even though she’d barely turned thirty. Frankly, there were times when that was exactly what she felt like: a dull, dried-up old lady. The role she’d always envisioned herself playing–wife and mother–seemed totally beyond her grasp. She was on the verge of resigning herself to living on the fringes of other people’s lives, to being Aunt Daisy once her brothers married and had families of their own.

Today, though, everything had changed. Early this morning she’d gone to the garage and found Tommy, cold and shivering in the spring chill. He’d been wearing a pair of filthy jeans, a sweater that had been claimed from the church thrift shop even though it was two sizes too big and a pair of sneakers that were clearly too small for his growing feet. His blond hair was matted beneath a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap, and his freckles seemed to stand out even more than usual against his pale complexion.

Despite the sorry state he was in, the boy had been scared and defiant and distrustful. But eventually she’d been able to talk him into coming inside, where she’d fixed him a breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, grits and toast. He’d devoured it all as if he were half-starved, all the while watching her warily. Only in the last few minutes had Tommy slowed down. He was pushing the last of his eggs around on his plate as if fearful of what might happen once he was done.

Studying him, for the first time in years Daisy felt a stirring of excitement. Her prayers had been answered. She felt alive, as if she finally had a mission. Mothering this boy was something she’d been meant to do. And she intended to cling to that sensation with everything in her. Even Molly seemed to agree. She’d been purring and rubbing against Tommy since he’d arrived.

“I ain’t going to another foster home,” Tommy declared, allowing his fork to clatter against his plate in emphasis.

“Okay.”

He regarded her suspiciously. “You ain’t gonna make me?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“Because I intend to let you stay right here, at least until things settle down.” Even as she said the words, she realized she’d made the decision the minute she’d seen him.

His gaze narrowed. “Settle down how?”

Daisy wasn’t sure of that herself. Her heart had opened up the instant she discovered Tommy in her garage, but she was smart enough to know that she couldn’t just decide to keep him. Frances Jackson over at Social Services was looking for relatives, and there were probably a thousand other legalities to consider. All Daisy knew was that if she had anything at all to say about it, this boy had run away for the last time. Maybe for once, being a Spencer would be a blessing. People might like to gossip about the family, but they tended to bow to their wishes.

“You’ll just have to trust me,” she said eventually.

He scowled at that. “Don’t know why I should.”

She hid a grin, wondering what made her think this smart-mouthed kid was a gift from above.

She gave him a stern look. “Because I have been your Sunday school teacher since you were a toddler, Tommy Flanagan, and I don’t lie.”

“Never said you did,” he mumbled. “Just don’t know why I should think you’re any different than all those other people who promised I’d get to stay, then kicked me out.”

“Nobody kicked you out. You keep running away,” she reminded him. “Isn’t that right?”

He shrugged off the distinction. “I suppose.”

“Why did you do that?”

“They just took me in because they had to. I know when I’m not wanted. I just made it easy for ’em.”

“Okay, then, for however long it takes to find your family–or forever, if it comes to that–you are going to have a home right here with me. And I’m going to see to it that you don’t have any reason to want to run away. Don’t take that to mean I’m going to be a pushover, though.”

She said it emphatically and without the slightest hesitation. Her gaze locked with his. “Do we have an understanding?”

“I guess,” he said, apparently satisfied for the moment that she meant what she said.

Relief washed through her. This was going to work out. She could feel it. Daisy didn’t even consider the fact that she’d caught him trying to hot-wire her car as a bad omen. Hopefully Tommy wouldn’t mention that little detail to anyone. She certainly didn’t intend to.

She did worry ever so slightly about the repercussions once word got back to her father, but she was convinced she could handle that, too. She just hoped it would take the grapevine a little longer than usual to reach Cedar Hill. King wasn’t as easily won over as a scared kid.

In the meantime, she knew she did have to call Frances Jackson. Frances took her job at Social Services very seriously. Tommy’s disappearances were wearing on her nerves. Daisy reached for the portable phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tommy demanded, scowling.

“Mrs. Jackson. She needs to know that you’re with me and that you’re okay.”

“Don’t see why.” He gave her a pleading look. “Couldn’t we just keep this between us? You tell her, and the next thing we know she’ll have the sheriff over here hauling my butt away.”

“The sheriff won’t lay a hand on you,” Daisy reassured him fiercely, but she put the phone back on the table.

“How come?”

“Because the sheriff is my brother and he’ll do what I tell him to do.” At least she hoped he would.

Tommy still looked skeptical. “Have you got something on him?”

Daisy chuckled. “Not the way you mean. Just leave handling Tucker to me. It won’t be a problem. Besides, when you go back to school on Monday, people are going to want to know where you’re staying. We might as well be up-front about it.”

“I thought maybe I wouldn’t go back,” he said, looking hopeful. “It’s almost summer, anyway.”

“Not a chance,” Daisy said firmly. “Education is too important–you can’t take it lightly. And there are weeks to go before summer, not days. You will go to school and that’s that. Now go on upstairs, Tommy, take a bath and then get a little rest. I’m sure you didn’t sleep much last night. There are clean towels in the closet, and you can have the guest room at the end of the hall. If you need anything, just ask. We’ll talk some more later.”

Tommy nodded and started out of the kitchen, then paused. “How come you’re being so nice to me?”

For an instant he allowed her to see the vulnerable, lost little boy behind the defiant facade. “Because you’re worth being nice to, Tommy Flanagan,” she told him.

He seemed a bit startled by that, but he gave a little bob of his head and took off, thundering up the stairs, Molly trailing after him.

“And because I need you as much as you need me,” she whispered when he was out of earshot.

Once again she reached for the phone and made the call to Frances.

“Oh, Daisy,” the social worker murmured when she’d heard what Daisy had to say. “Are you sure you want to do this? Tommy’s a real troublemaker. Not that it’s not understandable, given what he’s been through, but he needs a firm hand.”

“He needs love,” Daisy retorted. “And I intend to see that he gets it.”

“But–”

“Is there some reason I’m not a fit foster mother for him?” Daisy demanded.

“Of course not,” Frances said, as if the very idea that someone would consider a Spencer unfit was ludicrous.

“Then that’s that. Tommy stays here.”

“Until I find a relative,” the social worker reminded her.

“Or not,” Daisy said. “You’ll take care of the paperwork, then?”

Frances sighed. “I will. I’ll drop it by later for you to sign, though I can’t imagine what King is going to say when he hears about this.”

“Then you be real sure not to tell him,” Daisy retorted. “Or I’ll make him think this was all your idea.”

Frances was still sputtering over the threat when Daisy hung up. A little grin of satisfaction spread across her face. It was about time she gave the residents of Trinity Harbor something to talk about besides her long-ago broken engagement and her pecan pie.

“Sis, you are out of your ever-loving mind,” her brother Tucker, the local sheriff, told Daisy when he arrived within an hour of her conversation with Frances.

Obviously the instant he’d heard what she was up to–probably straight from the social worker–Tucker had hightailed it over to lecture her as if she were sixteen instead of thirty. Hands on hips, he was scowling at her as if she’d committed some sort of crime, instead of simply seizing the opportunity that had been presented to her.

“That boy’s going to land in juvenile detention,” he declared in his best doom-and-gloom tone. “You mark my words. Doc’s caught him stealing comic books. He broke Mrs. Thomas’s window. And he rode his bike through Mr. Lindsey’s bean patch and mowed down most of his plants. Something tells me that’s just the things we know about. There could be more. He’s headed for trouble, Daisy.”

Daisy stared right straight back into Tucker’s eyes, ignored his stony expression, and countered, “Well, of course he is…unless someone steps in and does something.”

“And that has to be you?”

“Do you see anybody else who’s willing?” she demanded. “He’s already run through half the foster families in the area. As for those pranks of his, you and Bobby did worse and nobody did more than call Daddy to complain.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Tucker squirmed uneasily. “It just was, that’s all.” He tried another tack. “When Dad hears about this, he is going to go ballistic.”

She shrugged off her brother’s assessment as if it was of no consequence. “Dad is always going ballistic about one thing or another. Usually it’s you or Bobby who gets him all worked up. It’s about time I took a turn. Being King Spencer’s dutiful daughter is starting to wear thin.”

“You’ll get your heart broken,” Tucker predicted, his expression worried. “You can’t just take in some stray kid and decide to keep him. That’s no way to get what you want, Sis.”

Her big brother knew better than anyone how desperately she wanted a family. He had been the one to console her when Billy had walked out, leaving her convinced she would never marry. Even without knowing anything more than the fact that Billy was the one to break the engagement, Tucker had wanted to throttle the man. Daisy had persuaded him not to, assuring him that Billy Inscoe wasn’t worth another second of their time, much less the risk of an assault charge that could ruin Tucker’s career in law enforcement.

“Sooner or later, they’ll find Tommy’s family,” Tucker warned, regarding her protectively.

“I don’t know what makes you so certain of that,” she said. “There’s been no sign of anyone so far, and you know how dogged Frances is when she’s working a case.”

“That’s exactly what makes me believe she’ll eventually get results. When she does, you’ll have to let him go.”

“And until then, he’ll have me,” she insisted stubbornly, not wanting to consider what she would do when that day came.

“Where is he now?” Tucker asked.

“Upstairs.”

“Cleaning out your jewelry box, no doubt.”

She scowled. “Sleeping,” she contradicted.

“Wanna bet? If I prove otherwise, will you forget about this?”

Without responding one way or the other, Daisy marched to the stairs, then waved Tucker up ahead of her. “See for yourself, smarty-pants.”

Unfortunately, just as they reached the top of the stairs, Tommy bolted out of her bedroom, pockets bulging, Molly trailing along behind him in a way she never did with Daisy. Tucker snagged Tommy by the scruff of the neck but kept his gaze on her. He plucked a favorite antique necklace out of the boy’s pocket and dangled it in front of her. Great-grandmother’s diamonds sparkled mockingly.

“I rest my case,” he said.

Daisy refused to let her brother see that she was even remotely shaken by the discovery. “Tommy,” she said sternly, “you know perfectly well that doesn’t belong to you.”

“No, ma’am,” he said, his expression defiant. “But I was taking it anyway.”

Avoiding a lecture on the Golden Rule and the Ten Commandments, all of which they had studied thoroughly in Sunday school, she instead asked, “Why?”

“To buy me some food.”

Molly meowed plaintively, as if to lend her support to Tommy.

“There’s plenty of food downstairs in the kitchen, if you’re hungry,” Daisy said.

“That’s now. Sooner or later you’ll send me packing. I need to have the money for backup supplies. I figured I could pawn this stuff over in Colonial Beach or maybe even down in Richmond. Then I could head someplace brand-new where nobody would be on my case all the time or tell me how sorry they are that my mom is dead.”

She brushed aside Tucker’s restraining hands and rested her own against the boy’s cheek. “We’ve been over this. I will not send you packing,” she said very firmly. “However, nor will I tolerate you stealing from me. You’re grounded until we can discuss this further. Go to your room.”

She wasn’t sure who was most surprised by her pronouncement, Tommy or her brother. But Tucker had known her longer. He heaved a resigned sigh and stared at Tommy. “I’d get a move on, if I were you, son. My sister generally means what she says. Take it from someone who knows, don’t mess with her.”

Relief washed over Tommy’s face, though he was quick to duck his head to hide it. He started to scoot down the hall, but Tucker halted him with a sharp command.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, son?”

Tommy’s gaze rose to clash with his. “What?”

“Empty those pockets.”

Tommy dug his hands into his pockets with obvious reluctance, producing more of her jewelry. Most of the rest had more sentimental than monetary value, but its glitter clearly had appealed to Tommy.

Tucker took the baubles and handed them to Daisy. “Costume jewelry or not, I’d get this stuff into your safety deposit box if you ever expect to wear it again.”

Daisy met Tommy’s gaze. “I don’t think that will be necessary, do you, Tommy?”

He looked for a moment as if he might make some sort of defiant retort, but Daisy’s gaze never wavered, and he finally wilted under the stern scrutiny. “No, ma’am.”

When he had gone, the cat on his heels, she turned a smile on her brother. “Satisfied?”

“Far from it, but I can see you’re not going to listen to a word I say.”

She patted his cheek. “Smart man. And don’t try sending Dad over here to raise the roof, either.”

“I won’t have to send him. Once he hears about this, you’ll have to bar the door to keep him out.”

“Well, he can rant and rave all he wants, but it won’t work. For once in my life I am going to do exactly what I want to do, what I know is right.”

Not that her declaration would stop her father from trying to interfere when he finally found out what she was up to. Despite the precautions she’d taken by warning Frances off, Daisy predicted it wouldn’t take long.

Trinity Harbor was a small town. Cedar Hill, the Spencer family home for generations, was the biggest Black Angus cattle operation in the entire Northern Neck of Virginia. Her neighbors would probably fight for the chance to be the first to tell Robert “King” Spencer that his sensible spinster daughter had just taken in a stray troublemaker.

