A STOLEN BABY

When Sonya Daniels finds a kidnapped baby’s birth certificate hidden in her late mother’s home, she’s shocked. What was her family’s connection to the child, still missing for over two decades? And what happened to the little girl? Sonya hires detective Brandon Hayes to help her get to the truth. But someone doesn’t want the truth to come out and will stop at nothing to keep them from investigating. Sonya knows the guarded cop won’t rest until he unravels the mystery—but the answers could be more than she can bear alone.

Family Reunions: Bringing loved ones back together

Brandon escorted Sonya to her car, his nerves alert, senses sharp.

She started to slide in the driver’s seat when he noticed a small square of paper about the size of an index card under her windshield wiper. “What’s this?”

He handed it to her and leaned in to read along with her. “Stop looking for Heather Bradley. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Sonya gaped. The baby kidnapped twenty-eight years ago. “Well, I guess we’re making someone kind of nervous.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the note.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

Brandon lifted a brow. “Do you want to stop looking for her?”

“No way.”

She glanced around the parking lot, wondering if the person who’d left the note was watching. Shivers slid up and down her spine.

Spooked, she stayed close to the person who seemed to represent the only security she could find in a world that had shifted on its axis once again. First the death of her father, then her mother. Now someone was sending her threats.

LYNETTE EASON

makes her home in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Lynette has taught in many areas of education over the past ten years and is very happy to make the transition from teaching school to teaching at writers’ conferences. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), FHL (Faith, Hope, & Love) and ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). She is often found online and loves to talk writing with anyone who will listen. You can find her at www.facebook.com/lynette.eason or www.lynetteeason.com.

Her Stolen Past

Lynette Eason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out,

that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.

—Acts 3:19

To my wonderful, crazy family.

I love y’all so much. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you for being willing to put up with my deadline frenzies and take-out food.

To my awesome editor, Emily Rodmell.

It’s been a while since I said thanks in a dedication, so here you go. Thank you for pulling me out of the slush pile back in 2007 and giving me a shot at my dreams. :-)

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I love you more every day. Thank you for my gift of writing. Thank you for letting me do it for you. May you continue to bless me with stories and ideas so I can reach others for you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Sonya Daniels heard the sharp crack and saw the woman jogging four feet in front of her stumble. Then fall.

Another crack.

Another woman cried out and hit the ground.

“Shooter! Get down! Get down!”

With a burst of horror, Sonya caught on. Someone was shooting at the joggers on the path. Terror froze her for a brief second. A second that saved her life as the bullet whizzed past her head and planted itself in the wooden bench next to her. If she’d been moving forward, she would be dead.

Frantic, she registered the screams of those in the park as she ran full out, zigzagging her way to the concrete fountain just ahead.

Her only thought was shelter.

A bullet slammed into the dirt behind her and she dropped to roll next to the base of the fountain.

She looked up to find another young woman had beaten her there. Terrified brown eyes stared at Sonya and she knew the woman saw her fear reflected back at her. Panting, Sonya listened for more shots.

None came.

And still they waited. Seconds turned into minutes.

“Is it over?” the woman finally whispered. “Is he gone?”

“I don’t know,” Sonya responded. “Let’s just stay here for a while longer.”

Screams still echoed around them. Wails and petrified cries of disbelief.

Sonya lifted her head slightly and looked back at the two women who’d fallen. They still lay on the path behind her. Oh, Lord, help me help them. She reached for her cell phone. Had anyone called 911? Surely they had, but one more call wouldn’t hurt.

Her trembling fingers refused to hold the device and it fell to the ground in front of her. She curled her hands into fists, desperate to control the shaking. She’d done this before. She could manage the fear. But never before had she been caught by surprise like this.

Sirens sounded.

Sonya grabbed her phone and shoved it into the armband she wore when running. She took a deep breath and scanned the area across the street. She’d been in dangerous situations before, working the streets first as a paramedic, then as a trauma nurse on an air-ambulance helicopter.

Later, she’d shake her head at the irony. All those times she’d been in the midst of the flying bullets and had come out unscathed. Now she was a hospice nurse on her day off and she got shot at. Slowly, she calmed and gained control of her pounding pulse.

Her mind clicked through the shots fired. Two hit the women running in front of her. Her stomach cramped at the thought that she should have been the third victim. She glanced at the bench. The bullet hole stared back. It had dug a groove, slanted and angled. He was shooting down, which meant he was higher up.

She had no idea which building the shots came from, but if she had to guess, she would pick the one directly across the street. The office building? Or the clothing warehouse?

The police would figure it out. She checked her watch. No more shots had sounded in the few minutes she’d lain next to the cement fountain, her mind spinning. There were wounded people who needed her.

Heart in her throat, Sonya darted to the nearest woman, who lay about ten yards away from her. Expecting a bullet to slam into her at any moment, she felt for a pulse.

* * *

Brandon Hayes heard the gunfire through the open window of his third-floor part-time office at Finding the Lost and automatically reached for his weapon as he spun in his chair.

A police detective by profession and a Finding the Lost employee on his days off, he didn’t have a lot of downtime. Nor did he want any.

The Glock felt natural and comfortable in his right hand. He stepped to the side of the window and looked out.

Chaos reigned in the park below.

Two people lay on the ground and appeared to be injured.

Erica James, his sister and founder of Finding the Lost, bolted into the office. “What was that?”

“Bullets. There’s a shooter nearby and people are hurt.”

She pulled out her cell phone. “Someone’s probably already called, but—”

Brandon heard her reporting the incident to the 911 operator as he tried to pinpoint the location where the bullets originated from.

His gaze shifted from the horror below him to the building beside him. Nothing. Not a flash, no movement, nothing. He grabbed the phone from his desk. Rachel, his cousin and secretary for Finding the Lost, picked up. “Get this building locked down now.”

“I already did. I heard you say something about bullets fired and immediately called security.”

“Good.” Her office was just outside of his.

He returned to the window and watched the craziness unfold in the park, assessing the situation, planning the best way to help. Go after the shooter or help the victims?

Movement by the fountain caught his eye. A woman trying to pull one of the injured ones to safety.

Wait a minute.

“Hey, isn’t that Sonya Daniels? What’s she trying to do? Get herself killed?” He raced from the office, Erica’s protests ringing in his ears. “Stay here!”

Brandon hit the glass door, swiped his card that would allow him to exit, but would lock the door behind him. Then he was on the sidewalk. Within seconds he was at the park. Police officers who’d been nearby started to arrive on the scene. To the nearest one, Brandon flashed his badge and yelled, “I think the shooter was in the building next to the bank.”

Law enforcement now swarmed the area and he kept his badge in plain sight. He stuck his weapon back in the shoulder holster and headed for the fountain. Sonya Daniels had shown up at Finding the Lost a little over a week ago with a birth certificate for Heather Bradley. She’d hired him to find the person. And now she was rescuing joggers in the park. His heart thudded as he kept his attention tuned to the area around him.

No more shots sounded. He hoped that meant the shooter was on the run and not aiming at any more innocent people.

Brandon rounded the back of the fountain and found Sonya doing CPR on the woman she’d pulled out of harm’s way. He dropped beside her. “What can I do?”

Surprise and relief flickered across her face when she saw him. “She needs an ambulance. Her heart’s stopped.” Sonya did more compressions. “Feel for a pulse.”

