“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Shouldn’t you be back at the theatre, trying to put out the fire? Or trying to figure out what happened?”

Rand shrugged. “The blaze is under control. We have to wait for things to cool down before we can start poking around for answers.”

Cate gave him a long, measuring look. “You might want to bring the sheriff up to speed tonight rather than tomorrow. He’s going to need your help.”

Rand leaned forward, his jaw tight, hands itching with a surge of adrenaline. “What kind of help?”

“Professional.” She sat up, shoved a hand through the thick mane of hot cocoa-brown waves. “Dad says it wasn’t just a fire. It was a meth lab explosion.”

GINNY AIKEN

is a former newspaper reporter, and lives in Pennsylvania with her engineer husband and their three younger sons—the oldest married and flew the coop. Born in Havana, Cuba, raised in Valencia and Caracas, Venezuela, she discovered books early, and wrote her first novel at age fifteen while she trained with the Ballets de Caracas, later known as the Venezuelan National Ballet. She burned that tome when she turned a “mature” sixteen. Stints as reporter, paralegal, choreographer, language teacher and retail salesperson followed. Her life as wife, mother of four boys and herder of their numerous and assorted friends, brought her back to books and writing in search of her sanity. She’s now the author of more than twenty published works and a frequent speaker at Christian women’s and writers’ workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.

Someone to Trust
Ginny Aiken

MILLS & BOON

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In you our fathers put their trust;

they trusted and you delivered them.

—Psalms 22:4

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

In you our fathers put their trust; They trusted and you delivered them.

Psalm 22:4 NIV

“NOOOO!”

Catelyn Caldwell’s cry ripped from her throat as she slammed her car door. In horror, she watched flames leap from the old Loganton Theater to the sky. The stench of devastation seared her nostrils. Fire tinted the adjacent buildings in shades of angry red as it writhed and hissed, consuming one of the town’s favorite structures.

The marquee thundered down onto the sidewalk. Its crash ricocheted off Main Street’s buildings, many of which were the same vintage as the blazing structure. Firefighters doused the nearest ones to try and keep them from meeting the same fate as the theater.

Tears burned Cate’s eyes, more painful than the waves of heat slapping her face. Fear shot bile up her middle. What if…?

“Stop it!” No need to think the worst.

Neal Hunter, one of the oldest and most reliable firefighters under her dad, had called her not ten minutes earlier. “The theater’s on fire and your dad went in after Wilma Tucker.” Frustration had made his voice tight. “She wouldn’t leave. Said she’d do more good wetting everything down from the inside. Wouldn’t listen to reason. Then, when things got bad, I couldn’t talk Joe out of going in after her. You might want to head on over here.”

As if anything could have kept her away.

Joe Caldwell, Loganton’s fire chief, had been putting his life on the line every day since he’d joined the fire department in Roanoke decades earlier. He lived to serve, even if his service kept those who loved him fearing the day when the worst come to pass.

It looked as though today might be that day.

She told herself Dad and Wilma would probably make it out of the raging inferno while she drove there.

Now if she could only make herself believe it.

Tears spilled down Cate’s cheeks. She stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides, her knees buckling. Everything inside her commanded her to run inside, to tear the place apart until she found her father and saw him safe. She didn’t want to face the possibility of—

No. She wasn’t going there.

Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward. While she’d been called all kinds of things at different times in her life, she’d never been called a coward.

With every step, her terror at the thought of disaster grew. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

She’d faced tragedy in the worst way the night her older sister Mandy and her brother-in-law Ross were killed in a car accident eight years ago. She’d had a front-row seat for that nightmare. Cate had been a passenger in the car they’d swerved to avoid.

Surviving that nightmare had taken more than she could stand to surrender again. And yet, because of the nature of her father’s work, she might just be forced to give in one more time. And soon.

Her immature faith in Christ had seen her through the aftermath of her sister’s death. Her more mature relationship with the Lord these days would see her through again should the worst come to pass.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me…

The nearer she got to the burning theater, the more unbearable the heat grew. Cate licked her dry lips and tasted the salt of her tears.

Her dad’s men filled the street, water hoses spewing, ladders extended, calling out instructions in tight, intense voices. The silence of the night, an ominous backdrop to all the activity, felt oppressive, threatening.

As she approached the firefighters, Cate’s shivers became tides of tremors. When she stepped off the curb a block down and across the street from the blaze, she stumbled and nearly landed on the road.

She took a second to get a grip on her emotions and nerves. At least, she tried—not an easy feat as she scanned the burning building one more time. “Stop thinking the worst,” she told herself.

One of the firefighters separated himself from the rest of the team and came toward her. Cate could see the lines of stress on Neal Hunter’s face. Under the yellow hard hat, her dad’s best friend’s face glistened with sweat. She called out his name.

He trotted the last few steps toward her. “I’m hoping the guys will turn the corner with this monster soon. I don’t think it’s spreading anymore.”

At the thought of what she had to ask, she shook harder. “Has he…have you seen him?”

The flash of pain across Neal’s face said everything she needed to know.

“Do you think there’s any chance Dad’s still…?”

His eyes blazed as bright as the flames. “There’s every chance, Cate. The fire is worse in one spot in the basement. I figure Joe yanked Wilma away from dumping buckets on it and dragged her to the safer area at the back. Don’t ever give up hope.”

The smile she tried to give him wobbled around the edges as his words registered. “So the blaze started down there, away from the patrons.”

“Looks that way. Don’t think we’re looking at kids smoking in the john or anything like that.”

“Does the theater have a problem with teen smokers?”

“Not really, but the high school seniors came to watch a film for English tonight. All one hundred twenty-nine of them were here. Them, and their chaperones.”

