FRAMED

Lured into a dark classroom, high school teacher Claire Kendall stumbles over the body of a dead student—and into the clutches of the killer. Certain she’s about to die, Claire is shocked when DEA agent Matt Ross bursts in and rescues her. The former army ranger who broke her heart ten years ago is back in town to bust a drug trafficking ring operating at the school. With Claire being framed for the young informant’s murder, she has to put aside their past and trust her handsome ex to keep her safe. But someone is dead set on bringing their hometown reunion to a permanent end.

Rangers Under Fire: Nothing’s more dangerous than falling in love.

“You shouldn’t be alone until we find the person who killed your student and tried to abduct you,” Matt said.

Claire shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one is after me.”

“We don’t know that, Claire. You could still be in danger.”

She glanced up at him, curiosity pooling in her eyes. “Why? What did you find?”

“Your student, Luke, didn’t send you that text asking you to come to the school. He couldn’t have. He was already dead by the time that text was sent. Whoever it was lured you here and was waiting for you, Claire.”

He saw her mind racing. “Who would do that? Who would want to hurt me?”

“That’s a good question, and one we need to figure out.” He’d meant it when he’d said he wasn’t leaving until he knew Claire was safe…and that was looking less and less likely. There was no way he was going to let her go home alone. She would be a sitting target. “I would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

She gazed at him for a moment. Was she thinking of the past?

VIRGINIA VAUGHAN is a born and raised Mississippi girl. She is blessed to come from a large Southern family, and her fondest memories include listening to stories recounted around the dinner table. She was a lover of books from a young age, devouring tales of romance, danger and love. She soon started writing them herself. You can connect with Virginia through her website, virginiavaughanonline.com, or through the publisher.

Reunion Mission
Virginia Vaughan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Yet, O Lord, You are our Father. We are the clay,

You are the potter: we are all the work of Your hand.

—Isaiah 64:8

This book is dedicated to my mom, Sylvia.

Your strength and perseverance throughout the years

has been my inspiration. God truly blessed me

when He made me your daughter.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Claire Kendall unlocked the side door to Lakeshore High School and slipped inside. The hallway was dark and eerily quiet on a Sunday afternoon. The hall lights were controlled by a main switch in the storage room, but they took a while to power on and Claire didn’t want to bother with them. The overhead light in her classroom would be enough, especially if she opened the window blinds and let the sunlight stream in. She took out her cell phone and hit the flashlight function, noticing as she headed down the hall how it seemed to stretch farther than it did when the lights were on and kids were present.

She reached her classroom and saw it, too, was dark. Strange. She was supposed to be meeting her student Luke Thompson here. The text message he’d sent her earlier had indicated he was already at the school waiting. Had he given up waiting for her and left?

She reached up and flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. The room remained dark.

As she moved to open the blinds to at least give them some light, her foot caught on something on the floor and she stumbled, catching herself on one of the student desks. She turned the phone light to the floor to see what she’d tripped on and spotted something between the rows of desks. As she moved the light closer, she saw the outline of a hand...then an arm...then a body sprawled on the floor.

“Luke!” Claire knelt beside him, but he didn’t move at the sound of his name. Her knees touched something wet and sticky. Dread filled her at the realization of what had happened.

She looked at her hand and saw blood. Luke’s blood.

She stifled a scream. Panicking wouldn’t do any good now. She needed to remain calm. If there was a chance Luke was still alive, she had to get help. She hit the keypad on her phone and tried to dial 9-1-1, but her hands were shaking so badly that she had to reenter the number.

Hang on, Luke!

She had just pressed Send on her call for help when someone grabbed her. Claire screamed and the phone slipped through her fingers and hit the floor with a crack. Her assailant clamped a heavy hand over her mouth and pinned her arms.

His breath was hot against her skin as he hissed into her ear. “You did this. You killed Luke with your meddling.”

Terror gripped her at his words. Luke was dead. This man had killed him, and now he would kill her, too.

She struggled to break his hold, flailing her legs against a desk. It toppled over, taking the one beside it down, too. The wood and metal clanked against the tiled floor. She tried again to scream for help, but his heavy hand over her mouth prevented the sound from escaping. And who would hear her anyway in an empty school?

Oh, God, help me!

She was going to die right here in her classroom alongside one of her students.

* * *

Trixie. In his school.