The story would be even juicier if anyone found out Tommy had already tried to steal her jewelry and her car. She was pretty sure she could keep a lid on the attempted car theft, but Tucker might not be so discreet about the jewelry. In fact, since that necklace had been in her father’s family for generations, he might feel obliged to tell their father that it had come very close to heading for a pawnshop.

And then, she concluded with a resigned sigh, this little squabble with Tucker was going to seem like a romp in the park.

2

W ashington, D.C., detective Walker Ames had just finished investigating his fifth drive-by shooting in a month. This had been worse than most–a five-year-old girl who’d done nothing more than sit on her front stoop playing with her doll on a pleasant spring evening. She’d caught a stray bullet meant for a gang member who’d been walking past her run-down apartment building in southeast Washington. The intended victim hadn’t even stopped to see if he could help.

This kind of incident was not the reason Walker had become a policeman. He’d wanted to make a difference in people’s lives, not just clean up after the tragedies. Innocent babies dying, grandmothers shot without a second glance, kids on school buses killed over a pair of sneakers…there was something seriously wrong with the world when a cop had to spend his days working crimes like that. His stomach churned with acid just thinking about it.

He’d been at it for fifteen frustrating years now, and not a day went by anymore when he didn’t wish he’d chosen another profession. Unfortunately, law enforcement was the only one he cared about, and he happened to be good at it. His arrest-conviction ratio was the best in the department, because he refused to give up until he had the right suspect in custody. Few of his cases were ever relegated to some cold case file left for others to solve years from now.

“You get a line on those punks that did it?” his boss asked when he spotted Walker crossing the squad room and heading straight for the industrial strength coffee.

“Half a dozen people on the street at the time of the incident,” Walker told Andy Thorensen, the caring, compassionate chief of detectives who’d also been his best friend since he’d joined the department. Andy was fifteen years older and going gray, but pushing papers hadn’t dimmed his street smarts or his indignation over crime.

“Four people claim they never saw a thing,” Walker added as he poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. “The two who admit they did aren’t talking. The girl’s mother is too upset to question. I’ll go back when things have settled down and try again. Maybe when it sinks in that it was a five-year-old who got caught in the cross fire, their vision will improve.”

His boss gestured toward his office, then waited till Walker was seated before asking, “What about the guy the bullet was meant for?”

“Vanished. He has to live in the neighborhood, though. We’ll find him. I’m not letting go of this one, Andy.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, battling exhaustion and the sting of tears. He tried not to let these things get to him, but that was impossible. He had kids of his own, boys he thought about every single time he had to handle a case like this. He might not be raising them since his divorce, but they were never far from his thoughts.

To buy himself a minute, he gazed out the window and finished his coffee, then said, “You should have seen the kid, Andy. She was just a baby, still clutching her doll. Somebody’s going down for this, if I have to drag every gang member in D.C. in here for questioning.”

Andy Thorensen nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Stay objective. That’s one of the first things they teach you in the police academy. I’d like to see one of those classroom cops stay objective when they find a kid’s blood splattered all over the sidewalk in front of her own house. It never gets any easier, does it?”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to,” Walker said. “If we get used to it, we’re as bad as they are.”

“Let me know if you need any help. We’re short-staffed, but I’ll see what I can do to free up some additional units,” Andy promised. “There’s going to be a hue and cry all over town until we close this one.”

Walker didn’t care about the headlines or the calls from the mayor’s office. He’d stay on it because that little girl deserved justice. He didn’t envy Andy’s need to balance justice with politics. He just respected his friend’s ability to take the heat while letting his men do the job they were paid to do.

“I’ll try not to leave you on the hot seat too long,” he promised.

“You can’t know how much I appreciate that,” Andy said wryly. “By the way, before I forget, you had a call earlier, some woman by the name of Jackson. When she heard you were out, she demanded to speak to me.” He grinned. “Tough lady. Seems to have something on her mind.”

Walker shook his head. “Don’t know her.”

Andy fished the message out of a pile of papers on his desk. “Says she’s with Social Services down in Trinity Harbor, Virginia.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I’ve been there. It’s a great little town on the Potomac a couple of hours from here. The sweetest crabs you’ll ever taste. Victorian houses. A bunch of little froufrou shops. You know, the kind women love. Antiques, crafts, all that artsy crap. Gail was in heaven. She wants me to buy a place down there so we can spend weekends and summers away from D.C. Says she could support us by opening a shop of her own.” He sighed. “To tell you the truth, after a day like today, it’s beginning to sound real good to me.”

“You’d be bored to tears in a week,” Walker predicted.

Andy grinned. “Maybe less, but I’m willing to give it a try. Give the woman a call. She said it was important.”

“Whatever,” Walker said, tucking the message into his pocket. Strangers took a back seat to the immediacy of this investigation.

Two hours later, the message was still in his pocket, untouched, when the phone on his desk rang.

“Ames.”

“Walker Ames?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“That’s me.”

“This is Frances Jackson. I left you a message several hours ago,” she said, a note of censure in her voice.

Andy might have found her tough attitude amusing, but prissy women like this always got Walker’s back up. “So you did,” he agreed, tilting his chair back on two legs as he prepared to enjoy himself a little. On a day like this, any amusement, however slight, was welcome.

“Then you did get the message?” she asked.

“I did.”

“I believe I mentioned it was important. Didn’t your boss explain that?”

“He did.”

“Then why haven’t you returned the call?” she asked impatiently.

“I’ve had some important things of my own to deal with.”

“Such as?”

“A dead five-year-old, shot right through the chest.”

Her dismayed gasp gave him a certain measure of satisfaction. “Okay, then,” he said, ready to end his little diversion and get back to work. He wanted to hit the streets again before dark. It was destined to be another fourteen-hour day. “You’ve got me now. What’s on your mind?”

“Are you related to Elizabeth Jean Flanagan?”

Oh, hell, he thought, as the front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thud. What had Beth gone and done now? His baby sister had always been troubled. She had taken off at sixteen with a worthless piece of trash named Ryan Flanagan, who’d eventually gotten around to marrying her, gotten her pregnant two years later, then dumped her on a highway somewhere outside of Vegas when he concluded the responsibility for a kid was more than he’d bargained for.

That was the last Walker had heard from her, ten, maybe twelve years ago. She’d called him in tears, saying she couldn’t live without that jerk. Walker had badly wanted to tell her she was better off without him, but he’d managed to keep his opinion to himself.

Instead, he had overnighted her some money for a ticket back to D.C., but she’d never shown up. Nor had she ever called again. He’d tried every way he knew how to trace her, but if she was working, it was for cash. There wasn’t a Social Security number in the system, probably thanks to the gypsy lifestyle she’d led with Flanagan. The man had thought the government was evil and that the less it knew about him, the better. Some of that must have rubbed off on Beth. She didn’t own a car and hadn’t registered for a driver’s license. There was no trail of credit card debt he could follow. He’d been stymied. He didn’t even know if she’d had the baby or gotten an abortion the way she’d been talking about doing.

“Detective Ames?”

The woman’s testy voice snapped him back to the present. “What about my sister?”

“Then she is your sister?”

“You wouldn’t be calling unless you knew that,” he said tightly.

“Not with certainty,” she said. “I discovered the names of Beth’s parents through her birth certificate. Then I ran into a dead end finding them.”

“They died several years ago.”

“That explains it, then. At any rate, I checked at the hospital where Beth was born and discovered that an older brother had been born to the same parents, one Walker David Ames.”

“Maybe you should be the detective, Ms. Jackson.”

“I’m just persistent,” she said. “Besides, once I finally had your name, you were much easier to locate.”

No one went to that much trouble without a really good reason. Walker was beginning to get the uneasy sense that he should have taken a page out of Flanagan’s book and maintained a lower profile.

“And now you’ve found me,” he congratulated her. “Why?”

“When was the last time you heard from your sister?”

“Years ago.”

“Are you her closest relative?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding suddenly sympathetic. “I really am.”

“Sorry about what? What the hell is going on?”

“Your sister is dead.”

Once the blunt words were spoken, he realized he should have expected it. He’d been on the other end of enough calls like this to know exactly how they went, but Beth? Dead? It just didn’t compute. For all of her reckless ways, he couldn’t imagine her dead. She’d been beautiful and full of life before she’d gotten mixed up with Flanagan.

“How?” he asked in a choked voice, fearing the worst. In his line of work, homicide and drug overdoses came to mind quicker than anything else.

“She caught the flu a few weeks ago. She didn’t get to a hospital until it was too late. It turned into pneumonia, and the antibiotics didn’t work. There was nothing else the doctors could do. We’ve been trying to locate her family ever since.” She paused, then corrected herself. “I mean the rest of her family.”

The implications of her remark made his blood run cold. “Don’t tell me she was still with that scum Flanagan.”

“No, he died before she ever came to Trinity Harbor. A motorcycle crash, I believe. But there is the boy. Her son. Your nephew, ” she stressed in a way that suggested she had specific expectations.

“What are you telling me, Ms. Jackson?”

“I think you’d better come to Trinity Harbor, Detective. You and I need to talk.”

“About what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“There’s a little boy here who is desperately in need of a family. Unless there’s someone you haven’t mentioned, it appears you’re all he’s got.”

Walker’s heart thudded dully as he considered that. If it was true–and there was little question that it was–then the kid was in one sorry mess. According to his ex-wife, he was a lousy father and a worse husband. He had no reason to dispute her. He was a workaholic, always had been. His family had taken a back seat. He regretted it now, but he doubted if he could do things any differently.

“Ms. Jackson, there must be–”

“What? Another solution? Do you have one in mind?”

Walker’s spirits sank. He was it. Heaven help the kid. “I’ll be there,” he said without enthusiasm.

“When?”

“When I can get there, Ms. Jackson. I’m in the middle of a homicide investigation.”

“And given the state of things in Washington, I’m sure there will be another one after that and one after that,” she said, her tone wry. “Meantime, your nephew needs you now.”

Walker sighed at the accuracy of her assessment. “I hear you. I’m off on Thursday. Is that soon enough to suit you?”

“I imagine it will have to be, Detective Ames.”

“Damn straight,” Walker muttered in one last display of defiance as he hung up.

Why did he have this sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that solving a few homicides was going to be a piece of cake compared to the turn his life was about to take?

Daisy had fully expected to be confronted by her father before that first day was out, but when that day passed and the one after without a visit, she thought maybe he was going to keep his nose out of her plan to keep Tommy. Not for a single minute did she believe he might not know what was going on.

Not only did her father stay away, so did everyone else, aside from Tucker, who’d been poking his nose in on a regular basis, most likely to count the silver behind her back.

At any rate, after the better part of a week she was beginning to believe that everything was going to work out just as she’d intended. Tommy was settling in. He was back in school and behaving himself, according to his teacher. He was still eating her out of house and home, but she assumed that was to be expected from a growing boy who’d gotten it into his head that his next meal might be in doubt. Daisy hadn’t cooked so much in years. Nor had she ever enjoyed it more.

Even now, the kitchen was filled with the scent of chocolate chip cookies baking. Tommy had already grabbed a handful and headed outside, swearing that his homework was done as he grabbed his cap and let the screen door slam behind him. Molly meowed indignantly at the disruptive sound, but Daisy just smiled. One of these days she’d get around to breaking him of the habit, but for now she liked the way he was filling her too-quiet house with noise.

When the doorbell rang, she froze. For a second, she consoled herself with the fact that her brothers or her father would have knocked once and walked right in. So would most of the neighbors, for that matter. Unfortunately, that left one possibility, and it wasn’t a good one. The chiming of the bell meant someone was paying a formal visit and that usually meant trouble.

“Please don’t let it be Frances,” she whispered with a quick heavenward glance. She didn’t want anything to rock this new life she was creating for herself and Tommy.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she took her time going to the door. When she found her minister, Anna-Louise Walton, on her doorstep, a welcoming smile spread across her face. The redheaded pastor had already made a huge difference in town with her blunt talk and warm compassion. Daisy had liked her from the instant they’d met. She also liked her husband, a former foreign correspondent who had taken over the town’s weekly newspaper. With his liberal editorials, Richard had already become a thorn in King’s side, which had endeared him even further to Daisy.

Now, however, when Anna-Louise returned her smile with a somber look, the likely implication of this unexpected visit sank in. Apparently King, who’d been among those on the committee to select a new pastor, was even sneakier than Daisy had imagined. He’d evidently sent Anna-Louise to do his dirty work for him. No doubt his backing of a woman for the job made him feel entitled to use Anna-Louise as his personal representative in what should have been a family matter.

“Here on a mission?” she inquired tartly as she and Anna-Louise settled at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and a plate of the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven.

“Why would you think that?” Anna-Louise asked, her expression suddenly as innocent as a lamb’s.

“Am I wrong? Are you just here to pay a call on one of your flock?”

“Absolutely,” Anna-Louise said.

“A preacher shouldn’t fib.”

A grin spread across the other woman’s face. “Okay, I did get a call from your father a few days ago. He seemed to think you required counsel.”

