A shocking act of violence tore them apart.

Now they must join forces to find answers...

Peyton Sterling’s brother has escaped prison, and she’s determined to prove his innocence. Despite her volatile past with US Marshal Colin McKenzie, she knows she needs his help to discover the truth. Colin’s ready to put his career and life on the line to protect her, but secrets in Peyton’s family could prove to be more dangerous than anything they’ve faced before.

LENA DIAZ was born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award finalist, she has also won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, lenadiaz.com

Also by Lena Diaz

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Mountain Witness

Secret Stalker

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SWAT Standoff

Missing in the Glades

Arresting Developments

Deep Cover Detective

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Conflicting Evidence

Lena Diaz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90491-3

CONFLICTING EVIDENCE

© 2020 Lena Diaz

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To George, for encouraging me to dream with

my eyes wide open.

Love you, babe.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

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

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Fresh shoe prints in the dirt outside the abandoned Sterling homestead confirmed that Deputy US Marshal Colin McKenzie’s hunch was likely right—the arsonist who’d nearly destroyed Colin’s life a decade ago was back. And once again, Colin was going to put Brian Sterling right where he belonged—in prison.

But he had to catch him first.

He drew his Glock 22 and scanned the thick woods that surrounded this remote mountain property half an hour southwest of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Late-afternoon sun slanted across the one-story craftsman-style house, casting shadows along the sagging porch. The once proud structure sported peeling yellowed paint that had started out white, railings missing most of their spindles and a cracked picture window that he remembered had an amazing view of the Smoky Mountains.

Back when the Sterling siblings and the McKenzie brothers had gone to Gatlinburg–Pittman High School together, a split three-rail fence had marked the line where a manicured lawn ended and wilderness began. Now, half the posts were tipping like drunks desperately trying to catch their balance. The rest littered the ground, having surrendered to the high winds and violent storms that often blew through the area. This decaying family home was a sad reminder of what the Sterlings had lost, all because of the selfish son who’d destroyed everyone’s plans for the future.

Including Colin’s.

He tightened his grip on his gun and crouched down to make himself less of a target as he crept from the gravel driveway to the house. Most of the windows didn’t have curtains or even blinds anymore, giving him a decent view of the rooms. They were surprisingly neat and tidy. Maybe the Sterlings paid someone to come up from town every few months to clean the place. Too bad they weren’t paying equal attention to the outside.

After a full circuit around the structure, he was confident his nemesis wasn’t inside waiting to take a shot at him. A tour of the cobweb-filled shed and the sadly empty horse barn out back confirmed that no one had been in them for quite some time, probably years.

Cursing the summer heat, he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and returned to the front yard. All the while, he kept his pistol trained on the trees that surrounded the property. Was Brian out there right now, watching him? Or had someone else left that shoe print?

It wasn’t like a hiker would accidentally stumble across this place. The Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the Appalachian Trail were several rugged miles east. And the steep winding road up here only led to the Sterling homestead and one other house, Colin’s, two miles farther up the mountain. But Brian didn’t know that. Colin had purchased the land and built his home several years after the Sterlings left Gatlinburg for Memphis.

From what Colin had heard, the move cost Brian’s father over half his client list. Had he been able to rehabilitate his once successful financial-advisor career in Memphis? Did his wife find a church community that she enjoyed as much as the one here? Was their daughter happy? Had she managed to forget everyone here she’d once loved, or who’d once loved her?

Colin tightened his grip on his pistol.

He didn’t have the answers to any of those questions. All he knew for sure was that the family had sacrificed everything to move six hours away so they could be closer to FCI, the Federal Correctional Institution, where Brian was serving his fifteen-year sentence.

Until he’d decided to give himself a get-out-of-jail-early card less than twenty-four hours ago.

Colin hadn’t seriously expected that the escaped convict would risk the long drive to Gatlinburg with his face plastered all over the news. But Brian wasn’t known for being a deep thinker. He wasn’t known for thinking much about his actions at all, or their impact on others. At nineteen he’d nearly burned two people alive. Now, at twenty-nine, while escaping a prison transport van that was taking him to the courthouse, he’d murdered a police officer. He’d made a wife a widow, a young son fatherless and put a target on his back for the entire Tennessee law-enforcement community.

Without noticing any movement near the tree line, and hearing only the sound of his own boots crunching on dry weeds and gravel, Colin eased back to his pickup. A few minutes later, he concealed his truck behind a stand of basswood trees about thirty feet from the roadway. Hoofing it from there, he selected a heavily canopied oak that would offer a clear view of the house while providing him with shade and concealment. After settling onto a thick branch a third of the way up the tree, he leaned back against the trunk and stretched out his long legs in front of him. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Chapter Two

Peyton Sterling coaxed her aging SUV up the long bumpy driveway that was more dirt than gravel. Her home loomed ahead and she immediately averted her gaze.

Focus on the garage. Don’t look at the rest of the house. Don’t look at the house.

But, of course, she did, and winced. Even though it had been over three months since she’d returned to Gatlinburg, the sight of her mom’s weed-choked flower beds and the dilapidated family home still made her heart ache.

The life insurance money and small inheritance that she’d received had gotten her through so far. She’d paid a repairman to do the bare minimum to make it functional, like install a new garage door opener because she could barely lift the door otherwise. And she’d had no choice but to use a chunk of the money to renovate the kitchen. That was a necessity for her fledgling business, an investment in her future. Unfortunately, fixing everything else that was wrong with the house wasn’t an expense that she could justify, or afford. Fixing them herself wasn’t feasible either. She was far from handy in the home improvement department. If she tried to repair a leaky faucet she’d probably end up flooding the entire house.

Of course, even if she’d been handy, by the time she got home every evening, she was too tired to do much more than grab a bite to eat before collapsing into bed. Then she had to be up before dawn to bake fresh delicacies for the café and start the whole cycle all over again. There wasn’t enough time, energy or money to make a dent in her long to-do list at home.

Thankfully, tomorrow was Saturday, the one day of the week when she had two full-time helpers at the shop instead of just one. With Joan and Melissa taking care of things, she could sleep in. But it wasn’t like she could relax and do nothing all day. She had to use her day off to catch up on laundry, clean the house, work on the books for the store, order new supplies. In some ways, she worked harder on her “day off” than during the rest of the week.

Blowing out a deep breath, she parked inside the garage and then forced her tired body out of the SUV. If an aching back and bruised-feeling feet were what it took to make a business profitable, Peyton’s Place should have been a roaring success by now. Unfortunately, success was coming much more slowly than she’d hoped. Sometimes the only thing keeping her from quitting was the worry over where Melissa and Joan would end up if she had to close the shop’s doors.

After slapping her palm on the garage door button on the wall, she headed into the mudroom. As always, when she continued into the kitchen, the creamy yellow walls and white shaker-style cabinets embraced her like a hug, helping to ease the tension that had built up in her shoulders all day. This was her domain. This was where she felt most at home. And it was one of the few things that could always make her smile.

She hung her purse on a peg beside the door. But instead of heading through the cased opening on the left into the family room, she smoothed her hand over the cool marble island. If she was honest with herself, renovating the kitchen and bringing it into the current century wasn’t just to enable her to supply her café with fresh baked goods. It fed her soul as well.

