“I’m sorry.” Micah’s words were pitifully inadequate. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Guilt gnawed at him. He’d been relieved that Jade’s tearful breakdown at the news of her sister’s death enabled him to get her safely away without any further delays.

She shook her head, sobs twisting her body. He clamped his teeth together, hands tight on the wheel. The sensible thing to do was to keep driving, get her home as swiftly as possible.

But he couldn’t bear to watch her grieve without trying to comfort her. Maybe that wasn’t the professional response, but it certainly was the human one.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. Neither of them really believed that, but she needed to hear it right now.

A complicated mix of tenderness and protectiveness flowed through him. He shouldn’t be doing this…shouldn’t be caring about her.

But he didn’t regret it for an instant.

Protecting the Witnesses:

New identities, looming danger and forever love in the Witness Protection Program.

MILLS & BOON

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MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday School curricula to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for the Love Inspired lines.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren, traveling, gardening or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark and/or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

Twin Targets
Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Marta Perry for her contribution to the Protecting the Witnesses miniseries.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou are with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.

—Psalms 23:4

This story is dedicated to my Love Inspired Suspense sisters who worked with me on this project. And, as always, to Brian, with much love.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

PROLOGUE

MEMO: TOP SECRET

To: FBI Organized Crime Division; U.S. Marshal’s Office

From: Jackson McGraw, Special Agent, Chicago Field Office, Federal Bureau of Investigation

Date: January 3, 2010

Re: Martino Chicago crime family

An informant has come forward since the recent announcement that Salvatore Martino, notorious former head of the Martino crime family, is near death. The woman refuses to give her name or connection to the Martino family, but to this point her information has been extremely accurate.

The informant has thus far consented to speak only to Special Agent McGraw and is carefully concealing her identity. She is apparently between fifty and sixty, about five feet five inches tall, approximately 150 lbs. Her speech is educated and unaccented. Her motives and identity are unknown.

In her most recent conversation, she passed on a vague rumor that Vincent Martino, currently the acting head of the Martino family and his father’s heir apparent, is planning an unknown, but probably bloody, tribute to his dying father. Please contact Agent McGraw with any information as to the woman’s identity or the possible intent of this supposed tribute.

ONE

The woman’s body lay on the cold, dirty concrete floor of the garage, a few feet from her car. She’d probably been trying to run to it when the murderer caught up with her. Her hands reached toward it, the right one smeared with dirt, in a silent, futile plea for help.

Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw forced down the sick feeling in his gut. A law enforcement professional couldn’t get emotional about crime victims. He could imagine his police chief father saying the words. Or his big brother, the FBI agent. They wouldn’t let anything as soft as emotion interfere with doing the job.

“Pity.” The local police chief grunted the word, but it sounded perfunctory.

Natural enough. The chief hadn’t known Ruby Maxwell, aka Ruby Summers. He hadn’t been the agent charged with relocating her to this small, supposedly safe environment in a small village in western Montana. He didn’t have to feel responsible for her death.

Bless her, Lord. Speed her soul’s journey straight to Your hands.

The brief prayer helped to center him. Shoving aside all distracting thoughts, Micah leaned over the body, studying the wounds. One shot to the chest, a second to the head. Her killer wanted to be sure Ruby was dead.

“Her apartment was tossed, too. Might have been a robbery, but nothing’s missing that we can tell.”

“I’ll have a look before I leave.” He’d been in Ruby’s apartment a couple of times when he’d come to check on her.

“This looks more like a professional hit than a robbery gone bad.” Chief Burrows made it sound like a question.

“Yeah.”

He knew only too well what was in the man’s mind. What would a professional hit man be doing in the remote reaches of western Montana on a cold January night? Why would anyone want to kill this seemingly inoffensive woman who’d been waiting tables at the Village Café for the past year?

And most of all, what did the U.S. Marshals Service have to do with it?

All good questions. Unfortunately he couldn’t answer any of them. Secrecy was the crucial element that made the Federal Witness Protection Program so successful. Breach that, and everything that had been gained in the battle against organized crime would be lost.

He straightened, brushing his hands together even though he hadn’t touched anything. “My office will have a team here in a couple of hours. Until then—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Chief Burrows let annoyance show. “Cordon the scene, don’t touch anything, don’t say anything to anyone.”

“That’s about it. Sorry,” he added.

He was sorry, though Burrows probably didn’t believe it. Brownsville was the chief’s town, and he was responsible for keeping the people in it safe. Burrows probably hadn’t had a murder in this sleepy place in years, and now that there was one, the feds were brushing him aside.

Micah’s father, a police chief in a Chicago suburb before his death, would have felt the same way about a crime on his turf.

His cell buzzed, and he turned away from the disgruntled chief to answer it. “McGraw.”

“The crime scene team is on its way.” The voice was that of Mac Sellers, a fellow marshal sidelined to desk duty after an injury. “Should be there in about an hour.”

“Good. Make sure they know to check out the apartment, as well as the garage.”

“Will do. You wanted the address for the woman’s next of kin?”

“Right.” Ruby had a twin sister, he knew. She’d have to be notified. Since she lived back east, at least he wouldn’t be the one to do that.

“Jade Summers.” Mac was probably reading from a computer screen. “Librarian. Current address is 45 Rock Lane, White Rock, Montana.”

For an instant Micah froze, the cell phone pressed against his ear. “Are you sure of that?” He barked the words.

“Course I’m sure.” Mac sounded offended. “I can look things up, as well as anyone.”

Uttering an apology that probably didn’t placate the man, Micah hung up, his mind buzzing with questions.

He turned to stare once more at the empty shell that had been Ruby Summers. She’d made mistakes in her life, plenty of them, but she’d done the right thing in the end when she’d testified against the Mob. She hadn’t deserved to end up lifeless on a cold concrete floor.

As for her sister…

What exactly was an Easterner like Jade Summers doing in a small town in Montana? If there was an innocent reason, he couldn’t think of it. That stretched the long arm of coincidence a bit too far.

Ruby must have tipped her twin sister off to her location. That was the only explanation, and the deed violated one of the major principles of witness protection.

Ruby had known the rules. Immediate family could be relocated with her. If they chose not to be, no contact was permitted—ever.