Brandon did as ordered. He looked up and shook his head.

Sonya gave a growl of frustration and slammed a fist onto the woman’s chest. “Beat!” She pressed and released, pressed and released, unrelenting and breathless, with determination etched on her features.

Brandon felt a faint flutter under his fingers. “Keep going. I think I felt something.”

Hope blazed in her eyes as she continued her efforts. “Come on, please. Please.” An ambulance pulled up next to the fountain and two paramedics rushed over. Sonya looked up. “I think she has a pulse now. She coded about thirty seconds ago.”

“You have medical training?” the first paramedic asked as she dropped beside Sonya.

“Yes. One semester short of being a doctor.”

Brandon shot her a look. He hadn’t known that.

He moved aside as the other paramedic joined them. Sonya fell back out of the way and let them take over. He grasped her arm. More medical help surrounded the other woman. “She’s dead,” Sonya whispered to him. “The bullet went straight through her head.” Grief coated her words. “The one I was helping was shot in the back. Please let her make it, God.” Brandon wondered if she even realized she’d whispered her prayer aloud. He hoped God listened to her more than He seemed to hear Brandon’s prayers.

He watched the officers doing their job and knew Sonya needed to give a statement, but for now, he needed to get her someplace where she could sit and let the adrenaline ebb. He cupped her elbow and started to lead her away. She resisted. “No, I want to watch them.”

Finally, one of the EMTs looked up, caught Sonya’s eye and nodded. They moved the woman to the gurney and slid her in the back of the ambulance. The female paramedic looked back and gave a thumbs-up.

Sonya blew out a breath and leaned back against the bench.

An officer approached them. “Has anyone talked to you two yet?”

“No,” Brandon said. “I heard the shots from my office window across the street and ran over to see if I could help.”

Sonya looked up, then pointed to the hole in the bench. “That’s the bullet that had my name on it.”

* * *

Two hours later, after giving her statement and reliving the nightmare, Sonya was exhausted. Brandon had disappeared about an hour ago to offer his services to the investigation even though she knew he wasn’t officially on the clock.

The officer next to her flicked a glance behind her and she turned to see Brandon approaching. He touched her arm and she shivered. “Are you all finished?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Why don’t we go over to my office so you—we—can decompress?”

She nodded, noticing the sparks his touch set off. In spite of the terrifying situation they’d just lived through, she was still aware of everything about him. From the moment she’d walked into Finding the Lost last week, every time she was in his presence, her attraction meter spiked. So far she’d been able to ignore it, telling herself she didn’t have the time or energy for a relationship.

Especially not with someone she couldn’t read.

Brandon’s green eyes hadn’t revealed anything to her and she hadn’t figured out how to discern his moods or thoughts. That threw her off kilter. Of course, she’d known the man only a week. “Are you finished helping here?”

“For now.”

They walked across the park toward the office buildings. Sonya averted her gaze from the blood still staining the jogging path. “How long will they keep the park closed?”

“Until a crime-scene cleanup crew gets here and removes all traces of the tragedy.”

She nodded, grateful for his easy manner and unhurried gait. “You hear about these kinds of things on the news almost every day, it seems,” she said. “But you never really expect it to happen to you, to find yourself fighting to survive in the midst of something so awful.”

She wondered if the shooter was gone. Or if he’d managed to avoid detection so he could linger and watch. She wondered if he was reveling in the chaos he’d created. A shiver slithered up her spine and she offered up a silent prayer that he’d be found and unable to hurt anyone else.

Brandon put an arm around her shoulders and she looked up, startled. He dropped his arm. “Sorry. You looked like you needed a friend.”

His gruff voice and averted gaze grabbed her. She touched his arm and gave him a smile. “I do need a friend. Thank you.”

He nodded but kept his distance. Regret filled her and she wished she’d just leaned into him and accepted the comfort he’d been offering. She had a feeling he didn’t do that very often.

“How’s the job going?” he asked as he opened the glass door for her.

She stepped inside the cool interior of the lobby. “It’s going fine.” She’d been at Spartanburg Regional for only three weeks.

“And your mother’s house?”

“Coming along.” Her mother had died a month ago. Sonya had moved to South Carolina to settle her mother’s affairs. She took a seat. She understood what he was doing. Talking about nothing to get her mind off the shooting. She wished it would work. “Did you find anything about the birth certificate?”

In the process of cleaning out her mother’s house, she’d come across a box of baby items. Including a birth certificate for a Heather Bradley.

He nodded. “I did. Interesting enough, Heather Bradley, daughter to Don and Ann Bradley, was kidnapped from a church nursery twenty-eight years ago.”

Sonya processed that bit of information and swallowed hard. “Why would my mother have the birth certificate of a kidnapped baby?”

Brandon leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a very good question. What do you think?”

She reached up and rubbed her forehead, trying to hold the headache at bay. “I don’t know. Maybe she found it. She was a yard-sale junkie and something of a hoarder. What if she bought the box, stashed it and never thought about it again?” It had been known to happen. Hadn’t it?

“It’s possible.” He looked doubtful.

“Are you saying you think my parents kidnapped a child?” she scoffed. She pictured her gentle father. A pastor with compassionate eyes and warm bear hugs. Before cancer had stolen his physical body. Cancer had robbed her of both of her parents. A lump formed in her throat. The illness may have taken his body, but his spirit had stayed strong to the end. “No way.”

“I’m not saying that at all, but it does raise questions for sure.” He paused. “Did anyone live in the house before your family?”

“Yes. The house was a parsonage. My father was a pastor for the church next door. When the church hit some hard times financially, my father decided to buy the house to help them out.”

Brandon frowned. “How could he afford to do that if the church was having a tough time?”

Sonya blinked. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it. I was only a child. Maybe ten or eleven when it happened.”

Brandon tapped his chin and sighed. “Hmm. Well, I’ll keep digging.”

“Was Heather Bradley ever found?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Her stomach twisted into a knot.

“But I did locate her family. They actually live about thirty minutes from here, practically across town.”

“How was Heather taken? Why would her birth certificate be in her diaper bag? Don’t people usually keep those in a safe place?”

He gave her a slow smile that made her heart trip all over itself. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “What?”

“You ask good questions,” he said. “I’m impressed. According to Mr. Bradley, his wife had decided to go shopping Saturday afternoon. She checked the mail, and the birth certificate had arrived. She slipped it into the diaper bag so she wouldn’t lose it. She said she forgot about it until after Heather was taken.”

“Which was the next day. So the kidnapper took the baby and the diaper bag?”

“Right out of the church nursery.”

She nodded. “Right. So how did that happen? Where was security? Wouldn’t someone see the person taking the child and stop him or her?”

He held up a hand at her rapid-fire questions. “Let me explain. Mrs. Bradley said there were two rooms in the nursery. A room that held cribs for sleeping babies and a monitor. The door was shut so the other children could play without waking the ones sleeping. There was a window in the door, but...” He shrugged. “You have to remember this was almost thirty years ago. Security in church nurseries was nothing like it is today. If they even had security.”

“So no one knew Heather was missing until a worker went in the room to check on the other babies.”

“Exactly.”

“And I found the diaper bag with the birth certificate in my mother’s closet.” She paused, her mind racing. Then she looked at him and swallowed hard. “Do you think I’m Heather Bradley?”

