“We don’t dare assume that anything that happens from now on is innocent or simple.”

Lowering his voice, Mitch added, “Those kids in there are orphans because somebody purposely killed their parents.”

Jill felt a shiver zing up her spine. Mitch was right. She grabbed his arm in a viselike grip. “You don’t think the children are really in danger, do you?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you willing to take the chance they aren’t and let down your guard?”

“Of course not!” She didn’t release her hold until she’d said, “I’m scared, Mitch.”

To her chagrin, he replied, “Yeah. So am I.”

The last thing Jill wanted to do was frighten the children more than they already were. Mitch seemed to sense her uneasiness. He paused and laid a hand of gentle comfort on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

Dear Reader,

I spent many years working with elementary-school children. That’s probably why, when it comes time to write about them, I usually create characters between four and eight years old. Those are the ages I think I understand—as much as any adult can. In those days I saw my job as a way to demonstrate the love of Christ in a secular atmosphere. Now I do it mostly in print.

This is the first book in my new miniseries, The Defenders, that features the work of CASA volunteers. These court-appointed special advocates represent children in regard to the legal system, appearing before any judge who is being asked to decide their fate. It’s a thankless, unpaid position that must make all of heaven rejoice, especially when there is a happy ending.

I pray that your personal happy ending includes a commitment to Jesus Christ. Mine certainly does. I love to hear from my readers. The easiest way to reach me is by email, val@valeriehansen.com, or send a letter to P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539. You can also see my other work at www.valeriehansen.com.

Blessings,

About the Author

VALERIE HANSEN was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for all of the Love Inspired lines.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

Nightwatch

Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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My husband and son were career firefighters

and my daughter also volunteered

before she went into nursing.

The men and women in the fire service

put their whole hearts into their work

and no amount of praise or thanks for their efforts

will ever be enough.

Thanks also to the dedicated CASA volunteers

who take over after disasters and help children

put their lives back together.

Whoever receives one of these little children in

my name receives me; and whoever receives me,

receives not only me but Him who sent me.

—Mark 9:37

ONE

Boom!

Fire station windows rattled. Overhead lights vibrated. Captain Mitch Andrews froze, held his breath and braced himself with both palms on his desktop.

“What in the world was that?” someone shouted down the hallway.

Mitch figured every telephone in Serenity was already tied up by folks asking each other the same question. Their dispatcher would be fortunate to receive information giving a halfway accurate location of the problem, let alone a clear report of conditions at the scene.

A firefighter stuck his head through Mitch’s office doorway. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. But it must be bad. Get ready to roll.”

What he desperately wanted to do was grab a phone and call Jill; at least hear her sweet voice and make sure she was far from the current danger before he left the station. Duty didn’t allow him that luxury. Not this time.

Sprinting for the hangar, he slammed his fist into the buttons that raised the bay doors. The siren mounted on the roof was starting to scream, rising and falling in pitch until he could barely hear his own voice over the wail.

“Jake, you round up the volunteers and get them moving as soon as you can,” Mitch yelled, hailing the first man to clear the door. “I have a feeling we’re going to need every piece of equipment we own on this one.”

“Yes, sir,” the engineer shouted. “What blew up?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Mitch listened to the details coming in over his handheld radio, then answered with, “Copy. All units responding to the vicinity of the county airport. ETA five minutes or less. Are ambulances started?”

The affirmative response gave him little comfort. Their small, local landing strip was located several miles outside town. If anyone had been in close proximity to an explosion violent enough to be felt this strongly at his fire station, they were going to need the coroner, not ambulances and EMTs.

Running, he grabbed his turnout coat, squashed his red captain’s helmet over tousled, sandy-blond hair and jumped aboard the first engine out the door.

There was a bright, shimmering glow in the night sky as the driver headed west. Something had not simply blown up, it was also burning. Mitch gritted his teeth. There was only so much they could do to preserve life and property, no matter how state-of-the-art their equipment might be, and Serenity Fire Department was always struggling to keep up with new technology for both firefighting and medical aid calls.

“Was it a plane crash?” the driver shouted.

“Don’t know.” Mitch’s heart was in his throat. “If it was, I sure hope they missed the industrial buildings out that way.”

“I wonder. Looks like a lot of fire for one small plane.”

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, releasing his breath in a whoosh. “It sure does.”

Siren blaring, lights flashing, the engine slued around the last corner that brought them face to face with the conflagration.

Mitch’s spirits sank like a stone in a bottomless lake. He could see the unscathed, white-enameled roof of the Pearson Products warehouse. However, part of the manufacturing building next to it was engulfed in flames and it looked as if that fire was about to spread to the attached, single-family dwelling—if it hadn’t already breached the common wall.

Acting from years of training and experience, he shoved his personal dread aside and raised his radio. “Engine three on scene. One industrial building on fire. Other structures threatened.”

As the first officer to arrive, Mitch was automatically in charge. “Engine two, follow me in. Engine one, lay a hose line and cover the rear.”

“Engine two, copy.”

“One copy.”

“Chief,” Mitch added, hoping and praying he’d get a quick answer, “are you responding?”

“Affirmative,” Jim Longstreet replied. “I’m right behind you. ETA less than one.”

“Be advised, we’ve got a rescue operation. Will you assume command?”

“Just pulling in now. I’ll take over.”

Tamping down the fear of what they might find if they were already too late, Mitch broadcast, “Thanks. A family of five lives here. We’ll lay a safety line and make access.”

“They got kids in there?” the engineer beside him shouted above the howling of the engine’s siren.

“Yes,” Mitch replied. “Three.”

Jill Kirkpatrick had formed the habit of monitoring local police and fire calls. It gave her more peace of mind when she knew what was going on in the country surrounding her isolated farmhouse, especially after dark.

Besides, she admitted to herself with a smile, she often listened in order to keep close tabs on Mitch Andrews. He was a very special person, the first and best friend she’d made in Serenity. They’d met when his fire department rescue squad had responded to the call for medical assistance after her husband’s fatal accident, and Mitch had remained her anchor in the stormy days that had followed.

Being new in town and widowed so suddenly, Jill didn’t know how she would have coped without his compassionate support and that of his fellow church members.

As she leaned closer to listen to the scanner, her long, blond hair swung against her cheeks and she tucked it behind her ears. She’d felt a strange shaking and heard a boom right before the radio had come alive. Something terrible must have happened. Not only was there a scary description being given of a fire, she could hear anxiety and dread coloring Mitch’s voice as he broadcast to his crew. No matter how much he might deny it, he was definitely worried. Therefore, so was she.

Her initial response was to grab a jacket and her car keys and head for the door. Pausing, she almost changed her mind before peering out the window. Her blue eyes widened. The whole northern horizon was painted orange, yellow and red. Billowing clouds of smoke were lit from below as they formed a plume that blotted out the stars and rising moon.

One hand fluttered at her throat. “Oh, dear.” That settled it. She had to go.

Quickly crossing the yard she climbed into her battered, well-loved red Jeep and started toward the glow in the sky.

