A Sinister Silent Night

Two female ministers have been shot in the heart of Silver Valley, Pennsylvania. Now Zora Krasny, navy veteran turned undercover operative, is posing as a new preacher. That means her life’s on the line, yet it’s the only way to smoke out a psychopath. But she’s not alone. She’s got the best of the Silver Valley P.D. at her side—Detective Bryce Campbell, the high school boyfriend Zora left behind when she joined the navy. Bryce must pose as her fiancé, so he can stay close and protect Zora. It’s a role they’re both finding way too easy to play. But with the killer’s imminent Christmas countdown, Zora and Bryce can’t afford any distractions.

Another minister attacked. Get home ASAP.

As Bryce looked over at her phone, she watched his expression go from neutral to grim.

“You got the same message?” she asked.

“Yes. Time to roll, partner.”

They made quick excuses to their tablemates and worked their way out of the ballroom.

“He didn’t wait long,” Zora said. “It’s not even officially the fourth Sunday of Advent.”

“No.”

“He’s probably going to try something at the Children’s Pageant on Christmas Eve. That’s the big showstopper, isn’t it?”

“You could be right. No matter what, you’re not doing this alone, Zora. That’s one thing about local law enforcement you should understand—no one’s a loner. We’re a team.”

“So you’ve mentioned. It was like that in the navy. I get it.”

“Good.” From the grim determination in his tone, she knew he’d single-handedly do whatever he had to do in order to protect her.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silver Valley, Pennsylvania! Silver Valley is the fictional setting for the Silver Valley P.D. series, but is based on the Cumberland and Susquehanna Valleys. Since moving here several years ago, I’ve discovered an area rich in natural beauty, historical significance and warm citizens. It’s a place I’m proud to be a part of. I knew I had to bring this setting to my writing, and when the characters started showing up in my head (a writer’s affliction) I followed their lead to create the SVPD series.

When I reached out to the superintendent of police, Dick Hammon, not only did he return my call but he took me on several research trips and introduced me to people critical to maintaining the safety of our township and county. I’ve done a lot of exciting things in my navy past, but riding in an unmarked police car to the county prison made this writer’s day.

If you’ve read my Whidbey Island series for Mills & Boon Superromance, you will find the same sense of community here, as well as many military veterans and other ties to the military, including a supersecret shadow government agency. I hope you’ll enjoy the suspense and sexual tension in each story as the heroes and heroines fight to keep Silver Valley safe for all.

I hope you enjoy meeting the SVPD and the Trail Hikers, and I look forward to sharing this journey with you.

Peace,

Geri Krotow

PS: I love connecting with my readers! Please join the fun by signing up for my newsletter at my website, finding me on Facebook at my author page and adding to the storyboards for the Silver Valley series on Pinterest.

Her Christmas

Protector

Geri Krotow

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former naval intelligence officer and US Naval Academy graduate GERI KROTOW draws inspiration from the global situations she’s experienced. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can email her via her website and blog, gerikrotow.com.

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Dedication:

For my mother, Susan. My gratitude for the love of reading you gave me is surpassed only by

how much I miss you.

Acknowledgments:

A sincere thank-you to Richard Hammon, retired superintendent of police for Silver Spring Township, for your distinguished service and for introducing me to so many wonderful community servants who keep us all safe each day.

Thanks to Ron Turo, Cumberland Valley public juvenile defender, for your invaluable insight. Thank you to Dr. Lisa Davis, who helped me keep my medical details credible.

Thank you to Paula Eykelhof, editor extraordinaire, for supporting my romantic suspense muse, and to Patience Bloom for welcoming me to the Romantic Suspense team with such enthusiasm.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Detective Bryce Campbell climbed out of his aging Ford Mustang and walked across the Silver Valley Police Department’s graveled lot to the waiting unmarked cruiser. Its taillights glowed like two red Christmas tree bulbs in the darkness. Both of the officers assigned to him for this patrol were in the car, and he made out a third, smaller head in the backseat of the sedan.

A third person?

He opened the back passenger’s door and slid into the car. Slim hands rested on slim thighs in utilitarian khakis.

A woman.

“Evening.”

No response from the stranger.

“We never get enough of you, Detective Campbell.” Officer Julian Samuel—Jules to the force—spoke from the driver’s seat. He never wasted a chance to send a zinger at Bryce. They’d been up for promotion at the same time, and Bryce had not only received the advancement, he’d been assigned as one of three detectives on Silver Valley’s force.

He ignored Jules. “How are you doing, Nik?”

“I’ll be better when we catch the killer.” Officer Nika Pasczenko’s voice purred from the passenger’s seat in front of Bryce. Although he couldn’t see her in the dark interior, Bryce knew the first-generation Polish-American woman wore no makeup to emphasize her model-quality beauty. Not on the job. She’d been a godsend to Silver Valley, as her natural talent with languages, including Spanish and Russian, had helped them break into the drug and crime rings that were ever-expanding into their central Pennsylvania town from New York City, Philadelphia and Baltimore.

“And you’re...?” Bryce didn’t want the mystery rider to feel left out.

“Colleen Hammermill. I’m the volunteer chaplain tonight.”

He made out shoulder-length hair, probably dark as it wasn’t catching any of the ambient light in the car, and a throaty voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

“Bryce Campbell. Have we met?”

The leather seat creaked as she shifted.

“No.”

Liar.

She was a rookie, too, at whatever she was trying to pull off. That tell with her body language could cost an officer his or her life.

“Are you a minister?”

“Yes, but I’m not assigned to a local church at the moment. I’m ecumenical and float from congregation to congregation as needed to give the local pastors a break.”

He knew every volunteer chaplain, made up of local ministers, counselors and psychologists. They rode with the officers on a rotating basis and sat in the backseat as they encouraged the officers to open up about what dedicated law enforcement agents usually avoided—their emotions. Sometimes the volunteer chaplains were present during a crime or right after, and often proved excellent witnesses. No matter their background, they were all required to be certified counselors. If they thought an officer might be in emotional or mental difficulty, they were free to inform the superintendent of police.

Bryce had ridden with all of the chaplains, or so he thought.

He’d never met Colleen Hammermill.

His phone buzzed in his front pocket and he pulled it out.

Superintendent of police Colt Todd.

Now what?

“Campbell.”