Ruby’s twin had moved to Montana. He frowned. White Rock was probably forty miles or so east of Billings. Not exactly around the corner from her sister.

But the fact that she was in Montana had to mean that they’d been in contact. And that contact just might have led to Ruby’s death.

He glanced at his watch. He’d have to wait until the team arrived and all the routine that followed a violent death rolled into motion. Then he’d get back on the road toward Billings and beyond, to White Rock. To find Jade Summers and get some answers.

Jade pulled a warm sweater over her head. After nearly a year in Montana, she’d learned to love the Big Sky Country, with its spectacular scenery, clean air and friendly, independent people.

But if she stayed her whole life, she’d probably never get used to the cold winters. Her indoor-outdoor thermometer declared that it was two below zero now, and the weather forecaster had cheerfully announced that it felt like sixteen below. The thought made her shiver even in her warm bedroom.

Still, the good things about the move far outweighed the bad. She had her own little house, neat and clean and everything she had once dreamed of. She could run the small county library to suit her ideas of what a library should be. She’d made friends here. She was settled.

Had Ruby adapted yet to life in Montana? Her twin had loved warmth—warmth, comfort, luxury. All the things their early life had denied them. Was she happy now with the way things had turned out?

Or was she pestering the Witness Protection Program to relocate her someplace warm? Jade had to smile at the thought of her sharp-tongued twin taking on some hapless U.S. Marshal.

The sound of a vehicle coming down her narrow lane caught her attention. That probably wasn’t Herb or Ellen Trask, her landlords. Herb had been over at first light to plow her lane for her after last night’s snow, and Ellen knew that Jade would be headed for work soon. Jade moved to the bedroom window and raised the shade.

A black-and-silver 4x4 stopped at the front porch. She was already learning to identify her neighbors by their trucks, but she didn’t recognize this one. It was old but looked well-cared-for, like most of the trucks she saw out here. People knew that in bad weather their lives might depend on the reliability of their vehicles.

A man got out on the driver’s side. He paused for a moment, staring at the house, and she looked down at him, her hand pressed against the cold pane. He was tall, she could tell that even from this angle. Beyond that, his jeans, boots, heavy parka and Stetson could belong to anyone.

He moved toward the front door, his stride that of someone fairly young and agile. Definitely not Herb, whose paunch was visible even when he wore a down parka.

The stranger turned slightly, and the sunlight struck the object pinned to his jacket, making the metal glitter. A badge.

Jade’s heart stopped for a second. Then it started thudding against her chest.

Ruby—it must be something to do with Ruby.

She raced down the stairs, feet keeping time to the violent beating of her heart. She hurried to the door and yanked it open while the man’s hand was still raised to knock.

That faint shock in his brown eyes—was it because of her precipitous approach, or because he was looking at an identical replica of Ruby?

“Are you Jade Summers?” His voice was a deep, mellow baritone, roughened by some emotion.

She nodded, taking a step back, motioning him in. He stepped across the threshold, the movement bringing a wave of cold air into her cozy room.

He was even taller than she’d thought, with an air of authority that seemed to suck all the air out of the space around him. He removed his hat, holding it in one hand, revealing thick, glossy brown hair cut in a vaguely military manner.

He had a slash of straight dark brows, a lean, tanned face and a jaw that might have been carved from teak. A faint hint of sympathy in his brown eyes softened the harsh impression.

Sympathy? Or pity? Her eyes focused on the badge. U.S. Marshal. The U.S. Marshals ran the Witness Protection Program.

Nausea hit like a blow to her stomach. Something had happened to Ruby.

“I’m Deputy Marshal Micah McGraw.” He held out some sort of identification.

She shook her head in denial of the news he undoubtedly carried. “Ruby…” Her voice failed.

“I’m sorry.” His baritone deepened even more. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

She couldn’t stand dancing around it. “Tell me. Just say it.”

His eyes hardened at her tone. “Your sister, Ruby Maxwell, died last night.”

Maxwell. That had been the name she’d taken when they’d relocated her out here after she’d testified. It didn’t sound right.

“Died.” She repeated the word. It was odd that no tears sprang to her eyes. Maybe because she couldn’t picture Ruby—vital, eager, annoying Ruby—as anything so final as dead. She took a harsh breath. “You mean, killed, don’t you? Murdered.”

That would be the way it ended. That was the only thing that would bring a U.S. Marshal to her door.

“She was shot in her garage.” He paused, as if editing what he was saying. “I’m sorry. She would have died instantly.”

Was that supposed to comfort her? She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Instead her knees buckled.

She sensed him move. He guided her to the sofa, lowered her to a seat, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.

“Easy. Just take it easy. Take a deep breath.”

She wanted to snap at him that deep breathing wasn’t going to help her, not when her twin would never breathe again.

Why, God? Why? The plea formed before she thought about it.

Why did she bother? Ruby had always said you couldn’t rely on anyone else—certainly not God. Once she’d have argued the point, but in the past year she’d begun to think Ruby had it right. If God cared, why was her twin dead?

She sucked in air. She had to say something—had to make him stop hovering over her.

“Last night.” She swallowed. “They say identical twins can sense it if something traumatic happens to one of them. I didn’t feel a thing. But we’ve been apart so long.”

“Have you?”

She gaped at him, not sure she’d heard correctly. He’d moved a step away, taken off his heavy jacket and tossed it on the back of the sofa. Now he sat, pulling the straight-backed chair up so that they were knee to knee.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” She stammered the words, mind racing. Ruby had broken some rule, probably, in letting Jade know she was being sent to Montana. A vague need to protect her sister moved through Jade. “I haven’t seen Ruby since she went into Witness Protection. You must know that.”

His gaze probed, as if he looked for a chink in her armor. “You’ve corresponded with her. E-mailed, maybe.”

“No.” What was he getting at?

“What are you doing in Montana then, Ms. Summers? This is hardly normal stomping grounds for an Easterner like you.”

She had control now. She wouldn’t let him rattle her. “I can’t think of any reason why that would be your business, Marshal McGraw.”

“It wouldn’t,” he said. “Except that if Ruby broke the rules in order to bring you here, that might explain what happened to her.”

For a second she stared into those stern brown eyes, feeling like a jackrabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming pickup. Then a cleansing wave of anger washed through her.