TWO

Brandon saw the weariness on her face—and a sort of horrified curiosity mixed with embarrassment that she would even consider asking the question. When he didn’t answer right away, she pushed him. “Well?”

Brandon shrugged. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t occurred to me. I think it’s a real possibility. We’d have to prove it—or disprove it—of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured then gave a disbelieving laugh. “I really don’t think I could possibly be her. I mean, it just doesn’t make sense. I’m not adopted.” She swallowed hard. “At least I was never told that I am.”

“I understand that you’d feel that way, but I think it’s something we need to consider and look into.”

She bit her lip and gave a slow nod. “So where do we start?”

“Let me think about it.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “You need some rest. Is there anyone that could stay with you tonight?”

She shrugged. “I’ll be all right.”

“I really don’t think you should be alone. Today was traumatic, a tragedy that’s already playing on every news channel in the country. You probably have the media camped out on your doorstep.”

Sonya froze. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

He knew she hadn’t. “So. Is there anyone you could stay with?”

“I could call Missy Carlisle, I guess.”

“Who’s that?”

“A friend from work. Even though I haven’t been there very long, we’ve become pretty close.”

“Close enough to spend the night?”

“Of course.”

He nodded to the device still strapped to her arm. “Is that your phone?”

Sonya looked at her biceps as though she’d never seen it before. “Yes.” She released the device from the strap and dialed her friend’s number. While she talked, Brandon watched her. When she’d first come into the office, he’d seen her with Erica and wondered about her.

Erica had caught him watching. Later she’d patted his arm and said, “Don’t worry, she’s the real deal. She’s not here to gawk at our resident hero.”

Brandon had rolled his eyes. “Cute, sis. I’m not the one who worries about that and you know it.”

“Well, you have to admit, thanks to the media, we’ve had a few loonies looking to become your next girlfriend.”

He couldn’t help the wry twist his lips took.

A hero.

Just the thought made him shake his head. He wasn’t a hero; he’d just done his job. But the media had dubbed him a hero for being a part of bringing Molly home. Erica’s three-year-old daughter had disappeared while on a field trip with her preschool class.

Brandon had been a detective with the police force in Spartanburg. Banned from working the case because of his relation to Molly, he’d resigned and come on staff full-time with Finding the Lost. They’d brought Molly home three years later. Longer than he’d intended, but at least she was finally home with her mother.

And then he’d been in the right place at the right time two months ago. He’d caught and subdued an abusive husband trying to kidnap his child in the grocery-store parking lot. The media had gone nuts. Grudgingly, he admitted Erica had a point. Put the word hero on a guy and things got interesting—and extremely embarrassing. Not too long after the story broke he’d started getting marriage proposals via mail, email and even text messages.

Women. He’d never understand them. And frankly wasn’t sure he ever wanted to after the fiasco with his fiancée leaving him. All he’d learned was that most women weren’t to be trusted. The only exceptions he knew of were Katie Randall and Erica. He had no doubt they were a different type of woman.

But there was something about Sonya that made him wonder if she fell into the same category as his sister and friend. He also wondered if she ever smiled. A genuine smile, not strained or sad or worried.

She hung up and looked at him. “Missy said that would be fine. I need to go home and get some things, though.”

“I’ll take you.”

Sonya stood. “It’s not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I want to.”

She tilted her head, and her ragged ponytail flopped onto her left shoulder. She studied him for so long, he almost started to squirm. “Okay.”

Her quiet acquiescence stirred his heart. And his mind. Was her innocent little-ole-me an act? Or was Erica right and she was the real deal? He decided he’d have to keep his distance until he figured it out.

* * *

Sonya sat in Missy’s living area and debated whether or not they were close enough friends for her to share her heart. She noted the Bible on the end table and the plaque on the wall that stated, As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Neither one of those necessarily meant Missy practiced what she displayed, but chances were she wouldn’t have the items if she didn’t.

“What is it?” Missy handed Sonya a mug of steaming coffee flavored with vanilla.

Sonya blew on it, then took a sip. She smiled. “My mother always said one little puff isn’t going to make one bit of difference in the temperature.”

Missy laughed. “Well, she’s right.”

“I know but I do it anyway.”

Missy sat in the recliner and curled her legs beneath her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

The television played in the background on mute. Fox News carried the latest about the shooting, and Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right. Still shaken up, of course. The whole thing is surreal and I’ll probably have nightmares for weeks, but I’m just grateful to be alive.” She took another sip of the steaming brew. “How is the woman who was brought in?”

“Still alive when I left an hour ago, but critical.”

Sonya leaned her head against the back of the couch. “I don’t understand people who can do that kind of thing,” she whispered.

“I don’t, either, and I don’t want to.” Missy paused. “So who was the good-looking guy who followed you here?”

Sonya felt the flush creep up into her cheeks. “That’s Brandon.”

“And? You haven’t talked about him at work.”

That wasn’t her style, but she didn’t say that. “I hired him to look into something I found going through my mother’s things after she died.”

“What’d you find?” Missy turned serious, her brow creasing.

So Sonya spilled her story. Missy stared wide-eyed, her flavored coffee forgotten. Sonya finished with “The shooting happened just across from Brandon’s office with Finding the Lost. He heard the shots and came running.”

“That’s just crazy. And this Heather Bradley was kidnapped twenty-eight years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And Brandon works for this company.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more about Brandon. You blushed when I asked you about him.”

Sonya groaned and gave a half laugh. “I can’t figure Brandon out. On the one hand, he’s kind, concerned and obviously very good at his job. On the other, he comes across aloof and—suspicious.” She’d been aware of his intense scrutiny while she’d been on the phone with Missy, but had pretended not to notice. He’d walked her back to the park and waited while she’d retrieved her car. Very serious, very businesslike. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Which meant it was time to change the subject. “I think I’ll grab some sleep. What time is your shift tomorrow?”

“Seven A to Seven P.” Meaning seven in the morning to seven at night. “What about you?”

“The same, but I’ll have to go home and change before I go in.”

“I have some clothes and scrubs you can use if you want to borrow them.”

She almost took her friend up on the offer. Instead, she said, “I’ll just go home early in the morning and get ready. My house is on the way to the hospital, so it’s no big deal. And besides, I have to feed Chaucer.”

Chaucer, her cat, independent and aloof until it was time to eat, but she’d filled his bowls before her run earlier and he would be physically fine for the next few hours. His temperament would leave a lot to be desired, but she’d deal with that later.

Missy shrugged and yawned. “Okay. Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask or browse.”

Sonya smiled. “Thanks. Shampoo and conditioner are all I need for now.”

“All right. See you in the morning.”

Sonya sat on the couch for a few minutes after Missy padded down the hallway to her bedroom. She stared at the clock on the mantel and listened to it tick.

Each click of the second hand felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Now that she was alone, the thought that she could have died today ate at her. “I don’t know why You left me here, Lord, but I thank You for that,” she whispered. She knew she’d die one day, and she was ready for when it happened. Meaning she knew she’d go to heaven, but until that time, she wanted her life to count, to mean something.

She saw death on a daily basis, but coming face-to-face with the fact that a bullet could have so easily taken her out made her shudder.