“Bryce, I assume you’re in the cruiser and have met the new chaplain?”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t...”

“No, she’s not on the permanent roster, and yes, she’s temporary. No questions. Just...”

“Sir?”

“Watch her six for me, will you?” Superintendent Todd’s voice was gruff. That wasn’t unusual, but his more personal request to watch Colleen’s back, using the military term both Todd and Bryce knew well, certainly was. Superintendent Todd’s request was clear—he needed him to protect the mystery ride along.

“Yes, sir.”

Bryce ended the call and stared at the phone’s screen for a full beat.

Just who the hell was Chaplain Colleen Hammermill?

* * *

Zora Krasny wanted to kick herself for even thinking about squirming when Bryce Campbell slid in beside her. She’d be able to do that later, after this mission was complete. The fact that he’d acted as if he was suspicious of her, as though he knew she was giving him a fake name, as if he might find her familiar, made her want to bolt.

But they had a mission to accomplish.

Zora unobtrusively stretched her shoulders under her body armor. While her Kevlar vest was like an old friend and still fit her perfectly, she needed to get used to it again. She rarely needed bulletproof gear in her new job. She’d resigned her navy commission and ended her seven-year naval intelligence officer career three years ago. After six months of downtime she agreed to go to work for the Trail Hikers on an as-needed basis while she completed her civilian counseling degree program.

She’d been sporadically employed for the past two years by the Trail Hikers, a secret government shadow agency that existed to aid local and federal law enforcement with particularly difficult cases. Cases that needed more financial backing or expertise than was provided in the everyday operating budgets of regular law enforcement.

The training she’d received from the Trail Hikers had far surpassed her military schooling and she relished the new tactics she’d learned. The only reason she felt any jitters at all was that Bryce Campbell was sitting next to her.

So far the Trail Hikers had only sent her into the field on basic missions. Decoy, undercover distraction, tailing a suspect. Nice breaks from her schoolwork and new, permanent counseling position in the Silver Valley community. The Trail Hikers took care of clearing her counseling schedule whenever they needed her, as they paid for her answering service. She’d worked hard to get her psychology degree and knew that assisting clients through their tough times was one of her passions, as she’d had help in her darkest hours. When she’d had to start over because of the criminal actions of others.

Justice was another passion.

This was the first time the Trail Hikers had assigned her to track with the intent to ensnare a criminal. The fact that it was in her hometown made it that much more personal, more imperative to her that she get the suspect.

The Female Preacher Killer, as the FBI and local law enforcement agencies—LEA—referred to the murderer, was blamed for two murders and three near misses in central Pennsylvania. The second killing had occurred in Silver Valley Township two months ago, and the Trail Hikers and every other LEA in Silver Valley wanted to catch the killer before they found another murdered minister.

The last victim had been one of Zora’s clients, a Methodist minister who’d come to counseling to work through issues from her childhood. Like the first victim, she’d been found dead in her driveway. The near misses had been more recent, female ministers shot at as they’d left their respective church services. Two had sustained significant but not life-threatening injuries, while the third had been grazed on her temple by the killer’s bullet. Like her childhood best friend—Bryce Campbell, sitting next to her—this case was too close to home for Zora’s liking.

She hadn’t run into Bryce Campbell in the entire time she’d been back home, not while living as herself nor as Reverend Colleen Hammermill. When she left the navy she’d moved back to Silver Valley, but to a different part of the sprawling suburb of Harrisburg than where she’d grown up since age twelve. With a population of twenty thousand, it wasn’t extraordinary that she hadn’t run into him yet. She hadn’t sought out any of her former high school classmates or friends.

Why did she have to bump into him tonight, when her undercover disguise was vital to the operation’s success?

“You nervous about doing this with that lunatic out there, Chaplain?” Bryce’s voice betrayed no suspicion of her. He was a pro.

“No. I’ve got the best protection in Silver Valley, right?” She smiled but inwardly winced. Lying came too easily to her. The officers in the front seats thought she was a real chaplain, needing protection from the man or woman who’d been making female ministers a target for the past year.

No one in SVPD knew about the Trail Hikers, except for one man. The man who ran the entire force, Superintendent Colt Todd.

Officer Samuel pulled out of the SVPD lot and toward the main artery of the surrounding area. Zora cast a quick look at Bryce. His profile was more attractive than she’d remembered. Fifteen years had passed since they’d graduated from Silver Valley High School, fifteen years since she’d canceled their date for the senior prom and effectively ended their childhood bond.

It was more than that.

She’d given him a week’s warning that she wasn’t going to prom with him. Guilt still prodded at the mental floodgate that kept her memories of the boy who had been her best friend compartmentalized.

He wasn’t the boy she’d known anymore, though. His profile was etched with the years that had passed.

Her mother had tried to catch her up on Bryce and other classmates but Zora had asked her to stop. Truth was she had no intention of looking up Bryce or any past Silver Valley acquaintances.

She should have checked the SVPD roster and told Superintendent Todd to assign a different detective to tonight’s mission, or she’d have to go back to the Trail Hikers and let one of the other women on the team fill in.

Too late now.

The bright lights of the football stadium, so large it rivaled many college fields, made the night sky glow even though they were a full mile away from their target area. It was a prime spot to lure out the killer. It had been announced for weeks that a female minister would give the invocation for the community’s holiday festival, and an exposition football game was part of the celebration. Zora, in her cover as a female minister, was to play the killer’s victim of choice.

Adrenaline surged through her system and she curled her toes, trying to stay grounded. She really wanted to get this bastard.

Officer Samuel spoke to her from the front seat. “Chaplain, we’ll continue as planned. You take your time walking around the concessions, around the bleachers where the fans are seated. We have officers all over the place—that stadium is on a virtual lockdown. Everyone attending the game has gone through a metal detector. When they call you out on the field for the invocation, go up and say the prayer. As soon as the marching band finishes the national anthem, leave the field and immediately go around the back of the main school building. We’ll be waiting for you in the teachers’ parking lot and we’ll bring you back to the station. You’re safe with us.”

Zora nodded, sensing Bryce’s attention on her as he finished speaking.

“Right. I’m not worried about my safety with you backing me up. I trust you. Besides, it would be pure stupidity for the killer to try something in such a public place.” But she hoped her words proved wrong. She hoped the psycho who thought picking off women of the cloth was some kind of sport took the bait. The killer was sloppy—he’d attempted to kill three women, and of the two he did manage to kill, one had only died because she had been on a blood thinner. She’d bled out from what otherwise would have been a survivable wound.