“What are you saying? Are you accusing me of contributing to my sister’s death?”

He looked as if he might respond, but before he could speak, she swept on. “How dare you? How dare you imply such a thing? Ruby testified in that Mob case because you people offered her a fresh start. You promised you’d protect her. You said no harm would come to her. You cited all kinds of statistics to prove she’d be safe. If anyone’s responsible for my sister’s death, it’s you!”

McGraw rose, and for a second she thought he was threatening her. But he raised his palm, signaling her to silence.

She heard what he must have picked up first—the sound of a vehicle coming down the lane.

“Are you expecting someone?” The question was low and sharp.

“No.” She got up, shaking off the atmosphere of fear he’d brought into her house with him. “It’s probably a neighbor.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll get—”

He caught her, pulling her against him, his hand going over her lips. Her first instinct was to struggle, but his grasp was protective, not menacing.

“Stay here.” He whispered the words against her ear, his breath moving her hair. “I’ll check.”

Ridiculous, one part of her mind said. But some instinct kept her glued to the spot, watching as he moved silently to the window. Keeping to one side, he peered out cautiously.

Then his body stiffened, and his hand moved toward his gun.

Micah forced himself to remain motionless, assessing the odds. Two of them, both armed, with their weapons out in the open, obviously not fearing any interference in this isolated location. Even as he watched, one man signaled the other to go around the back of the small house, cutting off any retreat.

His hand was on his weapon. If he were alone…

But he wasn’t. The woman had to be their target. His first priority was to protect her, and he only had seconds to make a decision.

He reached her in three quick strides, yanking out his cell as he did.

“A place to hide,” he murmured the words as he punched in numbers. “Think.”

To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She touched his hand, guiding him to the stairs. They went up swiftly even as he identified himself and gave terse instructions to the local police dispatcher.

She led the way into a bedroom, across it, to a closet.

That was the first place they’d look. He shook his head, but even as he did so, she pushed clothes back to reveal a small door. Hidden at the end of the closet, it probably led into a storage space. Not great, but the best they could do.

The sound of the door being kicked open downstairs decided it. He shoved Jade through the small door, pulled clothes back into place to hide the opening, and slid in after her, closing the door.

Their hiding place was a narrow, confined space under the eaves, redolent of mothballs, the ceiling so low he had to stoop. He hoped she wasn’t claustrophobic. They were close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin.

She had to be afraid, but she was handling it well, at least so far.

Another thud, another door kicked open. The second thug was in the back now. Kitchen, probably. If he’d seen the rest of the house, he’d have a better idea.

He heard their noisy progress through the downstairs. A mutter of voices came, and then one rang out loudly.

“I tell you they have to be here. His car’s still there, isn’t it? Check the cellar!”

Heavy feet on wooden floorboards, followed by the crash and tinkle of breaking glass.

Jade moved on a swift intake of breath. He put his palm over her lips again, holding her immobile against him, shaking his head in warning, not that she could see it in the darkness.

“They must be upstairs.” The one who seemed to be in charge spoke. “Let’s go.”

Footsteps on the stairs muffled whatever response the other man made. Then his voice rang out, probably as they reached the top of the stairs.

“…maybe this isn’t the right one, either. What do we do then?”

Jade stiffened, straining against him as the import of the words seeped in for her, as well as for him. The right one? What on earth did that mean?

Thought was cut off as the door to the bedroom crashed open. Micah shoved the woman behind him as best he could in the tiny space. He pointed his gun at the opening. He might not be able to take on both of them, but he could do some damage to the one who opened that door.

“I’m telling you, they musta got out the back before I got there. There’s no place to hide in here.”

“Check the closet anyway. I’ll cover you.”

Micah held his breath, steadying his gun hand, a silent, wordless prayer forming. This was it—another second, maybe two—

The faint cry of a siren, growing louder, mounted to a wail. He managed a breath. That had to be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

The gunmen reacted even faster than he did. Thuds marked their progress down the stairs, across the lower level, out the door. The car roared down the lane.

Jade moved, squirming around him as if to open the door. He caught her, holding her still until he heard the cop cars pull up below. Then he got out of the closet first, holstering his weapon, holding both hands in the air, his badge opened in one.

“Up here,” he shouted when he heard them enter the house, having no desire to start downstairs until he was sure he wouldn’t be met by a trigger-happy inexperienced kid. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw.”

Two uniformed officers burst into the room, weapons focused on him. He stood perfectly still.

“Who’d you say you were?” The older man barked the question, gesturing to the younger, a tow-headed kid who didn’t look old enough to be a cop. The kid edged up on him carefully and took the ID from his hand.

“Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw,” he repeated patiently. “Two armed men broke in. Their car—”

“We saw it.” The older man checked his identity card thoroughly, then nodded to him to put his hands down. “Already put out an APB.” He tossed the ID back. “Sorry, Marshal.”

“No sweat—I’d do the same in your place.”

“What about Ms. Summers? She here when this went down?”

“She’s here.” He held the door open, and Jade crawled out of the closet.

“You okay, Ms. Summers?” The officer holstered his weapon.

“I’m fine.” She stood, straightening her shoulders.

“All right, then.” He shot a glance at Micah, as if waiting for an explanation.

There wasn’t one he could give, not now. He’d have to call in, get his people here…

First, he had to make sure Jade Summers really was all right.

As if aware of his gaze on her, she raked her fingers through her shoulder-length red curls in an attempt to restore order. She dusted off her pant legs and looked up at him. Eyes green as glass in a pale, heart-shaped face seemed to measure him.

“Is it over?”

Was there an honest answer to that? He wasn’t sure. Her likeness to Ruby shook him, and he tried to ignore the image of Ruby’s lifeless body.

“For the moment,” he said.

TWO

“Why don’t you just come home with me?” Ellen Trask asked the question for the fourth or fifth time since she’d sat down in the kitchen with Jade. “I’ll convince them it’s okay.”

Jade didn’t doubt that. Ellen might look like a elderly kewpie doll with her gray curls and cheeks as round and shiny as apples, but she didn’t take anything from anyone.

She’d already gone one round with a patrolman who’d tried to get her to leave. She had come out victorious. That seemed to have her geared up to take on anyone to protect the tenant she tended to mother.