DEA agent Matt Ross jiggled the handle on the southwest door by the cafeteria, and it opened just as Luke had assured him it would. He examined the lock and saw it didn’t latch properly, preventing the locking mechanism from catching. He wondered how long it had been that way and how many Lakeshore High students had taken advantage of such a lack of security for skipping classes.

Luke had already assured him others knew about it. In fact, Lakeshore High had become a popular drug drop because of the failing security measures in the years since Matt had graduated.

He couldn’t believe Trixie was in his old school. When he’d seen the report about a new and popular drug in his hometown of Lakeshore, Tennessee, he’d asked for the assignment to track down the suppliers. And Luke had been a wealth of information about the operation. The kid knew more than he should and was eager to share it with the DEA. The one thing he hadn’t yet given Matt were names. Names of his supplier and the major players in the drug market in town. Matt hoped today he would finally get that information from Luke. The kid was scared. That was to be expected. Trixie might be a new drug, but it was already gaining popularity in the major cities and money was rolling in. Luke could find his very life in danger if anyone discovered he’d been talking with the DEA. Luke had chosen the school as a safe place to meet, sharing with Matt the information about the easy access through the southwest entrance.

Suddenly, a scream lit up the air.

Matt reached for his weapon, his entire body suddenly on alert. The school was supposed to be empty except for him and Luke, but that sounded like a woman’s scream. He moved through the dark hallways, following the sounds of a struggle.

Everything went quiet...too quiet too suddenly. He peered cautiously into the classroom where he was sure the sounds had come from. A faint light on the floor revealed overturned desks. A struggle had definitely occurred here.

His gut clenched. Was he too late?

He moved slowly toward the light on the floor, now realizing it came from a dropped cell phone. Luke’s? He spotted a shadow on the edge of the light and took a step closer, catching the outline of a body sprawled between the desks.

Luke.

He reached down and felt the boy’s skin. It was cold. Luke was dead.

He raised his gun and scanned the room, his eyes already adjusting to the darkness. He’d trudged through darker environments during his time with the army rangers, but what he wouldn’t give right now for a pair of night vision goggles. Someone was there in the darkness, though. He sensed their presence. Was the killer still on campus? Still in this room?

He pulled out his phone, clicked on the flashlight function and scanned the room again. He heard faint, muffled sounds coming from one corner of the room and he moved in that direction, his gun drawn and ready and his intuition on fire. The killer was still here.

“Let’s just end this right now.” Matt spoke through the darkness to the assailant, hoping for some sort of movement or change in breathing to pinpoint exactly where he was hiding.

He heard it again, that muffled grunt. It seemed to come from right in front of him. Suddenly, a figure in the darkness moved and someone was barreling toward him. He jumped back, then realized it was a woman being shoved at him. He reached out his arms and caught her, but the force of the assailant’s push knocked him backward and he hit the floor. The lady fell on top of him, landing on his chest. He noted she was petite and light, and he caught the scent of berry shampoo as her long hair fluttered near his face. His cell phone clattered to the floor and the assailant ran out the door. Matt still had his gun in his hand, but he didn’t dare fire into darkness.

The light from his phone illuminated Luke’s face only inches away from them. The lady in his arms screamed and scrambled away, frightened.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked her. He reached for her arm and felt her quivering with fear. “Are you hurt?”

“I—I’m fine, but Luke...”

“I know.” He leaped to his feet. “Stay here.” He rushed out of the classroom and down the hall, his gun trained and ready, but when he saw the southwest door he’d closed standing open, he knew whoever had been here had fled.

He returned to the classroom and pulled open the window blinds, filling the room with sunlight.

He turned, surprised by the woman on the floor beside the body. He instantly recognized her petite frame, flowing dark hair and wide blue eyes as they stared up at him.

Claire Kendall. His former fiancée.

The love of his life.

The woman whose life he’d almost ended ten years ago.

* * *

In all the years she’d imagined bumping into Matt Ross again, Claire had never once imagined it would be over the body of one of her students. She stared up at him. He looked so different and yet so much like the Matt she remembered. He’d always been tall, but he seemed to have added a few inches since high school. The long arms and legs that had once been gangly were now solid and muscular and his chest and shoulders broad, a man instead of the boy she’d known ten years ago. His blond hair was cut shorter than she’d ever seen it, but she supposed it was longer now than it had been during his time in the army. His face was fuller, but his hazel eyes were still intense and his features sharp and handsome.