Soon, acrid smoke was filtering in through the air vents. It carried pungent, unidentifiable odors that reminded her of melting plastic combined with household chemical cleaners.

“Lord, be with Mitch and whoever else is in danger,” Jill prayed softly, fervently, her hands clenching the steering wheel. “Please, please, please.”

She saw official vehicles converging at the far end of the one-runway airport so she pulled off the main road, parked where she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way, then proceeded on foot.

The closer she got, the worse the inferno looked. It had never occurred to her that any blaze could generate such a frightening roar. The noise reminded her of a crackling, pulsing jet engine and drowned out every other sound. Her eyes smarted. Her throat felt raw.

Knots of bystanders had gathered at the perimeter of the airfield. Men in yellow turnouts were busy shooting streams of water onto a house, apparently in an effort to save it from the encroaching flames.

Several of the closest casual observers were familiar to her from church so she greeted them with a somber look and a nod.

“Anybody seen Mitch Andrews tonight?” she asked, working to control her tone so no one would suspect how concerned she was. “I heard his voice on my scanner.”

One of the elderly men hooked a thumb toward the burning home. “Yeah. He came outta there with two little kids, then handed ‘em to the preacher’s wife and went back inside.”

Jill’s heart leaped. Raced. Fluttered. There were children in that fiery death trap? And Mitch was in there rescuing them?

The urge to do something, anything, was so strong she nearly forgot herself and ran toward the fire. Only her respect for Mitch and his work kept her rooted to the more distant spot where she could safely observe.

Where was he? Could he be in trouble? Flames were licking up under the eaves in spite of the deluge from the hoses and it looked as if the entire house would soon burst into flames.

Jill’s hands were fisted, her breathing shallow. “Come on, come on.” It was barely a whisper, yet it carried the intensity of a shout, the passion of a prayer.

Suddenly, a familiar figure came hurrying out the front door. She instinctively knew it was Mitch in spite of the black-edged breathing mask covering his face and the shadows cast by the brim of his dripping helmet.

Arms laden, he raced off the porch, through the cascading waterfall from the fire hoses and out onto the sparse, wet grass. Using his body to shelter the child he was carrying he whipped off his mask while the rescued victim in his arms kicked, screamed and fought him.

Mitch looked up, made eye contact with Jill as if he’d sensed her presence and gestured frantically.

She whirled to check behind her, assuming he’d been signaling a fellow firefighter. There were none close by. Pointing to herself, she shouted, “Me?”

His nod was quick. His meaning clear.

She reached him in mere seconds. “What can I do to help?”

“Take him.” Mitch’s voice was a hoarse shout. If she hadn’t noticed the moisture in the fireman’s hazel eyes when he’d shoved a squirming, pajama-clad boy of about seven at her, she might have believed he was angry.

“Are there others? Should I wait?” Jill asked, holding tight to the thin, wriggling body of her new responsibility.

“No. I already gave Paul and Megan to Becky Malloy.” He raised his radio. “Chief, we got all three kids out. No sign of the parents.”

Jill waited until he was done speaking to ask, “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Mitch said brusquely. “Just get Timmy out of here.” His gaze softened and lingered on her face for mere moments, yet she could sense his special concern even before he said, “Take care of yourself, too, Jill. Watch your step. It’s dangerous around here.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

Seeing Mitch slip his mask and helmet on and turn, she blurted, “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Back inside. There are two more people to find.”

“No!”

One look at the leaping, licking flames and she could hardly catch her breath. Mitch was going back into that?

Her first instinct was to grab his arm and hold tight to stop him, yet she knew that would be foolish. This was what he did, what he’d trained for. Interfering was very wrong, no matter how scared she was for his well-being.

“I have to. I’ll be all right.” His gaze rested for an instant on the child in her arms. “Just take good care of Timmy for me.”

“I—I will.”

As Mitch jogged away, Jill felt a burgeoning concern that left her weak in the knees. It wasn’t only the firefighters she was worried about. She’d realized belatedly whose house this was. The Pearsons were members of Serenity Chapel as well as close friends of Mitch, so the adults he was still searching for must be the children’s parents, Rob and Ellen. How hard this must be for poor Mitch—for all the local firefighters and police.

Her arms ached from holding on to the struggling boy, but she persevered. Right now, the most important thing was getting him away from the scene, keeping him safe and reuniting him with his younger siblings.

“Let me go!” the boy shouted. “Let me go.”

“No. Sorry. I can’t.”

Jill knew there would be no reasoning with the child while he was so agitated. Keeping her replies calm and consistent was the best—the only—thing she could do.

It was trials such as this that her own childhood had prepared her for. That was why she’d volunteered as a foster parent in the first place, why she never said she was too busy or too financially strapped to take in another homeless, helpless waif.

It was her duty.

She’d trained for it by merely living the life she’d been handed.

Forced by the heat and flames to retreat or die, Mitch finally ordered his men to back off. Other teams had made access from the rear of the building so there was a chance one of them had successfully located the Pearsons. If not, there was nothing else anyone could do.

“Chief?” he radioed. “Any report on the adults from the house?”

“Negative. They thought they had one around back but it was just a nosy bystander getting too close.”

“Copy.”

As the fire continued to gobble up everything in its path, Mitch tried hard to keep from thinking about the people who might still be inside. There was nothing anyone could do for them at this point and he had a job to finish. A job he counted as a God-given assignment.

Suddenly, a wild-eyed woman in her thirties lurched toward him out of the haze and confusion. Her reddish hair was mussed, her short, white jacket sooty.

Under the circumstances, Mitch didn’t pause to consider who she might be, he simply held out his arms to block her access to the disaster. “You can’t go any closer, ma’am. It’s too dangerous.”

“Where is she?” the newcomer screeched, leaning to peer past him at the ongoing destruction of the office and home. “Where’s my sister?”

Mitch gritted his teeth. Now he understood. “You’re Ellen’s sister, Natalie, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Get out of my way.”

Ignoring the rolling of her eyes and her look of disdain, he shook his head slowly, sadly. “I’m sorry. We haven’t been able to locate Ellen or Rob.”

Instead of swooning or weeping as he’d expected, the woman began to scream, curse and pound him with her fists. “Well go find her! Don’t just stand there, you idiot! Do something! Go back and look again!”

He did his best to fend off the blows without harming his attacker. A female sheriff’s deputy noticed the one-sided altercation and quickly came to his rescue.

“This is the sister of the property owner,” Mitch explained as the deputy restrained the panic-stricken woman. “Maybe she can wait in your car? Try to get control of herself?”

“Sure. No sweat. Sheriff Allgood’s wife rode along with him. She can look after this lady for us.”

Nodding, Mitch paused for only an instant before returning to the tasks at hand. His heart was heavy. He could certainly identify with the hysterical woman but he didn’t dare give in to his personal feelings.

What he needed to do right now was concentrate on his job so he’d have less time to dwell on the loss of his friends. Or on the fact that there were probably three new orphans in town, he thought, clenching his teeth. How could a loving God have let any of this happen?