“Thanks, but I’d better stay.” She tried to manage a smile, but was sure it failed. “I’d rather be here, in case they want to talk to me again.”

Ellen didn’t argue. She just got up, her boot crunching on a bit of broken plate on the floor, and poured hot water from the steaming kettle into their tea mugs.

“I still don’t see why they wouldn’t let me sweep this floor.” Ellen hadn’t liked it when the patrolman had taken the broom from her hand with a warning not to disturb a crime scene. “What’s a bit of shattered china going to tell them, I’d like to know?”

She didn’t know, either, so she just shook her head, wrapping her fingers around the mug. But even its warmth couldn’t penetrate the cold place inside her. Ruby, the twin sister who’d once felt like the other half of her, was dead. She didn’t think she’d really absorbed it yet.

It didn’t help that her cozy home no longer felt like her own. The living room, the upstairs, even the front yard thronged with various people in uniform, doing goodness knew what. Strangers had taken over her house, beginning the moment Micah McGraw came to her door, bringing with him that aura of menace and danger. If he’d never come near her…

Well, that was a stupid thought. They’d had to tell her that Ruby was dead. They’d had to admit they’d failed to protect her.

And now they’d brought Ruby’s killers to her door. Another shiver went through her.

Ellen, probably seeing the involuntary movement, patted her hand. “It’s an awful thing, those men breaking in, just awful. I never heard of the like in the whole time I’ve lived in this county. Things like that don’t happen here.”

That was what she’d thought, too. Apparently they’d both been wrong.

“What do you suppose they wanted?” Ellen fixed an inquiring gaze on Jade’s face.

She didn’t know what to say. Anything but the truth, she supposed. “I don’t know.”

She had to struggle to get the words out. Probably someone like Micah lied easily in his job, constantly dealing with people who weren’t who they said they were. Falsehood didn’t come so readily to her.

Ruby had lied all the time when they were younger. The unpleasant memory seemed disloyal, but it was true. Ruby had always said you might as well tell people what they wanted to hear. She hadn’t seemed to realize that people had eventually come to distrust her.

Maybe because of that, Jade had tried always to tell the exact truth, no matter how much it hurt. But she couldn’t tell Ellen, or anyone else, about Ruby.

Fortunately Ellen was off on a string of speculations of her own, coming up with one reason after another for the peculiar happenings. Jade could stop paying attention as long as she nodded once in a while. She could let her thoughts worry at the events of the past hour, trying to make sense of it all.

“Lucky for you that marshal happened to come along when he did.”

“Yes, it was.” Jerked back to attention, she tried to sound noncommittal. McGraw had saved her life. She couldn’t deny that. On the other hand, he might have been the one to lead those men right to her.

The back door rattled. She jumped, tea sloshing onto the tabletop. Herb came in, with Micah McGraw looming behind him.

“We better get along home, Ellen.” Herb always looked somewhat like an elderly bloodhound, and at the moment, the lines of his face had deepened. “The marshal here needs to talk to Jade.”

Ellen’s feathers ruffled instantly. “Not if Jade wants me to stay, marshal or no marshal.”

Ellen’s friendship warmed her. But she couldn’t tell Ellen the truth, and obviously neither she nor McGraw wanted to talk in front of her.

“That’s kind of you, but I’m fine. I can’t thank you enough for coming.” Her voice wobbled a little on the last word.

Ellen rose and swept her into a hug. “You call us anytime, day or night. Better yet, come stay with us tonight. Or at least come over for supper.”

“I’ll…I’ll let you know.”

She must be more shattered than she’d thought when such simple kindness brought her close to tears. She tried to stiffen her spine. Right now she needed time to collect herself, to mourn her sister, to restore order to her life. And to get rid of the authorities, in the form of the man who stood like a rock in her kitchen.

When the door closed behind Ellen and Herb, she slumped back into the chair. McGraw still stood, hands braced on the back of the chair opposite her, his gaze focused on her face.

“Are you okay?” He said the words as if he actually cared.

“I think so.” She took a breath, weighing what to say. “I guess I owe you thanks for saving my life.”

That didn’t sound very gracious, but it was the best she could do right now. She didn’t trust the man. How could she? He’d let her sister down. He’d brought danger to her home.

The chair scraped against the floor. He sat down across from her, planting his elbow on the table, making the pine surface instantly smaller. Obviously he wasn’t just going to go away. That would be too simple.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up, startled, to meet his gaze. “Sorry?”

“For your sister’s death. For your trouble.” He made a small, seemingly involuntary gesture with his hands, and his brown eyes darkened with what looked like genuine sorrow.

Her throat tightened. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t. But it took all her strength to hold the tears back. “Thank you.” Her voice was husky.

He let the silence stretch between them for a moment. Then…“You knew Ruby was in Montana.”

For a moment his persistence angered her. But what was the point in keeping it secret? She couldn’t protect Ruby now.

“I knew. She wasn’t supposed to tell me, but she did.”

“How? Did she call you? Write to you?” He leaned toward her, face intent.

She shook her head. “She let me know near the end of the trial. The FBI agents brought her to the library where I was working to say goodbye.”

“They’d have stayed with her the whole time.” His tone showed he doubted her.

“Ruby was an old hand at fooling people.” She almost smiled at the thought. “She fiddled with one of the reference books on my desk while we talked. I didn’t think anything of it. I’m sure the agents didn’t, either. But afterward I found the slip of paper she’d stuck in it. Montana, it said. That’s all.”

“She was in touch again.”

She looked at him, startled. “No. I told you. I never heard anything more from her.”

Level brows lifted above stony brown eyes. “You expect me to believe that you quit your job and moved across the country on the basis of that one word.” Flat with doubt, his voice challenged her.

Anger flared. “I don’t know what to expect of you, Deputy Marshal McGraw, but that happens to be the truth.”

He leaned back in the chair, putting a few more inches between them. Stared at her, his eyes dark and intense. Waited.

She waited, too. If he thought he was going to trick her into explaining an act she didn’t quite understand herself, he’d wait a long time.

Finally he lifted an eyebrow again. “So. That’s it? You just moved out here on a whim. You figured fate would bring you back in touch with your sister if you were in the same state?”