He knelt beside her. “Claire, what are you doing here? How do you know Luke Thompson?”

She was shocked that he knew Luke. “I’m a teacher at this school. This is my classroom. Luke is one of my students. How do you know him?” She recognized that troubled look on Matt’s face and grew worried. “How do you know Luke?” she asked him again.

He helped her to her feet. “There’s blood on your clothes.”

She glanced down and saw dark stains smeared on her jeans and blouse. Her hands were also covered in blood. Luke’s blood. “It’s not mine.”

“You’re shaking.” He took off his jacket and slipped it across her shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She went willingly with him, thankful for the support and for the jacket. She was trembling, although not from the cold. Shivers of fear and worry lit through her. She could still feel the clammy touch of that man’s hand against her face and smell the rancid smell of his hot breath as he whispered to her. You did this. You killed Luke with your meddling.

What had he meant by that? All she’d done was try to help Luke. He’d wanted out of the drug business and she’d encouraged him. Had he heeded her advice and told his dealers that he didn’t want to peddle their drugs anymore? Had they killed him because of it?

She stumbled as Matt led her toward the office. Her hip was stiff and sore after her ordeal, and she wished it didn’t bother her so much. Other people might not even notice the residual slight limp, but Matt would notice. Matt was not just any other person. Thankfully, he said nothing as he led her to the office and Claire fell onto the couch, not certain her legs would carry her any farther. Matt walked out, then returned a moment later with a bottle of water. Her hands shook as she tried to lift it to her lips. Finally, he poured some into a paper cup and gave it to her.

The cool liquid felt soothing over her raw throat. She’d hardly been able to scream but still her throat was raw as if she had. She’d struggled against the force of that man’s hand against her face, struggled for air to breathe. She didn’t think he’d been trying to smother her, but his hand had essentially cut off her air supply.

Matt pulled up a chair and straddled it, his hazel eyes probing hers. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police? I dialed 9-1-1 before that man grabbed me, but I don’t know if the call went through.”

“I am the police.”

He pulled out his badge and she saw he now worked for the Drug Enforcement Administration. She knew he’d left the army, but she hadn’t heard about this new position. Now his presence at the school made more sense. Luke was involved in drugs. Had Matt been here to arrest him?

“Tell me everything you remember. Why were you here at the school on a Sunday?”

Her hands shook as she outlined her morning, trying to remember every detail. “I received a text message from Luke an hour ago asking me to meet him at the school, so I came. The lights were out and even my classroom overhead light didn’t work, but I had the flashlight on my phone. I found him lying on the floor. Before I could call for help, someone grabbed me.”

“Did you see the man who grabbed you?”

“No. It was dark and he was behind me.”

“Did you recognize his voice? Was there anything about him that was familiar?”

She shook her head. “It all happened so fast. He kept his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I struggled, but I couldn’t break free. When he heard you coming, he dragged me to the corner. The next thing I knew, he had shoved me toward you and we were on the floor.”

“Did you let Luke into the building?”

“No. But everyone knows the door by the cafeteria doesn’t latch well. He probably got in that way.”

“Why did Luke ask to meet you today?”

His message hadn’t said, but she’d hoped for some good news from him. “His message only said he had something important he needed to tell me.”

“Were you aware he was selling drugs?”

“Yes. Luke came to me a few weeks ago and told me he’d been selling drugs, but that he wanted out. He gave his life to the Lord and didn’t want to do it anymore, but he was afraid to tell his supplier. He said he was trying to find a safe way out of the business. When I saw his text, I thought he was going to tell me he’d finally done it.”

“Did he ever tell you the name of his supplier or let something slip that could lead us to him?”

“No, he thought if I knew it would put me in danger.” It seemed that had happened anyway. “I need to call his parents and tell them what happened.”

“We’ll have someone take care of that.”

She looked at him. “He was a good kid. He was trying to get his life together.”

She heard the sound of sirens growing closer. Matt stood and peeked out the window. “I guess the police did receive your call.”

A moment later, the doors opened and the school was flooded with uniformed police officers.

She spotted her friend Preston, a detective with the Lakeshore Police Department, directing several of the officers to secure the school. When he spotted her through the window separating the office from the foyer, his face paled and he rushed to her.