“Forgive me, Lord,” he whispered as he gazed at the scene of destruction through stinging eyes. “And while You’re at it, help us all accept life without Rob and Ellen if they are truly gone. It’s not going to be easy. Especially not for those kids.”

TWO

Dozens of people continued to mill around the disaster scene, speaking mostly in whispers—awed, curious and yet horrified.

After wrapping Timmy in a gray blanket one of the bystanders had given her, Jill crouched, held the boy’s hands, spoke softly and continued to try to comfort him. It seemed he either didn’t hear her or had no intention of paying the slightest attention. Perhaps a little of both.

Pastor’s wife, Becky Malloy, was perched on the open tailgate of a nearby pickup, cradling sleepy, eighteen-month-old Megan. Elderly Miss Violet Hanford, another member of both the fire department auxiliary and Serenity Chapel, rocked and soothed five-year-old Paul inside the cab of the same vehicle.

Timmy was most likely in shock rather than ill, Jill kept assuring herself. Nevertheless, as soon as one of the EMTs was available she intended to ask for professional advice.

In the meantime, there was nothing to do but keep an eye—and a hand—on him to make sure he didn’t bolt. She figured she could have caught him if he’d tried to run under normal circumstances, but as emotionally overwrought as he was tonight, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be able to elude her if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his brown eyes widened. She felt his thin fingers tighten around hers. There was so much smoke in the air she wasn’t sure if she was seeing tears of sorrow or if his eyes were watering because of the constant irritation.

She returned the squeeze and chanced a smile. “What is it, honey? Would you like to go sit in the truck with your brother? I’m sure it’s much warmer in there.”

Tim moved his head back and forth so rapidly his shaggy, uncombed brown hair swung like her little lapdog Mugsy’s fur did when he shook himself after a bath.

Concerned, Jill leaned closer. “What’s wrong? Tell me how I can help you.”

Instead of answering, the boy tore his hand from hers and threw the coarse blanket off his shoulders. For an instant she was afraid he intended to flee. Then, he launched himself at her and wrapped both arms around her neck. The force of the unexpected tackle knocked her onto her back pockets in the dirt.

Timmy immediately scrambled aside, grabbed her wrist with both hands and tried to haul her to her feet. Although he wasn’t speaking, she could hear whining, shuddery noises coming from deep in his small chest.

“It’s okay,” Jill said. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” She got up and began to dust off her jeans with her free hand. “See? No problem.”

Still, the little boy wasn’t pacified. Instead of continuing to face her, however, he ducked behind her legs. That was what finally made her realize someone else was approaching. She recognized the puffy-eyed, disheveled woman as the one who had attacked Mitch earlier in the evening and braced herself to counter the same kind of irrational behavior.

It was the lost expression on the woman’s tear-streaked face that softened Jill’s attitude and caused her to offer proper condolences. “I’m so sorry. You’re Natalie Stevens, aren’t you? I’m Jill. We met in church. Your sister introduced us.”

“What have they told you?” Natalie rasped. “They won’t let me go closer to see for myself and they won’t look for Ellen either. I’ve been all over the airport. Nobody’s seen any sign of her.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to discuss things like that in front of the children, do you?” Jill continued to soothe Timmy by slowly, gently stroking his hair.

“What? Oh. No, I suppose not.” She began to pace and rub her hands together, never straying far before turning and repeating the tight circuit. “I can’t understand what happened. Ellen almost never set foot in the office at all, and she certainly wouldn’t think of working on a weekend. She can’t have been in the office when it caught fire. She simply can’t have.”

“All I know is that they found the children in the main part of the house,” Jill said. “The firemen got them out safely before that started burning, too.”

Although the other woman didn’t seem to be paying attention, Jill continued, “Don’t you worry. We’ll take good care of your niece and nephews until the proper authorities get here.”

“Fine, fine.” Natalie sent a distracted glance toward the pile of bent, scorched tin and ashes that had been the Pearson Products business office and began mumbling to herself as she wandered away. “Ellen can’t be dead. I won’t believe it. It’s a mistake, that’s all. A big mistake.”

Timmy was still clinging to Jill’s knees and trembling. She bent and wrapped him again for warmth before lifting and balancing his light weight on one hip.

Hugging her neck, he took a shuddering breath, buried his face in the folds of the blanket lying against her shoulder and began to weep.

Tears were a good sign, Jill realized, because that meant he was probably moving beyond his initial anger and shock. Instead of trying to get him to stop crying, she held him close and let him grieve, praying for the right words to eventually help soothe his pain and the wisdom to know when to speak.

She ached for this little one. For all of them. At times like this, when her heart was open and most empathetic, she was even better at relating to emotionally needy children.

Jill knew for a fact that Ellen Pearson had been a sweet person, a loving wife, a dedicated mother. Assuming everyone’s sad assumptions were correct, Ellen had not meant to leave her dear ones. She had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jill’s own mother, however, had made a conscious choice. Mama had turned her back on her only child and had walked away—forever—without so much as a wave goodbye.

By the time several hours had passed, Mitch was mentally and physically exhausted. The engine crews had managed to preserve most of the factory and all of the separate warehouse but had lost the fight to save the home and business office. That was considered a good result under such difficult circumstances. As far as Mitch was concerned though, they had failed.

He’d grown close to the Pearsons when they’d moved to town a few years back and had started attending Serenity Chapel. He’d coached Timmy and Paul on the church T-ball team and had often envied the family’s closeness.

Standing at the edge of the ruins, he was wiping his sweaty, gritty brow and remembering happier times when a hand clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“We did all we could,” Chief Longstreet said. “Even with the extra units from all over the county and everything we had in town, it was a tough fight.”

“There’s no chance Rob and Ellen managed to get out?” Mitch asked, unwilling to let himself believe his friends were really gone.

“Don’t think so. Looks like the initial explosion blocked the office exit. If they were in there, they probably never knew what hit ‘em.”

“When we first got the call, I thought a plane had crashed. It’s clear that didn’t happen. So, did a gas leak start all this?”

“Could be. I’ve asked for investigators from Little Rock to come and look things over, just in case.”

Shivers shot up Mitch’s spine. “In case of what?”

Jim Longstreet gestured at the ground in the distance. “You’ve probably been too busy to notice but I spotted a few odd things. See the way some of the rubble is fanned way out from a central area? That doesn’t look right to me.”

“We all heard a blast.”

The chief nodded. “True. And if this turns out to be an accident, I’ll be happy to put that in my report. But until we can pin down a cause I’m going to keep needling the sheriff and anybody else who can give us some answers.”

He concentrated on Mitch. “Look, I know these folks were good friends of yours. Why don’t you go on back to the station and let the fresh crews finish mopping up? Things like this are tough enough when the victims are strangers.”

“I can still do my job.”

“I know you can. But we have plenty of extra help here now. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“I want to stay and see for myself first.”

“Sorry. I’m not letting anybody except the coroner poke around in there until there’s been an official investigation. Sheriff Allgood is gonna leave deputies to guard the site 24/7.”