The officers in front murmured their agreement. Bryce remained silent.

Did he recognize her voice?

Impossible. She’d never come back since she’d left for the naval academy, save for short holiday visits to see Mom and Dad. They were adoptive parents in name only—they’d loved her through her hardest years.

From what her mom had told her, Zora knew Bryce’s parents had moved to a fifty-five-plus community a few years ago. The house with the top window she’d stared at for so many dark summer nights had been sold to a new family at least a decade ago.

Even if he was available, she’d be the last person he’d ever want to befriend. Not after how she’d betrayed him, betrayed the deep friendship they’d shared.

You betrayed yourself most of all.

She tried to force back the unwanted memories of the way she’d closed herself off, even six years after moving to Silver Valley. She’d been placed in the home next to Bryce’s as part of the Witness Security Program when she was twelve years old.

But she’d never told him about her life before Silver Valley, or where she was from.

Snap out of it.

Mission focus was essential. With any luck, there’d be a serial killer with a weapon aimed at her in the next fifteen minutes. SVPD would apprehend the psycho and Silver Valley would be safe again.

Zora watched the stadium lights grow from a soft glow to the harsh glare of hundreds of incandescent lights. The rumble of the crowd’s cheers penetrated the unmarked car’s tinted windows.

She pretended to stretch and allowed her fingers to lightly brush her weapon under the roomy Silver Valley High School jacket she wore over her bulletproof vest. She hoped she’d never need to use the pistol; her job was to attract the criminal’s attention, giving the local and federal agents that were part of this operation something to work with. A suspect.

“Here you go, Chaplain.” Officer Samuel opened her door.

“Thanks, officers.”

Before she eased her way out of the car she allowed herself a quick look at Bryce.

The stadium lights illuminated the car and his eyes glowed with intensity. How had she forgotten how bright his blue-gray eyes were?

You haven’t forgotten one thing about him.

“When you get back, let’s see if we can’t figure out how we know each other, Chaplain Hammermill.”

She laughed. “I don’t think...”

“Save it for some other chump. Is that a wig you’re wearing, or have you dyed your hair? And those black-rimmed glasses—pure Halloween. Next time, don’t be so obvious.” His voice was low, precluding Officers Samuel and Pasczenko from hearing his words.

Zora ignored the sick drop of her stomach and got out of the car.

* * *

Combined aromas of hot popcorn, funnel cakes and hot chocolate triggered memories Zora would rather forget. The first couple of years after she’d been placed in witness protection and moved to central Pennsylvania, far away from her abusive “family”—aka the cult her mother had joined—had been rough. Growing up on a compound in upstate New York had made her people smart. She knew when a man looked at her if he was genuinely interested in her or only wanted to satisfy his lust. It had taught her to trust no one and make friends only if she needed something from the other person.

What it hadn’t taught her was that truly good people existed in the world, that not all teenage girls were waiting for their sacrificial bonds of matrimony to honor the Family Father, that not all boys grew up to be misogynistic monsters.

Misogynist. She’d first learned the word in eleventh grade, in Ms. Perkins’s English literature class.

The entire True Believers cult she’d been forced into at age seven was disbanded now, two decades later. Because of her testimony. The little girl who’d wanted freedom from the madness more than she’d wanted to live.

“Reverend Hammermill?” A slim woman in a sport jacket emblazoned with the high school logo smiled at her.

“Principal Essis. Nice to meet you.” Zora held her hand out to the middle-aged woman, who grasped it firmly.

“Thanks so much for coming out and saying the invocation for tonight’s game.” The principal’s gaze was frank and assessing.

“It’s an honor.”

“You’re probably safer here than anywhere at the moment. I want my students to be kept safe.” The principal’s voice conveyed her frustration. The school district had paid for metal detectors and extra security at the entrance to the stadium. Zora was grateful for the precaution.

“As do I.” She wanted to add that she’d had Principal Essis as a math teacher in ninth grade, but that would have to wait for another time, when Zora wasn’t undercover.

The low, steady rhythm of the marching band’s drums vibrated in the air.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you out to the podium.”

Zora walked behind Principal Essis. They were escorted around the metal detectors to the area below the stands. Zora barely felt the press of her weapon in the small of her back, under the school jacket, but her fingers were ready to reach for it at the first sign of the gig going bad.

Once out on the field, Zora stood in front of the marching band and faced the home crowd. It had grown from the time she’d been a student, and for a moment she was struck by the enormity of her mission.

Find the Female Preacher Killer. Draw him out.

The band played “America the Beautiful.” Zora used the time to take stock of her surroundings.

“Silver Valley High School, welcome to the opening game of the season! Welcome alumni, community members and students. We have Reverend Hammermill with us to start off our great night with the invocation. Please stand.”

The band quieted and Zora took the microphone.

“Let us give thanks...” Zora recited the ecumenical vanilla prayer she’d memorized last night. A part of her, deep inside, balked at portraying a woman of the cloth. She’d lived a life far from the world of church meetings and Bible studies. Yet she meant each word when she’d come up with the prayer.

Her memorization allowed her to do her job as a Trail Hikers agent. She scanned the crowd for anyone appearing different from the ordinary winter festival-goer or football fan.

A sea of the Silver Valley Hawks’ royal blue school color faced her, most of the faces pointed in her direction. She wasn’t interested in the crowd, but the fringes. A killer would need a quick escape, and the tall bleachers prevented that for most of the ticket holders.

A line of concession vendors, with boxes strapped around their necks and resting on their waists, stood near the entrance to the field. They were all dressed for the chilly weather and all had the same box—white with the school logo on it. All wore matching school-themed knit ski caps with huge pom-poms on top.

Except for one.

“May we play honestly and win graciously...”

Male, average height and build, baseball cap. To her far right at the edge of the bleachers. With sunglasses—totally disguised.

“Thank you for our school...”

He reached over his shoulders and behind his head. With both hands.

Zora reached behind and under her jacket, her SIG Sauer’s handle firmly in her grasp.

“Thank you also for our teachers...” She had to draw out the prayer, to keep the crowd in its place, so that the undercover and regular LEAs could protect everyone.