“But the fire didn’t start in the bathroom.”

Neal shook his head. “Gotta get back, Cate. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”

Another firefighter ran up. “If we don’t turn this around in the next five minutes, I’m going to call in the other counties’ departments.”

Neal glanced at the theater. “Maybe you shouldn’t wait.”

The flames bathed the newcomer’s face with an angry glow, but Cate still recognized him. In spite of the stress, soot and sweat, she had to acknowledge that the years since he’d left town had been good to Randall Mason. Then again, he’d always been drop-dead gorgeous, popular, athletic…

Everything Cate hadn’t been.

Rand had also been the person she most loved to hate in school.

“Any sign of Wilma or the chief?” he asked.

Cate dragged in a harsh breath.

Neal glared and jerked his head in the universal sign for let’s talk about this over there. “Not on our side—yet.”

But the captain didn’t seem to hear Neal—he was staring at Cate. Her instinctive response to his question had caught his attention. His blue eyes homed in on her. “I thought you guys had cleared the perimeter. We can’t have civilians this near to an active fire.”

Cate tipped up her chin. “I’m not your usual civilian. Neal called to tell me Dad had gone in after Wilma. We’re hoping they made it to the back of the basement, since Neal says the damage is not supposed to be as bad there.”

“Cate? Catey Caldwell…is that you?”

Her mouth curved up on one side. “The one and only.”

“You’ve changed—” He winced as he realized how his words sounded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have changed. Believe me, I know. Let’s face it. I think the last time you saw me I had green hair. Or maybe that week it was purple.”

“Something like that.”

She offered him a tentative smile, hard though it was to eke out. “You don’t have to dance around reality with me. I’m more aware than anyone else of the dangers you guys face. And even though it took hours of arguing, I finally got Dad to agree to have one of his men call me if…well, if there was ever any possibility of…” She waved toward the remains of the theater. “Neal did me the favor.”

Rand’s expression warmed with compassion. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that your father’s one of the smartest, best-trained and most capable men I know. If there’s even the smallest corner left standing in the back of that place, then I’m sure he’s found his way there. Took Wilma with him, too. Have faith.”

The last two words rang in her heart. Faith…these days she had plenty of that. A glance at the theater encouraged her. It looked as though her father’s men had managed to contain the worst of the flames to the lobby. Until the blaze had erupted, that lobby had sparkled with the chrome and crystal Wilma had lavished on the place during the recent renovation.

Cate closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer.

“Hey!” someone called over the crackle of fire and rush of water. “We found them! They’re alive! Get the ambulances over here!”

Tears again poured down Cate’s face. “Thank you, Jesus.”

Rand looked at Cate, the surprise in his blue eyes mirroring what she had grown used to seeing over the years. Those who’d known her as a rebellious teen had trouble recognizing her as the responsible woman she’d become.

She forced another tight smile. “Surprise, surprise.”

As she hurried off in the direction of her father, she heard him say, “And how.”

Rand loped back to help the men pull out Joe and Wilma, both of whom were suffering with smoke inhalation, numerous burns and unknown internal injuries from the collapse of a portion of the theater’s ceiling.

He’d feared for his mentor’s life, in spite of the men’s training and their determination to save the popular chief, as they’d carefully removed chunks of ceiling off the two trapped victims. When they were finally freed, Rand realized his hands were shaking. It was far more gut-wrenching to fight to save people he’d known his whole life than strangers back in Charlotte. He’d wanted a more personal touch, and so he’d come home. He hadn’t expected this level of closeness.

Thankfully, Joe and Wilma were out. “Hang in there,” he told the older man as the EMTs strapped him to the gurney. “They’ll get you back to fighting form in no time at the hospital.”

Joe tried to grin, but instead grimaced as the gurney rolled away. Rand glanced at Cate. Sympathy swelled when he noticed her expression. It hovered somewhere between despair and hope.

He heard her sob, watched her bring a fist to her mouth. Her misery drew him.

As he approached, his steps slow and tired, he ran a hand down his sweat-dampened face. A glance at his hand showed traces of soot—a common job hazard. He swiped it against his tan gear, then realized the action might have made matters worse.

The closer Rand went, the more intently he watched her. With her tangled hair, long-sleeved Tarheel Basketball T-shirt, drawstring flannel pants and running shoes with a hole in the right toe, she looked appealing in a true girl-next-door way. She’d obviously changed into sleepwear before she’d received Neal’s call and had rushed out to her father’s side. It seemed Cate loved her father as much as Rand knew Joe loved her.

“Hey,” he said. “I just spoke to one of the EMTs. They don’t mind if you ride with Joe in the ambulance. I figured you’d want to.”

The breath she drew sounded ragged, rough and heavy, maybe with the dissipating smoke. “To be honest, I didn’t get so far as to think about that. I’m kind of numb. All I could think about was that Dad had survived. Thanks for getting him out.”

“No problem—and I didn’t do it single-handed.” He glanced toward the ambulance. “I’d like to go see how he’s doing, but I have to stay here and step into his shoes—an impossible challenge—but he hired me to be his number two, and I owe him my best on the job. That, and to make sure he gets to the hospital as soon as possible. With you at his side.”

A strange undercurrent flew between them. Cate stood taller. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to visit him soon enough.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Well, thanks. Again.” As she started toward the ambulance, she gave him a last look over her shoulder, a slight smile on her lips. “I’m sure I’ll see you around the hospital.”

She hurried off to the ambulance, and Rand stood still for a second or two. What had she seen when she’d turned to look at him? It had made her smile…sort of. For a moment, he wished he still looked like the popular football team captain and Honor Society member he’d once been, the guy she probably remembered from high school.