Mitch removed his helmet and raked his fingers through his damp hair. “This has to be accidental. Everybody loved Rob and his family.”

The chief snorted. “I sure hope you’re right.”

Jill was waiting with Becky and the children when she saw a familiar figure approaching. She asked the pastor’s wife to mind Timmy while she stepped away to speak privately with Mitch.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” he said.

“We’re waiting for someone from Children and Family Services to take custody of the kids.” Reaching toward his hand, she stopped herself before they actually touched. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Any sign of other survivors?”

He shook his head slowly, sadly, his sober expression accentuated by the smudges of black ash on his face and the aura of loss that hung over him like a storm cloud.

“I’m so sorry. I talked to Natalie Stevens after she tried to beat up on you. She’s a basket case.”

Mitch huffed. “Yeah. A lot of us are.”

He started coughing so Jill waited for him to quiet before she asked, “Why aren’t you still working?”

“The chief is sending me back to the station early. It wasn’t my idea. I just wanted to check that you were okay before I left.”

How typical of him, she mused, touched by his concern. “I’m fine. I am looking forward to getting home and washing some of this smoke out of my hair, though.” To her delight, that comment made Mitch chuckle cynically.

“Yeah. Right. Me, too,” he said, raising his hand to swipe at the grime on his cheeks. “I guess I got a little dirty, huh?”

“A little?” Jill chanced a smile. “You look like an urchin and smell like a smoked ham.”

“Thanks. You look nice, too, lady.”

She sobered. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you like that. Not now.”

“It’s okay. Cops and firefighters have ways of coping that seem strange to civilians. So do E.R. doctors and nurses. We’re always kidding around, even in really bad times. If we didn’t, I don’t know how we’d stay sane.” He turned away as more coughing racked his body.

Jill took the chance he wouldn’t mind and patted him lightly on the back. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I always am.” She saw him look past her and zero in on the truck where Becky and the children waited. “Call me later and let me know how it goes with the kids, will you? I’ll be at the station.”

“Sure.”

She yearned to give him a hug of consolation the way she had the boy but subdued the inappropriate urge. She and Mitch were merely good friends. He’d made his position clear at the outset of their relationship and she was in total agreement. She’d lost her mother at a young age and, just when she finally thought she’d gotten her life back on track, the love of her life had been killed in a freak accident. Twice was enough. Given Mitch’s dedication to his dangerous profession, she was not about to open her heart to him and chance losing another loved one. As far as she was concerned, remaining alone was far better than risking a broken heart.

He bid her goodbye and walked away. Watching him go shouldn’t have been so hard for Jill but it was. She knew what was wrong. She cared far more deeply for the valiant fireman than was wise.

Jill had greeted her exuberant little house dog, Mugsy, and was heading for the shower to try to wash the smell of smoke from her long, blond hair when her phone rang.

She almost let the answering machine take the call, then decided it might be important. “Hello?”

“You made it? You’re okay?”

He didn’t have to announce who he was. “Hi, Mitch. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call me like you promised?”

“I was going to. I just walked in the door.”

“Oh.”

Sensing poignancy underlying his simple words her heart fell. “Did they find what you were afraid they would in the ashes?”

“We don’t know anything for sure. Nobody does. Since neither Rob nor Ellen have surfaced, we have to assume the worst.”

The sadness in his voice cut her to the quick. “I’m so sorry. I know you were close to the whole family.”

“Yeah.” She waited patiently while Mitch cleared his throat and prepared himself to go on. “I was just wondering about the kids. How are they doing?”

“Probably better than you and I are. Paul and Megan were sound asleep and Tim was only sniffling a little when the social worker finally showed up. She said she was going to take them straight to the county hospital to be checked out. I haven’t heard anything more.”

“Do you expect to?”

“Probably not tonight. I did put in a good word for myself, though. There’s a chance they’ll place the kids with me, at least temporarily, especially because I’m not fostering any other children right now.”

“That’s good news.”

Jill knew he was deeply concerned so she tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll stay in touch with the powers that be and make certain the kids are happy and well cared for no matter where they’re sent. I promise.” She smiled at the telephone as if it were Mitch’s friendly face. “We should be celebrating the fact you saved all three of them, not fretting about a system that’s only in place to keep them safe.”

She chose not to elaborate about some of the less than ideal foster situations she’d found herself in while growing up. Mitch already had enough to worry about. She wasn’t going to add to his burdens.

“How soon do you think we’ll know?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. A lot depends on whether or not their parents had made prior arrangements with relatives or close friends in case of emergencies.”

“You mean like choosing godparents?”

“Yes. Do you happen to know if they did?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so. The kids were never very keen on their aunt Natalie and their uncle Thad hasn’t been back in the States for very long, so I doubt they considered naming either of them as guardians.” He huffed. “Young parents expect to live long enough to see their children raised.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Starting to think about her husband’s untimely demise, she fell silent.

Sometimes it seemed as if that part of her past was little more than a dream; at other times pain pierced her all the way to her core. Lately, those uncomfortable moments had grown further and further apart and had hurt less. She supposed that was a good sign, although it meant that she was slowly forgetting the man she’d vowed to love and cherish for the rest of her days. That seemed wrong.

A softly spoken comment from Mitch brought her out of her reverie. Too bad she had no idea what he’d just said. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

“You, too,” Jill told him. “You must be exhausted. It’s been a rough night.”

“I have had better. Thanks for taking over with Tim so I could go back to work. I didn’t dare let go of him. He wanted to run back inside to look for his folks.”

“I understand,” Jill said, recalling memorable parts of the evening. “What do you know about Natalie Stevens?”

“Not much. Why?”

“Because, like I told you, she sure wasn’t acting normal when I spoke with her.”

“People get irrational under severe stress,” Mitch said with conviction. “I’ve seen it happen over and over. They either deny that there’s been a tragedy or try to place the blame on others. It’s always tough. Especially when they show up on scene the way Natalie did.”

“I’m so sorry she took her anger out on you.”

“I have broad shoulders,” he said, but Jill could tell the woman’s unfair accusations had hit him hard. That, added to the fact that Mitch tended to blame himself whenever any task wasn’t accomplished to his high standards, would weigh heavily on him for a long, long time.

“God’s shoulders are even broader than yours,” Jill said, trying to sound kind as well as wise. “Don’t take too much on yourself.”

“I have a job to do.”

“I know. Since you keep telling me the Lord gave you that job, why can’t you believe He also trusts you to do it well?”

There was nothing but silence on the line for what seemed like forever. Finally, Mitch simply said, “Night, Jill. I have to go,” and hung up, leaving her staring at the receiver in disbelief.

She paused, then made a silly face. “Okay, mister, have it your way. Beat yourself up for every little thing, whether you really made a mistake or not. Be stubborn. See if I care.”

She shook her head, disgusted mostly with herself. She did care. For Mitch, for the children, for the traumatized family, for the whole town. This tragedy would affect practically all of them in some way.

Yet it was Mitch’s feelings that tugged the hardest at her heart. After all, he was a good friend and he faced danger often.