Pain twisted inside her. That was exactly what she’d thought. But it hadn’t.

“If I thought that, then I was wrong, wasn’t I? I didn’t get to see her, and now she’s dead.”

You were supposed to protect her. She didn’t say the words, but he was probably smart enough to know she was thinking them.

“Let’s go over it again,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened when….”

The back door opened before he could finish. One of the uniformed men met McGraw’s eyes, jerked his head toward the backyard.

McGraw rose. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She made no move, watching as he left the room. Then reaction set in, and her hands trembled. She clasped them, pressing her palms together.

She couldn’t let the man get to her like this. She was not at fault in what had happened, and she wouldn’t let him make her feel like a criminal.

Shoving her chair back, she got to her feet, grasping the table for a moment as if she were an old woman. Then she moved toward the living room door. Surely they were finished by now. Maybe she could straighten up in there.

She pushed the door open, stepped through and stopped. Stared. And caught her breath on a sob.

“Get anything more from her?” Arthur Phillips, Micah’s immediate superior, blew out a breath on the frosty air, sending up a misty cloud.

“Not much.” Micah shoved his hands in his pockets. “According to her, Ruby tipped her that she was being sent to Montana right under the noses of the agents who were guarding her. Says she moved out here but never heard from Ruby again.”

“You believe she actually came here just on the chance she’d run into her sister?”

Micah considered. He’d been skeptical, too, but…“We might want to push some more on that, but it sounded genuine.”

“Could be, I guess. They were identical twins, so I suppose the bond runs pretty deep.” Phillips’s cold blue eyes surveyed him. “Or she could be involved herself in the mess Ruby was in. That would account for the shooters coming after her.”

Micah nodded slowly. “It still doesn’t make much sense. Why did they need to kill both twins? And I told you what I heard the shooter say.”

“‘What if this isn’t the right one, either?’” Phillips repeated the words that had been echoing in Micah’s head for the past hour or so. “What did he mean? Why was Ruby not the right one? And if she wasn’t…”

“Like I said, it doesn’t make sense.”

Phillips’s scowl said he didn’t like things that didn’t make sense. “Whatever it means, the Summers woman needs both investigation and protection. You think you can talk her into moving somewhere safe?”

“I can try. She doesn’t seem to trust us too much.”

“Try hard. Convince her we’re the good guys. I want to be sure she’s safe and someplace where we can get our hands on her until we figure out what’s going on.”

Phillips’s tone dismissed him. Nodding, Micah turned back to the house.

He’d said Jade didn’t trust them, but as far as he could see, that mistrust was aimed straight at him personally. And he suspected Jade had a fierce stubborn streak behind her prim, soft exterior.

He pushed into the kitchen. She wasn’t there, but a sound came from the living room beyond. He went through the room in a few quick strides.

Jade knelt over the remains of a curio shelf the shooters had knocked off the wall. Her shoulders shook and tears rained down her face.

“Are you all right?” As he neared, he saw that the shelf had contained a collection of crystal bells, shattered now beyond any hope of repair. “Careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

“I won’t.” She stood, keeping her face averted, probably not wanting him to see her cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid they’re a total loss. Were they a special memento?” The bells must mean something, to bring her to tears.

“No.” Her voice turned cool as she swung to face him. “It’s nothing. I’d just like to clean up in here, if you people are finished.”

She made it sound as if they’d done the damage. Jade Summers must have steel in her backbone, to react as calmly as she had to the events of the morning.

She had been shaken but dry-eyed at the news of her sister’s death. Now she wept over a few broken bells. He didn’t have a clue to what went on inside her. His chief was letting him play a lone hand with the woman, and he had to do it right.

“Cleaning up will have to wait. I have a few more questions.”

Her lips tightened. “I’ve already told you everything I know. Whoever led those men to my sister, it wasn’t me.”

“Then why did they come after you?” He shot the question at her.

She raked her fingers through deep red curls, clenching her hands for an instant as if pulling on her shoulder-length mop would clear her brain. “How would I know? You’re the professional. You tell me.”

“Maybe we should go to my office in Billings to have this discussion.” It was a pretty safe bet that she didn’t want to do that.

“I can’t do that.” Her voice went up. “I have to get to work.”

“The library will exist without you for as long as necessary. But if you answer my questions here, it’ll go faster.”

“I told you I don’t know anything that would help you.”

“We don’t know ourselves what will help at this point,” he countered. “Humor me.”

She shot him a look of active dislike, but then she shrugged, giving in. “What do you want to know? I’ve already told you that I haven’t seen Ruby since that day at the library.”

He wasn’t sure he believed that, but he set it aside for the moment. “Had you been seeing a lot of her before that? Even before her case came up, I mean.”

“No.” She hesitated for a moment. Sometimes people did that when they were trying to fabricate a lie, but he thought she just didn’t want to talk about it.

“I hadn’t seen much of Ruby in quite a while.” Her voice was slow, reluctant. “I don’t know how much you know about our backgrounds—”

She stopped, maybe waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

“I know enough.” It was all there in the records, and he’d been Ruby’s contact.

Her lips pressed together for an instant. “Our father was out of the picture. Our mother was an alcoholic and an addict. Our childhood was a nightmare. All I ever wanted was to get out—to make something of myself so I never had to live like that again. Ruby…well, Ruby didn’t agree.”

“So you parted company, did you?” Truth to tell, he didn’t see much of his half brother, either. Sometimes siblings just didn’t have much to say to each other.

“Not exactly. I mean, we didn’t have a fight or anything.” Her gaze slid away from his, as if there was more to it than that. “Ruby found my life boring, I guess. And I found hers…” she searched for a word “…dangerous.”

“You knew she was involved with a guy who was Mob-connected?”

“No, no.” She pushed that away with both hands. “Is that what this is about? Did they kill her because she testified?”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“But that’s what you think. What you were trying to protect her from by moving her here.”

“That could be. So you’re telling me you were living in the same city with your sister but you didn’t know who she was seeing?”

“I wasn’t living in the same city, not for most of that time. I went to work for the Baltimore County Library System after I got my degree. I only came back to Pittsburgh when that whole business about the trial came up. I thought Ruby might need me.”