And made her all the more determined to find out what had happened to little Heather Bradley. To find out if Brandon’s hunch was right and she was Heather. Because if she was, her entire life had been a lie.

* * *

From his deck, Brandon sat in the darkness, ignoring the humidity that caused sweat to bead across his forehead. He stared at the half-moon and allowed his mind to process the day. At two in the morning, he sipped a soda, a rare drink for him, but one he enjoyed on occasion.

Living in the middle of downtown had its advantages, one of which was proximity to both of his offices. When Jordan Gray had looked him up after his last tour in Iraq, at loose ends and grieving the death of his brother, who’d recently died of an overdose, Brandon had offered him the spare bedroom.

And now Jordan was getting married to Katie Randall this summer. A June wedding Katie admitted she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl, but never really thought would happen. They’d bought a small house about fifteen minutes away and Katie was moving in tomorrow.

After the wedding, Jordan would join her, and Brandon would be left alone. He could afford the payment, but had to admit he’d be a little lonely. Not that things would be much different than they were now. Jordan spent every spare minute with Katie, coming home only to sleep and shower.

First Erica and Max had tied the knot, now Jordan and Katie. Brandon wondered if he’d ever meet someone. Someone real, someone who didn’t want to be with him just because the media had labeled him a hero.

His jaw tightened. Then relaxed as Sonya came to mind. She seemed so likable and genuine. He hoped that was the case, but would keep his guard up. His ex-fiancée had seemed quite likable and genuine—until she’d met someone who didn’t come with as much baggage attached to him.

Brandon knew he had issues that stemmed from his family situation—and he was working on them. It had hurt when Krystal had decided she didn’t want to work on them with him.

Brandon turned to head back inside. The lamp in his den went out. He stopped. Looked at his kitchen window. The light over the sink was off, too.

For a moment, he stood silent, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The town house to his left had power. So did the one to his right.

A blown fuse?

Maybe. But in his line of work, he wasn’t going with that assumption.

Brandon set his drink on the small table next to the chair and reached for his weapon. The one that wasn’t there because he’d left it on his kitchen counter. Next to his cell phone.

Wary, Brandon slipped to the edge of the deck and waited. Watching through the French doors. Even though it was dark inside, the moon offered a bit of light, coming through the open blinds and into the den.

His patience paid off when a thin shadow moved into his line of sight. The person paused, then moved to his desk. A thin beam of light came from a small penlight. Who was it?

Itching to confront the intruder, Brandon held still, waiting and watching. A weapon appeared for a brief moment, and the large barrel on the end said this was no random break-in.

His gut twisted as he mentally moved into battle mode. His right hand twitched, wanting the comforting feel of his Glock against his palm.

The town house had two levels. Right now, they were on the bottom level. Upstairs he had three bedrooms. One for him, one for Jordan and one he used as an office. The antique desk in the living area simply served as decoration.

But his intruder didn’t know that.

Did the person not realize he was home?

The weapon said yes. The leisurely search of the desk said no. Or he wasn’t worried about it.

Brandon waited for a lull in the traffic, then slid the glass door open and slipped inside. He closed the door with a quiet hiss.

The figure at the other end of the town house paused. Lifted his head as though listening. Brandon stayed still, his only thought to get to his weapon. The person moved toward him, his weapon held expertly in front of him.

Brandon took note. Weapons training. Breaking-and-entering training. What else? Not wanting to be caught unprepared and while the element of surprise was still on his side, he moved on silent feet through the darkness to the kitchen.

The intruder’s gun popped, flashed. The bullet slammed into the wall next to Brandon’s head.

So much for being quiet.

He dived for the kitchen and rolled as another bullet burned a hole in his newly laid tile floor. Anger fizzled. His back hit the cabinets. He lifted his hand and snagged his Glock from the counter, keeping his head low.

He’d been shot before. He had no intention of letting it happen again. With his other hand, he reached up and grabbed his phone.

“Come around the corner and you get shot. Tell me what you want and you might keep breathing.” He kept his voice steady. Controlled. He didn’t want to shoot anyone. Not even this person intent on killing him. He did, however, want to know who it was. But he wasn’t going hunting blind.

Brandon listened as he punched in 911 and pressed the phone to his ear.

Silence from the den. The 911 operator’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded incredibly loud. He lowered the phone.

A whisper of movement from the living area reached him. Brandon stilled. Moving closer or moving away?

Brandon tried again. “Get out while the getting’s good.” He pressed the phone back to his ear and whispered his address.

“Yes, sir. I got it. What’s the emergency?”

He didn’t answer, just listened.

Still the intruder said nothing and made almost no sound. Brandon waited, nerves bunched, muscles quivering with his tension. A low voice finally came to him. “Stop looking for Heather Bradley.”

And then the quiet snick of the door shutting.

Brandon stayed still, ignoring the adrenaline rush racing at fever pitch through his veins. Was it a trick to get him to show himself? He moved and peered around the kitchen cabinet, into the den area. No movement, but it was so dark, someone could be hunched down and he’d never see him.

Brandon flattened himself on his belly and kept his weapon in front of him. Army crawling, he moved toward the den, eyes probing the darkness.

He could see nothing. He heard nothing. He turned the volume down on the 911 operator frantically trying to get him to answer.

The sirens in the distance caught his attention and he figured they were headed for him. If the intruder was still in his house, he was going to be trapped.

No one spoke. No more shots came his way.

Brandon’s adrenaline ebbed as he finally decided he was alone. He stood, still cautious, watchful. He flicked on the small light above his sink, not wanting to turn on the bright kitchen light after being in the darkness for so long. He needed to let his eyes adjust slowly.

Still keeping himself protected from anything that might come from the den area, he waited to make sure.

Then slowly, methodically, he swept each and every room, weapon ready.

The place was empty.

Only now he knew someone didn’t want him looking for Heather Bradley. The question was: Why?

That someone had just made a very bad mistake because now Brandon was more determined than ever to get answers to all of his questions. All of them.

THREE

Somehow Sonya made it through her twelve-hour shift without collapsing. She didn’t like working on Sundays, but it was part of the job. She was fortunate she had to take only one Sunday a month.

Now she had one more thing to do before she went home to collapse.

She knocked on the door to room 412.

“Come in.”

Sonya stepped into the room and saw the woman in the bed. “Hi, Dineen, my name’s Sonya Daniels. I was in the park when you were shot.”

“You’re the one who saved me,” she whispered and held up a hand.

Sonya took it and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”

“I am, too.” She coughed and winced. Sonya handed her the cup of water by her bed. After Dineen took a small sip, she set it aside.

“Is someone staying with you?”

“My husband. He went downstairs to get something to eat. He’ll be back soon.”

“Good.”

“Did they catch him?”

“No, not yet.”

She nodded. “I figured I would have heard something if they had. It’s still all over the news.”

“They’ll catch him.”

Her lids drooped. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stay awake very long.”

“It’s the pain medicine. I just wanted to check on you. Go to sleep and heal.”

“Thank you.”

Sonya smiled and left. Exhaustion swept over her. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into bed. Even the thought of her empty refrigerator couldn’t tempt her into stopping at the grocery store. She would make do with peanut butter and crackers and a bottle of water. Sleep was all she craved.

“Hey, Sonya,” Missy called.

Sonya turned. “Yes?”