The Hawk County sheriff’s snipers would’ve had this guy in their sights by then. If they didn’t, she’d take him out.

The “vendor” pulled his hands up from behind his back, holding a long dark object. If it was a rifle, she had seconds to neutralize him.

“Amen.” Total silence surrounded her and Zora waited for the crowd’s response.

“Amen. Go Hawks!” At least the roar of the crowd would drown out the sound of gunfire.

The vendor held the long item in his arms, his face on Zora. He flashed a wide grin that Zora knew was meant for her.

The first strains of the national anthem began to a crowd that soon began to sing along to the school’s marching band.

He was waiting for her to tip off that she wasn’t a chaplain.

She could outwait with the best of them. But not when other lives were at stake.

If he planned to try to kill her here in front of all of these civilians, including many children, it was out of pattern for him. He had no decent escape route.

Her hand steadied as she pressed against her back, her weapon ready to fire. She watched as he pulled his weapon. The minute he revealed it, she or a county sheriff’s sniper were in the clear to take him out.

The vendor shot first.

He opened a golf umbrella.

Relief flooded through Zora, followed by red-hot anger. That was no vendor. She was sure he’d meant to make her believe he had a weapon.

“Thank you, Chaplain.” Principal Essis stood in front of her, blocking the vendor from her sight. She reached out her hand.

Zora blinked. She released her weapon and grasped the principal’s hand.

“You’re welcome.”

She walked off the field as the band started an upbeat number, revving the crowd for the kickoff. As she headed straight for the spot where the man with the golf umbrella had stood only seconds before she knew what she’d find.

He was gone.

She searched the crowd for SVPD and her gaze landed on Bryce. He was walking toward her, his mouth in a grim line.

“Did you see him?”

“Who?”

“The man with the umbrella.” She filled him in on what she’d witnessed, frustrated that he hadn’t seen it, too. To her surprise Bryce called in her description to SVPD on his cell phone as soon as she finished speaking.

“Thanks for taking me seriously.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She couldn’t tell him she’d been in the navy and had, as a woman, had to fight for credibility with each new command, each new tour. Apparently SVPD took it for granted that if you were assigned to work with them, you’d earned it.

“No reason. Just...thanks.” She walked toward the waiting SVPD vehicle, aware of Bryce’s silent presence next to her. One thing hadn’t changed in fifteen years—she still had a sixth sense where Bryce was concerned.

Chapter 2

“He wasn’t just a vendor with an umbrella, I’m certain.” Zora spoke in the privacy of her car as she drove home, her mission to draw out the killer over. For today.

“I’m not doubting what you saw, Zora, but it doesn’t fit this criminal’s profile.” Claudia Michaels, retired US Marine Corps general and CEO of the Trail Hikers, sighed audibly over the secure cellular connection. “This is supposed to be one of our easier missions. I wouldn’t have risked you blowing your cover otherwise. Not this close to where you live.”

“We’ll get him. It’s not over.” The same foreboding that had struck her on the football field made her grip the steering wheel tighter. “But I may have blown my cover all by myself.”

“Go ahead.” Claudia’s voice remained level but Zora knew her boss was gritting her teeth—the secrecy of the Trail Hikers was paramount to its success.

“The detective assigned to the case—Bryce Campbell—was my neighbor growing up. He may have recognized me. If he didn’t, he’ll figure it out. He’s a smart man.”

“That’s not a problem. Detective Campbell has a stellar reputation and he’ll follow Superintendent Todd’s orders. I’ll double-check to make sure.”

Bryce must be one hell of a detective if Claudia was aware of him—he was SVPD, not fed or ex-military, as far as Zora knew.

“Are you going to tell me he’s a Trail Hiker, too?”

Claudia sighed.

“You know I can’t tell you who’s on our team until you need to work with them.”

“I do.” The Trail Hikers worked on a strict need-to-know basis. Zora had come to recognize familiar faces at the agency’s headquarters in Silver Valley but never pursued finding out who they were. There’d been no need to.

She’d know if she’d seen Bryce, however.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful with my disguise.”

“Go back to your civilian job, Zora, and we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Roger.”

Claudia ended the connection and Zora shut off her Bluetooth. The ugly brunette wig itched and she wanted a hot shower, a chilled glass of chardonnay and a couple hours with her favorite author’s latest novel before bed. Maybe she’d spend the whole weekend reading. She had a full day of clients on Monday in what she considered her real job—family counseling. Claudia referred to it as her “civilian job” because it allowed Zora to live a normal life while taking on missions as needed for the Trail Hikers.

Counseling was her vocation now. But when the client she’d been seeing since she’d started her practice had been murdered two weeks ago, simply because she was a woman and a Protestant minister, Zora had known she had to take the mission. Louise had been seeing her for over a year and had been the kind of woman Zora hoped to become. Wise. Compassionate. Generous.

Her killer could not go unpunished.

Forcing herself to ease her grip on the wheel, Zora looked out over the dark and quiet farm fields that surrounded the property she’d chosen to make home two years ago. The area had promised safety, a place to stop running. The farmhouse had fit her desire for a slower pace of life, a respite from the grind that a military career demanded.

Bryce’s presence, his stare, had unnerved her earlier. Of course she’d recognized him immediately—he’d been the only boy she’d ever let get close to her when she’d moved to Silver Valley as a twelve-year-old. Make that the only person, save her adoptive parents.

Her real parents.

And then she’d let Bryce down, broken their childhood friendship in the worst way. She’d left Silver Valley and never spoke to him again. Complete silence, no explanations. It’d been too risky to let him into her life completely. She’d believed she was protecting him from the worst parts of herself. She’d entered the naval academy without a backward glance at Silver Valley or Bryce.

Until tonight. He’d matured, grown handsome as she’d known he would. Seeing him again made her wonder why she’d been so awful to him, why she hadn’t at least written to him over the years and apologized for her behavior. It always came back to the fact that she’d never explained why she’d left the way she had. Revealing her reasons would mean revealing her past. And that would be too painful, too complicated.

By his reaction tonight she knew he still remembered her on some level. He might not have figured out it was her under the wig and bulky bulletproof vest, but she had no doubt that he would, eventually.

He’d remember.