“I imagine what he said was that I needed to have my head examined.”

Anna-Louise chuckled. “Words to that effect.”

“And you agree with him?”

“Actually, I’m on your side on this one,” Anna-Louise said. “Which is why I didn’t rush right over. Naturally I neglected to mention my opinion to your father. No point in making his blood pressure shoot up any higher. Richard’s last editorial about the need for a riverfront development plan has already sent it into dangerous territory. King spent an hour after church last Sunday trying to convince me that I needed to look closer to home when it came to saving souls. He apparently feels Richard’s is in danger.”

“You’re right. He wouldn’t have appreciated your opinion a bit, if it disagreed with his own,” Daisy told her. “You can see that I had no choice, can’t you? Tommy needs to have someone in his life that he can count on.”

“No question about that.”

“And I can give him a good home.”

“Of course you can,” Anna-Louise agreed.

Daisy’s gaze narrowed at all the ready agreement. Despite what she’d said, Anna-Louise wouldn’t be here now if Daisy’s actions had her full blessing. “But?”

“What happens to you when he leaves?” Anna-Louise asked, her expression filled with genuine concern.

“Who says he’s going to? His mother is dead. So is his father. None of the foster families worked out. Where would he go?”

“Frances found his uncle today,” the minister said quietly.

Daisy felt a cry of dismay sneaking up the back of her throat, but she managed to keep it from escaping. She forced a smile. “That’s wonderful! Is he coming here?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Has he agreed to take Tommy?”

“Not exactly.”

Relief flooded through her. She was willing to seize any reprieve, however temporary. “Well, then, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens, won’t we?”

Anna-Louise put her hand on Daisy’s. “I know how much you love children. That was evident to me from the minute I got here. And you’ve told me about the doctor’s opinion that you’ll never have children of your own. You’re the best Sunday school teacher we have, as well as the best history teacher at the high school. The kids adore you. You’d be a terrific mother to Tommy, and you deserve this, Daisy, you really do, but it might not work out. I just want you to be prepared to let go.”

“God would not bring Tommy into my life and then snatch him away,” Daisy countered.

“We don’t always know or understand what He plans for us,” the minister reminded her. “We just have to accept that He has our best interests at heart.”

How could losing Tommy be in her best interests? Daisy felt the sting of unshed tears at the back of her eyes. “What do you know about this uncle? He and Tommy’s mother can’t have been close. He didn’t come for the funeral.”

“He’s a cop in D.C. Beyond that, I don’t know much. Frances was fairly stingy with what she considers to be confidential information. She just wanted me to prepare you.”

“Is he married?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why would he be any better suited to care for Tommy than I am?”

“It isn’t a matter of ’better.’ It’s a question of family. He and Tommy are related.”

Daisy wanted to argue that a loving stranger might be better for Tommy than a bad relative, but until she met this man and knew the whole story, she had no cause to stand in judgment of him. Anna-Louise was likely to tell her she didn’t have the right even then. Judgment was God’s business.

And so it was, Daisy thought. But just in case He had other things on His mind besides Tommy Flanagan, she intended to look this uncle over very carefully before she relinquished Tommy to his care.

3

D riving into Trinity Harbor, Walker shuddered. It was exactly the way his boss had described it. Quaint. Picturesque. Charming. Slightly faded, like a fancy dress left hanging in the closet too long, but with a hint of past glories. Lawns were well-tended. There were churches every few blocks, some of them clearly quite old. And every now and again there was a glimpse of the Potomac, shimmering in the bright sunlight.

He hated places like this. Give him a little grit and grime any day. Give him bustling sidewalks and clogged highways. Give him skyscrapers and run-down neighborhoods. He knew the rules of survival in a city like D.C. He liked the anonymity. He didn’t know beans about getting along in a town where everybody knew your name and your business.

He followed the directions Frances Jackson had given him, drove on through the town of Trinity Harbor, then past open farmland just sprouting green, through the county seat in Montross until he came to what looked more like a remodeled school building than a government agency. The discreet sign on the front door proved otherwise. Westmoreland County Social Services, the sign stated in neat letters.

Once he’d turned off the engine, he sat perfectly still, unsure whether he could go through with this. It wasn’t just the thought of having Beth’s death confirmed in black and white in the form of a death certificate. It was all the rest–his nephew, the expectations, and the regrets that he hadn’t found his sister before any of this had happened.

Because of all that, Walker had taken his own sweet time leaving home this morning. He’d stopped by the station, had a chat with Andy, looked through some paperwork, then, finally, when he could delay no longer, he’d hit the road. He’d managed to delay his arrival till midafternoon–much later, no doubt, than the imperious Mrs. Jackson had been expecting him. He braced himself for her displeasure along with everything else, took a deep breath and headed for the door.

Inside, he discovered that Frances Jackson was nothing at all like some of the social workers he’d come across in D.C., dedicated, but wearied by their caseloads. Nor did she fit the image he’d conjured up on the phone–a starchy woman, mid-fifties with a perpetually down-turned mouth. No, indeed, Frances Jackson was nothing like that.

Sixty if she was a day, she had unrepentantly white hair, round cheeks and rounder hips, and eyes that twinkled behind rimless glasses. She reminded him of picture book illustrations of Mrs. Claus. He smiled despite himself, felt himself finally beginning to relax. He could get around a woman like this. He’d be out of here and back to D.C. in no time. Alone.

“You’re late,” she said briskly, but without censure. “Let’s go.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

Once again, Walker was forced to reassess the woman. He’d allowed himself to forget for just an instant that appearances could be deceiving. Right now he had a panicky feeling that she intended to take him straight to wherever this nephew of his was, introduce them, then abandon them to fend for themselves, her duty done. He was nowhere near ready for that. He would never be ready for that.

“Whoa,” he said, standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor. “Where’s the fire?”

“It’s almost dinnertime in these parts and I’m starved, Detective. I missed lunch waiting for you. We can talk over food.” She gave him a thorough once-over. “Besides, next to music, I hear it’s the best thing for soothing a savage beast.”

He chuckled, caught off-guard by the display of humor. “And that would be me?”

“You do pride yourself on it, don’t you? I could tell that when we talked on the phone.”

“In my line of work, it’s helpful,” he said, feeling defensive about his initial display of rudeness when she’d called.

“I’m sure it is,” she agreed. “But down here we like to think we’re more civilized.”

Outside, she gestured toward her car, a brand-new Mustang convertible that surprised him yet again. “I’ll drive,” she said.

He regarded the car with envy. “I’ll be even more agreeable if you’ll let me.”

“Because you don’t trust a woman behind the wheel?”

He heard the unmistakable challenge in her voice, but he didn’t need to lie. “Because I’ve been dying to test-drive one of these babies and haven’t had the chance,” he countered with absolute honesty.

She tossed him the keys. “In that case, it’s all yours, Detective.”

She directed him back onto the highway and into town, then down a side street past the stately old courthouse with its square of grass in front to the Inn at Montross. Walker regarded the historic facade and little flower-lined brick patio doubtfully. Places like this gave him hives.

“Isn’t there someplace we can get a basic burger and some fries?”

“I’ll refrain from commenting on your deplorable eating habits,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I’m relatively certain you’ll find something on the menu here that will do. And they’ve done me a favor by keeping the kitchen open past their usual lunch hour.”

Walker remained skeptical as they climbed the brick steps into the white building that dated back to the 1600s, according to a sign by the front door. He stepped into the wide foyer, glanced around at the antiques and the open, airy rooms and began to revise his opinion. The place had big-city class, he’d give it that.

Without waiting for a hostess, Mrs. Jackson led the way onto a closed-in front porch and settled at a table by an open window. “Sit down, Detective. I promise you the chef can offer more than tea sandwiches.”

Duly chastised, Walker sat. The social worker regarded him with amusement.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you a fast-food place. The nearest one is miles away, and I got the distinct impression that you’re in a hurry.”

“Always am.”

“Well, then, as soon as we order, we’ll get right to it.”

Ten minutes later, Walker had a beer in front of him and the promise of a blackened chicken wrap sandwich that would bring tears to his eyes. When it came, Mrs. Jackson watched with amusement as it did just that.

“Too spicy for you, Detective?”

“No,” he insisted, gulping half his beer to tame the taste. “Best sandwich I ever had.” He nodded toward the piping hot potatoes accompanying it. “Best fries, too.”

“Better than a fast-food restaurant?” she inquired, eyes twinkling.

“Are you teasing me, Mrs. Jackson?”

“Just trying to make a point.”

“Which is?”

“The big city doesn’t have all the advantages over us country folks.”

“No,” he agreed. “I can see that.”

She paused in eating her own sea bass bisque. “You know, Detective Ames, it hasn’t escaped my notice that we’ve been together for a half hour or more now and you still haven’t asked about Tommy.”

Walker sighed and put his sandwich down. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what to ask. Until you called, I didn’t even know he existed.”

“You and your sister weren’t close?”

Walker recalled a time when they had been. Beth had trailed him around adoringly, pleading to be allowed to play with him and his friends. He had tolerated his younger sister because no one knew better than he that they received little or no attention at home.

“She was a beautiful little girl,” he said, recalling her huge blue eyes and halo of strawberry blond curls that had later darkened to a golden hue. “She was always laughing. Then she got involved with Ryan Flanagan, and the laughter died.”

The social worker regarded him sympathetically. “How old was she?”

“Sixteen, still a girl, really, but we couldn’t stop her. My parents tried in a halfhearted way. I tried, but I was away at college and Beth was starved for attention. When Ryan asked her to run away with him, it was too much for her to resist, I guess. When our parents died, I couldn’t even locate her. I had to tell her about their deaths the next time she checked in, which was three or four months later, around the time she and Flanagan got married. She called to give me the big news.”

The anger and dismay he’d felt back then was still alive in him today. “I wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her, but it was too late.”

“Was that the last time you heard from her?”

“No, she called again after he’d abandoned her. She was all alone, scared and pregnant. I wired her some money and begged her to come home. I was married by then. I told her she could stay with us until she had her baby.” He shrugged. “She said she might not even have the baby, and she never did show up. And that was the last time I heard from her. She was somewhere outside of Las Vegas.”

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Jackson said. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

“It drove me nuts,” he said honestly. “Here I was, this big city cop with all sorts of investigative skills and a lot of high-tech resources at my disposal, and I couldn’t even find my own sister. Turned out she was a couple of hours away and I didn’t even know it.”

“You should know better than anyone that a person who wants to drop out of sight can pull it off if they’re clever enough. Maybe she was making her way back to you when she ended up here. Maybe she just wanted to be back on her feet by the time she saw you. She and Tommy had been here a few years. They were doing well. She worked a variety of jobs, since much of the work around here is seasonal. She cleaned houses from time to time, waited tables, helped out in several of the shops.”

“Why not just one job?”

For an instant Mrs. Jackson looked uneasy. “I suppose it’s of no consequence now, but she seemed to have this fear of getting ’caught up in the system,’ as she put it. Several people offered her full-time work, but when it came time to fill out the paperwork she balked.”

Walker uttered a curse. “That was Flanagan’s paranoia at work. No Social Security number, no taxes, nobody tracking his every move. The man liked living on the fringes of society, picking up odd jobs whenever he could, always for cash. I thought Beth was smarter than that.”

“I’m sure she was. In fact, she’d been offered work right here at the Inn, and I think she’d almost convinced herself to take it. Anna-Louise–she’s a minister here in town–said Beth had been talking a lot about taking that final step so she could get back in touch with her family. She must have been talking about you. It was the only clue we had that she had anyone in her life other than Tommy.”

“She didn’t have to prove anything to me,” he said, though he was relieved if she’d done all of that for her own sake. And for her son’s.

“Maybe she thought she did. I’m sure she knew she let you down.”

“That didn’t matter,” Walker insisted. “I just wanted my baby sister to be okay.” He looked at her. “And now she’s dead,” he said bitterly. “What kind of brother does that make me?”

“One who did the best he could, I suspect.”

He frowned at being let off the hook so easily. “No lectures?”

“Not my job,” she assured him. “We can’t change the past, much as we might like to. I prefer to deal with the here and now.”

“Meaning Tommy?” he guessed.

She nodded. “Meaning Tommy.” She slid a snapshot across the table. “I thought you might like to see this.”

Walker hesitated before picking it up. His hand shook as he lifted it off the table. He sucked in his breath as Beth’s blue eyes stared back at him. The boy had her crooked, mischievous grin, too.

“I’ll bet he’s a handful,” he said finally.

“Oh, he is,” Mrs. Jackson said fervently. “Not that it’s much of a surprise. A boy all alone in the world has to find some way to deal with the fear. He’s been better since he’s been living with Daisy.”

“Daisy?”

“Daisy Spencer. The Spencers were founders of Trinity Harbor–not Daisy, of course, but her ancestors. Her daddy, King, is still the most respected man in town. The richest, too, by all accounts, though my own father disputed that with his dying breath.”