On the other hand, maybe when she looked at him, Cate saw the arson investigator for the Charlotte Fire Department he’d been in the years between high school and his recent return. He wondered if she’d heard all the stories that seemed to have mushroomed in town. Winnie Zook, the town’s most avid gossip, had been heard telling those who’d listen that Rand had come back to the slower-paced Loganton Fire Department not just to put out fires, but to follow in his father’s footsteps and sell books on his own time. As soon as he’d started knocking around in his father’s old bookstore, tearing down walls and sawing at all hours—when not on duty, of course—Winnie had taken to stopping by to chat. She’d also made a point of strolling past the plate glass window and peeking in every so often, since the former Reading Corner sat next to her knitting goods store.

Rand had no idea what he was going to do with his father’s old store, but remodeling the space gave him something to do in his downtime. He sure wasn’t going to bother arguing with Winnie, much less those others who insisted he’d come home to write the Great American Novel, based on his experiences. Or even with those Logantonians who just knew he was hiding out from the mob—he had helped put away a number of organized crime types who torched property for the insurance pay-off, after all.

The multiple theories, creative as they were, made Rand laugh. He’d come back home because it was home. He knew everyone in town, and he wanted to make a difference in their lives. True, he’d left all those years ago for practically the same reason. A family tragedy had turned his life upside down. His cousin Ross’s death had been hard to take, especially since it had been Rand’s first call as a rookie volunteer firefighter. He hadn’t wanted to face the loss of another person he loved, or even knew.

In time, he’d realized he was lonely in Charlotte. So he’d come back. Now, he’d faced the very issue that had sent him running in the first place. And he’d dealt with it. He hoped it grew easier as he went along. He’d have to ask Joe for advice once the older man was well enough.

But he sure couldn’t tell the citizens he’d been hired to protect why he’d left as a young man. Or why he’d come back. It might make him sound pathetic, certainly not strong enough to keep them safe.

The ambulance door slammed shut behind Cate. He wondered which of the lurid tales about him she’d heard, what she’d thought of him. Had she seen a competent firefighter, her father’s second in command, a successful professional concerned about a man who’d been there for him when Rand had needed comfort and guidance after his father died?

He and Cate had never had much in common. She’d been a flake; he’d been serious, studious, driven. But tonight, those differences didn’t matter.

Rand glanced back at the burnt building. The moonlight highlighted the shell that remained of the vintage structure against the smoky sky. What a loss. Buildings like the theater were vanishing treasures. He hated seeing them like this.

At least no lives had been lost. Joe and Wilma should, with good medical care, recover.

As he headed back toward his clustered men, the image of Cate’s face flashed through his thoughts. He felt the sudden urge to hurry to the hospital, to tell her Joe would be fine, to comfort her in her time of need.

He had no earthly idea why the urge was so strong. He just knew he wanted to see Cate again.

The ambulance pulled away from the scene, siren blaring, the EMTs working on her father. Cate shrank into herself, tried to take up the least amount of the limited space. As random medical equipment bleeped and flashed, she watched her dad’s face.

He’d open his eyes for a moment, then, obviously drained, he’d surrender and his eyelids would droop back down. The next time he opened them again, she saw him look around, work to focus and when he spotted her, struggle to raise his head.

Ann Davies, one of the EMTs, turned to Cate. “He’s trying to say something, but the mask is in the way. He needs the oxygen right now, though.”

Her father’s urge to communicate encouraged Cate. “Can you lift the mask for a second? Just enough for him to talk.”

Tethered to the narrow gurney, Joe Caldwell, a huge bear of a man, dwarfed the tight confines of the ambulance. As Ann considered Cate’s request, he grew more agitated.

Cate tried again. “He’s upset. Let him tell us what he wants and then he’ll probably settle back down. He’s a pretty stubborn guy.”

With a final measuring glance at Joe, Ann gave Cate a nod. “Come closer, right down here so he can whisper.”

Cate couldn’t have imagined what her father finally said.

“Not just fire…” he said in a wheezy, scratchy whisper. “Explosion…meth lab in the front of the basement…”

“Meth lab!” In the last year and a half, Loganton had seen the drug make inroads into the community. True, a meth lab had been found and a couple of dealers jailed, but not before the drug had claimed its victims.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t claim an additional two tonight.

Dad was a fighter and Wilma Tucker a spunky livewire with more stubborn to her than a mule. By God’s merciful grace they’d both recover.

Cate brought her lips close to his ear as Ann replaced the mask on her father’s face. “I’ll call the PD and the sheriff’s office as soon as we get to the hospital. I’m sure they’re planning to talk to you, but this’ll make them get right to it. All you have to do is relax and recover.”

His eyes blazed. He twisted against the gurney’s restraints. Ann lifted the mask again.

“No time to lay around—the kids! You’re the boss now, Catey. But the fire…”

The EMT clapped the mask back in place, chuckled and shook her head. “Sorry, Chief. You don’t get a choice here. Cate’ll do her thing with your grandkids, but you’re gonna have to let your men do the footwork this time. And that mask doesn’t move again, you hear?”

Sympathy flooded Cate. There was nothing that got her dad more energized than digging out clues to a fire’s cause. This time, he’d have to trust others to do the job. Like Rand, the former Charlotte arson investigator he’d hired as his number two man.

Her dad’s job now was to stay quiet and recover. Although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, relief flooded Cate. This, she could handle.

Another thought flew into her head. The kids. Total responsibility for ten-year-olds Robby and Tommy, and eight-year-old Lindsay. Could she handle that?

Only time would tell.