Picturing him as a victim instead of a rescuer, she suddenly experienced such a deep, personal sense of loss it made her literally ache.

The tears she had denied all evening returned and slid down her cheeks as she finally allowed herself to mourn for the lost—and for the survivors.

THREE

During a restless night, Jill had dreamed at least once of braving danger in order to save nameless, faceless children. By morning, she awoke feeling less rested than she had before the Pearson tragedy.

Coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped it would, at least not so far. Refilling an enormous mug that had belonged to her husband, she took it with her and headed for the barn to begin her morning chores. There was nearly enough new spring grass to satisfy the few cattle she pastured but she still needed to be sure they had dry, baled hay to supplement their diet or they’d make themselves sick gorging on the fresh growth.

Shaggy, brown Mugsy danced along at her heels, his eagerness making her smile the way it always did. He was soon joined by her larger, black-and-white sheepdogs, Salt and Pepper.

Spring was clearly on the horizon. Slim buds were poking skyward from amid the thick daffodil foliage at the base of the well house and the forsythia bush was starting to look as if its drooping branches had been sprinkled with bright yellow confetti. Jill smiled contentedly. That was one of the perks of living on the old farm. There were often surprises popping out of the ground or bursting into bloom to cheer her just when she needed a lift. Flowers even appeared in the lawn sometimes, as if God had strewn the seeds there to bring more beauty into her life and remind her she was loved.

She was just coming out of the barn, still accompanied by Mugsy as well as the ranch dogs, when the ringing of the cell phone in her pocket startled her. She fumbled and slopped coffee in her haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jill. It’s me, Mitch.”

“You sound upset. What’s wrong?”

The moment he said, “They gave those poor kids to Natalie Stevens,” Jill understood completely.

“No way. How did that happen?”

“I heard she showed up at the hospital and claimed them. I’m headed over there now to get some answers.”

“Where? The hospital or Natalie’s house?”

“The hospital. Some social worker named Brenda Connors is supposed to meet me there.”

“I know her. She’s the one I gave the kids to last night at the fire scene. I can’t believe she’d allow someone to just take them away like that.”

“Neither can I.”

Clasping the little phone tightly, Jill didn’t stop to censor her response. “Swing by here and pick me up on your way. I’m going with you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Wait! That’s too …” She was listening to dead air. Making a face at the phone she began to jog toward the house. Ten minutes?

She wasn’t prissy the way some women were but even she needed longer than that to get ready for a foray into the legal system surrounding the placement of homeless children.

“I can do this,” Jill told herself firmly. “To help a nice guy like Mitch, I can do practically anything, including make myself presentable in less than ten minutes.”

That statement made her smile. She wasn’t preparing to help someone like Mitch, she was going to help him.

A part of her wanted to keep denying how special he had become to her while another part of her argued about how much his friendship and kindnesses had meant since Eric’s accident.

She knew Mitch well enough to surmise that it was his sense of personal responsibility that had led him to pay so much attention to her. She didn’t care what his motives had been. Not really. She just knew that she thanked the Lord daily that she’d met him, the same way she gave thanks for her Ozark home and the loving folks who had embraced her as part of their family and community when she’d been left all alone in a strange town.

Without a husband, Jill had wondered if she could make it in such rural surroundings. Yet whenever she’d had a need, there had always been someone ready to offer help. Usually Mitch Andrews, she added, although many other members of Serenity Chapel had also pitched in.

As she paused in front of her closet and reached for a favorite, jacketed blue dress, she closed her eyes for a moment and whispered, “Thank You, Jesus,” meaning every word from the deepest reaches of her heart. Her life might be nothing like she had imagined, but it was good.

Mitch’s hands tightly gripped his truck’s steering wheel as he drove. It wasn’t Natalie’s everyday reputation that worried him most, it was her erratic behavior at the fire scene. The woman had acted as if she could barely take care of herself, let alone look after three small children. The boys might be all right if she let them fend for themselves, but little Megan was far from self-sufficient.

He skidded to a dusty stop in front of Jill’s white-painted farmhouse. She ran off the porch and climbed in the passenger side of his pickup before he had a chance to get out and open the door for her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her hair shimmered like gold and her face glowed as if she were embarking on an exciting adventure instead of preparing to enter a figurative lion’s den.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said.

“Thanks for letting me. I worried about those kids all night.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Mitch drove off, staring at the road ahead as he delivered the bad news. “It’s official. They found Rob and Ellen in the office.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

When Jill reached across and briefly laid her hand over his, he tried not to flinch. “Thanks. They were special people.”

“I never got to know them very well but I’m sure they were.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, then folded her hands in her lap atop her clutch purse. “Is Brother Logan going to preach at their funeral?”

“Probably. It may be weeks before the crime scene techs and the coroner are finished and the bodies are released. That’s another reason I was upset about Natalie getting the kids. There’s no telling what an unstable person like her will do or say when she first hears the bad news, not to mention when we finally lay Rob and Ellen to rest.”

“I totally agree. We need a judge’s ruling about custody and we need it fast.”

“How do we get that?”

“Probably through Ms. Connors. She’ll request an immediate hearing and hopefully the court will also appoint a CASA volunteer to oversee the case.”

“A what?”

“CASA. It stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate. Those people are trained to investigate everything and then speak for children who have been abused or neglected or who may be in danger. It can’t be anybody like you or me who knows the family. It can’t be a lawyer either. Or the police. This person has to be completely impartial. That’s the beauty of the system.”

Mitch doubted anyone could remain that unbiased, particularly when innocent children were involved. He knew he sure couldn’t. “If you say so. Have you had experience with CASA before?”

“Yes,” Jill said. “There aren’t many volunteers out here in the boondocks but I do know of at least one. Samantha Rochard. She’s a nurse at the county hospital.”

“You trust her?”

“Completely.”

Once again, Jill patted the back of his hand. Mitch managed a smile for her benefit. “Okay. If you vouch for her, that’s good enough for me.” His smile waned. “Hold it. What if she was one of the nurses who helped treat the kids last night?”

“I doubt that small connection would disqualify her,” Jill said. “As a matter of fact, she’s required to check with doctors and anyone else who may have had contact with the children before and after the fire, then make a written report to the judge.”

“Meaning she’ll realize how nuts Natalie is?”

“Let’s pray that’s the case.”

“I think I’d better leave the praying to you,” Mitch said. “Judging by what happened last night, the Lord isn’t listening to me.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jill replied, surprising him with her candor. “After Eric died, it was a long time before I could really pray again. I just kept asking why.”

Mitch was about to apologize for not being able to save her injured husband’s life when Jill added, “I imagine God was pretty sick of hearing me whimpering. It took me ages to realize I probably already had all the answers I was going to get.”

He didn’t know what to say. He shared her Christian faith, yet his own prayer life was nowhere near that satisfying. If he’d had more time to mull over her conclusion he might have commented. However, since they were pulling into the hospital’s parking lot, he took that as a strong sign to keep his mouth shut.