The sinfully luxurious stainless-steel Sub-Zero refrigerator, the double ovens built into the wall, the high-end finishes helped make this room her happy place. The treasured memories within these walls were priceless. Especially now.

I miss you so much, Mom.

Her father had labeled her and her mother obsessed. Maybe they had been. But there was no denying that her happiest memories revolved around cooking. Either they’d been making s’mores in the family room fireplace or she and her mom had been in here baking cakes, cookies and pastries. Somehow, kneading dough or making frosting from scratch could help Peyton forget the arguments, the trouble her brother kept getting into, even her mother’s eccentric tendencies and unpredictable mood swings. When Peyton was working in the kitchen, all her troubles seemed to melt away.

Even now, just smelling a loaf of bread baking in the oven could transport her back to her high school days, when she was young and in love, happier than she’d ever been and probably ever would be again. To a time when her family was relatively whole, when she was still whole. But those days were gone and could never be recaptured. One horrific event had fragmented their lives forever. She’d lost everything that mattered that night. Or, at least, that’s what she’d thought, until a slippery, rainy road just a few months ago proved she’d still had more to lose.

I love you, Mom. Wish you were here.

Her shoulders slumped as she reluctantly turned from her homey, comforting kitchen toward the opening to the family room. She needed to head to her bedroom, shower, change into her pajamas. But just looking at the cave-like gloom beyond the doorway was already making her feel down. Had it always been that dark? Or did it just seem that way now that the family who’d once lived in this place no longer existed? The only warm body around here at the moment was Peyton. Unless she counted the rats and squirrels that had taken up residence after she and her parents moved to Memphis.

She’d lost count of how many critters she’d either chased out or carried out after setting traps. Based on the scratching sounds she sometimes still heard in the walls, there were a few stubborn holdouts she’d yet to evict. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to recapture her earlier contentment. Remember the scent of all those candles her mom used to set around the house on evenings when it was too hot to light a fire in the fireplace. She could almost picture it, see her mom’s sweet smile, hear the rustle of fabric as her mom put on a crisp white apron.

“Hey, Peyton.”

Her eyes flew open. She automatically grabbed the broom that she always kept propped against the wall just in case another rat made an appearance. But she froze when a painfully thin man with strawberry blond hair a shade darker than hers emerged from the shadows to stand in the kitchen opening. Her jaw dropped open in shock as he watched her, his sheepish grin not quite reaching his haunted eyes.

“Long time, no see, huh, sis?”

“B...Brian?” Her voice came out a choked whisper as she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. Of who she was seeing. “I don’t understand. Is that really you?”

A sound behind her had her whirling around to see another man emerge from the laundry room. She pressed a shaking hand to her throat as she drank in the achingly familiar short dark hair, shoulders that had broadened and filled out since she’d last seen him. He was taller now too, towering over her, making the kitchen seem much smaller than it had moments ago.

He was dressed in light gray pants, a white button-up shirt and a tie. His sleeves were long in spite of the warm temperatures outside. Little white scars on the backs of his hands left no doubt about the reason for those long sleeves. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest and her throat tightened.

“Colin?” The once treasured name that she hadn’t allowed past her lips in years tumbled from them in a whisper that was a dash of pain and a huge dollop of guilt.

He didn’t even glance at her.

He slid a pistol out of the holster on his hip and leveled it at her brother. “Brian Sterling, you’re under arrest for felony escape and the murder of Officer Owen Jennings.”

Peyton drew in a sharp breath. What was Colin talking about? He was arresting her brother? Dear God, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

The blood seemed to drain from her brother’s face, leaving him a gaunt, frightened shadow of the person he used to be. His haunted gray eyes, the same ones that Peyton saw every time she looked in a mirror, pleaded with her to help him. The same eyes that had stared at her in bewilderment from the back seat of a squad car as a barn burned to the ground in the distance. The same ones that had blurred with tears on the other side of a thick glass partition in the prison’s visiting room when Peyton broke the news about their mother’s death.

She stood frozen, the broom clutched in her hand. It was ten years ago all over again. And just like then, she was forced to make a choice that no one should ever have to make—the choice between the man she loved and her own flesh and blood.

She slammed the broom against Colin’s forearm, knocking the pistol out of his hand.

“Run, Brian! Run!” she choked out.

He whirled around and took off toward the front door.

Colin swiped his pistol up off the hardwood floor and gave her a furious, searing look that burned right through her heart. Then he sprinted through the house after her brother.

Chapter Three

Peyton twisted her hands together in her lap as she sat beside one of the desks in the squad room, waiting to discover her fate. The police officer who’d ordered her to sit there was talking to a handful of other men and women at the far end of the vast, open room. It seemed like every cop in Gatlinburg was here. The place was buzzing with anger and excitement as they studied maps and gathered flashlights, preparing to hunt her brother down like a rabid dog.

She wanted to scream, shake them, somehow make them realize what she couldn’t all those years ago: her brother was innocent. The only thing stopping her was that there was no denying what she’d seen with her own eyes—Brian, standing in her kitchen five years before his sentence was up. They were right that he’d broken out of prison. But they were wrong about the horrible, evil thing they also claimed that he’d done—killed a Memphis police officer after the escape.

Brian had always been headstrong and rebellious, with anger and impulse-control issues that had had him seeing a therapist from the time he was ten years old. But he was also sweet and sensitive. Never a bully, he was the kid who got picked on by his classmates because he was so awkward and shy. He adored animals and had gotten in trouble countless times for bringing home strays. The brother who cried after watching a sad commercial could never have set fire to a building with two people inside. That was the reason she could never, ever believe in his guilt. And that was the reason she knew that he hadn’t shot that police officer in Memphis.

“Is that why you came back to Gatlinburg? Because you knew your brother was planning to escape and you wanted to be here to help him?”

She jerked around to meet Colin McKenzie’s accusing stare as he stood beside the desk. It pained her that his deep voice, angry or not, sent the same jolt of longing through her that it had since they’d both turned fifteen and discovered their friendship had blossomed into something more. The cute boy who’d made all the girls’ hearts flutter in high school had matured into a mouth-wateringly gorgeous man. But all that physical perfection was spoiled by the look of hate blazing from his stormy blue eyes.

The hate was definitely new.

“I suppose from your viewpoint I deserve that. But, no. Why I came back has nothing to do with my brother. Even though he was wrongfully convicted, I would never help him escape from prison.”

“You’d just help him escape from your kitchen when a law-enforcement officer placed him under arrest. Is that the line you’ve drawn in the sand?”

She curled her fingers against her palms. “Okay, I definitely deserved that. And I completely understand that it looked that way to you. But from my viewpoint, my innocent brother was being threatened with a gun. I was protecting him.”

He jerked his shirt sleeve up a few inches on his left arm, revealing a smattering of puckered burn scars. “I pulled two people out of a burning barn after your brother set the fire. Innocent isn’t a word I’d use to describe him.”

Threatening tears burned her eyes but she viciously held them back. “I’m sorry, Colin. About everything. I truly am. I hate that you were hurt. But the truth hasn’t changed. Brian didn’t set that fire.”