She was looking down at the shattered glass on the floor again, and her hands worked as if it caused her pain not to be able to clean it up.

Baltimore. That was something to look into, at least. If Jade had been that far away, it seemed unlikely that she could have been involved in anything having to do with the Mob in Pittsburgh.

They’d check on it. Just like they’d check on hundreds of other details. And in the meantime, the shooters were out there on the loose, maybe waiting for another crack at killing Jade.

“Is that all?” She glanced up at him, looking like a kid longing to hear that an ordeal was over.

Unfortunately he couldn’t believe that hers was. “Not entirely. We’d like to move you to a safer location for a time. If you’ll pack what you need—”

“No. I’m not going anywhere.” That soft jaw managed to look amazingly stubborn. “This is my home.”

“You’re not safe here. Let us take care of you.”

Anger flared in her eyes. “The way you took care of my sister?”

His fists clenched. “Those men could come back. Do you want to face them on your own?”

Her face whitened, but she didn’t drop her gaze. They stared at each other, wary as strange cats, and he felt the force of her determination pushing against him.

Footsteps thudded on the front porch, and the county sheriff came in, knocking snow off his boots.

“There you are, McGraw. We’ve got some good news for you. Looks like you’re not going to have to worry about those two gunmen anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

And why was he talking in front of a witness? Overweight, overage and out of shape, the man was obviously too full of his news to be discreet.

“I don’t know where they were for the past couple hours, but a few minutes ago they tried to run a roadblock we’d set up out on the highway.”

“You’ve got them?” Maybe now they’d get some answers.

“Well, not exactly.” The man’s pudgy face expressed disappointment. “Thing is, they tried to bust their way through the barrier, lost control of the vehicle, ended up wrapped around a utility pole. One’s dead, the other’s on his way to the hospital in critical condition.”

And probably not able to talk, the way their luck was running. “You’ve got a guard on him?”

“Of course.” The sheriff looked offended.

“That means I’m safe,” Jade said, drawing his attention back to her. “There’s no reason why I have to go.”

All his instincts screamed at the thought of leaving her here alone, no matter what had happened to the shooters. “You’d still be safer in a hotel in Billings.”

Her jaw set. “I’m staying here.”

“Well, shoot, we’ll look after Ms. Summers, Marshal. We think highly of her around here.” The sheriff beamed. “You federal boys don’t need to think we can’t take care of our own.”

He’d argue, but he was on shaky ground. Jade could be right, and the threat to her could be over. The sheriff could be right, and he was capable of looking after her.

Could be. But he doubted it.

He looked at Jade and imagined her lying on a cold concrete floor with two bullet holes in her. His gut twisted.

He nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. It was all he could do.

THREE

The briefing seemed to be stagnating, and Micah shifted restlessly in his chair. They’d gone over and over the little they knew about Ruby’s murder, and it seemed to him they were no further.

Phillips tapped a pen on the tabletop, the only sign of frustration he allowed himself. “Mac, what’s the scuttlebutt from Pittsburgh? Does the organized crime team there have anything?”

Mac Sellers straightened at being appealed to. Years behind a desk had softened his belly and soured his disposition, but he’d learned how to work the complicated threads that bound law enforcement agencies together, and that could be invaluable.

“Nothing that moves us forward. No indication that the Pittsburgh Mob was interested in sending any messages by tracking her down. Why would they? The guy she put away was a low-level soldier, easily replaced.”

“What about him?” Phillips snapped. “He might be carrying a grudge.”

“That’s more promising.” Mac seemed to like drawing out his moment of attention. “Joey Buffano, his name was. Seems Joey got himself a fancy lawyer, got his sentence reduced on some technicality or other.”

A low murmur went around the table. Nobody liked the idea of a perp getting out early because somebody had slipped up.

“Anyway, they’re looking into Joey for us, but the immediate word was that he’s been doing an impression of a model citizen, working at his parents’ meat market and reporting to his parole officer on schedule.”

Phillips made a complicated sound that expressed doubt at Joey’s turnaround and skepticism at his apparent alibi.

“Keep after them. The two we’ve got on ice were low-level muscle. Maybe they were doing Joey a favor.” He looked around the table. “Anything else need following up on?”

Micah didn’t particularly want to bring up this subject, but better it come from him than from someone else. “Yes. How did the shooters locate Jade Summers? And why did they bother coming after her?”

“I don’t know why, but I can guess how.” Mac sounded pleased that he had something to contribute. “I was going over the report from Ruby Maxwell’s apartment. Inside her Bible they found a newspaper photo and article, announcing the appointment of Jade Summers as head of the White Rock Library.”

“So they saw that when they tossed the apartment,” Phillips said. “Maybe weren’t sure they had the right twin, and went after the other one.”

That meant he hadn’t led them to her door, at least. “That must be it,” he said. “There’s still the matter of how they found Ruby.”

Mac shook his head. “We could look ’til we’re old and gray and never know that for sure, but I’m betting she was in touch with one of her old friends. We all know that’s usually what happens.”

“We’ll keep following up on it, in any event.” Phillips sounded ready to be finished. “What are you working on right now, McGraw?”

“I’m still checking out Jade Summers’s background.”

Phillips closed the folder in front of him. “Have Mac help you with that. I want you to call your brother.”

That jolted him to attention. “Why my brother?”

“He’s the big expert on organized crime, isn’t he? That memo he sent about the Martino family—well, on the surface it seems unlikely there’s any connection, but he should be consulted. You call him.” Phillips smiled thinly. “Do you good to stay in touch with your kin. All right, people, let’s get moving on this.”

Chairs scraped, fragments of conversation floated past his attention. He didn’t heed them. Call your brother.

Okay, no reason not to give Jackson a call. It had been a while. Usually his information about his half brother was funneled through his mother. Jackson always maintained a good relationship with his stepmother.

Back at his desk he checked through the information that had come through in the past hour, looked again at the file on Ruby, and finally faced the fact that he was putting off the inevitable. And that he was probably being unfair to his brother. Just because Jackson’s status with the Bureau was nearly legendary, it didn’t follow that he looked down on his little brother’s efforts.

It just felt that way. Between his father’s reputation and his big brother’s, there was way too much to live up to in the McGraw family.