He huffed quietly at that conclusion. Maybe—just maybe—he was getting more answers to his prayers than he’d thought, too.

* * *

Jill greeted middle-aged, graying Brenda Connors with a handshake and a smile, then introduced her to Mitch, purposely positioning herself to act as their go-between. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Mitch was fighting to control his temper, which was totally understandable considering how close he was to the Pearson family. Jill simply wanted to keep the social worker on their side, at least until a trusted, sensible CASA member could be appointed.

“How soon before we can get a judge involved?” Jill asked Ms. Connors.

“I’ve already requested an emergency hearing. I’m picking up the children this afternoon. I’ve informed Ms. Stevens she had no right to take them the way she did.”

“Why did the hospital staff let her?”

“Basically, she bullied them. A few of them knew she was the aunt so they assumed she had permission. Believe me, that kind of thing will not happen again.”

She turned to Mitch, her eyes narrowing behind bifocals trimmed in silver. “Is there definitive proof that the parents are both deceased?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else you can tell me that might help?”

Jill interrupted. “Mr. Andrews was very close to the children and their parents. This is hard for him.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker said. “But I need to know everything.”

“Ask me whatever you like,” he said flatly. “Those kids come first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hang on a sec. I’ll check with my chief and see if the investigation has turned up anything new.”

As Jill watched and listened, she saw his hazel eyes widen, then darken as he began to frown. Her gaze darted to Ms. Connors and she noticed that the other woman was also paying close attention.

“I see,” Mitch said. “Is that public knowledge yet?”

Jill found she was holding her breath.

“How about telling the kids’ social worker? Can I do that without jeopardizing the case?” Mitch asked.

He apparently got the okay because he quickly bid the chief goodbye and faced Ms. Connors. Jill saw the muscles in his jaw clenching, twitching. Whatever he’d just learned, it was not good.

“The arson team from Little Rock found some chemical residue at the scene,” he announced.

Jill assumed he meant plastic bits left over from the manufacture of the popular kitchen gadgets Pearson Products handled until he explained further.

“They’re positive the office was bombed. That’s what started the fire.” Mitch’s fists clenched at his sides. “This was no accident. Rob and Ellen were murdered.”

Jill gasped. “Murdered? In Serenity? Things like that don’t happen here. They just don’t.”

The social worker shook her head and nervously adjusted the position of her wire-rimmed glasses by pressing a finger to the bridge of her nose. “Apparently, it did this time. This changes everything. I’m not waiting. I’m going to pick up the children immediately.”

“We’ll come with you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Andrews. If I have problems I’ll ask the sheriff for assistance.”

“I wasn’t talking about what Natalie may do,” Mitch explained. “I was offering to help you calm the boys. They know me so well they even refer to me as their uncle most of the time. They’ve only seen you once and that was under terrible circumstances. You’re about to take them from their aunt and she’s liable to resist. Who do you think they’ll listen to if things get rough, you or me?”

“All right.” Brenda eyed Jill. “Are you free to accompany us? I carry the necessary infant seats and restraints for older children in my car but I may need help with the baby. She was really upset when I picked her up last night and I wasn’t able to comfort her properly because I was driving.”

“Of course. If you want, we can all go to my place to wait until you can get a temporary legal ruling.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense. You know I’m already a foster parent so there should be no reason why my home wouldn’t be okay, at least as long as you’re there, too.”

“And me,” Mitch said firmly. “I’m not letting those kids out of my sight until I’m sure they’re safe and well cared for. Rob would want it that way.”

Although Jill nodded, she was still uneasy regarding what they were about to do. “Have you heard how hysterical Natalie Stevens was last night?” she asked Ms. Connors. “I worry about how she may react when you try to take the kids.”

“I can handle her.”

“Okay, if you say so. I really don’t think they should spend time alone with her, at least not until she’s seen a doctor.”

“I agree. I’ve interviewed some of the hospital staff. Their description of Ms. Stevens’s behavior this morning was not comforting. If she hadn’t sounded so calm and lucid when I phoned to tell her I was coming over later, I’d have called the police then and there.”

“All right,” Mitch said. “Let’s stop standing around wasting time and get this show on the road. Jill and I’ll follow you in my truck. Do you know how to get to Natalie’s from here?”

“I have GPS. I’ll find it. Just promise you’ll both keep your distance when we arrive and let me do all the talking. It’s what I’m trained for.”

Jill heard Mitch mumbling to himself as he turned away. She couldn’t make out every word but she was pretty sure he was either commenting on the job he was trained for or lamenting the loss of his friends.

She shuddered. Murder. Here. It was unbelievable. This was a nice, peaceful, little country town, not a big city where crime seemed to lurk in every alley and behind every locked door, and to ooze from the very cracks in the sidewalks.

Beginning to climb into Mitch’s truck, she stopped in midmotion, one foot inside, one on the ground. An even more dire thought had just occurred to her. Whoever had placed that bomb and started the fatal fire was still out there somewhere. Loose. Dangerous. Perhaps planning another attack. And since there didn’t seem to be any motive for harming Rob and Ellen, that meant their next victim might be just as sweet and innocent and well liked as they were.

“You all right?” Mitch asked, frowning and waiting for her to finish sliding into the passenger seat.

“No.” Jill fastened her safety belt, then pulled the jacket of her dress closer and folded her arms to keep from shaking. “I can’t help wondering who’s going to be next.”

“Don’t borrow trouble. The fire last night was probably an isolated incident.”

She eyed him across the seat, waiting ‘til his gaze met hers before she asked, “Do you really believe that?”

It didn’t surprise her one bit when he looked her in the eyes and answered bluntly, “No.”

FOUR

The modest, red brick house Natalie Stevens occupied sat by itself at the far end of a cul-de-sac. The blinds were drawn and a folded newspaper lay at the base of the asphalt driveway. A few scraggly daffodils nodded in a narrow flower bed in front of the small, covered porch. Other than that, the place showed little landscaping and even less TLC.

Coming to a stop at the curb behind the social worker’s car, Mitch looked at Jill. “Maybe she’s not home.”

“She has to be. Ms. Connors said she spoke with her. Remember?”

“That doesn’t mean Natalie was here at the time. She could have been on a cell phone.”

Growing more concerned by the second, he climbed out and circled the truck. By the time he reached Jill’s door she was already standing there waiting for him.

He started to cup her elbow then thought better of it. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and simply fell into step behind her.

Brenda Connors was retrieving a briefcase from the trunk of her car. She straightened her short, fitted, wool coat as Jill and Mitch joined her. “Let me approach Ms. Stevens first, one-on-one. But stay available. I’ll signal if I need you.”

“If Natalie attacks you, you’ll need us for sure,” Mitch said. “She was all over me like a crazy wildcat last night at the fire. I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. If she’s hurt those kids, you may have to protect her.” He felt Jill’s calming touch through his sleeve.

“He doesn’t really mean what he says,” she told Ms. Connors. “It’s been a long, trying twenty-four hours for all of us. I’m sure everyone will settle down as soon as we’ve determined where the children will be living, at least for now.”