“Claire! We received an emergency call from this location. What are you doing here?” He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.

“Preston, it’s Luke Thompson. He’s dead.”

“The kid you’ve been ministering to? What happened?”

“He sent me a text message asking me to meet him, but when I arrived, he was on the floor and someone else was in the room. He grabbed me. If Matt hadn’t arrived when he did...” She turned to look at him, suddenly realizing she owed her life to Matt. She also realized she hadn’t introduced the two men. “Matt, this is my friend Detective Preston Ware. He’s with the Lakeshore PD. Preston, this is Matt Ross. He’s with the DEA.”

Preston’s look of surprise was obvious. “Matt Ross? As in...”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. Preston was aware of her history with Matt.

Matt responded with a chagrined look. “Yes, that Matt Ross.” He held out his hand to shake Preston’s. “Nice to meet you.”

Preston reluctantly took the hand he offered.

“Whoever grabbed Claire got away before I could stop him. The body is in Claire’s classroom. It’s the fourth—”

“I know where her classroom is.” Preston turned back to Claire. “Stay here. I’ll need to ask you some questions after I see the crime scene.”

She nodded, expecting it would be the same questions Matt had asked her. And she would have the same answers she’d given him. She didn’t know who’d killed Luke and she hadn’t seen her attacker’s face.

“I’ve already secured the scene,” Matt assured him.

Preston shot him a cautious smile. “You don’t mind if we double-check that, do you?”

She sensed a simmering dislike between the two men. It was more than their cautious smiles and easygoing manners. Beneath the surface, there seemed to be a palpable desire in both of them to strike out against the other. Matt’s folded arms as he informed Preston about the details of the case. Preston’s defensive stance.

She was glad when they both walked out. She wasn’t surprised that Preston was leery of Matt. After all, she’d cried on his shoulder numerous times through the years about her ordeal.

But what possible reason could Matt have against Preston?

* * *

He didn’t like it. Nope, he didn’t like it one bit.

Who was this guy who’d claimed Claire as his own with one call of her name?

A feeling of satisfaction had washed over him as he reached out to shake Preston’s hand. Claire had called him a friend and everyone knew what that meant—platonic, non-boyfriend friend. And Preston’s grip as they shook was firmer than it needed to be, an obvious acknowledgment of territory. His stance was clear—back off! Apparently, he hadn’t caught on to Claire’s reference to him as her “friend.” He was still clinging hopelessly to the delusion that they could one day be more.

It wouldn’t happen. If Matt knew one thing about Claire, it was that she believed love should be passionate and overwhelming...the way they’d once been. If there was no passion, in her mind, there was no romance.

“Claire said you were DEA. May I ask what you were doing here? Is the DEA performing an investigation we need to know about?”

“Luke was a DEA informant. We were hoping he could give us information that would break up a drug ring working out of the school.”

“What kind of drug ring?”

“It’s a new drug called Trixie. It’s a stimulant that—”

“I know it. High-priced. Very dangerous.”

“And popular with the kids. Our intel says there’s a major business working out of Lakeshore High. We were just starting our investigation.” They stepped into the classroom and Matt saw Luke on the floor, his throat slit and blood everywhere. His gut clenched. Luke had been his key to unlocking the drug ring operating in his hometown. Now, instead of an informant, he was a murder victim.

And Claire had somehow stumbled into the middle of his investigation and onto the radar of a killer.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Relax,” Matt said. “This isn’t my first crime scene. I know how to be careful.”

“I don’t care how many crime scenes you say you’ve been to, this one is mine and I say you need to leave. This isn’t a DEA investigation anymore. This is a murder, and homicide is my jurisdiction.”

Matt turned to look at him, the territorial protective vibe going again. This was his investigation. Claire was his friend. It was all about him, wasn’t it? “Luke was a DEA informant, and I’m still investigating a drug ring operating out of this school. I would like to be kept involved.” He could tell the detective wasn’t happy about his role and he wasn’t surprised, but he was also sure it had less to do with him being DEA than with him being Claire’s ex.

“Look, I’m not just some guy off the street. I’m an old friend of Claire’s and I don’t want to see anything happen to her.”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Preston countered, turning to stare right into Matt’s face. “You’re the scumbag who wrapped his car around a telephone pole on prom night, then left Claire battered and brokenhearted while you took off to join the army.”