Bryce had always figured out what was bothering her, how to make her laugh on an otherwise dreary winter day during high school exam week. He’d been the best friend a girl like her could have hoped for—funny, kind and respectful. He’d never made her feel he wanted to be any more than friends even when the sexual pressures of their teenage years had confronted them on a daily basis.

The headlights swept her long driveway as she drove up to her old, small farmhouse. She noted that her front porch light was out. She hadn’t had to change a bulb since she’d moved here, and seeing the darkness of the porch gave her the creeps. She parked and opted to walk around the well-lit right side of her house to use the back entrance. She had no close neighbors so she didn’t have to worry about explaining her wig. It was one of the many advantages of buying a home outside of a conventional development.

The back of the house was dark, too, and she waved her arm high to activate the motion detector light.

Nothing happened. No light.

Butternut’s sharp bark from within the house made her stop in her tracks. The German shepherd never barked when she came home. And those weren’t playful barks—Butternut was trying to warn her.

A twig snapped in the inky night in front of her an instant before something slammed into her chest, throwing her backward into darkness.

* * *

Bryce ran the rest of the way up the dirt driveway to the farmhouse. His gut had told him tonight wasn’t going to go smoothly, and it wasn’t only because he suspected Colleen Hammermill wasn’t who she said she was.

He’d heard gunshots while he was on duty exactly four times in his ten years with the SVPD. Two were when hunters had been in an off-limits area and one was when he’d fired his own weapon to take out a convenience store robber who’d shot a cashier and then pointed his gun at Bryce.

The fourth was ten seconds ago, in the dark fields surrounding the farmhouse he’d followed Colleen Hammermill to. Superintendent Todd had given him her address when he’d texted him after the ceremony.

“Need backup, Cherry Creek and Skyline Drive. The old Shropesbury farm.”

He shoved his phone back into his chest pocket and kept running, weapon drawn. He’d explain to his boss later why he’d made the decision to follow the “chaplain” home.

The house was dark but the side of the structure was lit as a dog barked incessantly, probably inside. He scanned the surroundings as he approached but found no one near the house. No one running away, either.

A still figure lying on the ground came into view as he crested the top of the drive. Sirens grew closer but they weren’t here yet. He did a rapid check of the shrubs and trees around the house for an assailant.

Once he was satisfied there wasn’t a shooter in the immediate vicinity, he went to help the chaplain. Backup would scour the woods around the farm later. She was conscious but looked confused as she struggled to sit up.

“Hang on, are you hit?”

A pale, feminine hand brushed her chest at heart level.

“My vest...”

“I’ve got it.” He lifted her school jacket up, revealing a tight-fitting T-shirt underneath. It was stretched over a bulletproof vest.

Holy shit. No way was this woman only a minister.

The glint of metal peeked from a hole in the shirt. The shooter had aimed for her heart.

“You’re okay. You still have your Kevlar on. Good going.” He eased her back and was relieved she didn’t fight him. She had to be on the verge of being in shock and the EMTs couldn’t get here soon enough as far as he was concerned.

As he laid her back, her red hair caught his eye, right at her temples. Where her wig was sliding off.

Her wig.

He removed it the rest of the way. Thick, lustrous red hair spilled into his hands.

“Zora.” He breathed out her name before he could stop himself.

“Bryce, I’m undercover.”

“For who?”

She closed her eyes, shielding him from the pale green irises he remembered too well.

She stayed silent, but was still breathing.

Did the shooter want “Colleen the chaplain” dead, or the girl—no, woman—he’d once dreamed of spending the rest of his life with?

* * *

“You don’t need to know what she was doing, Bryce. All you need to know is that she helped us draw out the Female Preacher Killer. Unfortunately, we didn’t catch him.” Superintendent Colt Todd spoke matter-of-factly, refusing to answer Bryce’s questions.

“We’re still not certain if it’s a he or she, and I disagree, Superintendent Todd. This is my assignment and that was my patrol last night. I have a right to know who’s working with me.”

“You know as well as I do that there are some cases we need a little extra help on, Bryce. And I appreciate that you kept your eye on the chaplain.”

“On Zora Krasny, you mean.” He’d gotten something out of her after she’d been examined at least. Her curt answers to his questions hadn’t eased his mind over who she was working for, however. She’d admitted she was a licensed counselor, not a minister, and had lived in Silver Valley for almost two years.

And had never contacted him or any of their high school acquaintances.

Whatever.

“Yes, Zora Krasny. Any reason why you’ve taken such an interest, other than for your operational needs, Bryce?”

“Yes, sir. We went to Silver Valley High School together.”

Superintendent Todd’s eyes narrowed and Bryce realized he’d never seen the superintendent taken aback by anything. He’d surprised him with that one, though.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “She went to the naval academy, I went to Penn State, and I never heard from her again.”

“Sounds like a broken-heart issue. Not my problem, Bryce.”

“No, sir. We still have a killer out there.” He said that as much to remind himself. Zora’s presence was distracting to say the least.

Damn it.

“Yes, and I fully trust you’re going to flush him out, Bryce. We came close last night.”

“We did. Zora told me she caught a good glimpse of a male vendor at the game who she believes was suspicious.”

“Any chance whoever shot her saw her wig come off?”

“No, sir. I only noticed it because she was lying on the ground.”

“I don’t like that she was ambushed at her house.”

Bryce didn’t, either. Especially since he’d followed her home, and hadn’t noticed any other vehicles tailing and none in the surrounding area. That meant the shooter had been waiting at her house before they got there, and that the shooter most likely wasn’t the same person they’d tracked at the football game. But they couldn’t even be certain of that. Anyone who knew the local farm roads could have beaten the SVPD units to the scene.

Whoever the shooter was, he knew where Zora lived. Whether he thought she was Colleen Hammermill the minister or not was irrelevant.

Zora was in danger.

* * *

“What do you mean I can’t work out for a couple of weeks?” Zora hated how weak and squeaky her voice came out. She felt stronger than that, save for the pain that radiated through her rib cage. Whatever medication the doctors had prescribed last night hadn’t been strong enough. She’d barely slept during her mandatory overnight stay for observation at Silver Valley Regional Hospital.

“You took a bullet to your chest, Zora. Your heart stopped momentarily from the blow—if you hadn’t had your vest on we wouldn’t be enjoying this conversation, and you wouldn’t have another workout to look forward to, ever.” Dr. Mark Lassiter eyed her over his reading glasses, his expression uncompromising. They’d met when she did her hospital rotation as part of her counseling degree and struck up a decent rapport—enough that he’d asked her out on a date. She’d politely refused. Luckily, he hadn’t harbored any ill feelings about it.