“Bad blood between the Spencers and your family?”

“More like an unending rivalry. King Spencer is the kind of man who doesn’t like anybody challenging his supremacy.”

“Is his daughter the same way?”

“Not at all. Daisy is a wonderful person.”

“And she’s a foster parent?”

“Not usually, no.”

“How does her husband feel about this?”

“Daisy isn’t married.”

Walker was beginning to get a clear picture of the woman. A society do-gooder looking to gain a few more points.

“How exactly did Tommy end up with her?”

“She found him in her garage the other morning after he’d run away from another foster home. He’s been acting out a lot since Beth died…mostly mischief, but clearly cries for help.”

“And despite that, this Daisy just decided to let him stay?”

“Daisy is a remarkable woman, as I’m sure you’ll see. She knew your sister and Tommy from church. She never hesitated about taking him in.”

“Maybe we should leave things the way they are,” Walker said, trying not to flinch under Mrs. Jackson’s immediate frown of disapproval. “If Tommy’s been behaving since he moved in with her, maybe she’s just the person to keep him on the straight and narrow, to give him whatever he needs.”

“You would turn around and leave here without even seeing the boy?” she asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“It could be for the best,” he insisted.

“Perhaps so,” she agreed stiffly. “But I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that, Detective.”

“I’m just saying that this woman sounds like a good role model for Tommy.”

“You’re his uncle, ” she reminded him. “The only family he has left. You would deny him that sense of identity, that sense of connection, because it’s inconvenient?”

He could feel the heat climbing into his cheeks. “I didn’t say–”

“You didn’t have to. You’re a coward, Detective Ames.”

The blunt assessment hit its mark. What had ever made him think that he could get around this woman? She was one tough customer. He met her gaze evenly. “Maybe I am, Mrs. Jackson. You don’t know much about me.”

“I know that you’re willing to turn your back on a little boy without even meeting him.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Walker muttered, thinking of the accusations his ex-wife liked to throw at him about his treatment of his own kids.

“What was that?”

He sighed. “I have two children of my own, Mrs. Jackson. Two boys.”

“Yes, you mentioned being married.”

“Divorced, actually. My ex-wife has moved to North Carolina. I see my kids for two weeks in the summer. My ex claims that’s still more than I saw them when we were living under the same roof.”

She surveyed him with that penetrating look that disconcerted him.

“Is she right about that?” she asked.

“Probably. I’m a dedicated cop. It’s never been a nine-to-five job for me.”

“Which is to your credit. I’m sure it’s not easy. Based on our phone conversation, I’m sure you’ve seen things that the rest of us would prefer to pretend don’t happen. That must take a terrible toll. The work must consume you at times. I know mine does, and it can’t be nearly as difficult as what you face.”

“That’s still no excuse for neglecting my family,” he said. “I was a lousy husband and not much of a father.”

“Your words or hers?”

He smiled at her indignant expression. “Hers, but she pretty much nailed it. I don’t deny it.”

“Owning up to your mistakes,” she said with a little nod of satisfaction. “I think maybe you have potential, after all, Detective.”

“I haven’t changed,” he insisted.

“But you can, with the right incentive.” She pushed the picture of Tommy back in his direction. “At least meet him. Tommy needs to know that he still has family out there. You owe him that. You surely owe your sister that.”

Walker couldn’t debate that point. He owed Beth for not being there for her, for not trying harder to keep her away from Flanagan, for not finding her years ago.

“Okay, you win. I’ll meet Tommy, but I’m not making any promises, Mrs. Jackson.”

“Fair enough.” She reached across and patted his hand. “I’m sure you’ll decide to do the right thing when the time comes.”

Walker wished he shared her faith. There was one more thing he had to do while he was here, though. He needed to go by the cemetery, see where his sister was buried.

“Before we go to see Tommy, there’s something I’d like to do,” he began.

“Stop by the cemetery,” she guessed. “It’s five now. I’ll call Daisy and let her know we’ll be there about six. And if you’d like to take flowers to your sister’s grave, I know where we can get some lovely ones.”

He hadn’t thought of flowers, but she was right. He needed to make a gesture, leave something behind. Maybe wherever Beth was she would know and would understand that she’d always been in his heart.

King waved his latest housekeeper out of the dining room. Never could trust the help not to pass along every word that was spoken in his house. Finally satisfied that she wasn’t lurking at the keyhole, he regarded his sons intently and asked, “Okay, now, what are we going to do about your sister?”

“I should have known you didn’t just invite us over here for a nice dinner,” Tucker grumbled.

“He never does,” Bobby agreed. “Steak always comes with a price. Daddy inevitably has something up his sleeve.”

King scowled at the pair of them. “Don’t smart-mouth me. Your sister’s in trouble and I want to know what you’re going to do to fix it.”

“Last I heard, Daisy was a grown woman who knew her own mind,” Bobby said. “What’s she done that’s so all-fired wrong? She saw a kid who needed someone and she took him in. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught us? That we have an obligation to look out for other people?” He lowered his voice and intoned, “’Spencers do their duty for the less fortunate.’”

King frowned at the mockery, but decided to ignore it. “Not when she’s going to wind up getting her heart broken,” he countered.

“I’ve warned her,” Tucker said. “She says she knows what she’s doing.”

“And Anna-Louise has warned her, too,” Bobby pointed out, then grinned at his brother’s startled expression. “Daddy’s covering all the bases. I gather we’re the second string, which must mean Anna-Louise struck out.”

The truth was, Anna-Louise hadn’t reported back to him yet, which galled King no end. He’d deal with her later. In the meantime, he needed someone else on the case.

“Somebody’s got to look out for your sister.” He scowled at Tucker. “I don’t know why you didn’t take that boy out of there when you had the chance.”

“You wanted me to arrest him?”

“He was stealing her jewelry, wasn’t he? You told me that yourself.”

“He tried. He didn’t succeed. I doubt Daisy would have approved of my slapping handcuffs on him and hauling him off to jail. She’d have demanded to be in the cell right next to him, and she’d have had Anna-Louise’s husband down there snapping pictures for next week’s front page.”

King didn’t doubt it. Richard Walton was a troublemaker, and a Yankee to boot. Actually, he was from Virginia, but he’d worked for one of the Washington papers, which was just as bad as being a Yankee by birth. Tucker was right. Walton would have stirred up a ruckus.

“Besides,” Bobby said. “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything. I hear Frances found the boy’s uncle. He’s due here today.”

“They’re over at the Inn as we speak. I saw Frances’s car there when I left the courthouse to come on out here,” Tucker added.

“This uncle, is he taking Tommy with him?” King asked, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.

“No word on that,” Bobby admitted.

“Well, why the heck wouldn’t he?” King demanded. “The boy’s his responsibility. Dammit, Frances isn’t going soft, is she? Do I need to call and tell her how to do her job?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Tucker muttered.

“I heard that,” King said, scowling at his oldest son. “The day hasn’t come when I can’t take on the likes of Frances Jackson. One word to the Board of Supervisors and she’d be out on her tush.”

“I think you’re underestimating the respect people around here have for her,” Tucker said. “And don’t forget, her ancestors are every bit as blue-blooded as ours.”

King chafed at the reminder. It was a fact Frances liked to throw in his face every year when Founders’ Day rolled around. In fact, the blasted woman prided herself on being a thorn in his side. She had been ever since grade school, when she’d publicly trounced him in a spelling bee. His daddy had never let him forget that he’d been beaten by a girl.

“I don’t want to talk about Frances,” King grumbled.

His sons exchanged amused glances. The spelling bee incident was one of their favorites.

“You know, I could disown both of you,” he declared. “Neither one of you shows me an ounce of respect.”

“I thought you did that last week,” Bobby said.

“No, it was last month,” Tucker countered. “I remember distinctly that he said he was going to disinherit us because we told him at Sunday dinner that we didn’t care about the price of cattle.”

“Well, dammit, what kind of sons don’t give a fig for the business that their daddy is in, and their granddaddy before him?” King demanded, thumping his fist on the table so hard it rattled the china and brought the housekeeper scurrying out of the kitchen. He waved her off. “Get back in there. I’ll call you when we’re ready for dessert.”

Bobby shot a sympathetic look toward the woman, who’d only been on the job for a few weeks. “You’re going to run off another housekeeper if you’re not careful,” he warned his father.

“So what if I do? It’s my house.”

“We’ll remind you of that when you start grumbling about having to do the dusting,” Tucker said, grinning.

King wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such disrespectful sons. If he didn’t need their help with Daisy, he’d have thrown them out and gone through with his threat to disinherit them.

“We’re getting off-track,” he said instead. “I expect you to do something about this situation with your sister. Make sure that boy leaves here with his uncle, preferably tonight. Am I making myself clear?”

“If you feel so strongly about this, why aren’t you over there telling Daisy what you think?”

“Because she doesn’t listen to me any better than the rest of you. If I show up, it’ll only make her dig in her heels.”

“True enough,” Bobby said. “Daisy got her stubbornness from you.”

“She got it from your mother,” King contradicted. “I’m a perfectly reasonable man.”

Tucker and Bobby hooted so loudly at that it brought the housekeeper peeking through the kitchen door. King gave up. He’d either made his point or he hadn’t. Tucker and Bobby would do what they wanted to do, the way they always did. So would Daisy, for that matter, even if it ruined her life. He could console himself that he’d tried to fix things.

He frowned at the eavesdropping housekeeper. “You might as well get on in here and clear the supper dishes, Mrs. Wingate.”

“Will you be wanting your pie and coffee now?” she asked as she eased into the room, giving him a wide berth as she loaded a tray with the dinner plates and serving dishes.

“I’ll take mine in the study,” he said. “These two can take theirs wherever they want.”

“I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of extra slices and head on over to Daisy’s to see what’s what,” Tucker said, glancing toward his younger brother. “What about you?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bobby agreed.

King regarded them both with satisfaction. Maybe their skulls weren’t quite as thick as he’d been thinking, after all.

“You’ll let me know what you find out,” he ordered them as Mrs. Wingate delivered his piece of apple pie and coffee and set a covered pie plate in front of Tucker.

“You could come along,” Tucker suggested.

“Not on your life,” King retorted.

“Scared of the heat,” Bobby observed.

“Probably so,” Tucker concurred.

“No, just saving the big guns for later, in case you two mess this up,” King told them. He scowled. “Which I am counting on you not to do.”

“Daddy, we will do our best, but this is Daisy we’re talking about,” Tucker reminded him. “I haven’t won an argument with her since she was old enough to talk.”

“Then it’s high time you figured out why that is and changed it,” King told him, shaking his head at the pitiful admission. “What kind of sheriff lets a little slip of a woman walk all over him?”

“One who’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses,” Bobby suggested.

“Exactly,” Tucker agreed.

King threw up his hands. “I swear to God I am calling my lawyer right this minute and changing my will. I’m leaving everything to a bunch of blasted bird-watchers. They’re bound to have more gumption than you two.”

“Glad to see we’ve made you proud yet again,” Tucker said, giving him an unrepentant grin as he headed for the door with the pie plate in hand.

Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed. “See you, old man.”

“I’m not old,” King bellowed after them, then sighed. He might not be old at fifty-nine, but his children were going to send him to an early grave. Every one of them seemed to be flat-out dedicated to it.

4

D aisy had spent the past few hours preparing Tommy for meeting his uncle. She had really tried to put the best possible spin on things for his sake, but he wasn’t any more thrilled by the prospect than she was. She had no answer for all of his questions about why he’d never even known of the man’s existence. Frances hadn’t been willing to share a single detail when Daisy had tried to pry a few out of her.

“I’m telling you I ain’t going nowhere with no cop,” he said flatly as he spooned soup noisily into his mouth late Thursday afternoon as they awaited the arrival of Walker Ames. Molly meowed plaintively, as if she understood his distress.

She had allowed Tommy to stay home from school, and she had taken the day off as well. It had probably been a mistake, since they’d spent the entire time sitting around the house brooding about whatever was to come. And when Frances had called midafternoon to report that Walker hadn’t even shown up yet, Daisy had been ready to take Tommy and vanish. What sort of man was late to a first meeting with his own nephew?

But he was in Trinity Harbor now. Frances had called from the Inn a few minutes ago and said they’d be by around six. Daisy had fixed Tommy a bowl of soup and a sandwich to distract him, but she hadn’t been able to touch a bite of food herself.

Tommy’s declaration hung in the air, adding to her stomach’s queasiness. How could she in good conscience send him away with a man he didn’t know? How could she not, when that man was his only living relative?

Finally she met Tommy’s belligerent gaze. “Tommy, do you trust me?”

“Some,” he conceded grudgingly.

“Then believe me when I tell you that you won’t go anywhere unless it’s for the best.”

He eyed her warily, his blue eyes far too skeptical for a boy his age. “Who gets to decide what’s best?”

The question made her pause. The truth was, she supposed that Social Services or the court would have to make the call. But Tommy was ten. He ought to have some say. And she intended to have quite a lot to say herself once she’d seen this Walker Ames with her own eyes. She considered herself to be a very good judge of character, although there was the matter of Billy Inscoe to contradict that fact.