He jerked his sleeve back down. “Do you want to go to prison?”

She stared at him in surprise. “What?”

“You’re in a precarious position, Peyton. If I officially arrest you and the DA decides to press charges, you could end up in prison for aiding and abetting a felon.”

“But, I didn’t mean—”

“Why did you do it? Why did you help him?”

She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I told you. I was protecting him. It was instinct. A choice—family or...” She chewed her lip.

“Or me. And once again, you didn’t choose me.”

The bitterness in his voice made her ache. But there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that could ever fix what she’d destroyed so many years ago.

Because he was right.

“Give me a reason not to arrest you.”

She slowly shook her head, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I can’t. What I did today was wrong. I know that. But it was automatic, without any rational thought behind it. I’d probably do the same thing again if I had a do-over. Protecting my family is as ingrained in me as breathing. Can’t you understand that?”

Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, as if he was debating what to say but didn’t trust himself to speak.

She brushed the tears from her cheeks.

He swore softly and turned away, his ground-eating stride quickly taking him across the room to one of the groups of officers talking by a window.

Sniffing, she breathed deeply, willing the tears to stop. And all the while, she watched him, unable to look away. Her gaze caressed his profile the way her fingers once had. She knew every angle of his chiseled face, had traced the stubble across his jaw to his hairline, had kissed the barely there mustache. He still maintained that same look, like a man who hadn’t shaved in three days. But where she’d loved and adored the boy, she didn’t know what to make of the man. He was a stranger, with the power to destroy the fragile new world she’d created. And she couldn’t even give him a reason not to.

He nodded at something one of the men said, then strode back to the desk. “Get up.”

Her face flushed hot with embarrassment. She stood and smoothed her jeans and blouse into place before holding her wrists out in front of her.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping you won’t make me put my hands behind my back to put the handcuffs on. This is humiliating enough as it is.” When he only stared at her, she lowered her arms. “Aren’t you arresting me?”

“That depends on whether you’ll give me what I want.”

She drew in a sharp breath, his words awakening memories of the two of them together. His mouth, hot against her neck. His tongue tracing the valley between her breasts. His teasing smile as he slid down her body and hooked his fingers into the top of her jeans.

His breath hitched. “Don’t look at me that way, Peyton.”

She shivered and ruthlessly fought back the erotic images that had goose bumps breaking out all over her suddenly hypersensitive skin. Trying to pretend ignorance, she asked, “What do you mean?”

His eyes narrowed. “Like you’re remembering how good it was between us.”

She swallowed, remembering exactly how good it had been.

His blue eyes darkened, but not with passion. “The past, what you and I shared, died the day you left Gatlinburg without so much as a goodbye. A lifetime of growing up together, four years of dating, of sharing everything two people supposedly in love can share, and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer any of my calls, respond to even one of my texts. Well I got the message from you, loud and clear. And nothing could ever make me go down that road again.”

Her face flamed at his cruel, unnecessary rejection. She cast a surreptitious glance around the room before sinking back down into the chair so she could put some space between the two of them. Thankfully, no one seemed to be paying any attention to her and Colin at the moment. They were all too busy making plans to go after her only sibling.

Wait. Phone calls? Texts? What was he talking about? He’d never called her, not once. “Colin, I don’t understand. What are you—”

“What I want is to make a deal with you. Your cooperation in exchange for your brother’s life.”

She pressed a hand against her throat, unable to reconcile his shocking words with the man standing before her. This wasn’t the Colin she remembered, not even close. Had she ever really known him at all? Or was this hard, unyielding man the result of what she’d done?

“You’re seriously threatening to kill him if I don’t cooperate? How could you be so heartless and cruel?”

His eyes narrowed again, his brow wrinkling with anger. “Don’t accuse me of contemplating murder as if you have some moral high ground to stand on.”

She gasped with outrage. But before she could respond, he leaned toward her, arms braced on the desk, crowding her back against her chair.

“Unlike your cop-killing brother,” he said in a furious whisper, “I’m not a murderer. I wasn’t saying that I was going to harm Brian. Look around you, Peyton. I’m not the threat. Everyone else is. They’re all fired up to hunt him down. Once the trackers get here, his chances plummet to near zero.”

Alarm skittered up her spine. “Trackers? Chances? What are you saying?”

“Your brother murdered a law-enforcement officer. He—”

“No. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

Colin made a frustrated sound in his throat before grabbing a chair from beside a nearby desk and rolling it in front of her. He plopped down and moved close, his knees almost touching hers.

“They’re bringing in bloodhounds to hunt down your brother and the other escapees.” He kept his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Police officers and federal agents are lining up in neighboring counties, demanding a chance to help with the search. They’re going to find them, Peyton. A cop killer isn’t going to escape, not around here.”

“Stop saying that. My brother’s not a killer.” She let out a ragged breath. “Please, Colin. Stop.”

Something shifted behind his eyes, like clouds tumbling through a darkening sky. He drew a slow, deep breath and glanced around the room as if to get himself under control. When he looked at her again, some of the anger seemed to have drained out of him. In its place was a sense of urgency and frustration, visible in the tense set of his shoulders, the firm line of his jaw.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Brian’s life is in danger. Not because anyone is going to purposely try to kill him. But because everyone is hyperaware that someone who’s shot one police officer won’t hesitate to pull the trigger on another.”

“But—”

He held a hand up to stop her. “What you don’t seem to understand is that whether or not Brian’s the one who pulled the trigger doesn’t matter. The officer was killed when Brian and three other criminals escaped. Under the law, all four of them are guilty of felony murder.”

Muscle memory had her reaching for his hand before she even thought about what she was doing. To her surprise, he took it, and entwined their fingers together. In spite of his anger, in spite of everything that had happened, or maybe because of it, Colin McKenzie was holding her hand. And just like that, she was able to pick up the pieces of her crumbling world and glue them back together.

It had always been that way between them. A simple look, or the warmth of his touch, grounded her, calmed her when things were going wrong. How odd that it would work today when he was part of the reason that her world was falling apart.

“What does felony murder mean exactly?” she whispered, barely able to force the words past her tight throat. “Does it mean...does it mean Brian could face the death penalty?”

He nodded, his hand tightening around hers.

“Oh, dear Lord. What am I going to do?”

“All you can do for now is help me try to save his life. Worry about the trial, about possible penalties, later. The entire law-enforcement community is on edge. They feel like their uniforms make them a target for a man who’s already killed one of their own. They’ll be quicker than normal to pull the trigger, out of self-preservation. That makes for an exceedingly dangerous situation, all the way around.”

His words rang true. The room was bursting with anger, nervous energy. Soon they’d be searching for her brother with that dangerous mix of emotions fueled by fear and adrenaline, while heavily armed. Brian was in a world of trouble, even worse than she’d realized.

“What kind of a deal are you offering?”

“I won’t lie and pretend that I can guarantee your brother’s safety. But he has a better chance of making it out of the mountains alive if I’m the one who catches him.”

She blinked. “You? But you...”

“Have more reason than most to want to catch him? You’ve got that right. But out of respect for your parents, whom I once thought of as my own family, I’d like to capture their son alive and give him a chance in the courts instead of against a hail of bullets. If you cooperate fully, help me figure out where he might be hiding, then I’ll hold off on arresting you for now.”