Matt shouldered his tirade. It wasn’t exactly correct. He hadn’t left Claire in the car. It had been weeks later that he’d left town when his prayers to God for her recovery went unanswered. He hadn’t been on speaking terms with the Almighty since. But Preston got the gist of the story correct, and who was Matt to squabble over details. He’d caused the wreck, then had left her when his guilt got too heavy to bear.

But that didn’t change today’s situation. Claire was in danger, and he wasn’t stepping aside this time.

“That was a long time ago.”

“That’s right, it was. Your connection to Claire ended the moment you walked out on her.” Preston turned and knelt to examine the body.

Enough talk. Matt got serious. “You are aware that Luke was dead long before he supposedly sent Claire that text message?”

“We haven’t even determined time of death yet.”

“I’ve seen my share of bodies. That boy has been dead at least four hours. Claire said she received the text an hour ago. Someone wanted her to come here, possibly just to find Luke, but maybe for more than that. Her life is in danger, and if you think I’m going to leave until I know she’s safe, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Matt walked out, leaving him to process the crime scene. He focused on trying to calm down, but it was a daunting task given the surge of adrenaline that had pulsed through his veins from the moment he’d heard that first scream, and reinforced from the realization that the woman on top of him had once been the love of his life. It had taken all his strength to pull away from her and lead her to a chair in the school’s office, but his instincts had kicked in, reminding him that his priority had to be preserving the scene and that meant getting Claire out of the area as soon as possible.

Preston’s men would go over every detail of that room and the body, but Matt didn’t need an autopsy report to tell him what he already knew.

The killer had lured Claire into that classroom.

* * *

It didn’t take long from the time the police arrived for a crowd to form outside the school. Onlookers appeared along with the television news teams.

Claire peeked out the window and saw the three local news channels all setting up in front of the school. She noticed many of the students and the worry on their faces. When she turned on the television in the office, the news channels were reporting a body was found at the high school, but they had not identified it as a student.

What would happen to those kids when they learned one of their own was dead? When they heard it was Luke Thompson who’d been killed? They would be devastated.

You killed Luke with your meddling.

Those words rushed back to her and she shuddered. She’d only wanted to help Luke, not get him killed.

Chills ran up her spine. She might have been lying beside Luke if Matt hadn’t arrived. But what was he doing at the school? She wasn’t surprised to see him in town, since she knew his sister, Alisa, was getting married in two weeks and most of the family was returning for the wedding. But what had he been doing at the school on a Sunday afternoon?

She realized those were the same questions he’d asked of her. Only, she’d told him why she was there. He had yet to explain his presence. She’d been so thankful he was there that she hadn’t even thought to question him about why he’d come.

The roar of the crowd outside grew louder as the front door to the school pushed open and she saw Principal Spencer enter. He let the door close behind him as he headed into the office.

“Claire. What are you doing here? The news is saying a body was found on campus?”

“It was one of our students, Luke Thompson.”

“Luke? What do they think happened?”

“Someone killed him. I found his body and someone was there. He tried to grab me.”

Principal Spencer’s face was instantly full of concern for her. “Are you hurt? How did you get away?”

“Someone else rescued me. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did.”

“Has anyone notified Luke’s parents? They’ll be devastated.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go find out. Will you start calling the faculty and let them know what’s happened? We’ll need to coordinate a response, arrange for counselors and such.”

“Certainly.”

She hadn’t thought about calling anyone, not even him. She supposed that was why he was the principal. He had a take-charge attitude and remained calm during a time of crisis.

She found a phone list on the secretary’s desk and began making calls.

* * *

Matt returned to the classroom and stared at the body on the floor. He couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was that someone so young was gone. Yes, he’d seen death before—too many times before—but it still struck him as tragic. This kid was only seventeen at best, much too young to have been caught up in drugs and drug rings. But it was an all too common tale, he’d discovered since coming to work for the DEA. Kids and drugs. Devastated lives. Shattered families. He was tired of the senselessness of it all.

Preston stood over the body, examining it. “It looks like his throat was slit. We’ll have to wait for an autopsy report, but I suspect that will be the cause of death.”

Matt had to concur. He, too, suspected Luke’s throat was cut, but an autopsy would tell them how quickly he died. Was this the work of an experienced killer or an amateur? The answer to that question would provide them leads in finding the person responsible.