“Believe it or not, I do understand,” the social worker replied. “I’ve been doing this job for a long time. There’s not much I haven’t seen or experienced.” Pausing, she looked pointedly at Mitch. “Just keep reminding yourself that the welfare and happiness of these three minors is our mutual goal. The smoother this transition goes, the better for the children.”

Mitch gritted his teeth and nodded. She was right, of course. It was just that he hated feeling so helpless, so inadequate. He was a hands-on kind of guy. A person who liked to have all his ducks in a row. A man on a mission, if he were totally honest with himself. He felt at least partly responsible for Rob’s and Ellen’s deaths and he owed their children one hundred percent of his efforts.

Beside him, he sensed Jill’s attention so he turned to her. There was tenderness in her expression mixed with something puzzling, something elusive, something compassionate to the point that he wondered if she’d just read his most private thoughts. There was a glimmer in her eyes that made them sparkle like flower petals sprinkled with drops of morning dew. Of all the previous times he’d seen her, had appreciated her loveliness, she had never looked more appealing.

“It’ll work out, Mitch,” she said. “In a few minutes we’ll all be on our way to my farm and the kids will be able to relax. There’s nothing like petting a dog to calm a person down. Mugsy’s passed his socialization exams so he’s a fully certified therapy dog. I can even take him on hospital visits with me if I want.”

Mitch had to smile in spite of the tense circumstances. “Now that could get interesting. I can picture him tearing up and down hospital corridors at top speed and sliding the corners like a base runner trying to score on a double play.”

To his delight, Jill mirrored his smile. “He’s not quite that bad, you know. He may get a little too rambunctious at home but his manners are fine when I take him out.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “If that dust mop of a mutt wasn’t always on the move, you wouldn’t even be able to tell which end was which.”

“You can tell right after I’ve trimmed the hair around his eyes. It grows back really fast though.”

“Everything about Mugsy is fast,” Mitch quipped. “Half the time he’s just a passing blur.”

“True. I wish I had his energy.” Pausing, she sobered. “How are you doing today? You must have been up all night.”

“Most of it,” he replied. “I’ll rest later. Right now I’m far too keyed up.”

He began to watch the house more closely. Brenda Connors was standing at the open front door, apparently speaking with someone who remained inside. Since Brenda had not been invited to enter, he had to assume that her reception had not been a cordial one. That was no big surprise. When Natalie was behaving normally she wasn’t very friendly. Under the present stressful conditions, Mitch doubted anyone was going to have much success reasoning with her.

Raised female voices carried to them. Mitch glanced at Jill, then back at the porch. His attention was diverted only momentarily, yet he almost missed seeing what happened next.

The screen door abruptly swung open. An arm shot out, palm forward. The thrust caught Brenda Connors in the upper chest area and shoved her backward so hard she staggered. For an instant he was afraid the middle-aged woman was going to topple off the porch.

Mitch began to run toward the house with Jill in pursuit. The door slammed with a noisy bang before he got there but he took the front steps two at a time just the same and confronted Ms. Connors while he steadied her. “What just happened?”

“She refused to admit me. I’m calling the police.”

“The kids! Did you see the kids?”

“No.”

“What about Natalie? How was she acting? Was she raving the way she did last night?”

The gray eyebrows arched and her eyes widened behind her bifocals as the social worker nodded. “I don’t know what she was like when she attacked you, but she just scared the stuffing out of me.”

Mitch didn’t wait for further discussion. Wheeling, he almost collided with Jill as he left the porch and started to rapidly circle the modest, single-story dwelling. He’d never been to the house before and had no idea how he was going to get to those children. He only knew that he was going to do it. No matter what.

Jill didn’t need any verbal clues to figure out what Mitch was up to. She’d known him long enough to be certain he was going to act, regardless of what Ms. Connors had said. In this instance she couldn’t fault him, either. As a matter of fact, she intended to help.

Stepping past the frustrated, trembling older woman, Jill yanked open the screen, made a fist and began pounding on the hollow front door. The way she saw the situation, the more distraction she could provide, the better Mitch’s chances were of reaching the Pearson children unobserved and spiriting them out of harm’s way.

Was that legal? She doubted it. Nevertheless, she stood behind his actions with all her heart. There had been many times in her younger years when she had prayed for a champion, a knight in shining armor who would ride to her rescue as if she were a princess being held prisoner in a castle tower. Seeing Mitch playing that part for the sake of helpless little ones who were likely in danger of emotional, if not physical, abuse warmed her heart in ways she could hardly fathom.

“Open this door!” Jill shouted, continuing to bang on it. “Let us in this minute. Natalie? Do you hear me? I said open the door.”

Behind her, Ms. Connors was covering one ear and practically shouting into her cell phone.

Jill made no effort to quiet her demands for the other woman’s sake. On the contrary, she redoubled her assault.

Both her fists pounded until the wooden door rattled in its frame. “Open up! You have no right to keep us out. This lady is only doing her job.”

Brenda grasped Jill’s left arm. “Stop that. You’re only making things worse.”

“Leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.”

“No. Stop. Wait for the police.”

Once again Jill hammered relentlessly. “Did you hear that? The cops are coming,” she yelled. “If you let us in before they get here you won’t be in nearly as much trouble.”

“Go away.”

A-ha! Natalie was paying attention to her assault. The plan was working.

Since the unhinged woman was clearly standing right on the opposite side of the locked door, that probably meant she was not watching her nephews and niece closely. Therefore, Mitch had a much greater chance of success.

“We’re not going away,” Jill answered loudly. “You might as well let us in.”

“No!” Natalie’s reply was a little louder this time, raising Jill’s spirits even more.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know you can’t win. You can’t bully us the way you did those poor people at the hospital. The police will make you open this door.”

There was no immediate reply. Jill’s heart began to pound so hard she could feel her pulse in her temples.

“Natalie?”

Still no answer came.

“Natalie Stevens,” she screeched. “You get out here and talk to me, you hear? I can help you. I will. I promise. Natalie? Natalie?” Her voice rose even higher and she drew out the name. “Nat-a-lie!”

Trying the rear door, Mitch was thrilled to find that it wasn’t locked. He knew he was overstepping by going into the house uninvited in the first place and wasn’t keen on adding forced entry to the charges he would likely face.

Nevertheless, nothing was going to stop him. Not at this point. The only thing that really mattered was reaching Tim, Paul and Megan.

Hesitating, he heard Jill raising a ruckus at the front of the house. Since she was not normally that outspoken he had to assume she was doing it for his sake. Funny how she seemed to understand so much without his having to explain.

There were only two ways in and out of the kitchen where he now stood—back the way he’d come or down the hallway. Taking a chance that Natalie had at least given the children a bedroom in which to sleep and play, he headed down the deserted hall.

The first door he came to showed an unmade bed and adult-size clothing scattered on the floor and chair but no sign of the youngsters.

The door to the second room was closed.

Mitch eased it open.

Tim recognized him instantly and flew into his arms. “Uncle Mitch!”