His implied threat had her tugging her hand free. “Hold off? For now? What does that mean?”

He flexed his fingers and sat back, his face an unreadable mask. “I reserve the right to arrest you and charge you with a felony for that stunt you pulled at your family’s house today. If you don’t legitimately help me figure out where he is, I will put you in jail and bring you up on charges.”

“You’re forcing me to choose again? Between you and my brother?”

He arched a brow. “What would be the point? We both know how that would turn out.”

She jerked back, his words stabbing her like a hundred daggers straight to the heart. But it wasn’t the words that hurt the most. It was the pain that leached through his tone, pain he was obviously trying to hide beneath a veil of rage. His pain was so much worse to bear than his fury, because she was the one who’d caused it. She’d taken a sweet, kind young man and twisted him into this bitter, angry person in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes, shutting out the ugliness of everything that had happened, everything that was still happening. Somehow, she had to get a handle on her swirling emotions, without relying on her former childhood sweetheart to help her. She had to find the inner strength to do this on her own. If she gave in to her emotions, she’d slide onto the floor in a boneless puddle of anguish and self-disgust. And that wouldn’t help anyone.

“Peyton?” His voice was laced with impatience now.

Breathe. Just breathe. Pull yourself together.

“Peyton? Are you okay? Do I need to call an EMT?”

The genuine concern underlying his tone had her eyes fluttering open. The truth was there, in the way he was watching her so intently. In spite of everything, he still cared. Maybe she hadn’t destroyed him after all. Maybe there was still some goodness left inside. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust him to help Brian.

She straightened, drew a bracing breath. “No, I’m... I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

He frowned, seemingly unconvinced. But he gave her a curt nod and motioned toward the groups of officers scattered around the room. “You can play the odds and wait and see if the makeshift posse shoots first and asks questions later. Or you can work with me to increase his odds of being brought in alive. That’s the offer that I’m making. It’s your choice. But you have to make a decision. Right now.”

“What happens if I say yes, that I’ll try to help you?”

“Since your house is still being processed as a crime scene, we go back to my place and you answer my questions there. You tell me everything he’s told you through the years, in every visit you made to the prison or every letter or email you exchanged. We make lists of places he mentioned, places he talked about visiting again one day, any people still in this area whom he might turn to for help. And we make a plan to lure him into a trap.”

A trap for Brian, just like the trap closing in around her. She shivered even though the air-conditioning wasn’t all that successful in keeping out the brutal summer heat.

“If I don’t help you, my brother could be killed and I go to jail. If I do help you, he could still be killed, but you’ll do your best not to kill him. And even then, he faces the possibility of the death penalty. In return, I have no guarantees that I won’t go to jail at some point too. Do I have it right? That’s the so-called deal you’re offering?”

The fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving him looking tired, almost defeated. “That’s the deal. I know it’s not much. But it’s the best I can offer.”

“Okay.”

His eyes widened. “Okay? Just like that?”

“I’m not an idiot, Colin. I can see for myself that you’re right about the danger that Brian’s in. And I can’t help him while sitting in a jail cell. I’m going to have to trust that the Colin I once knew is still inside you somewhere—the man with honor, integrity and mercy. I’m putting my faith, and my brother’s life, in your hands. We have a deal.”

Chapter Four

After conferring again with some other officers, Colin returned to the desk. “The police are gathering in the main conference room to ask you some questions,” he told her. “They’ll let us know when they’re ready.”

Peyton followed his gaze to a door on the other side of the room. “The police? You make it sound like you aren’t one of them.”

“I’m not.” His eyes hardened like brittle chips of ice. “Guess I neglected to formally introduce myself given our past...association.” He pulled an ID badge out of his pants pocket and held it up. “Deputy US Marshal Colin McKenzie. At your service.”

She ignored the gibe about their past, and his sarcasm, even though it was hard to keep absorbing his barbs without lashing out. That wouldn’t do her or her brother any good. Still, she secretly admitted that the shiny silver circle with a five-point star in the middle that said United States Marshal made her proud. He’d followed his dream, kept his family legacy alive by going into law enforcement like his prosecutor mother and federal judge father. The Mighty McKenzie must be very proud of his third-born son. She wondered if his brothers had pursued similar careers.

“I didn’t realize there was a US Marshals office in Gatlinburg.”

“There isn’t.” He slid his badge back into his pocket. “Knoxville’s the nearest field office. But that’s not where I work most of the time. Usually, I’m on taskforces throughout the state. Last week I started a new assignment here, working out of the Gatlinburg police station as a liaison, tracking down fugitives with outstanding warrants. Cold cases, basically.”

That explained why she hadn’t seen him around town since she’d gotten back. She’d both hoped for and dreaded bumping into him at some point.

“And you’ve been assigned to hunt down Brian?”

“No. A team of marshals was assembled out of Memphis to recapture him and the others immediately after the escape. The only reason I’m involved is because when I heard Brian was spotted heading toward this area, I decided to check out your place, just in case he went home. I was surprised to find that he had.”

“No more surprised than I was.”

His jaw tightened. “Your interference allowed him to get away.”

“I’m—”

“Sorry. Yes. I know.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them until an officer opened the conference room door and waved at them.

“That’s our cue. Chief Landry is ready to talk to you.” Colin motioned for her to precede him. “It’s a full house. Given the need to pass along any useful information to the search teams as quickly as possible, the team leads are all in there, as well as detectives. That’s why they’re in a conference room instead of one of the smaller interview rooms.”

She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans and headed toward the open door. But ten feet away, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you know where Brian’s hiding?”

“No. I don’t. I swear.”

He nodded. “All right. We’ll talk later, in private, and try to figure out where he might be holed up. But if you do have any ideas and are asked about him in that room, tell the truth. Deal or not. Lying will only get you in more trouble.”

“But I don’t want Brian hurt. Won’t telling them put his life in jeopardy?”

“Tell the truth,” he repeated. “The second you feel like you know where he might be, I’ll be the first one out the door trying to find him. I’ll do everything I can to protect him. You have my word.”

“Why? Why do you even want to help him, or me? And don’t tell me it’s because of my parents.”

His brows raised. “You and I may be over, but I loved you once. If nothing else, for the sake of what we once were to each other, I feel obligated to keep you both safe. Is that so difficult to understand?”

“After everything that’s happened, yes. It is. You’re a far better person than me, Colin. In your place, I don’t know that I could be so accommodating.”

He frowned and started to say something but the officer who’d waved at them earlier motioned at them again.

Peyton didn’t move. “Should I be asking for a lawyer?” she whispered.

He turned his back to the officer. “Probably. Are you asking for one?”

She considered her meager finances and the staggering cost of Brian’s continued legal bills that had crippled her entire family financially. It would take her years to pay off her portion of his lawyer fees. Adding more legal costs on top of that would be devastating. “No. I’ll just wing it, I guess.”

He frowned. “If you can’t afford one, I can take care of—”

“No.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “No, but thank you for offering. That’s very...nice of you, especially considering...” Her voice trailed off. The air between them seemed to thicken with tension. She glanced at the white lines on his hands. How he could have gone through what he had and offer to help her was beyond her comprehension, in spite of his insistence that he felt obligated because of their past.