At the hospital, Rand headed for the ER entrance. He had to see how Wilma was doing. He’d worked part-time at the theater for her parents as a teen—collecting tickets, sweeping floors, serving popcorn—and he’d come to care deeply for them. Wilma herself? Well, she’d been interesting, that’s for sure.

A free spirit all her life, Wilma left Loganton after graduation and wandered back home whenever an adventure came to its end, only to leave again once the lure of the open road—and a new adventure—became too potent to ignore. She’d finally come to stay when her mother’s rheumatoid arthritis grew too painful for her to keep working and her father lost his battle with macular degeneration and went blind.

The older Tuckers had moved into the Pines Retirement Community on the outskirts of Loganton, and Wilma had restored the theater to its lush, roaring-twenties original glory. Rand knew Augie and Ruth Tucker would have a hard time coping with their daughter’s injuries and the devastation of their family business.

At the information desk, he asked about Wilma and was told to take a seat in the waiting room. Doctors were working on her and a nurse would give him an update once the desk was notified of her condition.

As he dropped into the maroon armchair, his thoughts flew back to the conversation he’d had with Neal while the EMTs loaded Joe and Wilma into the ambulances.

Rand couldn’t figure out what might have started the fire—yet. Neal had said it looked as though the blaze had begun in the basement, toward the front of the building. Wilma must have taken longer than usual closing up after the seven-forty-five showing.

From his days working for the Tuckers, Rand knew the basement was practically empty. A cinder-block wall with a metal door in the middle blocked off the area under the lobby. Augie Tucker had developed black and white photos there years ago, but he’d sold the equipment and emptied out the space when his eyes had started to fail sometime during Rand’s junior year in college. He couldn’t see how the fire had started where Neal suspected—nothing flammable had been kept there.

Of course, Wilma could have started storing things in the basement after taking over the theater. Nothing fed a fire better than piles of junk. But the thought of Wilma—the original minimalist who’d lived most of her adult years out of a backpack—storing junk was almost laughable.

Rand’s gut told him there was more to that fire than just fire. While common sense reminded him of the building’s age and dry condition, years of fighting and investigating fires had left him with a good nose for trouble.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cate walked into the waiting room. Before he could stop himself, he asked. “Where are the kids?”

“The kids? You mean the twins and Lindsay?”

“Of course. I hope you didn’t just run out on them.”

Her brows drew close and her lips tightened. “I’d never leave three little kids alone. No matter how scared I was about Dad. Miss Tabitha’s with them.”

“They’ll be scared about their grandfather, don’t you think?”

“Once I hear how he’s doing, I’ll go home and make sure they know he’s going to…going to be okay.”

The wobble in Cate’s voice told him how scared she was. Sympathy again filled him, but before he could say anything, she went on.

“You didn’t really expect me to stay tucked under my blanket while Dad’s life was on the line, did you?”

The shine of tears brightened her chocolate eyes. Maybe he’d been too hard on her. He knew she loved her father. And Joe had told Rand a number of times how much Cate had changed, how responsible she was.

She probably also loved her niece and nephews and Rand was glad to know she’d arranged for Miss Tabitha, one of Loganton’s true pillars, to stay with the youngsters. But as wonderful as Miss Tabitha was, she was quite an elderly woman. Was she up to watching two ten-year-old boys? An eight-year-old girl?

Now that Joe Caldwell was injured, Rand would have to make sure the kids didn’t lack supervision. He owed as much to their late father, his older cousin Ross. In the interest of keeping peace, he decided not to say anything more to Cate about the kids. He’d just do what he thought best for them.

Rand hadn’t had much contact with them while he worked in Charlotte, but with Joe as their guardian, he knew they’d been in good hands. But now? Rand wasn’t about to just leave them in Cate’s care without at least checking up on their well-being.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she said in the growing silence.

Rand shrugged. “The blaze is under control and the guys can finish up. I’m sure you know we have to wait for things to cool down before we can start looking for answers.” He shot a glance toward the large double doors to the ER. “The Tuckers are like family to me. I want to know how Wilma’s doing before I go out to the Pines to tell her folks.”

She arched a brow. “You’re going to tell them? I would have thought the new police chief would do that.”

“I told Neal to let the PD know I wanted to be the one to talk to them. I don’t want to see any more of the Tuckers in the hospital. It’s going to hit them hard, and if Chief Rodgers just shows up, it could make things worse.”

In a gesture full of exhaustion, Cate tipped her head back against her chair, her eyes closed but her features tense. “You might still want to take Ethan Rodgers with you when you go talk to them. After what happened tonight, I suspect they’re going to see a lot of him in his official capacity during the next few weeks.”

His gut tightened and he knew his initial instinct had been right on target. “What’s going on?”

Through half-closed eyelids, she gave him a long, measuring look. “Ethan’s going to need your help.”

Rand leaned forward, hands itching with the surge of adrenaline he always felt when a hunch paid off. “What kind of help?”

“Professional.” She sat up, shoved a hand through the thick mane of hot cocoa-brown waves. “Dad says it wasn’t just a fire. He says a meth lab blew up.”

Nose for trouble? His was dead on.

From the moment he’d arrived at the theater, his instincts had begun to alert him and not just to the scent of crime. They had tipped him off to something he hadn’t expected. He’d come home looking for a more peaceful, less stressful work environment. As an arson investigator, he’d had his fill of arsonists, a unique kind of thief and killer who took pleasure from the destruction they caused. And now, after the first serious fire he worked for the Loganton Fire Department, it turned out the thrill of the hunt still gave him a charge.

He stood. “Meth’s a killer—in more ways than one. Any idea who might be behind it?”

She shook her head and arched her brow. “Here I thought the answer to that question was what an arson investigation was all about.”