“Are you going home? Do you need to stay another night at my house?”

“I think I’m all right.” She’d managed to dodge the reporters this morning. Security had kept them from her while at work. She wondered if they’d be waiting for her at her car. The thought made her grimace.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. Just let me know.”

“Thanks.” Sonya gave her a small smile. It was all she could muster. However, she decided Missy was the real deal and hoped they could build their friendship. She missed having a close friend.

“I’ll see she gets home all right.”

Sonya turned at the deep voice and found Brandon standing in the small foyer. He looked as tired as she felt. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

Sonya felt the heat in her neck start to rise and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. How are you?”

“I’m just teasing. I thought I’d stop by and see if you could use a bite to eat?”

Sonya was amazed to feel energy start to seep back into her tired body. His mere presence jump-started her pulse and made her heart pound. She swallowed hard. “I could eat.”

“Great. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t mind me. I was just leaving,” Missy said.

Sonya felt her flush deepen and she shot Missy a look that said to stop. Missy grinned, waved and headed out the door.

Sonya rolled her eyes and turned back to Brandon, who smiled, his eyes dark and mysterious. She wished she could read him.

“Come on. I’ll drive and bring you back when we’re done.”

She hesitated. “Do you mind if I just follow you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He walked her the rest of the way to her car. She slid into the driver’s seat and clicked on her seat belt.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself sitting opposite Brandon at one of her favorite cafés about a mile from her mother’s home.

Brandon rubbed his coffee cup between his palms. Sonya took a bite of her chicken panini. With food in her stomach, the strong black coffee racing through her veins and the handsome man across from her, she felt as though she’d just had eight hours of sleep. Her watch said it was pushing eight o’clock. If she was in bed by eleven, she would be good to go for tomorrow’s shift. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Heather Bradley.”

“What about her? Did you find out if—” She bit her lip, unable to voice the question.

“If you’re her?”

“Yes. I can’t even believe I’m asking. It’s just too bizarre.”

“Unfortunately, bizarre stuff happens all the time.” He smiled. “I’ve talked to Mr. Bradley once. He’s open to meeting you. Would you be interested in taking the baby stuff to them?”

Sonya paused midbite. “Me?”

“Well, it was in your mother’s house where you found the stuff. Mr. Bradley said they’d love to have the bag and other items back.”

“But...but...” she sputtered. “Won’t they think my parents had something to do with their daughter’s kidnapping?”

“He asked what I thought about your parents and how they might have come by the items.”

“What did you say?”

“Just that you had come to me with this story and the items and were as confused about them as everyone else.”

Sonya took another bite, chewed and swallowed. The distraction gave her time to think. “I’m okay with returning the stuff, then.”

“Good. He wants to talk to you. Said he had questions for you.”

Sonya shrugged. “I feel sorry he’s lost his daughter, but unfortunately, I won’t have any answers to his questions.”

“I told him that. He wants to see you anyway.”

She paused. “Did you tell him we were pondering whether I might be Heather?”

“No. But I think the thought crossed his mind when I told him about you.”

“I see.” She thought for a few more minutes then nodded. “Well, then. When do we go?”

“As soon as you get off your shift tomorrow night? Or will you be too tired?”

“I’ll be tired, but I still want to go. The sooner we get this resolved, the better I’ll feel. And I’ll ask if I can leave a couple of hours early if that would help.”

“It would. So around 5:00?”

“Okay. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Yo. Brandon, my man, what up?”

Sonya jerked at the voice to her left. She turned to find a tattooed young man with more earrings in his ears than she had in her jewelry box.

Brandon stood and held a hand out to the kid. “Spike. Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Hanging, dude. Just hanging.”

“Staying out of trouble?”

“Of course.”

Sonya almost had to laugh at his attempt at an innocent look.

Brandon rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips was genuine. He turned to her. “Sonya, I’d like you to meet Landon Olsen, aka Spike. Landon, this is Sonya.”

“Pretty lady, dude.” He elbowed Brandon and winked. Sonya could feel the flush inching its way up her neck and into her cheeks. Brandon gave a gentle slap to Spike’s head. The boy laughed and said, “Sorry. I’m kidding you.” He made a formal bow in Sonya’s direction. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Well, thank you, Spike. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She shot a glance back and forth between the two. “So how do you guys know each other?”

Spike stuck out his well-muscled chest. “I’m one of his more successful projects.”

Sonya lifted a brow at Brandon and he groaned. “He’s a pain in my side most of the time.”

Spike grinned. “Dude, you know you’re my hero.” He looked at Sonya. “I’m gonna be a detective like him one day.”

“That’s a wonderful goal, Spike,” she said. “I have a feeling you’ll be one of the best and brightest.”

Spike’s eyes lit up and she could see he took her compliment seriously. Just the way she meant it. He turned to Brandon. “I like her, man. Don’t mess it up.” Before Brandon could say anything, Spike announced, “Hey, I gotta go, dude. See you Saturday?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’m going to beat you so bad, you’re going to need a doctor to put you back together.”

“Don’t count on it. Your head’s getting so big, it’s going to weigh you down.”

Spike barked his laughter, gave a two-fingered salute and slipped out the door.

Sonya sat back. “What in the world? Beat you?”

Brandon blew out a sigh. “I help out at Parker House. It’s a place that takes in young men who’ve had some brushes with the law and rehabilitates them. Or at least tries to. It’s part that and part recreation center. When he said he was going to beat me, he meant he was going to win our game of three-on-three this weekend.”

“Basketball?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He studied her. “You like basketball?”

“Love it.”

“You want to come watch?”

She did. “What time?”

“Nine o’clock.”

She groaned. “As in a.m.? On a Saturday morning?”

He laughed. “Not a morning person?”

“Not in the least. I mean, I have to be for work, of course, but on my days off...”

“You almost smiled.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You don’t smile much.”

“I haven’t had much to smile about lately.” She tried to force her lips into one and he shook his head.

“I’m not talking about a fake smile. I’m talking about a real one.” Before she had a chance to respond or even try to find a “real” smile, he said, “But you’ll come?” His voice softened and he leaned forward. She caught a look in his eyes that made her gulp.

“Sure. I’ll come.”

He nodded and looked away. She wondered what he was thinking, but couldn’t tell. Did he regret asking her? He cleared his throat. “Anyway, tomorrow after your shift, we’ll go see Heather’s parents.”

So it was back to business. “Yes. That’s fine.”

* * *

Brandon studied Sonya and wondered what had come over him that he would invite her into a place that he kept as his. His home was his haven. Parker House was his escape, his passion. And he’d just invited Sonya to come. He must be more tired than he thought. “I wanted to talk to you about something else. Someone broke into my house last night.”

She gaped at him. “Broke into your house?”

He nodded and told her what had happened.

“But why?” she asked.

“To tell me to stop looking for Heather Bradley.”

She paled and sat back. “What?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “I think it’s extremely weird that you were shot at yesterday and then someone breaks in my house the same night. It could be just a crazy coincidence, but I’ve been in this business a long time and I’m just not sure I’m going to buy that theory.”

“I don’t know, Brandon. The shooter wasn’t really going for me personally. He was shooting at others in the park, too.”

“True. I’ve thought about that. And maybe I’m just grasping at straws trying to link the two things.”