It felt a thousand ways wrong.

She could never take his money, even though she knew he’d never miss it. Money had never been a concern for any of the McKenzies. They’d become wealthy the old-fashioned way. They’d inherited it. Colin didn’t work because he had to. He worked because he wanted to. But that wouldn’t make it right for her to take advantage of his generosity.

He studied her, as if deciding whether or not to argue the point. Then he shrugged and led her to the conference room.

It took a supreme effort of will not to turn around and run when she saw the people waiting for her inside. A dozen men and women went silent at her approach. Each of them had a legal pad or an electronic tablet on the table in front of them. And every one of them was watching her like a scientist observing a particularly nasty insect through a microscope.

“Over there.” A lean, middle-aged man with skin the color of an old saddle waved toward two empty chairs directly across the table from him.

She took one of the chairs. Colin took the other.

The man who’d motioned them to sit down gave her a smile that was polite, but far from warm. “I’m Chief Landry. Obviously, you already know Deputy US Marshal McKenzie. Everyone else in this room is either a regular police officer or a detective working for me. Miss Sterling, I want to make it clear that you’re not under arrest. I’m going to ask you some questions and, hopefully, you’ll do me the courtesy of answering them. You’re free to go at any time. Do you understand?”

She glanced longingly at the door but nodded. She understood more than he realized. The legal system wasn’t exactly a stranger to her given her family’s history fighting the charges against her brother. By not arresting her, the chief didn’t have to tell her about her legal rights or remind her that she could have an attorney present. She probably should go ahead and ask for a lawyer, in spite of the cost. But she didn’t want to prolong this any more than necessary. She’d just see how things went. Although how they could look worse than they did right now was beyond her.

A stack of folders sat to Landry’s right. He took the top one and set it on the table in front of him. He flipped it open, revealing an ugly window into the past, half a dozen color photographs that he methodically lined up in the middle of the table.

The burned-out hull of a building, smoke rising as fire fighters doused the embers.

The dance hall with scores of students clustered in small groups, being questioned by the police.

The ambulance taking Colin away.

Beside her, Colin tensed in his chair.

“Brief history for those in the room unfamiliar with Brian Sterling’s case.” Landry pulled a sheet of paper from the thick folder and ran a finger across a bulleted list. “The only son of Molly and Benjamin Sterling, Brian was suspected of setting five separate fires as a juvenile but was never convicted, mainly because no one was hurt, the damage was minimal and his parents agreed to make restitution to the property owners as well as take their son to a therapist. That all changed when, at the age of nineteen...” He frowned and flipped the page as if looking for something else. “This doesn’t look right. He was a senior in high school? At nineteen?”

Peyton’s chest tightened. She hadn’t known about the fires. That hadn’t come out at the trial. It must have been part of a sealed juvenile record that the chief had convinced some judge to let him access. Her parents, and her brother, had hidden that information from her. Why? To keep her from doubting her brother’s innocence? If whatever had happened in his past was relevant in any way to the accusations against him when he was nineteen, the judge at his arson trial would have unsealed the records. Her parents should have trusted her to understand that, and to know that she would continue her support and faith in her brother. She knew him better than anyone. She loved him. Unsealed records thrown at her in a room full of police who wanted to hurt him didn’t change that. She drew a shaky breath and forced herself to answer the chief’s question.

“Brian had...difficulties in school. He was held back a year, so he was a senior the same time I was even though he’s a year older than me.”

“Thank you, Miss Sterling. Says here that a few weeks before graduation, Gatlinburg–Pittman High School held a dance at a place called The Barn, a combination restaurant and dance hall on a nature preserve just inside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Toward the end of the evening, Brian poured accelerant on the dilapidated original barn that was no longer used for dances, and set it on fire.”

“Wrong.”

He glanced up at Peyton. “Excuse me?”

“My brother didn’t set the fire.”

“Twelve jurors disagree with you and sentenced him to fifteen years in prison.”

“Juries wrongly convict innocent people all the time. I’m sure you’ve heard of DNA exonerating people after they’ve spent years in prison for crimes someone else committed.”

He sat back and glanced at Colin before continuing. “I can only deal with the facts as they stand right now. Your brother is a convicted arsonist. There were two people in that barn—”

“No one was supposed to be inside. No Trespassing and Danger signs were posted outside.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t change the fact that a pair of randy teenagers snuck away from the chaperones at the dance and hid inside the barn for a make-out session.”

Her mother had been one of those chaperones. Why couldn’t you have kept a better eye on them, Mom?

“When your brother set the fire—” He held up his hands to stop the denial she’d been ready to make. “When the structure went up in flames and the couple was overcome by smoke and trapped by those flames, Deputy US Marshal McKenzie, at the time a senior at the same high school, rescued those people at no small cost to himself, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I’m well aware.”

Colin rested his forearms on the table. “Thank you for that history lesson, chief.” His droll tone said that he was anything but thankful. “What you all need to know is that Brian Sterling is a convicted arsonist with a complete disregard for human life.”

Peyton stiffened.

“You should consider him armed and dangerous. Approach with extreme caution. And be aware that if cornered, he could resort to setting a fire in order to escape. Now, Chief Landry, I believe you had some questions for Miss Sterling that might assist your teams in narrowing the search area?”

Landry seemed to take Colin’s interruption in stride and readily moved on to discuss her brother’s escape, along with three other convicts, grilling her with questions as he did so. At one point, he announced that marshals had questioned her father at his Memphis home, immediately after the escape, due to his close proximity to the site. Benjamin Sterling had denied any involvement, not that Peyton would have expected otherwise. Her father had always been one of Brian’s harshest critics. It was always she, and her mom, who stood up for him. The fact that the marshals had even considered that her father would help Brian was ludicrous.

“Your father claimed not to know where you were or how to contact you,” the chief said. “Do you know why he’d do that? He didn’t tell the marshals that you’d moved back to Gatlinburg.”

She clutched the edge of her seat beneath the table. “I imagine he thought he was protecting me. Having police at my business or home would have stirred up all the old gossip. It could hurt my café, the life I’m trying to build here.” And more important to her father, smear the precious Sterling name once again. Reputation was everything to her dad, far more important than his family.

The chief gave her a skeptical look then studied the notes in front of him. “Says here your mother passed away several months ago.”

She could feel Colin’s stare beside her. He’d seemed surprised to hear that she owned a café. And at the mention of her mom’s death, he seemed genuinely shocked. She regretted that he’d found out this way. But that didn’t mean that she was prepared to discuss the details. She was barely holding herself together. Discussing her mom right now would destroy her.

“My mother’s death has nothing to do with what’s going on with Brian. I’m not going to talk about her.”

To her surprise, Landry nodded and moved to other questions. She began to wonder whether talking about her mom would have been easier than hearing the details of her brother’s escape. Landry’s account of what had happened had nausea coiling in her stomach.