She’d had top-notch care at the Harrisburg area’s new hospital, which sat on a sprawling medical campus known for its trauma expertise.

“I’m grateful to be here.” She winced as she struggled to stand. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass.”

Mark’s hand touched her shoulder and she sat back down.

“Trust me, in a few weeks you’ll be back in your yoga classes or whatever you’re so fired up about missing. But for now you need to rest.”

“Fine. And yoga’s not as easy as you think, by the way.” Since she’d left the navy she’d found a lot of joy in yoga, as it balanced her more than her running routine did.

Mark smiled.

“I’m in a power yoga class and I know what a good workout it is.” He held up his hand. “And guess what? You’ll be relieved to know I moved on—I’m engaged.”

“Mark, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. Really.” Pain twisted through her torso as she took too deep a breath in her exuberance.

“Thank you.”

“This is going to hurt when the drugs wear off, isn’t it? That’s what you’re not telling me. I won’t want to work out for a while, will I?”

“It’ll be uncomfortable, yes. About the time your bruise turns yellow, you’ll be ready to ease back into your fitness routine.”

Mark turned at a sharp knock right before Bryce walked through the hospital room door.

“Detective. Just in time.”

“In time for what?” Zora asked. “Wait—no. I don’t need any more help.” No way was Bryce going to help her home. He’d seen enough of her vulnerability in the past twenty-four hours.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be the one to take you home but it’s Silver Valley PD policy—we take care of our own. You took a bullet from a criminal in our territory. That makes you one of us. I’m grateful you agreed to the bulletproof vest before you said the invocation last night.”

Nice save, Bryce. He left nothing undone. Mark wouldn’t suspect what she did in her hours away from counseling. To him, she’d been a lucky victim, not a willing participant in the effort to take down a murderer.

“That was a good call on your part, Bryce.” Mark looked at his watch, then back at Zora. “I’ll leave you now—remember what I said. No cheating.”

“Got it.”

Mark left the room and Zora’s skin prickled at her excruciating awareness of Bryce’s proximity.

It had to be the narcotics. They’d wear off as soon as he got her home.

“You look like hell.” His gaze assessed her with practiced attention to detail.

“Why, thank you. You’re as charming as I remember.”

“And you’re as untrustable as ever.”

“That’s not even a word. You mean unreliable.”

“No, I meant it the way I said it. I don’t trust you any more than I did when you stood me up.”

“Really? We’re going to discuss something as silly as a prom, something that happened fifteen years ago?”

“No, we’re not. And if it wasn’t so important, why do you remember exactly how long it’s been?”

She wouldn’t let him make her feel pretty, despite the way he was looking at her.

Nor would she let him make her feel desirable.

“Let it go, Bryce.”

“Ready to go home?” A nursing assistant pushed a wheelchair into the room and stopped at the bed. She looked at Zora, then Bryce.

Bryce didn’t budge.

“Here, let me get you into the chair,” the assistant said.

“I’ve got her.”

“My parents...”

“Were notified last night. I called them myself. Your mother is at your house waiting for you. I spoke to her earlier.”

Strong, steady hands grasped her forearms and her vision was filled with a white dress shirt, red tie and Bryce’s chest. It wasn’t the thin, teenage physique she remembered. Because she did remember every last thing about Bryce.

He smelled more mature, too. More sexy, as his cologne or soap was spicy and hinted at the power that his muscles demonstrated. She didn’t consider herself a petite woman by any means, but he moved her easily.

“I’ve got you. Take it nice and slow.” His voice, God, his voice! Deep, gravelly and all adult, yet still achingly familiar.

She’d missed him. She’d missed them. The bond they’d shared for the better part of six years, through their worst growing pains and hormonal fluctuations. They’d each dated others, but only fleetingly. Mere experimentation.

Nothing had come close to the chemistry and friendship that had grown between them.

You were kids. You were a lost girl. It’s history.

“I’m not an invalid.” Still, she leaned into him—it was that or risk crying out in pain and humiliating herself in front of both him and the aide.

“There you go. Nice and easy.”

He held her the entire way down to the chair, and made sure she was settled as comfortably as possible.

Blue-gray eyes were level with hers.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded to emphasize that he wasn’t affecting her, wasn’t doing anything but helping her get into the blasted wheelchair.

“You’re a real pro there, sir. You do this before?” The nurse’s aide all but drooled at Bryce. Zora damned the chair for not being powered. Zipping out of the room and back into her life without Bryce was beyond tempting. Of course, she’d have to run over Bryce to escape since he was standing in front of her.

“A few times.” Bryce left Zora’s vision and she was being propelled through the door, down the hall to the elevators.

As the aide chatted up Bryce, Zora allowed her mind to wander. Her first concern was her mother’s safety. Mom would be safe staying with her, since Zora had Butternut as an early-warning detector, and of course, her weapons. They were in a hidden storage compartment—she usually only kept one pistol accessible and used whatever the Trail Hikers issued for a particular mission, if any. Before the football game last night she’d signed out a few different weapons, just in case they didn’t draw out the killer in a predictable fashion.

She’d never expected to be targeted on her own property. Not without noticing a tail. Bryce had been behind her but not close enough that she could see him. The killer had beaten him to the house.

“Wait here while I get the car.” Bryce left her at the hospital’s portico. His butt was too cute, and it annoyed her to admit she was enjoying the view.

“He’s such a sweet guy. You’re lucky.”

Zora grunted and tried to clear her dry throat. It was like talking through cobwebs and exacerbated her nausea.

Pain meds—not her favorites.

“He’s a colleague.”

“None of my colleagues look at me like he looks at you. I’d say he’s interested.”

Zora craned her neck to look at the aide’s name tag. Upon closer inspection, the woman was much younger than she realized. The drugs were really playing with her reasoning. It wasn’t Bryce.

“Nice to meet you, Heidi Kurtz.”

“Same here, ma’am.”

“You really like your job, don’t you?”

“I do. And I’m taking classes at HACC to get my RN. Only two more semesters to go.” Heidi referred to Harrisburg Area Community College.

“That’s the ticket, Heidi. Go after your dreams.”