“All of us,” she said finally. “You, me, a judge, the social worker and, of course, your uncle.”

When the doorbell rang, Daisy froze. Tommy dropped his spoon, sending splatters of soup every which way. For once, Daisy ignored the mess. For one wild moment, she considered grabbing Tommy by the hand and hightailing it out the back door, but that would only postpone the inevitable. She reminded herself that her students–rambunctious teens, at that–considered her quite formidable. A mere policeman would be no match for her at all.

“You can stay in here and finish your soup,” she said, then gave Tommy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Whatever,” he said, his doubt plain.

With Tommy’s skepticism ringing in her ears, she went to do battle with the man she was already inclined to think of as the enemy.

Walker wasn’t sure what he’d expected in terms of age or appearance when Frances Jackson had told him that his nephew was being cared for by the daughter of one of the town’s leading citizens. He’d simply dismissed her as some small-town society do-gooder without giving her another thought.

And maybe that was precisely what Daisy Spencer was, but she also happened to be years younger than he’d anticipated–no more than thirty, he guessed–and so beautiful it took him a full sixty seconds to catch his breath and accept her outstretched hand. She had the kind of beauty that came from incredible genes and a classy upbringing. Walker was rarely left speechless, nor did he tend to get poetic…but she inspired both. Her skin was flawless, her eyes the color of spring violets.

“Detective,” she said oh-so-politely, then acknowledged the woman with him with a curt nod and an unmistakable hint of betrayal in her voice. “Frances.”

Walker had the feeling it was more good manners than Southern hospitality that had her inviting them in. Daisy Spencer was studying him warily, as if she feared he might rob the place if she turned her back. He was used to being regarded with distrust, but that was usually by the bad guys, not by an upstanding citizen. The woman was uptight as hell about something, but darned if he could figure out what it was. Shouldn’t she be relieved that he was coming to see his nephew, that she’d most likely be off the hook if Frances Jackson had her way? Surely all these small-town do-gooders were of the same mind–foist Tommy off on him and end their involvement.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Ms. Spencer asked. Again, her voice was measured, with just a teasing hint of a drawl.

“That would be lovely,” the social worker said.

Frances might be content to follow some sort of local protocol, but Walker was impatient to get the reason for the visit out of the way. He had reluctantly agreed to meet Tommy today, see how they did together. Beyond that he’d remained neutral, refusing to commit to anything, despite Mrs. Jackson’s evident expectations. Now that he was here, he just wanted to get the awkward moment over with. He was still shaken by that visit to the cemetery and the finality of seeing a headstone with Beth’s name on it.

“Where is he?” he asked bluntly, ignoring the offer of tea.

The question drew a disapproving frown from the woman currently caring for his nephew. Which, in turn, drew attention to a mouth so kissable it made him forget for an instant why he was here. His gaze traveled from that tempting mouth to curves that were barely disguised by a prim white cotton blouse and linen slacks. Discreet gold jewelry flashed at her wrists, and a delicate diamond and sapphire ring winked on one slender finger. Not an engagement ring, he noted with an odd sense of relief. Wrong hand.

“If you’re referring to Tommy, he’s in the kitchen finishing his supper,” she told him, gesturing vaguely to another part of the small but tastefully furnished house.

The house hadn’t been exactly what he’d expected, either, given her reported status in town. It was little more than a cottage, really, painted a cheerful yellow, with old-fashioned white Victorian trim. It came complete with a white picket fence, all of it the epitome of a young girl’s dream. Hell, it was on Primrose Lane–how quaint could you get? The tiny front yard was a riot of flowers, even though it was still early spring. Neighboring houses were bigger, more imposing, but none had been cared for more lovingly.

The inside was tended with just as much care. Walker couldn’t help wondering how long some of Daisy’s expensive porcelain knickknacks would last with a rambunctious boy around. Apparently she wasn’t all that concerned, because she hadn’t hidden them. That raised her a notch in his estimation.

“Why don’t you and I sit down and get to know each other before I get Tommy?” she suggested.

She said it in a way that set off a whole lot of wicked images Walker was sure she hadn’t intended. Even so, he frowned. No wonder Frances had kept her questions to a minimum. Apparently she intended to let this woman do her job for her. Walker had other ideas.

“Ms. Spencer, as much as I would love to get to know you better,” he said, giving her a thorough once-over that brought a blush to her peaches-and-cream complexion, “I’m here to meet my nephew. You and I can go a few rounds another time. Which way’s the kitchen? Through here?”

He was already heading in that direction when she caught up with him, snagging his arm with a surprisingly firm grip. He glanced down at the pale fingers with their neat, unpolished nails against his thick, tanned forearm and felt an unexpected slam of desire. He swallowed hard and stepped away, but without making any further move toward the kitchen.

“Detective, perhaps you can bully suspects in Washington, but around here, we have ways of conducting ourselves that meet a higher standard.”

Walker stared down into those flashing eyes, admiring again that startling shade of amethyst and the fringe of dark lashes. A man could forget himself and his intentions pondering the mysteries of eyes like that. He sincerely regretted that he didn’t have the time to spare. It was getting late, and he wanted to hit the road before dark.

“Ms. Spencer, you are the second person today to suggest that I’m uncivilized.” He leveled a hard look at her that usually worked quite well during an interrogation. “I’m beginning to take offense.”

Not so much as an eyelash flickered. “Then prove me wrong.”

“How?”

“Talk to me. Tell me about yourself and the life you’re prepared to offer Tommy.”

He shook his head. “You’re not going to be satisfied till we play Twenty Questions, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she agreed cheerfully.

“Then by all means, let’s talk.”

He followed her into the living room, settled back in a chintz-covered easy chair and kept his gaze pinned to hers. She perched on the edge of the sofa, kept her own gaze perfectly level with his, and began a litany of questions that suggested she’d made a list before his arrival. She started by asking about his parents, where he’d gone to elementary school, what his favorite subjects had been, whether he’d liked sports.

He grinned at her. “Ms. Spencer, at this rate, it’ll be midnight and we won’t even get to my college years.”

Her expression brightened. “You went to college, then?”

“I didn’t think to bring along a copy of my diploma, but yes, I graduated from the University of Virginia.”

“A fine school,” she said approvingly.

“Are we finished now?”

“Not quite. Are you married, Detective Ames?”

“Not anymore.”

“I see.” Her mouth pursed ever so slightly. “Any children?”

“Two boys.”

“And they live with you?”

“No, they live with their mother in North Carolina.”

“I see.”

There was no question about the disapproval in her eyes now. She flashed a quick look at the social worker, whose expression was carefully neutral.

“Anything else?” he asked. “Are you interested in my favorite colors? Maybe whether I wear jockey shorts or boxers?”

Color flamed in her cheeks. “Of course not.”

“Then I’d like to see my nephew.”

Unfortunately, Walker was soon to discover, while they’d been wasting time on all those ridiculous questions, Tommy had vanished into thin air. When Daisy at last led them to the kitchen, they found it empty, and there was no sign of Tommy anywhere else in the house or yard.

Walker cursed his own stupidity. He should have guessed that the woman was stalling so his nephew could make a break for it, though why she should do that was beyond him. It was a diversionary tactic that he’d seen used often enough in his career. Still, he was surprised that Daisy Spencer would flat-out try to thwart this reunion that Frances Jackson was so dead-set on bringing about. Maybe they’d gotten their signals crossed.

It seemed Frances’ thoughts were running parallel to his own. “Oh, Daisy, what have you gone and done?” she asked, dismay written all over her face.

“Me?” Daisy said, regarding her incredulously. “You think I hid him?”

“I know you want him to stay here, but this is not the way,” the social worker said.

Walker regarded the two women intently. “Are you saying she is deliberately keeping the boy from me?” he asked, surprised to have his own suspicions confirmed so openly.

Frances looked flustered, but Daisy was quick to respond. “That is exactly what she’s saying and, to tell you the truth, I’m insulted.” She frowned at the social worker. “We’ve known each other for years. I would have expected better of you, Frances.”

“And I, you,” Frances retorted tartly.

Patches of color once again flamed on Daisy’s cheeks, spurred no doubt by the indignation Walker could see flashing in her eyes.

“Blast it all, I’m as shocked as you are that he’s not where I left him,” she snapped. Quickly she amended, “No, I take that back. I’m not shocked at all. The boy’s life has been a shambles since his mother died. He hasn’t felt as if he truly belonged anywhere. It’s little wonder that he doesn’t trust a single adult to keep a promise, not even me.”

“Exactly what did you promise him?” Walker asked.

“That no one would take him away from here unless we all decided it was for the best, him included.”

“Daisy, he’s just a boy,” Frances said with a dismayed sigh. “Why would you make him a promise you knew you couldn’t possibly keep?”

“I intended to keep it,” Ms. Spencer shot back.

“Maybe we should just focus on finding him,” Walker suggested. “We can work out the rest of this later.”

“I agree,” the social worker said at once. “I think we’d better get Tucker over here.”

“Who’s Tucker?” Walker asked, grasping at last that there was a whole lot more going on here than he could begin to fathom. Unfortunately there was no time to ask the right questions or to try to sort out the clues.

“My brother,” Daisy answered, just as Frances said, “The sheriff.”

“Then, by all means, let’s get him over here,” Walker agreed, just as two men came strolling around the corner of the house, one of them carrying what looked to be a foil-covered pie.

“Tucker, Tommy’s vanished,” Daisy said, automatically taking the dish from his hands. “You have to do something.”

“What do you mean, he’s vanished?”

“While your sister kept me occupied in her living room with an endless barrage of questions, my nephew bolted,” Walker explained succinctly. “I’m Walker Ames, by the way. Detective Walker Ames.”

“He’s a D.C. policeman,” Daisy said derisively. “One who apparently likes to make unfounded accusations. I did not deliberately try to assist Tommy in making a getaway. Not that I blame him. He’s had far too much disruption in his life lately. He’s just beginning to feel secure again.”

“In a few days with you?” Walker asked.

She gave him a defiant look. “Exactly. Because he knows I care about him. He doesn’t even know who you are. Why would you expect him to choose you over me?”

“I guess the gloves are off,” the other newcomer observed with a sigh. “Sis, you’re not helping matters.”

Walker grinned as she whirled on the other man.

“Bobby Spencer, you’re supposed to be on my side,” she said indignantly.

“I am, always,” he insisted. “And right now you need to keep your mouth shut.”

Fury danced in her eyes. “I most certainly will not.”

Walker grinned. “Don’t shut her up. I’m finding her comments enlightening.”

“Enough,” Tucker said firmly. “Let’s all settle down and establish what we know. Daisy, when was the last time you saw Tommy?”

“He was finishing his supper when his uncle and Frances arrived. I left him in the kitchen. That was around six.”

“And it’s nearly seven now. Why the delay?”

“I had a few questions,” Daisy said defensively.

Bobby rolled his eyes and shot a sympathetic look at Walker.

“How did Tommy feel about meeting his uncle?” the sheriff asked.

“I’ve already told you. He wasn’t happy about it,” she said.

“And I’m sure you did everything you could to see that he felt that way,” Walker said, surprised by the depth of his anger that someone who didn’t even know him would try to turn his own nephew against him.

“I did not. I told him he had to give you a chance, that I was sure there was an explanation for why he’d never even heard of you or why you’d never been to visit.”

“Phrased like that, I can see why he’d be anxious to meet me,” Walker snapped.

Daisy Spencer looked exactly the way he imagined a mother tiger would look right before it took on a predator threatening her young. Despite his exasperation with the woman, he couldn’t help admiring her fierce protectiveness when it came to Tommy. A part of him was glad that his nephew had someone like that in his corner.

“Shouldn’t we stop wasting time hurling accusations and look for Tommy?” Frances suggested mildly. “It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t like the idea of him being outside all alone once the temperature starts to drop. It gets cold along the river this time of year. And there are the cliffs…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the dire implication unspoken.

“Absolutely,” Tucker agreed. “Frances, you stay right here in case Tommy shows up. Bobby, you go search along the river. I’ll go door-to-door here in town. Walker, you and Daisy can drive up and down the streets and along the highway.”

“Together?” Daisy asked as if she’d rather eat worms.

“Yes,” Tucker said in a tone that didn’t permit an argument. “Walker doesn’t know his way around the area.”

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m driving.”

“Whatever,” Walker agreed, following her to a nice, sedate little sedan that suited her perfectly. No flash and dazzle for this woman. She probably never drove the car over the speed limit.

Her agitation was plain as she started the car, grinding the engine in the process. She threw it into reverse and shot out of her driveway in a way that had even a veteran of high-speed chases clinging to the armrest with a white-knuckled grip. It was the second time today he’d misjudged a woman in this town.

“Don’t take out your frustration with me on the car,” he suggested quietly as she skidded around the corner onto another tree-lined street. “Getting us killed won’t help anyone, least of all Tommy.”