Paul followed his brother’s lead while Megan remained asleep on one of the twin beds.

Holding tight to the sniffling boys, Mitch straightened, closed his eyes and choked back his own emotional reaction. “It’s okay, guys. Don’t worry. I’ve gotcha.”

Tim took a shuddering breath. “Aunt—Aunt Natalie said we had to live with her now. She said … she said she was going to be our new mother.”

Mitch’s gut clenched. How had she known they were orphaned? He’d only heard the official confirmation himself an hour or so ago. He supposed she must have assumed the worst, given the destruction from the fire and all, but there was still no excuse for breaking it to the boys as bluntly as she had.

“Nothing is settled,” Mitch said, giving the children a hug before lowering them to the floor. “Right now, we need to go. Do either of you have shoes?”

“Uh-uh. We got these dumb clothes at the hospital. I want my superhero shirt.”

With his lower lip trembling, Paul agreed with his big brother. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Sorry, guys. First things first.”

Mitch quickly approached the sleeping toddler and folded a blanket around her. Megan barely stirred as he picked her up. “Okay, boys, time to go. Be quiet now, you hear? We’re going to leave by the back door.”

“We’re sneaking out?” Timmy whispered, his reddened eyes widening as he swiped the back of his wrist across his upper lip and sniffled noisily. “Way cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” Paul echoed.

“Not if your aunt catches us. Be very quiet.”

Mitch halted at the bedroom doorway and looked toward the kitchen. So far, so good.

He also listened intently, fully expecting to hear Jill and Natalie shouting at each other as they had been moments before.

The silence was so unexpected it made him shiver. That was definitely not a good sign. If Jill wasn’t hollering that meant she’d either been stopped or had, for some reason, decided it was unnecessary to continue.

Either way he was in a pickle. If Natalie was no longer guarding the front door, where was she?

Jill began to tiptoe through the dry, patchy grass, peering in the side windows as she came around the house. There wasn’t much opportunity to see in except where the blinds left slight gaps at the edges of the window frames. If she hadn’t known otherwise she would have thought the house was deserted.

She turned the final corner and spied a small, square rear porch. There were only two steps to climb and she did so very cautiously. Her hand was on the knob, ready to open the door, when she heard a primal scream that reminded her of a nature show about African lions that she’d recently watched on TV. Shivers zigzagged up her spine and lifted the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

Easing the door open a crack she peeked inside. Her breath caught. She covered her mouth with her free hand to keep from gasping aloud at the scene before her.

Natalie Stevens was standing with her back to the exterior door—and to Jill—facing Mitch and the three children he’d come to rescue. They were clustered in another doorway, apparently about to try to make their escape, and Natalie stood between them and freedom.

Lifting her index finger and laying it across her lips, Jill signaled Mitch. With an almost imperceptible nod he acknowledged her. She could tell his mind was racing, trying to decide what to do next, and she’d have felt a lot better about it if he hadn’t looked as though he was furious—with her.

Well, too bad. Jill wasn’t particularly eager to face the other woman’s irrational anger either, but she saw no options. Unless someone distracted Natalie and got her out of the way, Mitch and the children wouldn’t be able to safely pass. If he truly was mad at her for helping, they’d settle that later.

Jill knew Mitch would have simply pushed his way out if he had been alone. While carrying and guarding the children, however, his hands were literally full. He’d never do anything to endanger them. And the way Natalie was cursing and wildly waving her arms, it looked as if they were running out of time. If someone didn’t act soon, Mitch would find himself—and the children—in the midst of a melee.

Jill was still trying to decide what to do when she gave the door a gentle push. It not only opened, it squeaked!

Natalie stopped midtirade. Whirled. Gaped at Jill. Then her jaw snapped closed and her eyes narrowed. “You! Out of my house. Get out of my house!”

That was Mitch’s cue. With the boys in tow, he bent low over Megan to protect her and made a dash for the door.

Although Jill stepped aside, he jostled her in passing.

She recovered her balance, slammed the door behind the last child and followed Mitch’s gruff order to “Come on.”

They reached the front lawn just as Sheriff Harlan Allgood rolled up, red and blue lights flashing.

Mitch made straight for the police car and stopped on the opposite side of it. By this time Megan was not only fully awake, she was bawling in fright.

With open arms, Jill beckoned to Mitch. “Give her to me.”

Although his expression showed reluctance, he did hand over the squalling toddler. Jill watched him ignore the sheriff long enough to crouch and comfort the frightened little boys.

“It’ll be okay, guys. I’ll do my best to make sure your aunt doesn’t take you away again,” Mitch said. “I promise.”

Then he straightened and faced the lawman. “Hi, Harlan. I just went inside and got these kids. And I’d do it again if I had to. I don’t care if Natalie Stevens is their kin, she had no business taking them out of the hospital without permission.” He gestured toward the social worker who was rapidly approaching. “Ask her. She’ll tell you they don’t belong in that house.”

Just then, a dusty, battered pickup truck slued around the corner and sped recklessly toward the gathering in front of Natalie’s house.

Jill didn’t recognize the driver. “Who’s that?”

“Thad Pearson,” Mitch replied, his scowl deepening. “Looks like he got word through the grapevine. Just what we need. Another relative to argue with.”

“He’s Rob’s brother, right? I’d never actually met him but I had heard there was a strong family resemblance.”

“Thad and Rob do—did—look alike. That’s about all they had in common. Thad’s always been the fighter, which undoubtedly helped him when he was a Marine.” He gave Jill a look of disdain. “See that you stay out of it this time. I mean it.”

“Hey, you didn’t seem to mind my intervention a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well, this is different. Thad’s nobody to mess with. His temperament is not what I’d call an asset.”

Neither is yours if you keep getting upset with me for trying to help, Jill thought.

Mitch stood his ground, apparently braced to defend the children, as Thad jumped out of his truck and jogged closer, fists clenched, posture rigid. Jill could tell how angry the man obviously was. That observation didn’t do a thing to help calm her already taut nerves.

Before the newest arrival could reach the children, Harlan stepped between him and the others with his hands raised. “Simmer down, son. I’ve got everything under control.”

As Jill watched Thad’s face and posture she could see his inner struggle. Finally, he nodded and stopped acting so aggressive. At least she thought he did. Given the volatility of the whole confrontation and all the parties involved, it was hard to tell. Personally, she wished she were locked inside the sheriff’s car with the children while these stupid men settled their disagreements.

Harlan eyed them as a group. “Okay. All you people wait right here and behave yourselves. Nobody’s going anywhere till we get this mess sorted out. Y’hear?”

Mitch nodded and so did Thad. Jill was rocking and comforting the littlest Pearson as she answered, “We wouldn’t dream of leaving. Believe me, we’re very glad to see you.”

In the background she thought she heard Thad muttering curses, although nothing he said could have equaled the vitriol in Natalie’s recent tirade.

Given a choice, Jill decided she would much rather have to face down any or all of these angry men than spend one more minute with that hysterical, bad-tempered woman.

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