“Is being a police officer your dream?”

“Oh, I’m not...” She was a beat too slow but at least Zora’s brain caught up to her mouth before she blabbed anything Heidi didn’t need to know. “Yes, I’ve always wanted to help protect people.”

“The whole staff was abuzz about your injury. We don’t get a lot of gunshot wounds this side of the river.”

“They get plenty in the city.” Harrisburg had one of the highest crime rates per capita in the United States. At least her mind hadn’t seized completely.

“Yeah, that’s where I used to live. I went to elementary school in Dauphin County.”

“What brought you to the West Shore?” Keeping the aide talking about herself would prevent her from asking any questions Zora wasn’t prepared to answer.

Like why she’d taken a bullet to her chest.

“My grandparents. My father was never around and my mother’s been in and out of rehab, so they raised me.”

“Good on you for going after what you want. Your grandparents sound like good people.”

“They’re the best.”

The quiet engine of a luxury SUV hummed under the portico as Bryce parked his vehicle in front of Zora. It boasted a cheery Christmas wreath on its grille, complete with a red bow.

“Here’s your ride,” Heidi said.

Bryce was out of the driver’s seat and at her side before she could even try to stand.

“Here, give me your bag.” He took the small duffel and placed it on the backseat before he opened the passenger’s door and turned back to her.

“Thank you, Heidi. You’ve been most helpful.”

“No problem. It’s my job.”

Zora didn’t have to look to see the blush she was certain was blazing on Heidi’s cheeks. How could any young woman be immune to the high-voltage smile Bryce flashed at her?

“Okay, warrior woman, time to roll.”

Warrior woman?

“I’m not a warrior.”

“Save your energy for getting up into the seat.” His breath caressed her face as he leaned toward her and lifted her out of the chair.

A groan escaped her before she could check it. Damn the drugs and her resulting lack of control!

“Sorry. I know this hurts like hell, but it’s quicker and easier on you. I don’t think you’re up to climbing steps yet.”

The impulse to argue with him vanished at his words and she allowed herself to relax against his broad chest. She hadn’t been held for so long, and certainly not by a man she had such a complicated history with. Besides, she was blaming any foolish surrender on the drugs.

He placed her onto the leather seat as if he was putting an intricate ship into a glass bottle. She giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I always laugh when I’m in pain. And it’s kind of silly how nicely you’re treating me.”

His gaze steadied on her. No drugs could keep the warmth of his nearness from creating a coil of tension in her midsection.

“It’s my job.”

He stared at her for a moment before he clicked the seat belt in place and closed the passenger door, leaving her to shiver without his body heat.

Chapter 3

She thought he was silly?

Bryce took a moment to breathe and think before he got back into the driver’s seat. Damn it but he’d wanted to kiss her. And it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d laid eyes on her again. Maybe it was like they say addiction is—progressive. A drug addict can be straight for two decades but if they pick up again they’re right back where they were when they quit, and they spiral out of control almost immediately.

He certainly understood what “out of control” meant when it came to his feelings for Zora.

You weren’t addicted to her. You loved her.

He’d been a boy, for God’s sake.

As he settled into the front seat he was immediately impressed by her scent. Under the hospital starchy-clean smell she was still pure Zora. Not floral like the women he’d dated, but spicy, musky.

Pure sex.

“Thank you for taking me home. Please tell Superintendent Todd that I’m okay, and appreciate the support.”

“Save the canned gratitude for your navy life, Zora. We don’t do the fluffy feel-good words here. We’re taking care of you because you’re part of our team. You were hurt while working with us.”

“Not technically. In fact, if you weren’t there, I might still be lying on the ground. Why were you there, Bryce?”

Her expression was softer than the grim face she’d put on for him last night and he hoped it was a sign that she wasn’t in as much pain. The drugs certainly weren’t affecting her logic or memory.

“A hunch. I felt something was off and thought it’d be a good idea to follow you to your place. After I found out it was you, I wondered why you didn’t go back to your old house.”

“Where Mom and Dad live? No. I bought my own house a couple of years ago. They don’t need their thirty-three-year-old daughter living at home with them.”

“I never heard you’d moved back.”

“There was no reason you should have.”

“It’s not that big a place, Zora. You haven’t touched base with anyone from high school, have you?”

“Why would I? You were my best...” She abruptly stopped speaking. Just like she’d abruptly ended their relationship all those years ago.

It had been a lot of years. He thought it was nothing more than an adolescent memory. But seeing her last night, finding something inexplicably familiar about her, and then his reaction when she’d been shot...

“What made you decide to go into law enforcement?”

“Who says I’m in law enforcement?” She had the gall to play him, after he’d seen her in action last night.

“You’re not on any force locally from what I can tell, and I’ve found your counseling credentials are all up-to-date. But you weren’t acting like any counselor I’ve ever met last night.”

“Who says I’m not a chaplain?”

“That you’re not a minister? Oh, I don’t know, Zora. That god-awful wig? Your Kevlar vest? Your loaded weapon?”

“I’m a counselor. That’s what I got out of the navy for.”

“And yet you were playing undercover agent last night.”

“You know what you saw. I can’t comment on it, Bryce. You have to understand that. You’ve been in this kind of life long enough.”

Yes, he had been.

“So why did you get a degree in counseling? What’s the attraction there?”

“Life. Wanting to help people trying to improve their circumstances.”

Her voice quavered and he noted the pinch lines around her lips.

“We’ll have you home soon, Zora.”

He navigated the winding, narrow road that lifted them above Silver Valley into the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Leaves glinting with gold flecks remained on a few branches, but most were bare. The ride was as smooth as ever to him but he knew each tiny turn and bump was excruciating to Zora. Bruised ribs were like that.

“Nice ride you have here, Campbell.”

“It’s my parents’. You wouldn’t be as comfortable in my old Ford.”

“The Mustang you drove last night.” She hadn’t missed a thing.

“Didn’t you want to stay in the navy for the full twenty?”

“No. Not after the war, after so many moves. It was time to settle down, and I wanted to find something that would allow me to help people more directly. You know, go from the global perspective to the everyday world.”

“No, I don’t know. You probably got to make a big difference as a naval officer. Is Silver Valley going to be enough for you?”

“More than.” She almost laughed. He suspected her ribs hurt so much she’d stopped herself. He didn’t want to examine why the fact that she seemed so pleased to be settled down in Silver Valley appealed to him.