“Oh, go to hell,” she snapped. “This is all your fault.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me.”

“It just is.”

Walker bit back a grin. “Now there’s a rational bit of logic. How very female.”

She slammed on the brakes so hard, he almost banged his head on the windshield. When he’d recovered, he turned to find her staring straight ahead with what might have been tears glistening on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“What? I thought I heard you apologizing.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she retorted.

“Maybe we ought to start over. I don’t think we understand each other’s point of view here.”

“Probably not,” she conceded with a sigh. “It’s just that Tommy means a lot to me. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“Believe it or not, Ms. Spencer, neither do I.”

She finally turned to face him. “Since it looks like it’s going to be a long night, maybe you ought to call me Daisy.”

Walker chuckled. “I always prefer to be on a first-name basis when I’m spending the night with a woman.”

“Yes, I imagine you do.”

He was pretty sure he saw a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It wouldn’t do to focus on that, though. He had the feeling that thinking about those lips could get him into a whole lot of trouble.

“How well do you know Tommy?” he asked instead.

“Better the last few days, but even before that, he and I had a certain rapport. He was in my Sunday school class. He has an irreverent attitude that reminds me of the way I always longed to be when I was his age. Because of that I let him get away with quite a lot.” A full-fledged smile spread across her face. “I suppose this is payback for that leniency.”

Walker seized on the hint of wistfulness in her voice when she talked about yearning to rebel. “Somehow I can’t envision you ever having a rebellious streak.”

“You’d have to talk to my brothers and my father, then. They could tell you. Especially Tucker. He knows exactly how many times I came really, really close to trying to break free of my father.”

“But you never did it?”

“Not until now,” she confessed with obvious regret. “Well, my moving into town put his nerves on edge, but he got over that.”

“And what have you done recently?”

“I took in Tommy. Believe me, it has my father in an uproar, though he hasn’t shown his face around here himself. He’s sent everybody else to do his dirty work. I’m sure Tucker and Bobby showing up tonight was no accident. That pie they were carrying came straight from my father’s kitchen. They were probably here with yet another lecture on how I’m trying to ruin my life.”

“By taking in a little boy?”

“A little boy who tried to steal my jewelry,” she said.

This was the first Walker had heard about any jewelry being taken. His gut clenched at the thought. “Tommy tried to steal your jewelry?”

Her expression fell. “Damn, me and my big mouth. Yes, he tried to take it. He intended to sell it to get money for food in case I wouldn’t let him stay.”

“But you caught him?”

“Actually, Tucker caught him. It was incredibly inconvenient since it only added fuel to the fire, but I managed to assure them both that it would not, under any circumstances, happen again. I think Tommy got the message.”

Walker sighed. “I hope you’re right,” he said, envisioning his nephew well on his way to a life of crime.

“Tommy is not a thief,” Daisy said, as if she’d read his mind.

“What would you call it?”

“He’s scared and he’s acting out.”

“Stealing is stealing, no matter the reason. Don’t make excuses for him.”

“Spoken like a true cop.”

“I am a cop.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t make allowances for circumstances.”

“Making allowances is the reason petty thieves turn into career criminals.”

“Tommy doesn’t need a hard-liner in his life. He needs someone with a little compassion.”

Walker shook his head. Daisy’s soft-hearted, do-gooder nature had just come out into the open. The woman was too naive for her own good. He’d met a hundred others just like her, always eager to defend the juvenile offender as being “just a kid.”

He was tempted to enlighten her with a few stories of kids who’d been let off too easy by the courts, only to turn right around and commit the kind of serious crimes that gave the justice system a bad name. She wouldn’t get it, though. She wouldn’t give a hoot about those kids, when they were talking about Tommy.

“Maybe we should just concentrate on finding my nephew,” he said finally. “And agree to disagree about the rest of it.”

“Maybe we should,” she concurred, though she looked oddly disappointed.

He studied her speculatively. “Unless you’d rather argue about it some more.”

She grinned. “And waste my breath? I don’t think so.”

“So, where do you think Tommy might be hiding?”

“Could be anywhere,” she said with a shrug. “Just about every house in this area has some kind of garage or toolshed in back. And a lot of them have docks on the river with boats tied up. Tommy’s fascinated with boats.”

“Would he steal one?”

She looked taken aback, but she considered the question before shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Not with night coming on, anyway.”

“Okay, then, what about those cliffs Mrs. Jackson mentioned? Are they dangerous?”

“They’re clay and they’re slippery, but I doubt Tommy would be anywhere near them. Frances just said that to get all of us moving.”

“Why don’t you think he’s headed in that direction?”

“Because the cliffs are at the state park miles away from here. Trinity Harbor has nice sandy beaches. The only danger to Tommy there would be catching a chill if he were foolish enough to go in the river.”

“You’re not really worried about him, are you?” he guessed.

“Not especially. Trinity Harbor is a safe place. Tucker sees to it.”

“Then why the ruckus back at your house?”

“I think my brothers and Frances just wanted to get us out from underfoot so they could decide what’s best for Tommy without our input.”

“And we’re supposed to live with whatever they decide?” Walker asked incredulously.

“Not me,” Daisy said at once. “I’m rebelling, remember?”

Walker chuckled. “And doing a darn fine job of it, I might add.”

“Thank you.” She slanted a look his way. “I really do love Tommy, you know.”

“I know,” Walker said. “And I just want the chance to get to know my sister’s son. I don’t have any idea what’s best or how this is going to work out.”

“You’ll keep an open mind, then?” she asked.

Her eyes were shining with what he guessed to be hope, though he couldn’t begin to interpret exactly what she was wishing for or why. “If you will,” he agreed.

She nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

Walker held out his hand. “Then we have a deal.”

But Daisy evidently wasn’t satisfied with a handshake. She stopped the car and, before he realized what she intended, slid across the seat and gave him a fierce hug.

Walker froze at the feel of her soft curves pressing into him, at the whisper of her breath against his cheek. The latter meant those incredibly tempting lips of hers were too close to be ignored. He turned and without taking the time to think about what was smart or right or anything else, he kissed her.

And realized belatedly that he’d just slammed smack into more danger than he ever had on the streets of D.C.

5

“M aybe we’d better go back,” Daisy whispered, when she could finally unscramble her thoughts after Walker had ended that totally unexpected, mind-boggling kiss. Nobody had ever kissed sensible Daisy Spencer with such total abandon, such wicked hunger. She was too stunned to even contemplate lecturing him on the inappropriateness of his behavior. In fact, she was wondering if she could get him to kiss her again.

Bad idea, her remaining functioning brain cell announced. “We definitely need to go back,” she said more emphatically. “Besides, we’ve been driving around for two solid hours, and there hasn’t been a sign of Tommy. Maybe the others are having better luck.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he said, barely sparing her a glance.

To Daisy he sounded a little too eager. She found it vaguely insulting. Not that she intended to let him see it. She wasn’t going to let him think for a second that she was some inexperienced country girl who could be shaken by a simple kiss.

“Well?” he prodded when she still hadn’t started the engine. “Are we going back or not? My gut’s starting to tell me that if Tommy felt safe with you, then he didn’t wander that far off. He’s probably hiding close by.”

“Probably.”

She was very proud that she managed to get the response out without sounding breathless. Obviously they weren’t going to talk about the kiss, she concluded with a sigh. She certainly didn’t want to focus on it. At least he hadn’t apologized and listed a litany of regrets, even if his expression indicated he wasn’t at all pleased with the turn of events between them. She could leave it alone, too. She could pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Or at least she thought she could. The fact that she hadn’t risked touching the keys for fear he’d see how badly her hands were shaking indicated she wasn’t as cool and calm as she wanted Walker to believe. And the longer they sat there, the worse it got. Darkness had fallen, making the atmosphere in the car just a little too cozy, a little too intimate. The tension sizzling between them wasn’t going to go away, which meant it needed to be addressed.

She took a deep breath, then blurted out, “Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I mean, it was just a kiss. No big deal, right?”

“Right,” he said flatly.

Clearing the air apparently wasn’t going to be the snap she’d hoped. Her nerves were still jumpy; his expression was still insultingly grim. She plunged in one more time. “I’ve been kissed before. I’m sure you have been, too. And I suppose I started it with that hug. I was just so relieved that you were willing to meet me halfway on this.”

He turned then and scowled at her. “Daisy, will you please let it drop? Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it happened. It’s over. Forget about it.”

She blinked rapidly at the irritation in his voice. “Of course, yes, I can do that,” she said. With a great deal of concentration, she managed to keep her hand steady as she started the car.

In fact, she even kept her mouth shut until they turned the corner to her block. Then she decided that she couldn’t go the rest of the way home without trying one more time to address the ridiculous tension between them. If they walked into the house like this, her brothers would know in an instant that something had happened. For men, they were way more intuitive than they should have been. She’d learned early never to hint by so much as a down-turned mouth that a date had gone badly. Otherwise Tucker and Bobby would threaten to take on the boy who’d hurt her. Billy Inscoe was practically the only boy she’d known that they hadn’t scared off. Maybe that was why she’d thought herself in love with him, because he hadn’t been intimidated by her brothers.

At any rate, fearing Tucker and Bobby might not have outgrown the habit, she slammed to a stop and cut the lights and the engine, then turned and glowered at Walker.

“That kiss was an impulse, Detective. Nothing more. I’m sure you regret it. So do I. It won’t happen again.”

“I know that,” he said emphatically, frowning right back at her. He gestured toward her house. “Why don’t we just get back there and see if anyone else has had any luck finding Tommy?”

“You don’t deal well with your emotions, do you?” she asked irritably. “I noticed that earlier when we were talking about your sister. You got all stiff and uncomfortable, just the way you are now.”

“Maybe because you were beating the subject to death, just the way you are now.”

“It’s an interrogation technique,” she said. “Tucker told me. Surely you’re familiar with it.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly. “I am, which is why it doesn’t work well on me. I get annoyed.”

“I’ll try to remember that. I just didn’t want Tucker or Bobby to get the idea that you and I have been…” She hesitated, then said, “Arguing. They’re very protective.”

Walker’s lips twitched. “Your brothers don’t scare me. I think I can take care of myself.”

“Okay, then,” she said, forcing herself to let the subject drop. An instant later she faced him as another worrisome issue occurred to her. “You’re not going to yell at Tommy for running off, are you?”

His level gaze met hers. “Are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why would you assume I might? I do understand what it’s like to be a kid and to be scared.”

Daisy was surprised by the admission. “I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”

“Because you don’t know me. I wish you’d try to remember that.”

Daisy doubted she could forget it if she wanted to. The kiss might have been a rare display of intimacy, but he hadn’t let her into his head or into his heart, not for one single second since they’d met.

Sighing, she put the car into gear and drove the rest of the way down the block, pulling into the driveway next to Tucker’s sport-utility vehicle.

“Not much sign of activity,” Walker observed as they left the car.

Just then they heard laughter from the backyard.

“It sounds more like a party,” Daisy said, leading the way around the side of the house. She stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted her.

Her brothers, Frances and Tommy were all sprawled in lawn chairs on the deck facing the river, empty pie plates beside them. Tucker was pointing out some of the constellations visible in the velvet-black sky. Their not-a-care-in-the-world demeanor irked her as much as anything that had happened all day, which was saying something.

“Having fun?” she inquired tartly.

Four pairs of guilty eyes turned her way.

“You might have let us know that Tommy was safe,” she said peevishly.

“You didn’t take your cell phone,” Bobby pointed out mildly. “We had no way to get in touch with you.”

“Somebody could have gotten in a car and come after us,” she said, regarding Tucker accusingly. “I’m sure someone could have spotted us since the streets around here are practically deserted at this time of night.”

“The point is that Tommy is back,” Tucker responded quietly, refusing to rise to the bait. He turned to Tommy. “Son, this is your uncle, Walker Ames.”

The introduction brought on a heavy silence. Daisy watched as the boy warily eyed Walker. Neither of them budged an inch. In fact, Walker looked a little shell-shocked. Finally, after a firm nudge by her elbow, he crossed the deck and hunkered down beside Tommy.

“You look just like your mother,” he said softly, a hint of wonder and sorrow in his voice. “Same eyes, same hair, same smile. I noticed that in the picture Mrs. Jackson showed me earlier.”

Tommy’s expression remained sullen. “So?”

“It’s just that it makes me realize how very much I missed her,” Walker said.

“Then how come you never came to see us?” Tommy demanded.

“Because she didn’t tell me where she was and I couldn’t find her.”

“Like you really tried,” Tommy scoffed.

“One day, if you like, I’ll show you a file with every single thing I did, every place I searched,” Walker offered. “Your mom was my baby sister. I never wanted anything bad to happen to her.”

“Well, something bad did happen,” Tommy shouted, jumping up. “She died! Just like my dad, only I never even knew him. My mom was all I had and she’s dead. Now I got nobody.”

“That’s not true,” Daisy protested, taking a step toward him.