“What else did the person say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Whoever it was didn’t get to stay long enough. When he realized I had a weapon, he took off. The cops got there and we searched the area, but came up empty.”

He saw her swallow. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“I think a better question is, do we have any enemies in common?”

“But we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks.”

Brandon lifted a brow. Had it been such a short time? It seemed as if he’d known her a lot longer. “Exactly. The only thing we have in common is your case.”

“Heather Bradley.”

“Yes.”

“So someone doesn’t want us looking for her? But who would even know?”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, but it’s the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. But most likely you’re right. The two incidents probably aren’t connected.”

“You don’t have an alarm system?”

“I don’t.”

“I’m surprised.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I never really felt the need for it. I don’t have anything worth stealing and I have a gun on my nightstand and know how to use it.” He paused. “After last night I might reconsider, though.”

“So what now?”

“Now we watch our backs.”

“But we keep looking for Heather?”

“Absolutely.”

She nodded, relief in her eyes. “Good. I really want to know who she is—or was.” Her jaw firmed. “And prove it’s not me.”

It hit Brandon that Sonya didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body. The realization allowed him to relax a fraction. She wasn’t after him because of some silly hero status that had been dumped on him. And she wasn’t interested in him romantically.

The sharp pang of regret surprised him. Made him look at her a little closer. And he decided that if she wasn’t a client, he’d be asking her out.

He drew in a deep breath at the silent admission.

“Are you okay? You have a funny look on your face.”

Brandon cleared his expression. “I’m fine. Are you ready to go?”

Her brows knit but she nodded. “Sure.”

Together they walked out of the restaurant and he escorted her to her car, his nerves alert, senses sharp. At her car, she started to slide in the driver’s seat when he noticed a small square of paper about the size of an index card under her windshield wiper. “What’s this?”

He handed it to her and leaned in to read along with her. “‘Stop looking for Heather Bradley. She doesn’t want to be found.’”

FOUR

Sonya gaped. “Well, I guess we’re making someone kind of nervous.”

“You think?” A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the note.

“So what do we do?”

Brandon lifted a brow. “Do you want to stop looking for her?”

“No way.”

“Do you have a paper bag in your car?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“All right, let’s go back in the restaurant and get one.”

Sonya shut her belongings in the car and followed Brandon, who carried the note between his thumb and forefinger. She figured he wanted to get the note tested for fingerprints. She glanced around the parking lot, wondering if the person who’d left the note was watching. Shivers slid up and down her spine.

Spooked, she stayed close to the person who seemed to represent the only security she could find in a world that had shifted on its axis once again. First the death of her father, then her mother and now someone was sending her threats.

She didn’t like it.

Sonya waited by the door while Brandon requested a paper bag. The waitress handed him one and he slipped the note inside and folded the bag over. He held it up. “All right, I’m going to take this over to the lab.”

“Tonight?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“But it’s late. You’ve had a full day and need to rest.” She sighed. “And I sound like your mother. I’m going to be quiet now, get in my car and go home.”

His lips pulled into a smile. A smile he seemed to struggle with. Almost as though he didn’t do it very often and his lips had forgotten how. She knew exactly how he felt. Smiling seemed to take more effort than it was worth these days.

“I’ll follow you home before I take this over,” he said. “I have a friend who works the graveyard shift. He’ll probably be able to take care of this pretty quick. Depends on what else he has in the lineup.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She walked to the door and stepped outside. Her eyes immediately scanned the area for any threat. “And I think after today’s craziness, I would appreciate you following me home.” She paused. “And going through my house to make sure no one is inside would be nice, too.”

“My pleasure.”

His hand slipped under her elbow, and warmth danced up her arm. What was it about this man at her side? It was rather crazy the feelings he’d stirred up in her. And the feelings had her curious, too. She’d felt attraction before. Had even dated a doctor at the hospital before she’d moved to South Carolina to be with her mother during those hard final days of her life. So why now? Why would her heart suddenly decide that it was time to be attracted to Brandon, a man so tightly closed emotionally, a crowbar wouldn’t get him to open up?

A hand waved in front of her face. “Where are you?”

Sonya blinked and found herself at her car. “I was lost in thought.”

“I could see that. About what?”

She shrugged. “Everything. How confusing my life has suddenly become.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Brandon said. “I promise.”

She smiled. “I know you’ll try.”

“Well, that smile’s not fake, but it looks a little sad.” He held the door for her while she slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks.”

He closed her door and she waited for him to get into his car. He flashed his lights when he was ready and she pulled from the parking lot.

She kept an eye on her rearview mirror and couldn’t help wondering while Brandon was following her, was someone following him?

* * *

Brandon was concerned. The shooting in the park could have been a random thing. As unfortunate as it was, that kind of thing happened and made the news all the time. Okay, maybe not all the time, but often enough that people were no longer shocked when they saw reports on the news. Saddened, angry and frightened that their world could be such a dangerous place, but not shocked.

But the break-in at his house and the note left on Sonya’s car both pointed to the fact that someone didn’t want them looking for Heather Bradley. That was one fact he had no trouble figuring out.

By the time they pulled into Sonya’s driveway, he’d mapped out his plan of action for the next day.

She pulled into her garage and he met her as she climbed out of her car. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. My mother was originally from South Carolina before she and my father met. Then she went to college in Virginia and my dad swept her off her feet.” She gave a small smile and led him into the house via the back door. “At least that’s her version.”

“Your father had a different one?” He stepped into her kitchen. Cinnamon and another spicy scent hit him and he drew in a deep breath.

“Absolutely. He said Mom swept him away.” The fondness in her voice got to him.

He stopped at the table and looked into her eyes. Which made him crave chocolate.

At the same time, a long-rooted bitterness he’d thought he’d managed to suppress rose up strong and hot, taking him by surprise. “My parents never felt that way about each other.”

Something in his tone must have caught her attention. Her gaze sharpened. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Now he wanted the subject dropped. Him and his big mouth. “I don’t know why I told you that. Forget it.” He moved away from her. “Stay here while I check out the house.”

He could tell his abrupt departure confused her but he had to get away. He felt his walls slipping, crumbling before her sweet disposition and compassionate eyes. She’s a client, Hayes, remember that. You don’t date clients.

With his weapon ready, he checked the den, the three bedrooms and three bathrooms. He opened doors and peered in every potential hiding place, taking note that she kept a clean house. The glass on the nightstand, the T-shirt over the footboard of the bed and the flip-flops tossed into the corner of the room said she wasn’t obsessive about everything being in its place, though. “It’s clear, Sonya,” he said. He returned to the kitchen to find her staring out the window over the sink. “Sonya?”

She jerked and spun, a pretty cat in her arms. She stroked the animal’s head and blinked. “Oh. Sorry. I was lost in thought. Again.”

“It’s okay. I just said your house is clear.”

She let out a relieved breath and set the cat on the floor. “Thank you. Once I lock the door behind you I’ll feel all right.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Chaucer. He’s a pretty independent little guy, but when I’m gone for a long time, he likes to be held for a few minutes when I first walk in.” The cat sniffed Brandon’s shoes and must have decided he was okay as he rubbed against Brandon’s leg.

Brandon leaned over and scratched the cat’s ears while he debated whether Sonya should feel safe behind her locked doors or not. How serious was the person who’d left the note on her car? Pretty serious if it was the person who’d broken into his house to deliver the same message.