He reached for the phone and called the Bureau’s Chicago field office.

Special Agent McGraw was in. “Micah.” Jackson’s deep voice was crisp, as always when he was on duty, which was most of the time. “What’s with a Mob hit in the wilds of Montana?”

“You know about that already.” He wasn’t surprised. Jackson kept himself informed about anything having to do with organized crime.

“I know about Ruby Maxwell. I didn’t know you were involved, though.”

“I’d settled her in Witness Protection. I was her contact.” He didn’t need to say more. Jackson would fill in the blanks.

“Rough. I hear you caught the shooters already.”

Not me, he wanted to say. A county sheriff and a handy utility pole caught them.

“One’s dead, the other one’s not talking. The strange thing is that they immediately went after Ruby’s twin sister, Jade Summers, who has no Mob connection in what seems a blameless life.”

Jackson grunted. “Nobody’s life is blameless. Does she know why they came after her?”

“Not that she’s saying. We’re keeping an eye on her, obviously. Even weirder, the shooters didn’t seem to know for sure who they were after.”

“It sounds like they weren’t the brightest bulbs in the pack. What do you want from me?”

“There’s no obvious connection with the Martino family, but my chief figured you’d want to know.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, but he could hear the scratch of Jackson’s pen. He had a quick, vivid image of Jackson in his fifth-floor office, looking out at the city that had been his home for most of his life—a life that he’d dedicated to eradicating the smear of Mob activity.

“Okay,” Jackson said. “We’ll look into it on this end. Keep me posted, right?”

“Right.” He waited, wondering if his brother would say anything personal, not sure he wanted him to.

“Take care of yourself, kid.” Jackson’s voice was gruff. “Call your mother.”

That brought a reluctant grin. “I do.”

“Well, call more often. Stay in touch.” He clicked off.

Micah hung up the receiver slowly, letting the smile fade from his face. Jackson hadn’t said anything about the fact that someone under Micah’s care had been killed. But it was a sure bet he’d been thinking it.

Stop trying to live up to a legend, he reminded himself. You’ll never do it.

Micah McGraw had told her virtually nothing about her sister’s death. Jade sat at the computer in the quiet of the county library, frowning at the screen. She wanted to look up details about the funeral service for Ruby, and she didn’t even know where to start.

Would McGraw have told her more if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted by those two hoods? Somehow she didn’t think so. He was the epitome of a law enforcement professional. She’d been glad of that when he’d protected her during those terrifying moments she hadn’t known if each breath would be her last.

But now that the fear had subsided, she found she resented everything about the man—his iron control, his snapped questions, his air of doubt at everything she’d said.

And most of all, she resented the fact that he’d left her completely in the dark about her sister’s life and death. Where had Ruby been living during her time in Montana? What had she done? Had she made friends, enjoyed life, learned to laugh again? Or had she been living in fear?

The fear would have been justified.

She bit her lip. This was ridiculous. She was a librarian. She knew how to research. If the U.S. Marshal Service, in the person of Deputy Marshal McGraw, wouldn’t confide in her the details of her own sister’s death, she’d find out for herself.

Fingers flying, she started combing through the records of Montana newspapers. Somewhere there had to be something. Knowing the Witness Protection Program’s passion for secrecy, they’d have clamped down on publicity, but they couldn’t cover every base. Someone would be planning a funeral for Ruby, no matter what name they’d insisted she use.

Finally she found it. Ruby Maxwell. She leaned closer as if that would get her nearer to her sister.

There was no article about a murder, no hint that Ruby’s death had been anything remarkable. Just a brief notice that funeral services would be held tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. at Christ Church, Brownsville, Montana.

She stared at the listing, her throat tight. Then she clicked on a site that would give her directions. It would be a long drive. She’d have to get an early start.

“Going somewhere?”

The words sent her spinning in her chair. Micah McGraw stood behind her, so close that her knees brushed his pant legs when her chair swiveled. She hadn’t heard a thing to indicate that anyone was in the library. The man must move like a cat.

“I beg your pardon?” She tried to sound cool and collected, but her pulse skittered. If he knew she planned to attend her sister’s funeral, she didn’t doubt his reaction.

“I couldn’t help but notice the Web site. You do realize that we need to know where you are at all…” His voice trailed off as he looked more closely at the directions on the screen.

Then he switched his gaze to her, his face uncomfortably close. “Brownsville. You told me you didn’t know where your sister lived. Funny. I was actually on the verge of believing you.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “I did not know where Ruby lived. I told you the truth.”

He flicked a glance at the computer. “Then how did you find out about Brownsville?”

“I’m a librarian. I know how to do research. You people may have kept any report of Ruby’s murder out of the papers, but you missed the funeral announcement.”

“You had to know where to look.”

She blew out an exasperated breath at his stubbornness and pushed her chair away from the desk. And away from him.

“Go ahead, check for yourself. Page back through my search. You’ll see exactly how I got there. It took me over an hour to find the answer you could have given me in a minute if you weren’t so wedded to your secrecy.”

He didn’t take her word for it. He leaned over the computer and hit the back arrow, flipping backward through the pages she’d searched on her way to finding out about Ruby’s funeral.

Finally he stopped, apparently satisfied, eyeing her.

“Maybe I am wedded to secrecy, as you say. But you of all people ought to know how important it is.”

“Ruby is dead.” Her throat closed on the words, and she had to fight to say more. “It doesn’t matter now who knows where she was.”

“Maybe not.” His tone softened. “I’m sorry. You could have asked me about the funeral.”

“Would you have answered?”

That gave him pause. “I don’t know.” It sounded honest. “If my chief said it was okay, I would have. You deserve to know that.”

Some of her annoyance at him drained away. “Thank you.”

He jerked a nod toward the computer. “Those directions. You’re not planning on going to the funeral, are you?”

“I am.” She planted her hands on the arms of her chair, shoving it back as she stood. “I am going to my sister’s funeral tomorrow.”

“Jade…” He shook his head. It was the first time he’d called her by her first name, and it startled her. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. And I’m going to.”

He glared, and she had the sense that he was counting to ten. “Stop and think about this. Ruby knew people in that town…people who had no idea she had a twin sister. If you walk in there cold, they’re going to think she’s come back from the dead.”