Before she could reach him, he scrambled away from Walker, skirted around her and ran into the house, letting the screen door slam closed behind him.

“I’ll go after him,” she said at once, heartbroken for both of them.

“No,” Bobby said. “Let me. You stay here with Frances and Walker and work things out. You all have a lot of tough decisions to make.”

Daisy reluctantly agreed. Her younger brother had a way with kids. Maybe it would be best to let an unbiased third party try to calm Tommy down.

As Bobby went inside, Tucker stood and gave Walker’s shoulder a squeeze. “How about a beer?”

His expression numb, Walker nodded. “Sounds great. I’ll come with you.”

That left Daisy alone with Frances.

“I’m sorry about accusing you of trying to hide Tommy,” Frances said eventually. “You know how fond I am of you, but I have a job to do.”

“It doesn’t matter. We were all upset. We all said some things we shouldn’t have,” Daisy conceded. “Where did you find him, by the way?”

“Tucker found him hiding in Madge Jessup’s toolshed. She said she’d heard noises out there earlier, but thought it was a raccoon. Tommy was sitting on the riding mower eating a peanut butter sandwich when Tucker checked it out. He swore he’d planned to come back as soon as he knew his uncle and I were gone.”

Daisy sighed. “What a mess. What do we do now?”

“I’m going to try to convince Walker to stay here for a few more days so that he and Tommy can get to know each other. Then we’ll see. It’s obvious that they can’t be united overnight. Neither of them is ready for that.”

A few more days might be the reprieve they all needed. “Do you think he’ll agree?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t know. And I don’t know what to make of the man. What do you think?”

An hour ago Daisy would have guessed that Walker Ames would tear out of Trinity Harbor at the first opportunity, but that was before she’d seen the look on his face when he got his first glimpse of his nephew. “I think he’ll agree,” she said at last. “He might not be happy about it, but he knows in his heart he owes it to his sister.”

“Agree to what?” Walker asked as he and Tucker came back outside.

“To stay a few more days,” Frances said. “And don’t tell me about your job. I’m sure under the circumstances, they could spare you through the weekend. The crime will still be there when you get back.”

“Exactly what my boss said when I spoke to him not five minutes ago,” Walker said. “It seems I’m not indispensable after all.”

Daisy didn’t like the way her pulse kicked up at his announcement. She was pretty sure the reaction didn’t have a thing to do with Tommy’s best interests.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” she said impulsively.

His gaze clashed with hers, and for a moment the air sizzled with more of that astonishing electricity. Then he shook his head. “Bad idea.”

“I agree,” Frances said.

“But you’re the one who said he and Tommy need time to get to know one another,” Daisy protested. “What better way than if they’re under the same roof?”

“Yes, but they’ll also need some space. And frankly it won’t help if half the town is gossiping about you having a stranger living with you. Somebody will want to make something of it, and you’ll be left to live it down.”

“He could stay at Cedar Hill,” Tucker suggested slyly. “There are plenty of rooms to spare over there.”

“Absolutely not,” Daisy said fiercely, scowling at her brother. She knew exactly what he was up to. She could just imagine Walker being subjected to an endless diatribe from her father, probably followed by an attempt to bribe him into taking Tommy away from her.

“What’s Cedar Hill?” Walker asked, regarding her curiously.

“My family’s home, still ruled by the indomitable King Spencer,” she explained. “Trust me, you do not want to go there.”

He grinned. “I don’t know. You’re making it sound like a challenge.”

“My father is a trial, not a challenge.”

Tucker’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Trying to keep them apart, Daisy? What are you afraid of?”

“You know perfectly well that Daddy will try to stick his nose in and manipulate this so it works out the way he wants it to.”

“You’re not giving me much credit,” Walker said.

“You are no match for my father,” she insisted. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“He doesn’t matchmake, does he?” Walker asked with a deliberately exaggerated shudder.

“With a Yankee? Heaven forbid,” Daisy said.

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“She’s afraid our father will have you and Tommy reunited and out of town before daybreak,” Tucker explained. “No matter how he has to accomplish it.”

A teasing glint appeared in Walker’s eyes. “Which one of us are you most afraid of losing?” he inquired.

Daisy could feel heat climbing into her cheeks. She hadn’t blushed this much in years, if ever. She avoided glancing at her brother or Frances before she said quite firmly, “Tommy, of course.”

A grin spread across Walker’s face. “Of course.”

“Am I missing something here?” Tucker inquired, his brotherly antennae clearly on full alert.

“Nothing,” Daisy said sharply. “Not one damn thing. You all settle this however you want to. Walker can sleep on the ground for all I care. I’m going to say good-night to Tommy, and then I am going to bed. Breakfast’s at eight, Detective. If you’re still in town then.”

A low chuckle followed her inside, but she couldn’t tell if it was Walker’s or her brother’s. At this point, it didn’t much matter. She held the same low opinion of both of them.

Upstairs she found Bobby and Tommy engaged in a cutthroat round of a Monopoly game.

“Watch him, Tommy. My brother really, really likes to acquire real estate. He’s already bought up half the waterfront in Trinity Harbor.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “For real? You own the beach?”

“Not the beach,” Bobby said. “Just the land nearby.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“He’s already built a marina,” Daisy said.

“The one with all the boats and the neat restaurant?”

Bobby nodded. “That’s mine.”

“Wow. My mom took me to eat there once. It was last year on my birthday. We got all dressed up and everything.”

Bobby grinned. “Did you like the food?” he asked casually.

Now there was a loaded question if ever Daisy had heard one. “Careful how you answer, Tommy. Bobby’s also the chef.”

Tommy looked puzzled. “You mean like a cook?”

“Yep,” Daisy confirmed. “That’s just a fancy name for it.”

“I didn’t study at Cordon Bleu just so you could call me a cook,” Bobby grumbled, clearly offended. “Isn’t it bad enough that I have to put up with Daddy saying that?”

“He’s just ticked because you refuse to take over the cattle operation.”

“I’ve been telling him since I turned ten that I was not interested in raising Black Angus. I’m twenty-eight now–wouldn’t you think he’d be over it?”

“Daddy?” Daisy said skeptically. “The man who still hasn’t forgiven his brother for buying a prize bull out from under his nose thirty years ago?”

“I see your point,” Bobby said with a sigh.

Daisy leaned down and kissed him. “He loves you, though. You do know that, don’t you?”

Bobby grinned. “Being loved by King Spencer is not necessarily a blessing.”

She laughed. “You may be right about that. It just means there’s more pressure to do things his way.” She gave Tommy a hug. “Want me to stick around and tuck you in?”

“I don’t need to be tucked in,” he said with an embarrassed glance at Bobby.

Her brother winked at him. Daisy let it pass. She’d slip in later after the lights were out and make sure Tommy was okay. “All right, then. Good night, you two.”

“Daisy?” Tommy called after her, his voice hesitant.

“What, sweetheart?”

“Is my uncle…is he still here?”

She tried to read his expression and couldn’t. “He’s going to stay through the weekend.”

“Here?”

“No. They’re downstairs deciding that now. Probably at the hotel by the river.”

Tommy’s shoulders seemed to ease then, and she realized that, despite his outburst earlier, he didn’t really want his uncle to disappear from his life. Family relationships might be complex and frustrating, but they were still the most powerful ties a person had. As terrified as she was that Walker might take Tommy away from her, she couldn’t bear to deny them this time together.

“Maybe when he comes over in the morning, he’ll tell you all about what your mom was like when she was a little girl,” she suggested.

Tommy’s eyes lit up for the first time since he’d learned that Walker was coming. “That would be cool. She never said much about when she was a kid.”

“Then you ask him,” she said softly, fighting back the sting of tears.

Bobby followed her from the room and gave her a hug. “You did good in there,” he told her.

“I hope so.” She stared at her brother wistfully. “What if I lose him, though?”

“Then his staying wasn’t meant to be. You’ll survive.”

Daisy envisioned an empty future and wished she shared Bobby’s confidence.

Later, alone in her too-quiet, too-lonely room, Daisy could admit that the meeting with Walker had been a disaster, start to finish. But as she thought back over the evening–from Tommy’s disappearance to the awkward reunion a few hours later–what stuck in her mind was that unexpected kiss she and Walker had shared.

Why couldn’t she shake the memory? Was she so desperate for a little attention that any man’s kiss would have thrown her off-kilter like this? Maybe so. In fact, that had to be it. It had nothing at all to do with Walker Ames.

Yeah, right. She touched her fingers to her lips. Even now she could almost feel the whisper-soft caress. It hadn’t lasted more than a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. He had seemed almost as shocked by it as she had been.

It was definitely a good thing that he had declined her invitation. Hopefully he’d also declined the suggestion that he stay at Cedar Hill. He’d be just fine at Trinity Harbor’s one fancy hotel. Near enough to drop in, but far enough away to avoid temptation.

She sighed. She had a feeling that kiss was going to keep her up all night as it was. Having Walker Ames right down the hall would have been more than she could bear.

His concession to stay in Trinity Harbor through the weekend was a blessing for Tommy, but it was going to be tough on her. In one single gesture, Walker had reminded her that she was a woman, that she had needs and desires that had been ignored for far too long. He’d be lucky if she didn’t drag him off somewhere and try to ravish him.

She blushed at the thought. What had come over her? She never thought like that, much less behaved in such a wanton manner. Not once in all of her thirty years had she felt such an intense need to have a man’s tongue intimately invade her mouth, to have his hands on her breasts or to feel his body inside hers. Not even Billy had aroused this kind of desperate yearning. Their lovemaking had been sweetly satisfying, but she’d never seen stars, never felt as if the earth were tumbling out from under her feet the way she had tonight. These days, on those rare occasions when she passed Billy on the street, she felt nothing at all. Yet even now, she couldn’t imagine a time when the sight of Walker might not affect her.

Which just proved that it was way past time for her body to wake up and come alive again. Once again she tried to reassure herself that the physical response was just that–physical. It did not have anything whatsoever to do with Walker Ames specifically.

She needed to keep reminding herself that his decision to stay simply gave her three more days with Tommy, three more days to convince everyone that he was better off with her in Trinity Harbor than he would be in a city like Washington.

Her father, who had more prejudices than Daisy would ordinarily condone, had it just right when it came to the nation’s capital. The city’s level of crime was a disgrace. It was no place to raise a small boy. Surely a man who dealt with that crime every day of his life would be able to see that. She just had to sit down and reason with him.

Unfortunately, she had discovered tonight that Walker Ames had the ability to rob her of the power to speak coherently, much less forcefully. He knew it, too, more’s the pity.

But Daisy hadn’t been raised by a man like King Spencer without learning a little about ignoring her fears to get the job done. If Walker Ames thought he could use his masculinity to fluster her, then she could just as easily use a few feminine wiles to turn the tables on him. The more she considered the prospect, the more anxious she was to see him in the morning and put her plan into action.

In the meantime, it might be wise to say a little prayer that she wasn’t deliberately throwing herself to the wolves…or to one wolf in particular.

6

W alker had a lot of excess tension to work off. He woke up at dawn after a restless night on a hard hotel mattress, feeling every one of his thirty-five years. His shoulders ached. His knees were stiff, the result of too many years of hard physical activity from football in high school to the jogging he now did daily to keep in shape.

More troublesome than the aches and pains were the mental cobwebs. As if dealing with his first face-to-face meeting with Tommy weren’t stressful enough, there was Daisy Spencer and her far too tempting mouth to consider. She’d played a prominent role in his dreams. No wonder he’d awakened thoroughly aroused and totally exasperated with himself.

The last thing he needed in his life was a woman who looked at him with moist lips half-parted by unmistakable lust and eyes shining with innocence and vulnerability. There was a contradiction there that he didn’t want to get mixed up in. No way.

He hadn’t wanted to belabor the discussion of the kiss they’d shared because he’d been very much afraid he’d be tempted to kiss her again just to shut her up. She had that exasperating effect on him, an effect no woman had had for a very long time.

Bottom line, he needed to get her out of his system before he saw her this morning and did something that would only add to the regrets he already had. A good workout ought to accomplish that. Luckily he kept his gym bag in the trunk of the car. He changed into shorts and a sweatshirt, tugged on his running shoes and hit the road.

For the first few blocks, he was barely aware of his surroundings beyond the lack of traffic and the faint tang of salt in the air. His concentration was totally focused on getting into his rhythm, getting his breathing to match his relaxed, easy strides in a way that would bring the optimum results.

Eventually he began to take note of the tidy lawns with their picket fences and abundant splashes of spring flowers, the wide porches and old-fashioned swings, the cheerful flags that adorned most houses. The few people who were outside at this hour glanced up at him and waved, their friendly smiles a stark contrast to the hostile suspicion he was used to receiving back home.

Only after he’d turned a corner and set off along the wide, tree-lined street bordering the river did he realize that he no longer had the pleasantly cool morning to himself. He heard the slap of other sneakers on the pavement, the ragged breathing of a beginning runner and the steadier sounds of someone more experienced. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a couple half a block behind. The woman waved, then nearly stumbled. The man caught her arm.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, gazing worriedly at her flushed face. “It’s only your second week. I can slow down.”