He conceded her point with a nod. Then he spun and headed out to find his answer. His mind whirled with the new information. What Cate had just told him colored the fire at the theater in a whole different palette.

There was a killer out there. He hadn’t killed Joe or Wilma, but anyone who cooked meth had blood on his hands, the blood of those he had hooked.

Rand realized he would have missed solving arson cases had there really been a difference between a small town and a large city. But people were people. A kaleidoscope of memories swirled through his head. Loss, injury, death—and the cesspool where arsonists lived and where he’d had to swim all those years to catch them. And yet, here he was, treading that same water again.

The constant contact with the worst side of society had nearly stolen every last drop of humanity he’d possessed. That’s why he’d come home…

…never thinking he’d wind up right back in the thick of it.

TWO

At six the next morning, Zoe Donovan, Cate’s best friend since kindergarten, finished her shift at the hospital blood lab. She marched right up to the ICU and insisted Cate leave with her. Cate tried to argue.

Zoe countered. “I’m not listening. The kids will be up any minute now and you know they’re going to squabble. Think of poor Miss Tabitha, all alone with the three darlings.”

Cate glared. “They do go at it with all the gusto of sibling rivalry, but Miss Tabitha is wonderful with them and I just checked in with her forty-five minutes ago. She said she had everything under control and I shouldn’t worry. She’s such a sweetheart. They’re always on their best behavior for her. This is Dad—”

“And he would want you home. His medical team’s fabulous—you know he’s in excellent hands. Tell me I’m wrong. Go on.” The light of challenge shone in her green eyes. “Besides, just think of all the times you and your dad have had to referee the trio just to wind up with something that might remind you of peace.”

“Fine. I’m a realist. They’re wonderful individuals, but perfect? Uh-uh. Especially not during the morning routine.”

Cate tugged her jacket tighter around her middle when they stepped out into the cold fall morning. “So how am I going to tell them their gramps is in critical condition? They’ve already gone through so much. First they lost their parents, then their grandmother three years later. Now this.”

“The Lord will find a way—or in this case, a word. Ask Him. He won’t let you down.”

“But this is Dad.” She closed her eyes, shook her head, took a breath. “The kids are little and he’s the only stability they’ve ever known.”

“That’s probably why he asked you to move back in a couple of years ago.”

Cate snorted. “You know he doesn’t need my help. And all that babble about my youth helping him parent them better than he would alone is just that: babble.”

Everyone in town had commented on his apparent lunacy. Predictions had hovered somewhere between the kids’ certain ruination and their imminent stints in the juvie system.

Their perceptions of Cate hadn’t changed much over the years. Even if she had. Or she thought she had.

“What if…what if all the people who said I couldn’t cut it were right? What if I blow it with them and something awful happens?”

“Come on. Look at your day care center.”

“That’s different. Parents know I hire only the best. They know their kids are safe with my teachers, some of whom they’ve known for years. I’m mainly the administrator. But Lindsay and the twins? Dad’s always been there to keep me from messing up too badly.”

Zoe brushed imaginary lint off Cate’s shoulder. “Dust that junk off, sister. I remember how scared you were, but it didn’t take you long to get into a family groove and you’ve done a great job, if I do say so myself.”

They crossed the parking lot, heading for Zoe’s yellow subcompact. Cate loved the tiny car, especially since she had to tool around town in a massive green minivan.

Zoe pulled out her keys and zapped the lock gizmo. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride back to your car.”

They pulled out into the light early morning traffic in silence. A moment later, Zoe piped up. Again.

“What’d you think of your dad’s newest hire?”

Rand’s features flew into Cate’s thoughts, vivid and strong. He’d changed, but not so much. He still reminded her of her dad’s protégé, the guy who could never do wrong back in high school.

Only better looking.

But she couldn’t let Zoe know she thought of Rand that way. “Eh…not much. He’s still Rand Mason, you know?”

“He did come to see about your dad. He cares.”

Cate shrugged. “He’s always cared about Dad. Of course he’d come see how Dad’s doing.”

At the light, Zoe shot her a sideways glance. “Hm…just to see about your dad? Didn’t look like it to me.”

Intense blue eyes materialized in Cate’s memory. “Um…yeah. He gave me the third degree about the kids. He doesn’t think much of me.”

Zoe gunned the pedal. “Coulda fooled me. He looked pretty interested when he was talking to you right before I got there.”

“No way! Not Rand. He’s not interested in me. He doesn’t like me. Trust me. A woman can tell when a man can’t stand her. He can’t stand me.”

“Uh-huh.” Zoe chuckled, and Cate’s frustration grew. Rand had made her uncomfortable. But arguing with Zoe was a no-win situation. Besides, she had three kids waiting for her. And Cate knew all about the weight of parental responsibility. The fire had made hers even greater.

Cate glared at her friend. “Just drive, will ya? I’ve had a horrible night, my dad’s in the ICU, and the three kids are probably driving Miss Tabitha nuts by now. That’s the only thing I can do anything about right now, so let me get going to do what I can.”

“The lady doth protest—”

“Do you think Dad’s really going to be okay? I’m afraid…” She drew a deep breath. “I have to trust the hospital with Dad’s life. That’s just all there is to it. And they’d better not let me down. I’m not ready to do this parenting thing all on my own all of the time.”

“Get over yourself, girl. You’re gonna do it, you’re gonna do it fine and you’re not gonna do it alone, not while he’s in the hospital and not when he comes home. You have friends who’ll help, like me. I’m not chopped liver, you know. Besides, the Lord’s gonna be right there with you, remember?”

“Yeah. I remember. I just want Dad home again.”