Brian was being transported along with three other convicts to the courthouse in downtown Memphis. Apparently, his lawyer had gotten him a hearing about alleged inhumane conditions at the prison. Since Peyton was well versed in the lawyer’s tactics, having worked many an odd job to help her parents pay for all those billable hours, she highly doubted that Brian was being treated unfairly. This latest complaint was likely based on Brian’s desire to get some time out of his cell. And he’d apparently taken advantage of the situation by escaping from the prison transport van.

“—and you claim you didn’t know anything about your brother’s plan?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “Again, no, Chief Landry. As I’ve said repeatedly, I didn’t even know that he was out of prison until I saw him in my kitchen. Even then, it didn’t quite register. I thought his lawyer must have finally managed to get his sentence shortened and Brian wanted to surprise me. Before today, I hadn’t seen him in a little over three months.”

“Then you didn’t know that shortly after he and three other men got away, they were confronted by Memphis police officer Owen Jennings and one of them shot and killed him?”

She drew a shaky breath. “My heart goes out to Officer Jennings and his family. But, no, I didn’t know anything about it. I still don’t. How did they escape? How did the man who shot Officer Jennings get a gun?”

“You mean how did your brother get the gun? Deputy Marshal McKenzie has told me he used to take you and your brother target practicing when you were teenagers. So we know your brother’s more than capable of handling a weapon.”

She glanced at Colin, then back at Landry. “Are you saying that you know that Brian is the one who shot Officer Jennings? Not one of the others?”

“No. He’s not.” Colin sat forward in his chair, his gaze riveted on the police chief. “Dash cam video from the officer’s patrol car shows him getting shot and the four prisoners running from the scene. Which man shot him is still to be determined.”

The chief sighed. “Marshal McKenzie, you’re here as a courtesy due to your close ties to the original arson case, and because you located Mr. Sterling earlier today in an unfortunately failed attempt to apprehend him. I’d appreciate you not interfering in my questioning of Miss Sterling.”

“Stick to what’s relevant and I won’t interfere.”

The chief smiled, seeming to shrug off Colin’s admonition. Peyton figured the two must have a solid friendship, or at least mutual respect, for Landry not to be upset.

“I’m okay moving on to the question of an alibi. Miss Sterling, where were you yesterday morning between the hours of ten and eleven?”

“Alibi? For what?”

“We need to know who might have, and might still be, helping the four convicts who escaped during transport from the Federal Correctional Institution in Memphis yesterday morning. So, again, can you please account for your whereabouts?”

“You seriously think I would have helped them?”

“Peyton.” Colin spoke softly beside her. “Just answer the question.”

“No,” she said. “No, I wasn’t six hours away in Memphis while simultaneously at my shop here in Gatlinburg.”

“Your shop? I believe you mentioned a café earlier?” Landry asked.

“Yes. I own a café and gift shop combination called Peyton’s Place. It’s in The Village, off Parkway. It’s new, not far from The Hofbrauhaus restaurant.”

“Can someone there vouch for where you were yesterday?”

“Joan—she works for me—she can tell you I was there all day, as I am most days. But she’s not there right now. The shop closed at six. It will open again in the morning, at nine.”

“I’m sure you understand the urgency of verifying your alibi as quickly as possible. Waiting until morning isn’t an option. Joan’s last name? Her address?”

“Fairmont, Joan Fairmont. I should call her first and let her know that—”

“If you do, that will destroy the credibility of her as an alibi witness. One of my men will head over there now and speak to her. The address?”

She hesitated. “I don’t want them frightened by a policeman knocking on their door.”

“Them?”

“I have two employees. Joan is full-time, Melissa’s part-time. They’re roommates.”

He motioned to one of the detectives who then wrote something down on the legal pad in front of him. Apparently he was making notes about her alibi.

“And why would they be frightened if a detective knocks on their door? Do they have something to hide?”

Her face heated. “Of course not. But they...they both have criminal records.” She could practically feel Colin’s gaze burning into her. “Nothing dangerous or anything. They were both homeless and became friends while trying to survive on the streets. They were hungry and got caught shoplifting at a grocery store. Both did a few months in the local jail.”

“Are there any other criminals working at your shop that we need to know about?”

She had to count to ten before she could speak without yelling. “I don’t consider Joan and Melissa to be criminals. Being poor and hungry are hardly crimes. They made restitution for what little food they took when they were practically starving. And they’re working hard to turn their lives around.”

“No doubt. My apologies if I seemed insensitive.”

His sincere tone went a long way toward defusing her anger. She gave him a crisp nod, accepting his apology.

“Any other employees?”

She hesitated.

“Miss Sterling?”

She glanced at Colin, but his stormy eyes gave her no indication of what he was thinking. “Technically, no. But Mr. Hardy comes by to perform odd jobs for food. He... I believe he may have had some scrapes with the law as well.”

Colin focused his gaze on a spot on the far wall.

“Do you have Mr. Hardy’s address so we can speak to him too?” Landry asked.

“I don’t think he has an address. I’ve offered to let him sleep in our storage room. But he always declines, says something about the stars being his roof.”

“How often does he come around?”

“Pretty much every day. But there’s no need to bother him. Joan will corroborate what I told you about being at the shop.” She rattled off Joan and Melissa’s address at the halfway house where they lived. “Please be polite and nonjudgmental when you speak to them. They’ve had a hard time of it and have been wonderful friends and workers.”

“I’m sure we can figure out how to ask them a few questions without traumatizing or insulting them.”

Since she was feeling a bit traumatized herself, she had little faith in his statement. She wrapped her arms around her middle. How much more of this interrogation was she going to have to endure?

The detective who’d been taking notes about Joan and Melissa picked up his legal pad and left the room.

“Last question, Miss Sterling.”

Thank God.

“You said you haven’t seen your brother in three months, prior to him showing up in your home yesterday. Do you have any ideas about where he might hide given that we’ve got roadblocks and checkpoints all throughout the county?”

She shook her head. “No. I honestly don’t. It’s not like he has any friends left around here. Our house is the only place I’d expect him to go.”

“If you think of something, you’ll let me know?”

“Of course.” Would she? She had no idea. If Brian had indeed killed a police officer, she’d be the first one to turn him in. But he’d been falsely convicted of one crime already. Trusting the police and the judicial system not to pin something else on him wasn’t likely to happen. And she really hadn’t had time to consider where he might hide. Where would he go if he was hunkering down, trying to keep someone from finding him?

The chief motioned to one of the detectives a few seats down, who then got up and handed him the tablet he’d been using during the meeting. Landry studied it a few moments, then turned it around and slid it across the table to Peyton. “Officer Redding typed up your statement, everything you said during our chat.”

Chat? If this was a chat, she couldn’t imagine how awful a real interrogation would have been.

He tapped the screen, scrolling to the top of the form. “Read through that. If you agree that it’s accurate, sign at the bottom. If anything needs correction, have Marshal McKenzie get Detective Redding back in here. Make yourself comfortable while we confirm your alibi. You don’t have your phone do you? I don’t want you calling your employees.”

She automatically felt her jeans pockets. “No. Actually, I don’t. I think it’s in my purse. But I’m not even sure where I left my purse.” A feeling of panic settled in her stomach as she tried to remember where it might be. Her credit cards and pretty much her entire life was in there.

“It’s locked in my desk,” Colin said. “I think your phone was in the side pocket.”

She smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“That’s settled then.” Landry shoved his chair back and stood. The other people in the room began filing out the door.

“Chief Landry?” she asked.

He paused. “Yes?”

“You seem to be focused entirely on my brother in regards to the escape and the death of Officer Jennings. Is there a reason for that? There were three other convicts involved, based on what you said earlier.”

He smiled. “I assure you that we’re looking into all four men and speaking to anyone who knows them. Perhaps I should have asked just to be sure—have you ever met Damon Patterson, Vincent Snyder or Tyler King?”

“None of those names sound familiar, no. Are they the convicts from the van? Do you think they’re still with my brother or did they split up?”

He smiled. “Thank you again for your cooperation.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Peyton clutched the tablet in front of her, painfully aware that the chief hadn’t answered her questions. “What happens next?” she asked, without looking at Colin beside her.

“We wait. And hope that your alibi checks out.”

“It will. I wasn’t in Memphis yesterday. You believe me, right?” This time she turned to look at him.

He stared at her a long moment, then stood and crossed to the door.

“Colin? You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I’m getting a bottle of water. Want anything?”

She slowly shook her head and he left the room.

Chapter Five

It was bad enough that crime scene investigators were combing through every inch of Peyton’s family home, having obtained a search warrant based on Brian being inside earlier today. What was even more humiliating was standing in her own bedroom while a police woman rifled through the bag that Peyton had just packed.

Peyton crossed her arms, frowning at the woman’s profile as she wadded up shirts and pants that Peyton had painstakingly rolled to avoid wrinkles. The woman pulled out yet another pair of Peyton’s underwear, letting the red thong dangle in the air. What did she think? That Peyton was going to smuggle a gun in her undies and attack Colin in his sleep?

“I don’t think they’re your size,” she snapped, unable to put up with the farce any longer.

Unruffled, the officer smiled politely, underwear still suspended in the air. “I’m just doing my job, Miss Sterling.”

“Is there a problem in here?” Colin stepped into the room.

Peyton snatched the thong and tossed it into the overnight bag. “Not at all. Officer...”

“Simmons,” the policewoman supplied, sounding infuriatingly amused.

“Right. Officer Simmons was just complimenting me on my fabric choices. Isn’t that right?”

Simmons rolled her eyes. “You have a nice evening, ma’am.” She stepped past Peyton, nodding at Colin before exiting the room.

“Did I miss something?” Colin asked.

She straightened the contents of the bag as best she could without dumping everything out and starting over. “I’m fairly certain that Officer Simmons was wrinkling my clothes and going as slowly as humanly possible just because—”

“Because you knocked a gun out of a marshal’s hand and let a suspected cop killer get away?”

She stood frozen, his words sinking in. Shame made her face heat. “You’re right. I’m so used to being on the defensive about Brian being innocent that I didn’t look at it from her perspective.”

He stepped to the bed and zipped her bag closed, then hefted it in his hand. “Maybe she was suspicious because you’ve packed half your bedroom in here. I bet this would require extra baggage fees at the airport.”

“It’s not that heavy. I know I packed more than I need for one night. But I always worry that I’ll want something else after I’ve left the house.”

“It’s a good thing you did. I don’t expect you’ll be able to come back here for several days.” He motioned toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“I can carry my own...wait. What do you mean several days? I have to do laundry, clean the house, work on the store’s books, and a hundred other things. I can’t put my life on hold.”

“Why not? Think of it as a vacation. Don’t worry about anything except helping me figure out where your brother might be hiding.”

“I don’t know what you were expecting but I can’t ignore my responsibilities. I have to be back at the store Sunday and Monday. Those are Joan’s days off. Melissa can’t run the store by herself. This is the busy summer tourist season. Besides, my customers expect fresh baked goods Sunday through Friday. If I don’t have new product in the display cases, I lose business. I’m still operating in the red, struggling to make this work as it is.”

“If money’s your worry, I can—”

“No. We’ve already had that conversation. I appreciate your generous offer, truly. But come early Sunday morning, I need to be in my own kitchen baking. Then I’m going to the shop.”

He set the bag back on the bed. “Unless your brother and the other escapees are either caught or known to be in an area far from here by Sunday, you’re not coming back. And you definitely aren’t going into town.”

“Colin—”

“Your brother showed up here once already. Odds are, he’ll try again. The reports my fellow marshals have been sharing with me indicate that all four men were spotted traveling together at their last verified sighting. One of them is a convicted murderer with ties to gangs. Until I know it’s safe, you aren’t coming back here. Period.”

Her throat went dry. Her brother was traveling with a convicted murderer? Brian wasn’t exactly street-smart. Even after years in prison, he still seemed like a scared, naive kid every time she visited him.

Please be careful. Don’t get yourself killed, Brian.

Since Colin was watching her, she forced a smile. “When you put it that way, I understand your concerns. I’ll need to check whether Joan and Melissa can take on additional shifts for a few days.” Not that she could afford the extra pay. And she didn’t know if her employees could change their schedules last minute. “Since my alibi was verified, it’s okay to call them, right?”

“Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Right.” The dark glass of her bedroom window clearly showed it was too late to call anyone tonight. “I’ll need to grab my baking supplies and take them to your place so I can bake things for the shop. I can ask Joan to come pick them up. Is that okay? Me using your kitchen?”

“You’re welcome to use my kitchen. But let’s head over there first and see if I already have what you need instead of hauling half your things over there.”

“Why can’t we just grab my stuff while we’re still here?”

He blew out a breath. “Because the crime scene unit is still collecting evidence. Allowing you to take clothes and toiletries is one thing. Hauling out pots and pans and who knows what else is completely different.” He motioned her toward the hallway and hefted her bag again.

The warrant. It all came down to that. She shook her head and headed down the hallway, Colin’s boots echoing against the hardwood behind her. Just inside the family room, she had to stop to let a tech pass by with a laptop in a clear plastic bag.

“Hey, wait. That’s mine. My business records are on that computer. I’ll need that to work on invoices tomorrow.” She reached for the bag. Colin pulled her against his side, nodding at the other man to continue out the propped-open front door.

“What are you doing?” She shook his arm off her shoulders.

“Keeping you from getting arrested for interfering with the execution of a search warrant. Come on. We need to get out of here.”

She mumbled beneath her breath just what she thought of the search warrant but dutifully started toward the front door. When she saw Officer Simmons lounging on her couch like a plant taking root, she stopped again. “Shouldn’t you be rifling through my underwear drawer or something?”

Simmons’s eyes widened.

Colin coughed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he told Simmons.

“What are you apologizing to her for? Why is she—”

He took a firm grip on her arm and steered her out of the house, not slowing down until they were standing beside the open passenger door of his ridiculously tall pickup. White vans surrounded them, several parked right on the pitiful patch of weeds and dirt that used to be her mama’s front lawn.

She gasped when another tech passed her carrying a precious family photo album. “Hey! Give that back. What are you doing with—oh!”

Colin lifted her up and deposited her onto the passenger seat and then reached for the seat belt as if she was a toddler. She snatched it from him and clicked it into place.

“I can fasten my own seat belt. And I could have climbed up into this monster truck of yours without help.”