She must have sensed his hesitation. She walked over and patted his arm. “I’ll be fine.”

Brandon still paused, wondering if he should leave. Finally, he said, “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“At five.”

“At five.” Brandon forced himself to walk away and climb into his car. He gave the area one last sweep and didn’t see anything that made his nerves spike into alert mode.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

* * *

Sonya twisted the dead bolt. The lock clicked and silence descended. She shuddered as the house took on an ominous feel now that she was all alone. “Stop it,” she muttered.

Exhaustion swamped her. She had to get some sleep. Seven in the morning would come fast.

And yet, how could she sleep knowing someone felt threatened enough to leave a note on her car? And to break into Brandon’s house...

All of a sudden, she didn’t feel so safe. Her locks looked flimsy and she couldn’t remember if her bedroom window was latched.

Swallowing hard against the fear that wanted to take hold of her, she headed to her bedroom. At the entrance, she paused. “He said it was clear. There’s no one in there.”

Saying the words out loud helped, but still...

She stepped over the threshold and went straight to the window, felt the latch and found it locked. Her breath whooshed from her lungs. “Get a grip, girl.”

After a quick shower, she threw on a T-shirt and cotton shorts and turned the air conditioner down a notch. She kept her cell phone close. A glance at the clock made her grimace. Almost ten o’clock. The thought of falling asleep and having someone break in while she lay unaware made her stomach turn.

For the next thirty minutes, she paced and prayed. And listened. Nothing happened. No one tried to get in.

She sank onto the couch, pulled a blanket around her and rubbed her bleary eyes. She leaned her head back and sighed. Chaucer hopped up in her lap and nuzzled her chin. She rubbed his ears and he purred.

A noise from the kitchen.

She jerked, breath hitching. Chaucer jumped to the floor with a protesting meow.

Then Sonya realized it was only the ice maker. She got up to pace again, angry with herself and the fear she couldn’t seem to kick. She had to sleep if she was going to be worth anything tomorrow at work.

Sonya sidled up to the window and looked out. Then blinked in surprise. A strange car sat snugged up next to her curb. She drew back, fear flushing through her once more. Was there someone in the car? Another peek through the window confirmed someone in the driver’s seat. Okay, someone in the car was watching her house. Why? Who?

Had the other incidents not happened, she wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion, but at this point and after everything she’d been through, she was going to go with that first thought. Someone was watching her.

Sonya pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the number to speed-dial Brandon. She hated to wake him, but needed him to know about the car.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sonya.”

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry to call you so late, but I wanted you to know there’s a car parked out in front of my house on the curb and there’s someone in the driver’s seat.”

“Ah. That’s Frankie Lee. He’s a buddy of mine. He’s a detective and also helps out at Parker House. I didn’t feel right leaving you all alone and called him to be your backup.”

Relief and a smidgen of anger swept through her. “That would have been nice to know.”

A slight pause. She thought she might have hurt his feelings. “Sorry. I thought you might have gone on to sleep and I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, the stiffness in his voice making her wince.

The anger faded as fast as it had surfaced. “No, it’s fine. Wonderful, in fact. I’m sorry I snapped. The truth is, I was having trouble settling down. Now that I know someone is watching out for me, I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Well, good.” The stiffness was gone. “I’m dropping this letter off at the lab, then I’m heading home for a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll see you after your shift.”

“Sounds good.” She paused.

“You need something else?”

“No, no. I guess I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sonya.” His low voice turned husky and warm, and shivers danced up her spine with the three words. And the way he said her name. She liked it. It made her feel—cared for. Something she hadn’t felt since her mother died.

She hung up and with one last relieved glance out the window headed for her room to get some much-needed sleep. And while glad for the security outside her home, she couldn’t help the niggling of unease that inched up her spine. Somehow she knew that while she might sleep easier tonight, the person watching her wasn’t far away.

He was waiting—and planning—for the next moment to strike.

FIVE

Monday morning Brandon glanced at the clock on his desk at the police station and rubbed his chin. He’d snagged only a few hours of sleep last night, yet they’d been enough to refresh him.

Knowing Sonya was at work and under the watchful eye of Frankie, Brandon had felt comfortable enough to come in and work on his cases without worrying himself to death about her safety.

Brandon knew Frankie would call him if something came up. He hoped nothing did, of course. And now, in an hour, he’d pick up Sonya at the hospital and take her to meet Heather Bradley’s family. Time had slowed to a crawl and he had to force himself to focus. However, excitement stirred inside him, distracting him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of seeing Sonya again or the possibility of discovering she was a missing child from twenty-eight years ago.

He stopped to consider that. Wariness rose as he realized seeing Sonya rated higher on his excitement meter than finding out if she was a Bradley. He’d have to add another layer to the crumbling wall around his heart.

His phone rang as he kept up the internal dialogue about why he couldn’t allow a romantic interest in Sonya to grow. “Yeah?”

“Tough day?”

Holt Granger, his buddy at the lab. Finally. “Not especially. Why?”

“You sound grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You sure? Because you sound grumpy.”

Brandon sighed. “I’m sure.”

“Whatever.”

“And no, my day has not been especially hard. I was just thinking about something.”

“Something that put you in a bad mood obviously.”

Brandon felt his lips twitch. Holt never had a bad day. Or if he did, he didn’t let on. “Do you have something that’s going to improve my mood?”

“Thought you weren’t in a bad mood.”

“I said I wasn’t grumpy. I didn’t say anything about my mood.”

Holt laughed and Brandon’s small smile curved higher. “Well?”

“I got a print off the letter.”

“You’re right. My mood just got better. Any matches?”

“No, sorry. Whoever the print belongs to isn’t in the system.”

“You just tanked my mood.”

Holt chuckled then turned serious again. “Nothing from your condo, either. Your intruder had on gloves.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’ll stay in touch and let you know if anything else comes up.”

“Thanks.”

Brandon hung up and looked at the clock again, realized what he was doing and rolled his eyes. His uncharacteristic impatience had him cranky and irritable in spite of his denials to Holt.

But he finally admitted his impatience stemmed from his desire to see Sonya again. He grabbed his keys and his phone and headed out the door. He’d be early, but at least he’d be moving instead of staring like a lovesick schoolboy at the clock on his desk.

* * *

At 4:55 in the afternoon, Sonya waved to Frankie Lee, her subtle bodyguard who leaned against the wall and pretended to read a magazine. He returned her wave with a nod and she gathered her things. He sauntered over and pushed the door to the locker room open. “Anyone in here?”

“Just me.” Gerri Aimes exited the locker room and gave Frankie the once-over. He seemed to meet her approval because she winked at Sonya. “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” Sonya didn’t bother to correct her coworker’s misunderstanding about who Frankie was. Instead, she stepped into the empty room where she’d change into her street clothes and freshen up a bit before heading down to meet Brandon. Just the thought made her smile. In spite of Brandon’s observation that she didn’t smile much. She’d noticed lately that when she thought of him, her lips automatically curved upward. She had to admit, too, that while on the job, she occasionally used the smile Brandon called fake. Even that was better than a frown. Or an expressionless facade.

Hospice could be such a heavy place. No one who came to hospice left alive, and families were grieving—some openly, some hiding it well. Others were angry that the medical staff couldn’t miraculously heal the dying loved one.