Zoe slowed to pull up behind the van. When she shifted the car into idle, she reached out and put a gentle hand on Cate’s arm. “And your dad will be home again. Have faith. And a little bit of trust won’t hurt either.”

Tears welled in Cate’s eyes. “You’re right. Faith and trust, faith and trust. Got it.”

They said their goodbyes and she headed for the van, her gaze on the rosy tint of the eastern sky. As the day became more real, details crossed her mind. Had Robby run the dishwasher last night? He often forgot to follow through on his chores. She decided it would have to be a cereal morning. Tommy would likely howl, because he loved his pancakes, but no way was she about to cook anything when she got home.

Lindsay would take the news about her grandfather harder than the twins. She was the youngest, only an infant when her parents had died, but that wasn’t really the issue. Sweet Lindsay had a quiet nature, so much so as to seem almost withdrawn much of the time. She teared up at sappy commercials and she was shier than one of Miss Tabitha’s night-blooming primroses.

As much as she loved her niece, Cate struggled to understand someone so different from her. She’d always prided herself on her tough and scrappy approach to life.

Another pang of uncertainty pierced her. Was she really up to raising three kids? Her schedule usually kept her too busy to think about such things, so she did what she had to do to keep life moving along its regular tracks. Now, with Dad’s serious injuries, she’d been derailed. She was going to be on her own. Would she fail and prove all the town gossips right?

Ten feet away from the van, she caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window. The dark shadows under her eyes made her look as though she needed a doctor herself. Her cheeks lacked color and her hair resembled tangled ropes of taffy—the real thing, not the carnival-style, rainbow colored kind. Even though once upon a time, rainbow hair had been her thing, as Rand had reminded her. She sighed.

Still, rainbow hair or not, she didn’t look like she could be trusted to babysit, much less raise Mandy’s kids. Why Dad had thought she should, why he’d decided to trust her with his beloved grandchildren, she’d never know. Not that he had much choice now, thanks to his injuries.

Fear struck. Her knees wobbled and she leaned against the side of the van, her mind going a mile a minute.

Dad had always been calm and competent when the kids’ needs threatened to overwhelm Cate. But now that she thought about it, he’d started to turn the day-to-day stuff over to her almost the moment she moved back in. He’d said more than once that the kids would grow her up now that she’d become their stand-in mom. So far, she didn’t really feel all that different, but she had learned one very valuable truth: motherhood was not for wimps.

When she opened her eyes, the blackened theater loomed before her. The events of the night tugged at her and she didn’t resist. She made her way to the old structure, then just stood and stared, letting the sadness and anger wash over her.

Who? Who’d been making poison to feed to the town’s youth? Who would destroy this beautiful building? Who would have risked people’s lives? And for nothing more than pure greed.

Cate thought of Loganton’s residents. She’d grown up in town, so she knew everyone. Even guided by suspicion, she couldn’t come up with one potential guilty soul.

But someone was guilty. Dad and Wilma were in the ICU.

As far as she was concerned, whoever was behind the meth lab was going down. Cate would do everything in her power to see to it. Even if she had to find the culprit herself.

As awkward as she felt around him, she was glad Rand had come back to town. His arson investigation experience should serve the fire department well. But if he came up with no answers, well, then she’d just dig up those answers herself.

Well aware that she shouldn’t, Cate slipped under the yellow tape and walked up to the theater. The tall glass doors wore a thick coat of black soot on the inside and she couldn’t look through them as she’d loved to do ever since her parents had taken her and Mandy to a special Mother’s Day showing of The Sound of Music. She’d always loved the theater, and movies of all kinds.

Cupping her hands, Cate blocked the growing sunlight and leaned closer to the door. The soot layer did make it impossible to see, even from this vantage point. As she strained, she heard a sound to her right. She didn’t see anything unusual, but still couldn’t stop herself from pursuing her curiosity. She rounded the corner and arrived at the main exit. A montage of memories flew through her head. She remembered all the films she’d watched inside with her girlfriends. After the show, they’d leave in a cluster, giggling if they’d watched a comedy, sniffling if it had been a heart-tugger of some kind.

All so innocent, in stark contrast to what the basement had most recently housed.

The steel door was locked. No evidence of the fire on this side of the building. Even the sidewalk was clear. Clear but for a piece of trash three feet past the side door.

Cate went to pick it up, but when she leaned down, she froze. The trash turned out to be a twisted lump of plastic, blackened by the fire. From the top, a metal clip, the kind on cheap key chains, stuck straight out as though pointing to the theater.

A quick glance up and down the sidewalk revealed no other debris, nothing. And while she didn’t give it much importance, Cate couldn’t discount what she’d found, either. One of the firefighters might have dropped it when he’d carried something else from inside the building, and it might be relevant to the investigation.

She couldn’t ignore it. Nor could she pick it up. As the daughter of a firefighter, she knew better. So she reached for her phone to dial the station.

Next thing she knew, a blow to the back of her head knocked her off her feet. She smashed her forehead against the sidewalk.

“Oh!” Her eyes filled with sudden tears. Behind her, footsteps pelted away. She scrambled upright, then stumbled in the direction they’d gone. “Hey! What was that about?”

By the time she reached the corner, there was no one in sight. Cate rubbed her forehead, and then wiped the tears from her eyes.

A cold shiver ran through her. Had she interrupted something? Had she seen something she shouldn’t have?

Maybe someone had not wanted to be seen near the theater. Had her presence threatened the meth dealer? Or had he just wanted to make sure she didn’t see him at the scene of his crimes?

It didn’t matter. Not right then. What mattered was to get someone with experience to take a look at that…that plastic thing. Cate followed through with her earlier start, and dialed the P.D. They asked her a handful of questions, then promised to send help.