Preston stood. “We haven’t located the murder weapon yet, but I’ll have my guys conduct a search.”

“We should start along the path he took when he ran out. It’s possible he tossed the weapon when he ran.”

Preston nodded. “That could include the parking lot and the woods behind the school.” He stared out the window at the crowd already gathered. “And the area has already been contaminated. I’ll have someone clear out this crowd.” Preston got on the radio and issued his instructions for the search.

A uniformed officer poked his head through the door and addressed Preston. “The school principal is here. He’d like to speak with someone.”

Preston nodded. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

Matt followed Preston into the hallway. A tall, sandy-haired man was waiting for them. He extended his hand. “I’m Bill Spencer, principal of Lakeshore High School. Can you tell me what happened?”

Preston took the lead. “Only that the body of one of your students was discovered in this classroom. We suspect foul play.”

“Claire said it was Luke Thompson. Was anyone else involved? Do you have any idea why this happened?”

“We’re still investigating, Principal Spencer.”

“Of course. Well, you can see half the town is already aware a body has been found. I’d like to be able to tell my students and teachers something about what happened here.”

“We just don’t have enough evidence yet to draw conclusions, much less make them public.”

“Will we be able to open the school for classes tomorrow?”

“We’re still processing the scene. It’s too early to tell.”

“I understand, but it’s imperative we get these kids back into school as soon as possible. It’s an important element to helping them cope. We’ll be calling in mental health counselors to assist the students in their grieving process.”

Matt was surprised when Preston seemed to offer the principal something. Protecting the crime scene should have been the most important thing. “For right now, this entire hall and portions of the parking lot and back forty are off-limits. We may open those to students if we don’t find anything, but this classroom will be inaccessible until we finish our investigation. It’s a crime scene. But I think you’ll be able to reopen for classes by Tuesday.”

Principal Spencer nodded. “We’ll utilize the cafeteria, auditorium and the courtyard for the overflow. I’ll make an announcement about the school reopening Tuesday. And don’t worry, Detective, we will keep this area off-limits. We won’t do anything to compromise this investigation. This tragedy will shake the school to its foundations. Luke was well liked. We’ll be concentrating on helping the students cope with his death. I’ve already got Claire placing calls to the other teachers.”

“The parents are here,” a uniformed officer told them.

“Would you mind if I’m there when you talk to the Thompsons about Luke?” the principal asked. “I think it would help for them to see a familiar face.”

“We’ll have to ask some difficult questions of the family,” Preston told him. “Perhaps it would be better if you were there. This is Agent Ross of the DEA. He’ll be joining us, as well. We’ll need to use your office.”

“Certainly,” Principal Spencer said. “Anything I can do to help.”

Luke’s parents were ushered into the principal’s office. They’d already been informed that their son was dead. Mrs. Thompson sat quietly, shock pressing on her heavily made-up face. Her mascara hadn’t even run and Matt had to wonder if she’d shed a tear yet. Shock had that effect on some people. It would hit her, though, and it would be hard and painful. Mr. Thompson expressed his grief differently—he was vocal.

“I want to know what my son was doing here,” he demanded. “And why was that teacher meeting him here alone? I want answers.”

“We’re working on that, Mr. Thompson.” Preston was the picture of grace and ease, and Matt had to admit he admired the man’s ability to handle this difficult situation. “We all want answers. When was the last time you saw Luke?”

His mother’s hands shook, so she clenched them together, fighting to keep her composure. “Last night. He said he was going out with friends.”

“You didn’t see him when he came home?”

“No, I was already asleep. Luke was a very independent boy. He didn’t take a lot of oversight. If he said he was going to be home by midnight, he was. I didn’t think anything about it. I left the house early this morning for a meeting. I assumed he was still sleeping upstairs.”

“Luke was a good kid,” Mr. Thompson said. “He had a lot of friends.”

“Do you know if Luke was involved in any kind of drug use?”

“What? No. I would know if my son was doing drugs. Luke was too smart to do something that dumb.”

Matt stepped forward and produced his DEA credentials. “My name is Matt Ross. I’m with the DEA. Your son contacted me with information he had about a drug ring operating in Lakeshore. I believe that’s what got him killed.”

“You think Luke was using drugs?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“We believe he was doing more than taking them. We believe he was selling, as well,” Matt said.

Matt watched his reaction and saw the typical parental denial. It seemed genuine, though. It didn’t appear that the Thompsons knew about Luke’s extracurricular activities.