Sonya didn’t take it personally, but dealing with them didn’t make it any less emotionally draining. And while smiling usually came naturally to her, lately, it had been hard to find something to smile about. She was glad to let her lips relax in the privacy of the locker room.

Not everyone could do her job. She knew that and took comfort in the fact that she was needed even if being needed did come with a high emotional price tag. But she loved what she did and the families she worked with. So she coped with prayer and offered comforting embraces and empathetic tears.

Watching her parents die had given Sonya the desire to reach out to others, to let them know she knew exactly what they were going through. And offer genuine smiles when she could find them.

Some days she saw the results of her efforts. Other days she just prayed she’d made a difference.

Today was one of those days, so she prayed while she changed.

She would see Brandon in five minutes. Give or take a minute or two. She’d gotten permission to leave early, stating she had a personal issue to take care of.

Her nerves hummed and her brain whirled. Who were the Bradleys? What if she was Heather? Her throat tightened at the thought. No way. There just had to be a reasonable explanation for everything. Didn’t there?

She finished changing and closed the locker door. Another locker door shut with a click.

Footsteps to her left.

The lights went out.

In the dark, Sonya froze and listened. The inky blackness pressed in on her. “Hello?” She thought she was the sole occupant of the locker room since she was the only one leaving two hours before the shift ended.

Had the entire hospital lost power? But why hadn’t the generator kicked in?

She moved with shuffling steps toward the door, not wanting to bang her knees on the benches.

Another footfall landed somewhere in front of her, between her and the door. She stopped, her heart picking up speed. “Who’s there?”

When she didn’t get an answer, but knew someone was definitely in the room with her, her heart kicked it up another notch. With all of the strange things that had happened lately, she wasn’t taking any stupid chances.

Sonya shut her mouth and moved sideways. She hit a bench and set her bag on it. She wanted to reach in the bag and search for her cell phone, but didn’t dare make the noise she’d have to make in order to find the thing.

So, making no sound, she twisted the strap of her purse around her fingers and stepped around the bench, her soft-soled tennis shoes quiet on the tile floor.

With her pulse pounding in her ears, she moved toward the door once again, hoping whoever had been there seconds before had moved. Another muffled scrape reached her. The person still blocked Sonya’s exit.

She slipped back and into one of the bathroom stalls. And wondered if that was possibly the dumbest thing she could have done.

* * *

At ten after five, Brandon started to get a little nervous. Where was she? He was parked at the top of the circle next to the front door where she said she’d meet him. Maybe she’d gotten held up. He tried her number and frowned when she didn’t answer. He called Frankie. “Where’s Sonya?”

“She’s changing in the locker room. Taking her a while, though. I was just getting ready to check on her.”

“Did you clear it before she went in?”

“I did. Another woman was in there and came out when Sonya went in.”

Brandon waffled. “Give her another minute then knock on the door.” He should have put a woman on her. Would have made it easier to keep tabs on her in the bathrooms.

“Of course.”

Brandon waited for all of fifteen seconds, then got out of his car and headed for the entrance. He was probably overreacting but he’d rather play it safe. He couldn’t believe how worried he was. Telling himself he was being silly, that Frankie had it under control, he nevertheless hurried to the elevator.

* * *

Sonya held her breath then let it out in a slow, soundless hiss. She’d lost track of how many seconds—minutes?—had passed since she’d stepped into the stall. Two? Three? And yet, she heard nothing. No footsteps, no one breathing. Nothing.

She was beginning to think it really was her imagination after all, but her gut said it wasn’t.

She opened the stall door and stepped out.

From behind her, she felt movement. She started to turn and gasped when something hard, cold and sharp touched her throat and pressed. Sharp, stinging pain froze her. “This is your last warning. Stop looking for Heather Bradley.” The knife dug a little deeper. Sonya felt a warm trickle of blood begin to slide down her throat. She let out a whimper, lifted up on her tiptoes. She couldn’t speak, was afraid to move. One wrong slip of his hand and the blade would end it all.

The knife lowered and she shoved back against her attacker. The figure stumbled. She heard the knife clatter to the tile floor. Sonya spun away and lunged for the door. A hand gripped her collar and yanked her back.

A knock on the door made her attacker pause. Sonya swung around with her fist and connected with a cheekbone. He cried out and cursed, but let go.

* * *

“Sonya? Are you in here?”

“Missy! Get back!” Sonya moved and slammed into the bench. Pain shot through her knee and she heard Missy scream as the man raced through the open door. Sonya spun to see Missy shoved against the door and the dark-clothed figure disappear around the corner. Commotion escalated like a cresting wave. She thought she heard Frankie holler, then pounding feet.

Sonya sank to the floor and lifted a hand to her bleeding throat, wondering how deep the wound was. Weakness invaded her. Mentally, she knew she needed to get up and get help, but her body wouldn’t cooperate with her. Shock held her in a tight grip.

Then Brandon was beside her. “I need a doctor in here!” To Sonya, he said, “Let me see.” He removed her hand and she thought she saw relief flash in his eyes. “I think it’s just a surface wound.”

“It stings,” she whispered, “but doesn’t really hurt. My knee hurts worse.” She tried to laugh but wasn’t sure she succeeded when he grimaced.

“Sonya?”

She glanced up at Dr. Eddie Ryan’s concerned voice.

“Hey, Eddie,” she whispered. Security and police officers were already on the scene. They must have been close by. The observation almost made her laugh. She’d just had her throat cut and she was thinking about the proximity of law enforcement. Too bad they hadn’t been around when she’d been attacked.

Brandon moved back and let Eddie take his spot.

“Who did this?” Eddie asked without taking his eyes from her neck.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Someone who’s decidedly unhappy with me. Is Missy okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Hearing Missy’s shaky voice sent relief pouring through her.

“Unhappy with you?” Eddie snorted. “I’ll say.” He looked up and spoke to one of the nurses. “Let’s get her into a vacant room. Looks like she might need a stitch or two. Call the pharmacy and get me a prescription for an antibiotic.” He wrote the script, then looked back at Sonya. “I’m assuming your tetanus vaccination is up to date.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She looked at Brandon. “Where’s Frankie?”

“He went after your attacker,” he said. “Security is helping him. We should hear in a bit that he’s in custody. Now, let’s get you taken care of.”

Then hands were helping her into the wheelchair that had been called for. “I don’t need this. I can walk.”

“Sh.” Brandon laid a hand on her shoulder. “Sit.”

Since she didn’t think she could stand, much less walk as she’d said she could do, she bit her tongue on any further protests.

Thirty minutes later, she had two black stitches in the worst part of the cut, had downed the prescribed antibiotic and was waiting impatiently for Brandon to reappear. Thankfully, the wound was numb and she wasn’t in any pain at the moment, but she was grateful for the little bottle of pain pills in her purse for when the numbing medicine wore off.

She wanted to go home and sleep, but more than that, she wanted to head over to the Bradleys’ house. Brandon had wanted to cancel the meeting, but she’d asked him to just postpone it if that was all right with the Bradleys. She didn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary to talk to them.

Doubtful, he’d done as she’d asked and now she itched to go. To get the visit over with. To determine once and for all that she was not Heather Bradley.

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