Cate drew a bracing breath in preparation for what she had to do next. She dialed the fire station.

Rand answered, exhaustion in his voice. When she identified herself, he asked if she planned on sleeping.

“Not yet, but soon. Zoe Donovan gave me a ride to the van when she finished her shift. I…uhm…stopped to look at the theater, and found something strange near the side exit. Thought you might want to see it before people start walking around later this morning. Do you think it might be important?”

In a tight voice, ripe with disapproval, he asked her to describe her discovery. When she finished, he didn’t answer right away.

“Can’t tell you much about it right now,” he finally said. “But no matter whether it’s important or not, it’s something for us to look at, not you. Last I remember, there was yellow tape around the theater. As the fire chief’s daughter, you know that means stay away. Don’t touch the plastic thing, and stay put till I get there. I’m on my way.”

Great. Yet another chance to come face-to-face with Rand’s disapproval.

But she’d deal with Rand’s attitude some other time. Right then, the only thing that mattered was finding the creep who’d built the meth lab in the basement of the Loganton Theater.

The one who’d almost killed Wilma and her dad.

Rand tried to contain his irritation as he stared at Cate. “And you just decided to duck under the tape and walk around an arson fire investigation for…what? The fun of it?”

She didn’t like his comment. Fire blazed from her dark eyes. “Not for the fun of it. That’s ridiculous.”

“Then tell me again why you were on the premises.”

“I wasn’t on the premises. Not exactly.” She blew a wavy strand of tawny hair from her forehead. “I came to get the van, and walked up to the theater. It’s so sad how, after all these years, it’s ruined now. I started to remember all the shows I watched here.”

The way she clamped down her lips told him how much he’d irritated her, but that was too bad. He wasn’t sure he believed her story. He didn’t know if she’d told him everything she knew. “Ahem!”

His less-than-subtle nudge got her going again. “Then I walked down the side street. That’s when I saw the…that blob. Even I could tell it had been burnt, so I went to see what it might be. I didn’t touch it, but while I was looking, someone came up from behind, and knocked me to the ground. Do you think they were trying to scare me away?”

“Someone? Knocked you to the ground?” What was she trying to pull? An early morning attacker?

She rubbed the middle of her forehead, and now that he looked, he could see a red bump, maybe a scrape, right where she’d placed her fingers. He waited for her answer.

She shrugged. “Someone knocked me over. I don’t know why. I just know I didn’t touch the plastic, and I didn’t trip myself. No one else came by.”

Her expression, her tone of voice, her body language were all consistent, still…“Coincidences don’t happen in my line of work.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she clamped her lips tight. She wasn’t happy with his response, certainly not his skepticism. Too bad. It was part of who he was, the job he had to do. And part of dealing with her—the past, memories and all that baggage.

“The only thing I can do,” she said, her voice earnest and serious, “is tell you the truth. It’s up to you whether you believe me or not. I hope you do.”

As Cate stood before him, a flash of remembrance took him back eight years. He’d spotted her across the street from his cousin’s mangled vehicle, Lindsay in her arms, the twin boys on either side. But moments before he got to the scene, moments before the children’s mother and father had died, she’d been in the car that caused the wreck. A car driven by the boyfriend who’d had too much to drink.

Rand couldn’t say if there was any chance he’d ever believe her. So it was best to get on with the task before him. He jiggled a plastic baggie containing the melted lump. “This thing’s going out for testing. I’m sure once the lab gets a handle on what it might be, I’ll have more questions for you. I’ll see you then.”

He took off, then remembered the scrape on her forehead. He stopped, turned to face her again. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call the ambulance? That looks…sore.”

She glared and shook her head. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself. Just find out who did this.”

He nodded, spun and walked away, the touch of her angry stare as though it were a flame against his back.

Ten minutes after Rand Mason walked away outside the theater, Cate again tamped down her anger and guided the van up the long drive at the old Caldwell place. The white house with black shutters had once been the heart of a real farm. Cate’s great-grandparents had sold a hefty chunk of the land during the Great Depression, and then, over the years, her grandparents and finally Mom and Dad had sold off the rest of the fields. No one had been interested in raising chickens or growing crops.

The families who’d bought the land hadn’t purchased it for farming, either. Many had built minimansions, which by contrast made the Caldwell place and the handful of other vintage homes left on the road seem older than they really were. But the Caldwell place never looked shabby or neglected. Dad wouldn’t have let it, even if he’d had to slave over the property every minute he spent away from the station to get the work done.

Cate dragged herself up the porch steps and unlocked the door. The scent of home surrounded her. Furniture polish, fabric softener and a lingering hint of the cinnamon rolls she’d baked the day before mingled into a perfume that brought tears to her eyes with its familiarity.

Miss Tabitha Cranston, the sweet older woman who ran a boarding house in town and to whom she’d turned for help when Neal had called, hurried to hug her. “How is he?”

“Not good, but fighting.”

“That’s the Joe we all know and love.” She slipped her arms into her ivory colored cardigan, picked up her handbag and stepped onto the porch. “Oh, dear! Will you look at your forehead? What happened?”

Almost as if with a will of its own, her hand flew up to touch the sore spot. The whole episode still made her uneasy, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to worry Miss Tabitha any further.

“Oh, it’s nothing much. Don’t worry. I just didn’t watch where I was walking this morning, and I tripped on the sidewalk. I’ll be okay.”

Miss Tabitha tsk-tsked. “Make sure you put ice on it, okay?”

When Cate nodded, the older woman murmured more comforting words, then headed down the steps. “I’ll be praying. We all will.”

Robby’s early morning grumble startled Cate. “Where you been?”

“Where are the others?”