“We gave Luke everything he needed,” Mr. Thompson said. “Why would he be involved with selling drugs? He certainly didn’t need the money. I don’t want you spreading these lies about my son. He wasn’t doing drugs and he certainly wasn’t selling them, regardless of what you say. Someone killed my son. Concentrate on finding that person, not on vilifying my boy.”

It wasn’t the first time Matt had seen parents refuse to admit the truth about their kids. Luke was dead and they would do whatever they could to preserve their memory of him. But Matt had another job—uncovering the truth. And the truth was that Luke had reached out to him, offering information about a drug ring operating out of the school. The kid had known something. If only they’d had the opportunity to talk more in depth.

His mind skimmed over the initial details Luke had given on the phone. He’d identified the drug being sold in his school as Trixie, and he’d hinted someone inside was involved.

Had Luke told Claire who it was? Was she too frightened to tell, after seeing what had happened to Luke? Or was she truly as innocent as she claimed to be?

Someone believed she knew more, or else why lure her to the school? To find out what Luke had told her? Or to make certain she didn’t know more than she should? If he knew the answer to that, he might know whether the attacker had planned to question her or kill her if Matt hadn’t shown up.

How had Claire gotten involved in this mess? The Claire he’d known had been kind and innocent. It didn’t matter that years had passed since he’d last seen her. He couldn’t imagine she’d changed. People simply didn’t change that much. But then when he’d known her, she hadn’t been counseling drug dealers, either. Had her involvement with Luke placed a target on her back?

Matt remained quiet as Preston ended the conference with the Thompsons, assuring them again that the police would do everything in their power to bring Luke’s killer to justice. As they were leaving, Matt slipped out. He walked back to the main office, but Claire wasn’t there. He found her in one of the other classrooms using the sink in the corner to fill a coffeepot with water. She still wore his jacket, which made her look small and petite. Wisps of dark hair fell across her cheek, loosened from their clip during her struggle. They framed her beautiful face and her big blue eyes—eyes he’d spent years gazing lovingly into, and many more years dreaming of.

She eyed him watching her. “I figure they’ll be wanting some coffee soon. I thought I would make a pot.”

He smiled. That was so Claire. Trying to take care of everyone else when she was the one who’d experienced an awful fright. He was suddenly tongue-tied, uncertain of what to say to her in this moment when there was nothing but the past between them.

“How have you been?” she asked, starting the awful, awkward conversation he’d known was coming.

“I’ve been good,” he told her. “Real good.” He rubbed his face, trying without success to wipe away the overwhelming desire to take her in his arms again and assure her that everything would be fine. But as Preston Ware had pointed out, that was no longer his right to do. “So you became a teacher? What do you teach?”

“Chemistry.”

“You always were good at science. Better than me, that’s for sure.” He glanced around at the room they were in. He’d been holding back a slew of memories that had emerged the moment he’d stepped through the door into Lakeshore High. He’d spent four years at this school, good years. “Didn’t we have a class in this room?”

She nodded. “Western Civ.”

He grinned, remembering those days. “Coach Rollins. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

“He died of a heart attack last year.”

He forgot he wasn’t just reminiscing with some old friend. She’d been here in town. She’d kept up with all those people he’d left behind. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look, Matt, there are a lot of places in this building, even in this town, where we took classes or hung out together. I know it must be awkward for you, but I face those places every day. I put those memories behind me a long time ago.”

Ouch, right to the point. “Claire, I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize. We were just kids back then.”

“The accident—”

“Was just an accident, Matt.”

“I shouldn’t have been drinking and driving.”

“We were both drinking that night. We both used bad judgment.”

“Then you at least have to let me apologize for leaving the way I did.”

“It’s not necessary.”

He flashed back to the night of the accident and the sight of her broken body being pulled out from the wrecked car. It was the image of her he’d carried with him for the past ten years. “You look good, Claire. Are you... Is everything okay?”

She nodded. “It took a few surgeries and a lot of rehab, but I’m okay now.” She rubbed her hip unconsciously and he wondered if it bothered her. He’d noticed her limping earlier. “You are hurt,” he said, motioning to her hip.

She reddened, then waved away his concern. “It’s nothing.”

“You need to have that checked out.”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, and the red on her face deepened. “It’s from an old injury. It just acts up on occasion.”