“No. You couldn’t. You’re so short you could pass for a hobbit.”

She gasped in outrage.

He shut the door with more force than was necessary.

She crossed her arms, jaw clenched as she watched the vultures hauling out more of her things. A few seconds later, Colin hopped up on the driver’s seat without a bit of trouble, making her resent him for his long legs. He tossed her bag onto the bench seat between them and sat there, as if waiting for something.

She clenched her jaw tighter, determined not to say another word.

Thunder rumbled overhead. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky for a few brief seconds. Yet another summer storm was moving into the area.

“I hope the rain turns the road into a river and those stupid vans slide into a ditch,” she grumbled.

“There it is.” He sounded almost cheerful as he started the engine. “Now we can go.”

She crossed her arms. “You think you know me so well.”

The almost smile that had accompanied his announcement faded and once again the sullen stranger took his place. “No. I don’t think I know you at all. Not anymore, if I ever did.”

His words were like a punch in the gut, reminding her of just how much water had passed beneath the bridge since they’d last been together.

He backed out of the driveway, the wheels kicking up gravel when he headed up the road.

Up.

Not down.

Unfamiliar terrain passed by her window, what little she could see in the moonlight. When she’d lived here before, this road had dead-ended just past her house. She hadn’t realized since coming back that it continued around the mountain.

“Is this a shortcut?” she asked.

“No.” He rounded a curve, the grade getting steeper as they continued higher.

“Colin, where...” White wood fencing appeared off to their left, illuminated by spotlights and marching across the fields as far as she could see. Another curve revealed even more landscape lights, on either side of a long, paved driveway. And at the end sat a huge white two-story farmhouse with an enormous wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing. She smiled sadly at the swing. She’d always wanted one but never had one growing up. Her dad had said their porch was too small.

“Beautiful house. Adore the swing,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Is this where we’re going?”

He nodded.

“Who lives there? Another police officer? You’re going to have someone else ask me questions about Brian?”

He shook his head and turned up the drive. When they reached the garage, he pressed a button in the roof of his truck and the door began to rise.

“This is your house?”

“I built it a handful of years ago.”

He pulled into the three-car garage. An expensive-looking black sports car of some type was parked two spaces away.

“I thought you had a chalet on Skyline Drive?”

He shot her a surprised glance. “I used to. How did you know about the chalet? I bought it a year after you left.” He cut the engine.

She shrugged, unwilling to admit that she’d ruthlessly grilled an old friend for information about Colin after being forced to move to Memphis. “One of dad’s clients or mom’s old church friends probably mentioned it on the phone after we first left. But I never knew you built a new home a few miles up the road from mine. Why did you? Why here?”

He hesitated. “The land was available, the area familiar. No neighbors to worry about.”

“And you just happened to build a white two-story farmhouse surrounded by acres of white fencing? With a porch swing? Like we talked about building together one day?”

His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’ve always liked this style of home. Don’t read anything into it.”

She jerked back, and hated that she had. He’d hurt her, again, and she seemed helpless to hide it every time one of his barbs hit the bullseye.

His expression softened with regret. “Peyton—”

“I’ll get the door myself this time.” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag and hopped out of the truck before he could get out and help her. She stumbled but considered it a victory that she didn’t do a face-plant on the pristine gray-painted floor of the garage. In comparison, her garage had cracks and oil stains all over the place from her constantly leaking SUV. She’d be afraid to park her car in something this clean.

Both of them were silent as he led the way into the house.

Similar to her home, the garage led into a laundry/mudroom. But that was where the similarities ended. They walked down a wide back hall with several doors, all closed. A cased opening led them toward the front of the house, around a concrete-and-metal staircase into a massive vaulted family room. They finally stopped in the kitchen in the back-left corner of the house.

Her mouth dropped open. She nearly drooled. What she’d considered to be a high-end redesign of her own kitchen seemed like a joke compared to Colin’s. It was completely open to the main room with a massive island the only separation. Four saddle-style bar stools covered in black leather with matching black iron legs were snugged up beneath the overhang of the island on the side facing the family room. There wasn’t a table and chairs anywhere that she saw. And she hadn’t seen a dining room on their quick trip through the house. She wondered if he ate all his meals at the island or off trays in front of the television like she tended to do.

The ceilings soared up two stories high with skylights that allowed a breathtaking view of the stars. During the day, it would be awash with sunlight. Just like they’d imagined when they’d talked about their future together and the house where they one day hoped to live.

He opened a door and flipped on the light switch. “I wanted to show you the pantry since you were worried about baking supplies. My mom insists on keeping it stocked for when she comes over for family gatherings. She enjoys baking too, like you and your mom. I imagine most of what you need is in here.”

She ducked inside the enormous walk-in that was larger than her bedroom back home. Flour, sugar, spices of every kind lined one side, a much better variety than she had in her own pantry. It was a baker’s dream. Even if her business started booming, she could never afford something like this. She stepped back, feeling like the poor relation. Which was odd, considering that the McKenzie wealth had never bothered her in the past. Now it seemed like a looming barrier between them.

“Nice. Really nice. I’ll be sure to reimburse you for any ingredients I use.”

“That’s not necessa—”

“I’ll pay you back or I can’t do my baking here. And I really need to have product ready Sunday morning.”

His jaw tightened but he didn’t argue. “Are you hungry? And don’t tell me you won’t eat my groceries. You’re my guest. I insist.”

Guest. What a sad, lonely word. At eighteen, she and Colin had been ready to take on the world together. She’d expected that by twenty-eight she’d be working alongside him, fighting for justice. Coming home every night to a couple of kids, preferably boys with their father’s deep blue eyes and blue-black hair. Every night, she’d fall into his arms in the king-size bed and make love until dawn.

“Thanks.” Her voice came out barely a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I couldn’t eat anything right now. Actually, I’m kind of exhausted. It’s been a rough day all around.”

He studied her a moment, as if he wanted to say something. But then he turned and led her back into the family room. He didn’t stop until they reached the stairs on the far right side. “The guest bedrooms are upstairs. Pick whichever one you like.”

She admired the industrial black metal handrail, smoothed her fingers over the iron cables. Modern farmhouse. A little more masculine and contemporary than she’d have wanted. But gorgeous, just the same. Seeing their dream brought to life—without her—somehow hurt worse than if their dream had never been realized.

“It’s beautiful, Colin. Your home is...perfect.” She smiled wistfully. “I don’t suppose you have a horse barn out back with a palomino mare?”

He shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. Was he remembering all the times they’d ridden trail ponies through the foothills? Or taken turns on the palomino her father got her for her sixteenth birthday? The same horse she’d had to sell when Brian was arrested and they scraped for every penny to pay for his defense.

“I’ve got a workshop out back, that’s it. You were the one crazy about horses when we were young. Not me.”

Her hand tightened on the railing. “I see.” She took a deep breath, then another, struggling against the urge to cry. She’d rather die than let loose with another onslaught of tears in front of him when he was being so cold.

“Make yourself at home.” His voice sounded strained. “I’m going to bed.” He opened a door to the right of the stairs, a few feet from the main entrance to the house.

He needn’t have bothered shutting the door behind him. He’d already shut her out just fine without one.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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