The ten-year-old gave her a one-sided shrug. “Dunno.”

The Caldwells weren’t known for their morning verve. “Have you seen them? Are they up yet?”

Lindsay wafted down the stairs. “Tommy’s in the bathroom. I can’t get him out and I need my shower.”

“Use mine.” Cate made a mental note to deal with the bathroom situation later. At the foot of the stairs, she leaned on the newel post and gave the missing twin a bellow. “Get down here, Thomas Caldwell Mason. You can’t monopolize the bathroom.”

From the depths of the hall bathroom came a wail with a growl. She took it to mean her nephew had heard her, didn’t care for her comment, but was on his way…on his terms. Good. She didn’t feel she could recount last night’s events more than once.

Shoulders squared, she headed for the kitchen.

Moments later, the bathroom monopolizer shuffled to the table. “You make eggs?”

“Not today, kiddo.” She opened the refrigerator. “It’s a cereal day.”

He groaned.

“You guys are going to have to work with me here.” She turned and plunked the gallon of milk in the middle of the table. “I have to talk to you.”

Robby’s dark eyes grew wide. “Mrs. Washburn called you? She promised she wouldn’t if I did two extra weeks of cleanup duty…”

At Cate’s frown, his words dried up. It was a good thing the kid had no internal editor—he gave himself away all the time. “Cleanup duty?”

He winced, clamped his mouth shut, then shrugged.

Swell. “What’d you do this time, Robert? That poor woman. The least you can do is go easy on her.”

The scowl was classic little-boy-in-trouble. “I didn’t do nothing.”

Cate sighed. She’d have to call the teacher. Again.

At the head of the table, she laced her fingers and offered a brief, silent prayer for strength and the right words. Then, out loud, she asked the Lord to bless their food. After the Amens, she turned back to Robby. “We’ll deal with Mrs. Washburn later, okay?”

His relief would have made her smile if she weren’t so worried about the kids’ reactions to the news about Dad.

“I told you guys I had to talk to you.”

Six eyes zeroed in on her face. Robby frowned. Tommy crossed his arms. Lindsay shrank.

“Gramps had to work a fire last night. Mr. Hunter called me when things got dangerous. Turns out the theater on Main Street burned down and Gramps was trying to get Miss Tucker out of danger. They got hurt—pretty badly—when debris fell on them.”

One lone tear ran down Lindsay’s cheek.

“Why’s he gotta do such a crazy job?” Tommy griped.

Robby stuck out his chin as far as it would go. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Lindsay gasped, shoved her chair away from the table, and ran out of the room. Cate stood to follow.

The twins chose to bicker.

“Way to go, pigeon-brain.”

“Didn’t do nothing, monkey-breath.”

Time to be the grown-up. “Of course Gramps isn’t dead,” Cate said. “He’s at the hospital and they’ve stuck a bunch of tubes into him, but he’s going to make it. He’s just going to have a long recovery ahead of him.”

Robby melted back in his chair. “That works.”

Not so much for Tommy. “How soon’s he coming home?”

“I don’t know, kiddo. But that converted garage workshop of his is going to be off limits while he’s on the mend. And I’m going to need your help around the house while I fix up the living room so he doesn’t have to worry about stairs to get to his bedroom.”

“I’m not cleaning no toilets.” Robby hated bathroom duty.

“‘Any’ Robby. ‘Any toilets,’” she corrected. “We’ll work around the toilets.” She pretended to consider. “I know! You can take over trash can washup detail. You’ll remember to get all the crud out, won’t you? Use lots of bleach, right?”

His eyes bulged and he shook his head.

She grinned. “Later, okay? Now I have to go check on your sister and grab a shower. Eat up or you’ll both be late for school.”

Tommy’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “But we can’t go to school today, Aunt Cate. Not with Gramps in the hospital. We gotta go see him, cheer him up, you know?”

“Nice try, bud. No go, though. Gramps is going to be in the hospital for a long time and you aren’t going to miss any school over it. I’ll take you to see him once you get out this afternoon.”

“But Aunt Catey—”

“No buts, babe. Time to rock ’n’ roll.”

The boys moved. Slowly, but they moved. Things hadn’t gone as badly as they might have. Cate had known Lindsay would take it hard and she’d been prepared to talk to the girl, pray with her and help her deal with her fears. The boys…well, they were a handful, but they’d taken the news fairly well.

That’s when it hit her. How was she going to be in two places at one time? She’d never left the kids unsupervised until last night and then only for a handful of minutes and because Dad’s life was on the line. She’d left only when she knew Miss Tabitha was in the car and on her way over.

That was why Rand’s suggestion that she might not be able to handle the kids rankled so much. Why had he echoed the town gossips? She’d had to put up with all that ever since she came home. She hadn’t needed him to repeat it.

If she was perfectly honest, it had stung much more coming from Rand than from the gossips. She couldn’t deny it; there was a heightened tension between them, a push and pull, a certain intensity she’d never experienced before.

From the deepest corners of her mind, a thought niggled. Had Zoe been right? Was there some kind of spark between Cate and Rand? Was there more than professional suspicion and outright dislike happening?

A shiver ran through her.

Time to get herself together. Rand and his effect on her was not something she should spend time pondering. She had her father and three kids to worry about. Three kids who mattered.

Three kids she wasn’t about to start leaving now. When they were younger, they’d been willing to help her at the day care. Not so much anymore. But they still needed someone to run herd over them at all times.

On the other hand, she couldn’t see how she could stand to not spend all her free time at Dad’s bedside. She’d have to figure out something before school let out that afternoon.

And then there was the daycare.

She sighed on her way upstairs to Lindsay’s room. “It’s time to take a big-girl pill—for both of us.”

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