He realized her old injury was from the car wreck and shame filled him. She was still suffering from his wrong choices even after all these years.

She set the coffeepot to the side. “Actually, I’m tired. It’s been a very long day and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Matt said. “You shouldn’t be alone until we find the person who killed Luke and attacked you.”

“I’ll be fine. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one is after me.”

“We don’t know that, Claire. You could still be in danger.”

She glanced up at him, curiosity pooling in her eyes. “Why? What did you find?”

“Luke didn’t send you that text asking you to come to the school. He couldn’t have. He was already dead by the time that text was sent.”

“But it came from his phone. How can you possibly know that with any certainty?”

“I saw enough dead bodies during my time with the rangers and I’m telling you Luke has been dead for hours, which means someone else used his phone to send you that text message. Whoever it was lured you here and was waiting for you, Claire.”

He saw her mind racing. “Who would do that? Who would want to hurt me?”

“That’s a good question, and one we need to figure out.”

“I’m sure the text thing was just a fluke. Sometimes text messages get hung up in cyberspace.”

He shook his head. He’d meant it when he’d said he wasn’t leaving until he knew Claire was safe...and that was looking less and less likely. There was no way he was going to let her go home alone. She would be a sitting target. “Why don’t you go and stay with your folks for a few days? Just until we have time to sort all of this out?”

“My parents are on a cruise.”

“What about friends? I would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“Matt, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I’m sure you’re worried about nothing. Like you said, I don’t know anything, so there’s no reason to believe my life is in danger.”

Her stubborn streak hadn’t changed, and past experience told him that once she’d made up her mind, it was no use arguing. All he could do was try to figure out who killed Luke as quickly as possible. “Fine, but I’m driving you home.”

“That’s not necessary. I have my car.”

“I know, but I would feel better if you’d let me drive you.” Drive her home. Make sure she’s safely inside. Then back to his life and let Detective Preston Ware step into the role of good guy. It no longer fit him.

She chewed on her bottom lip, a clear indication she was nervous about being alone with him. At least that hadn’t changed. Finally, she gave a resigned sigh and agreed to let him drive her.

* * *

What on earth had she been thinking?

Allowing Matt to drive her home had been a phenomenal mistake.

She nearly burst out laughing as he climbed into her Volkswagen Bug, his long legs claiming the front seat and his knees nearly in his chest. He pushed back the seat to its farthest position, then started the engine.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him. “How will you get back to your vehicle?”

“It’s only a couple of miles back to the school. I’ve hiked farther than that with a loaded pack in the pouring down rain. A clear spring night with a slight breeze will make it a piece of cake.”

She’d imagined him before doing his army training, and now she had an image of him carrying a heavy pack in the rain.

One more image of Matt Ross to file away.

He looked so different and yet so much like the Matt she remembered. He was taller and broader, a man instead of the boy she’d known. But his hazel eyes were still intense and his gaze on her still held the power to make her toes tingle. She turned to stare out the window as she felt her face flush with embarrassment.

She pointed the way and he turned into her driveway and stopped the car. He got out and walked her to her door.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Matt.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do for you, Claire.”

She shuddered as he placed his hand on her arm and walked with her toward the door. The air was chilly, but it wasn’t as much from the cold that she shivered. This reminded her that she was wearing his jacket.

“I should give this back now,” she said, slipping out of his coat and handing it to him. “It was good to see you again, Matt.” She didn’t think she could stand another ending with Matt Ross, but at least this time she could have a goodbye.

She turned to say it and spotted a car slowing down as it approached her house.

“Claire, get down!” Matt shouted, grabbing her and throwing her to the ground as a slew of gunfire lit up the night and rained down on her house.

The car roared away, tires screeching, and the gunfire stopped. Fear ripped through her as she realized the gunfire was aimed at her.

Someone was really trying to kill her!

“Claire, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to find her voice. Two violent attempts in one day. She wasn’t sure she was made for this type of action.

Matt reached for her face and turned it so he could look at her. His eyes were ablaze with anger and fear and she could feel his heart racing even with the distance between them.

And suddenly the dam broke inside of her. This was just too much for her to take. The death of a student, a drive-by shooting and Matt Ross returning to her life all in one day? She fell into his arms, not even caring what he must think of her. She was afraid, and she was thankful Matt was here to protect her.

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