Her heart winced at the words. She hadn’t thought about that, and the idea added an extra layer of hurt. “I’m sorry about that, but it doesn’t change my mind. Whether it makes people talk or not, I’m going to my sister’s funeral.”

“Have you forgotten that the shooters were after you, too?” His anger rushed toward her in waves. “It would be better to stay as far away as possible from your connection to Ruby. I’m sure my boss would say the same.”

“Those men are out of commission now.” She had to steady herself, because remembering was like revisiting a nightmare. “And they already knew about my connection to Ruby.”

He frowned, those level brows drawn down over his dark eyes. “Even so, we ought to play it safe. We don’t know why those two were after you. Or even why they were after Ruby.”

“What do you know?” And what, if anything, are you willing to tell me? “Surely by this time you must have found out something.”

A curtain seemed to draw across his eyes. “I can’t discuss that with you.”

“No, of course not.” Anger lent strength to her words. “You don’t want me to know a thing. You don’t even want me to say goodbye to my sister.” Her heart twisted. “Well, I’m going to Ruby’s funeral, and the only way you can stop me is to arrest me.”

His silence, lasted for the space of a long breath. And then…

“If that’s how you want it.”

“You…” Surely he wasn’t really going to arrest her.

“If you’re that determined to go, you’ll go. But I’m going with you.”

“I don’t want you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” His words held a determination that told her arguing would do her no good at all. “But that’s the offer. Either I go with you tomorrow, or I really will detain you.”

She was astounded at the strength of her desire to throw something at him. She didn’t do things like that. Ruby was the one who gave in to impulse, not her.

And if she did, he’d probably arrest her for assaulting a federal officer. Then she’d never get to the funeral.

“All right.” She bit off the words. “Have it your way.”

“I intend to,” he said, and it was as much a threat as a promise.

The sun rose slowly, almost reluctantly, bathing miles of snowy emptiness with a cold, clear light. Jade glanced across the front seats of the truck at Micah. He’d picked her up in the predawn darkness, and they’d driven for miles without a word between them.

Her first impression of his vehicle had been right on target. The truck was an older model, but spotless inside.

Micah had shed his parka, revealing a woolly V-neck layered over a dress shirt and tie. The chocolate-brown of the sweater echoed the color of his eyes. He drove quickly and competently, managing the occasional patch of black ice or drifted snow without incident.

A twinge of guilt pricked her into breaking the silence. “You must have had to get up in the middle of the night.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.” He shot her a cautious look, as if wondering whether it was safe to talk after the way she’d responded to him yesterday. “I’m sorry for forcing my presence on you. I do know you’d rather be alone, but it might not be safe.”

“Do you honestly think someone is after me?” Even now, she found the events of the past few days incredible, still felt half convinced that she’d wake and discover it all a bizarre nightmare.

“Probably not, but it’s better to take precautions.”

She didn’t know whether to be reassured by that or not. But he was wrong about one thing. “I know I didn’t want you to come. But I’m glad I’m not alone today.”

“There’s not much anyone else can do when you’re burying a loved one, but it’s still better to have people around. When…” He let that trail off.

She twisted in the seat to see him better. “When what?”

He hesitated for a moment. “I was going to say that when my father died, I don’t know how I’d have coped without my mother and brother.”

She’d never known a father, but someone like Micah had probably had the sort of childhood she could only imagine. “How old were you?”

“Eighteen. My dad was a cop, killed in the line of duty.”

“I’m sorry.” That explained something about him. He was following in his father’s footsteps, in a way.

She’d always been determined not to follow in her mother’s.

He nodded, as if in acceptance of her sympathy. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you more about your sister. There really is a good reason for all the security. No one would testify against organized crime if they didn’t think they’d be protected. And even then, it takes courage to do what your sister did.”

Her throat knotted, and she had to clear it before she could speak. “I know. I was proud of her. Ruby was always the brave one when it came to dealing with things.”

Things like their mother in a drunken rage, or a landlord determined to evict them, or one of Mom’s boyfriends trying to take money from her purse when she was passed out.

“What did you do when things got rough?”

“Hid, when I was small. When we were a little older, I’d get out of the apartment. I’d try to find someplace safe. That’s how I first discovered the library. A whole building filled with books to escape into, and no one trying to chase me away.”

A half-smile touched her lips at the memory of that first time, and Ms. Henderson showing her how to apply for a library card and introducing her to the wonders available just for the asking.

She’d never taken a book home, of course. That would have been asking to have it ruined or sold. Ms. Henderson had seemed to know that without a word being spoken.

Could someone like Micah possibly understand? If he did, that was almost worse than the alternative.

“Sorry.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not interested in my past.”

“Yes. I am.” He reached for a pair of sunglasses tucked into the visor as the sunlight strengthened, sending up a white glare from the snow. “Ruby talked a little about her life, the times I saw her. There’s no reason not to tell you that she seemed…well, content, I guess, with the way things turned out. She worked in a little café, made some friends, was active in her church.”

“Church? Ruby?” She’d thought she was beyond surprises where her sister was concerned, but that did startle her.

He sent her a sidelong, questioning glance. “Ruby came to faith after she entered the program. I sensed that everything she’d been through had made her realize the importance of having Christ in her life.”

Tears stung her eyes, and Jade blinked them away. “Once hearing that would have meant the world to me.”

“Once?” The dark glasses masked his expression, but his voice probed for an answer.

She felt a little flare of anger. Was he judging her?

“Based on the way you talked about Ruby’s faith, you seem to be a believer, but I don’t understand how you can think God is in control with all the things you must see in your job.”

Like Ruby’s lifeless body, in her own garage.

“Those are the things that make me understand how much I need to listen for God’s guidance.”

“And when God is silent?” Grief put an edge on the words like a whetstone on a knife. “When He seems too far away to hear you cry?”

He took the glasses off so that she could see his eyes. They were dark with concern. One might almost imagine that he cared, but that was impossible. She was just a job to him.

“There have been times when I’ve thought God was pretty distant. I always seem to find that I’m the one who has moved, not God.”

Unshed tears had a stranglehold on her throat. She had to struggle to force the words out, astounded that she was having this conversation with Micah, of all people.

“I wish I could believe that. I really do.”

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