“No, no,” she said between gasps. “I can keep up.”

The man grinned at Walker, who jogged in place waiting for them.

“Stubborn as a mule,” the man observed when they were closer.

Walker winked at her, then admonished the man, “Hey, give her credit for trying.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” she said, bent over at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. When she could finally speak without gasping, she added, “I think he’s just afraid I’ll collapse in a heap and he’ll have to carry me all the way home.” She held out her hand. “I’m Anna-Louise Walton, by the way. And you’re Walker Ames.” She chuckled at his surprise. “It’s a small town. I’ve gotten a full description from half the people in Trinity Harbor. Your arrival was big news.”

He regarded her with bemusement. “Why?”

It was the man who spoke up. “Speaking as a journalist, I can say it’s because the story has all the makings of a real tearjerker. Long-lost uncle comes to claim his orphaned nephew, pitting himself against the daughter of the town’s leading citizen.” He grinned. “By the way, I’m Richard Walton. I own the paper here. Anna-Louise is my wife, and before you mutter that curse that’s obviously on your lips, you should know she’s a minister.”

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, Walker was shocked into silence by a woman in this town. Obviously the females in Trinity Harbor were a breed apart.

“Don’t worry,” Anna-Louise said to cover his apparent discomfort. “People say whatever they want in front of me. If I feel the need, I’ll pray for your soul later.”

“Good to know,” Walker said.

“So, how did it go yesterday with Tommy?” she asked. “And with Daisy?”

He wasn’t going to touch the topic of Daisy with this woman or anybody else. As for Tommy, he wasn’t sure what to say. “I wish I knew,” he said eventually. “Tommy has a lot of understandable resentment where I’m concerned.”

Anna-Louise nodded sympathetically. “Look, since I’m obviously winded and pathetically out of shape anyway, why don’t we go get some coffee? Maybe I can help.”

“Or we could just leave the man alone and let him handle his own life,” Richard countered, regarding his wife with amused tolerance. “Anna-Louise likes to meddle.”

“It’s not meddling. It’s my job,” she chided.

“Only when a member of your congregation actually asks for help,” Richard reminded her. “Walker’s barely been in town for a full day, he’s never set foot in your church and I haven’t heard him ask for any advice.”

She laughed. “Okay, so sometimes I anticipate a need before it’s expressed. Sue me.” She regarded Walker hopefully. “How about that coffee?”

Because he was willing to listen to advice from any quarter, Walker nodded. “Lead the way.”

“Earlene’s is the only place open for breakfast,” she said. “The coffee is strong and the country ham and eggs are worth trying if you don’t give a hang about your cholesterol. At this time of the morning we should have a shot at getting a booth. The regulars don’t start coming in for another half hour or so, and Fridays don’t bring out the tourists this time of the year. Tomorrow’s another story.” She turned to her husband. “Coming with us?”

“Nope. I might be too tempted to put something you say in confidence on the front page of next week’s paper.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says,” she told Walker. “Richard is the most ethical man I know. He just wants to gloat later that he finished his run and I pooped out.”

Richard leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, then grinned. “That too,” he said. “Nice meeting you, Walker. If you stick around, maybe we can get together and talk about D.C. I used to work there myself.”

“Really?”

“Well, for the paper, anyway. I was a foreign correspondent, so I never spent all that much time in Washington, but I certainly kept up with the politics.”

Walker nodded as recognition dawned. “You’re that Richard Walton. You wrote some damn fine pieces from some pretty awful war zones. Won quite a few awards, too, as I recall. I thought your byline had been missing for a while now.”

“Fours years. I took a leave of absence when my grandmother got sick. Then Anna-Louise and I got married and I bought the paper in my hometown. When she got the transfer here, I bought this one and brought an old buddy in as editor of the one over there.”

“Now he’s a media mogul,” Anna-Louise teased.

“Two weeklies do not an empire make,” Richard retorted. “Besides, I like it here.” He gave his wife another kiss. “Don’t lose this job. I don’t want another paper to worry about.”

She laughed. “I didn’t lose the last job. I just got an irresistible offer. King Spencer can be very persuasive.”

“So I’ve heard,” Walker said.

“Oh, good, then we can talk about him, too,” she said. “See you later, honey.”

“Should I be bothered by the fact that you’re suddenly so eager to be rid of me and spend time with another man?” Richard teased. “Is the honeymoon finally over?”

“You’ll have to decide that for yourself,” she said, then led Walker off in the opposite direction.

On the walk to the small riverside restaurant, which sat next to a weeping willow just beginning to get its pale green leaves, silence fell. At first Walker felt the need to fill it, but he realized very quickly that Anna-Louise was one of those rare women who didn’t expect conversation. She seemed perfectly content with the quiet.

The restaurant’s windows were shaded by blue and white awnings. Pots of just watered flowers sat beneath. Bicycles were propped against the building.

Inside Earlene’s, there was indeed a last booth available. The gray-haired waitress had their coffee cups filled practically before they’d slid into their seats. She gave Walker a thorough once-over, but didn’t ask any questions. Either she’d already guessed who he was, or she was the only person in town who kept her curiosity in check.

Instead of asking about him, she turned to Anna-Louise. “Honey, you look plumb worn-out. Has Richard been making you run again?”

The minister grinned. “He doesn’t make me. I’m trying to get healthy.”

“If you ask me, there is nothing healthy about working up a sweat on a day God just meant to be enjoyed.”

Anna-Louise’s expression grew thoughtful. “You know, Earlene, you could be right. Maybe there’s a sermon in that.”

Earlene patted her hand. “Honey, that’s why you’re so popular. You find sermons in all the everyday things people can relate to.”

When the woman had taken their orders and moved on to other new arrivals, Walker studied the woman opposite him. Funny, now that he knew what she did for a living, he thought he could detect an unusual serenity in her eyes that should have tipped him off. He’d seen the same thing in the eyes of police chaplains and other clergy he dealt with after a crime had taken a terrible toll on a family. He always wished he could grasp what it was they knew that lesser mortals didn’t. Even the other faithful didn’t seem to have it to the same degree. Men like him didn’t have it at all. And he couldn’t help wondering if a man like Richard Walton, who’d seen some of the worst the world had to offer, still believed in anything whatsoever.

“I can see your mind’s working overtime,” Anna-Louise said, cutting into his thoughts. “What are you grappling with? What to do about Tommy?”

“Actually, I was wondering what it takes to be a minister, especially a woman minister.”

“The same thing it takes a man,” she said at once. “Just a little more of it. Dedication. Faith. Compassion. And in my case, a healthy supply of grit and determination.”

“Something tells me it’s not as simple as you make it sound. Otherwise more people would answer the calling.”

“Okay, for a woman, maybe it takes the ability to withstand a few shocked looks, a lot of doubting remarks and occasionally an organized campaign to have us banished.”

“There,” he said. “That sounds more like it. Did anybody ever try to banish you?”

Her expression clouded over. “All the time at first.”

“But you were tough enough to take it,” he said approvingly.

“I had a strong backer,” she replied.

“Richard?”

“God.”

Walker was taken aback by the quick retort, but then a smile spread across his face. “Yes, He would be a help, wouldn’t He?”

“He usually is, if we listen.”

“I’m not sure I can hear what He’s saying about me and Tommy,” Walker confided.

She gave him a serene smile. “Oh, I think you can. Maybe you’re just not ready to listen.”

“You’re telling me I should pack Tommy up and take him with me,” he said, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He almost regretted asking her opinion, because she was right. He wasn’t ready to hear it.

“No,” she said at once. “I’m not telling you anything. It’s for you to decide.”

“Do you think he’d be better off here with Daisy?” he asked, trying to get a clear-cut answer from her one way or the other.

“I know she loves him,” Anna-Louise conceded, clearly choosing her words carefully.

“I thought I heard a but in there.”

“Did you?”

He shook his head at the deliberate evasiveness. “I could find you extremely annoying, Mrs. Walton.”

“Anna-Louise will do. And you only find me annoying because I won’t make your decision for you.”

“I thought your job was to point people along the path to righteousness.”

“That puts them in good standing with God. This decision is about you and your family. A private matter.”

“What if I ask for your advice?”

She laughed. “I’ll answer with a question. What do you think is right and best for Tommy?”

He dragged a hand through his damp hair. “I wish to hell I knew,” he said without thinking, then immediately apologized. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I will give you this much advice. Give it time, Walker. You don’t have to decide today or even tomorrow.”

“Tell Frances Jackson that. She’s chomping at the bit to get Tommy off her plate and onto mine.”

“No, she’s just trying to make sure he’s with someone who loves him. Every child deserves that, especially one who’s just been through the trauma of losing the only parent he’s ever known.”

“Yes,” Walker said slowly. “Yes, they do.”

But was he in any position to give Tommy the kind of love he needed? Did he even have any love left to give? The three people who’d been closest to him in his life certainly didn’t think so.

Daisy’s gaze kept straying toward the back door. She’d expected Walker to show up by now. It was after eight, and there was still no sign of him. Fortunately Tommy didn’t seem to care one way or another. He hadn’t glanced at the door once.

Still, she was disappointed. It wasn’t that she’d expected him, exactly. After all, wasn’t she the one who’d anticipated that he might bolt straight back to Washington? She’d merely hoped that he would keep his promise and be here this morning–for Tommy’s sake.

“How come you keep looking out the door?” Tommy asked eventually. “You’ve already burned one waffle because you weren’t paying attention. Looks to me like the next one is going to go any second now.”

She whirled around just in time to see the steam coming from the waffle iron turn to something that looked suspiciously like smoke. “Blast it,” she said, yanking it open to reveal a waffle almost beyond edible.

“It’s okay. I’ll take it,” Tommy said, holding out his plate. “Looks like it’s the best I’m going to get this morning.”

“Very funny, young man,” she said as she tossed it into the trash instead. “The next one will be perfect. You’ll see.”

“I hope so,” Tommy told her, “’Cause I’m about starved to death.”

Daisy carefully spooned more batter onto the waffle iron and closed it, then faced Tommy. “Now that you’ve had some time to sleep on everything that happened yesterday, what did you think of your uncle?”

Tommy’s face scrunched up. He shrugged. “He was okay, I guess.”

“You weren’t very nice to him.”

Tommy frowned. “Why should I be? I just said what you were thinking. We talked about it, remember? You don’t know why he abandoned my mom either.”

“Maybe I didn’t understand it before he and I talked, but I do now,” Daisy told the boy. “He deserves a chance to explain it so you’ll understand it, too. He told you yesterday that he tried really, really hard to find her.”

“And you bought that?” Tommy said scathingly.

She nodded slowly. “He sounded sincere. And it is true that your mom didn’t have a lot of the identification papers that most adults have, like a driver’s license and car registration. She always rode a bike.”

“Because she liked the exercise,” Tommy said defensively.

“True, but she didn’t have a Social Security number, either.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Tommy said. “But if she didn’t have it, it was ’cause she didn’t want it.”

Daisy grinned. “I know that, but most grown-ups do have one. Some kids, too, if they want to get jobs. All of those things would have helped your uncle to find her.”

“He should have tried harder. He must be a really lousy cop,” Tommy said stubbornly.

Daisy sighed. She knew better than to push too hard. Even in just a few days, she had seen that Tommy didn’t respond well to pressure. He had a definite mind of his own, and she was a big believer in a child’s right to his own opinions. She could only try to shape them a little at a time. Besides, how much of her faith in Walker’s sincerity was because she wanted to believe he was a good man for her own reasons? If she lost Tommy, she needed to believe he was with someone who could love him the way he deserved to be loved.

Well, the proof would come soon enough. If Walker didn’t show up this morning, it would pretty much confirm Tommy’s low opinion of him. She sighed again and opened the waffle iron just in the nick of time, finally managing one that was golden brown and steaming hot.

She put it on Tommy’s plate, then sat across from him.

“You ain’t gonna have one?” he asked as he slathered butter into every little nook, then poured maple syrup over it.

“Not yet.”

“How come?”

“I thought I’d wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Because she didn’t want to bring up Walker’s name again, she said, “Until I’ve had another cup of coffee. I’m still half-asleep.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him. “Yeah, Mom used to say the same thing, except sometimes I thought it was because she knew we only had enough for one person and she wanted me to have it.”

Daisy felt her eyes sting for this little boy who saw too much, and for the mother who’d tried so hard to give him a better life. Beth Flanagan had worn clothes until they were practically threadbare, but she’d brought Tommy to church every Sunday in slacks that had been neatly pressed and a white shirt and tie. His shoes had been polished and his hair combed. She would have been horrified to see him dressed the way Daisy had found him.

“Your mom was very special,” she told Tommy.

He nodded. “She was the best. I just wish she hadn’t had to work so much. That’s why she got sick, ’cause she was so tired all the time.” His expression turned serious. “Can I ask you something?”

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