“Then why did you agree to do the ride along last night?”

Silence. He shot a glance at her and she stared straight ahead, her lips pursed in determination or pain, he wasn’t sure.

“Not talking, Zora?”

“I can’t, Bryce.”

She wasn’t the first unknown player who’d shown up during an op to help them bring down a bad guy. That was what bothered Bryce. He’d been a police officer for over a decade, the past five years on the Silver Valley force as a detective. And still, Superintendent Todd wasn’t willing to cut Bryce in on the source of these “part-time” operatives.

“What made you become a detective?”

“Life.” He snorted. “I studied criminal justice in college, then did a stint in the marines. After I got out I decided to come back home. I toyed with law school, but my first love is law enforcement. And there’s nowhere else I’d want to live.”

Did she hear the recrimination in his voice? His resentment that she’d been able to leave Silver Valley without a backward glance? And come back with apparently no regrets?

“I didn’t realize you were a vet, too. The marines...you probably saw a lot in a short time.”

“More than I care to ever see again, yes,” he said. “Unfortunately, it can be a war zone here, too, depending on the timing of a heroin shipment and the availability of officers to combat the dealers. Still, I do love Silver Valley.”

“You always did. Love it here.” Images of them hiking for hours on the Appalachian Trail, or spending time down at Spring Creek, floated across her memory. It had been simpler before they’d each gone on to become the adults that sat in this car.

Not going there.

“You once did, too.”

“I’ve missed Silver Valley since I left.” Her words were succinct, quiet in the closed car.

“You have an odd way of showing it.”

“Not everyone has as clean a slate as you do, Bryce.”

Anger at himself made him want to pull over and call in someone else to finish driving her home. What the heck was he thinking, going all nuts on her when she’d suffered such a grave injury? It wasn’t physically grave—her bruises would heal—but psychologically, mentally, it didn’t get much worse than surviving an attempted murder.

She would be dead if not for her preparedness and Kevlar vest.

“I don’t know what you mean by a ‘clean slate.’ Is my life simple? Yes, for the most part. I’m happy here. It’s my hometown. But I’ve had my share of challenges. It’s life, Zora. Life happens.”

“You sound like you’ve had some challenges since...since...”

“Since you left?”

* * *

“I’m fine, Mom. I just need a day or two to catch my breath.”

“She needs to take it easy for at least a week.” Bryce spoke from across the room, at the dining table where he and Anna Krasny sat, assessing her health as if she weren’t within earshot. Zora couldn’t have sat at the table if she’d wanted to. She rested against several pillows on her overstuffed chair-and-a-half.

“Zora, you’re not fine. Not when some crazy person shot at you last night!” Anna would take out the assailant herself, given the chance. Zora loved her mother’s fierce protective streak. “There are at least two police cars parked on your street,” Anna went on. “If SVPD thinks you need protection, you must be in danger.”

“Mom, stop.”

Silence blanketed the room but Zora felt her mother’s anxiety. The unspoken fear.

They’ve come back for you. For revenge.

“It was taken care of years ago, Mom.”

“They didn’t catch everyone, Zora. And you know some of their prison sentences are up...”

Yes, she knew.

“May I ask what you’re talking about?” Bryce.

“Surely you told him, Zora, didn’t you? In high school? You were best friends—I assumed, I mean...” Her mom was flustered and Zora wanted to punch Bryce. Not for any particular reason, just because he was there and it was easier to be pissed off at him than have to deal with the reality of her situation.

That someone who had nothing to do with the Female Preacher Killer had shot her.

“Told me what, Zora?” Bryce modulated his voice like the professional he was. Cool, clean, with no hint of the anger Zora knew he must be feeling. She doubted he knew about the Trail Hikers, and the fact that she wasn’t willing to tell him anything didn’t help.

“Nothing. Mom’s just overreacting. You’re watching too much NCIS again, Mom.”

Anna got the hint and sipped her coffee, but worry was etched in the tired lines around her eyes.

Zora tried to shoot Bryce a “shut the hell up” look but judging from his unwavering stare, it wasn’t going to work. Not permanently anyway.

“We haven’t had time to catch up, but now that I know Zora’s back we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Right, Zora?” he said.

A spark lit in her mother’s eyes and Zora wished she had a little more energy. Not a lot, just enough to slap that grin off Bryce’s too-handsome face.

He knew she was concerned about her mother, knew she wasn’t going to do anything to upset her.

Butternut laid her head on Zora’s lap, her tail thumping on the wide-plank pine flooring.

“You’re such a lady, Butternut, girl.” She stroked the shepherd’s long pointy ears and marveled for the millionth time since she’d rescued her at how intuitive Butternut was.

“It’s impressive how she doesn’t even try to jump on you.” Bryce walked across the room and sat on the small sofa across from her. Butternut’s gaze followed him but otherwise she made no movement toward Bryce.

“She’s always been empathic. I picked her out of a litter of five at the animal shelter. They were rescued from a puppy mill.” Puppy mills were a dark side of their bucolic surroundings in central Pennsylvania. “I wish I could have taken all of her brothers and sisters, but she was the one who showed the most interest in me.”

Bryce stretched his long legs in front of him and leaned back into the sofa.

“You must have a lot of paperwork from last night.” She stroked Butternut and kept her focus on the dog. Looking at Bryce required more emotional stamina than her injury and pain meds afforded her at the moment.

“No, the officers on the scene recorded everything. I finished my report while you were still in the ER.”

Of course he had.

“Any idea who the shooter was?”

“No. We didn’t come up with anything from the description you gave us of the suspicious vendor, unfortunately.”

“He wasn’t a normal spectator.” She’d bet he was definitely involved, even if only posing as a decoy to see how the law enforcement agents would act last night.

“Maybe not, but he didn’t show a weapon. He could be any crackpot.”

“Zora, I’ll be in the guest room. Bryce, call me when you leave, will you?” Anna wasn’t interested in police business.

“Mom, you don’t have to leave.”

“No, I do. I need a quick catnap, and you need to have some privacy to discuss your work.” Anna left the room, taking her mug with her.

Bryce waited until they heard the guest bedroom door click shut before he looked at Zora again.

“Last chance,” he said. “Want to give me a clue as to who you think wants you dead?”

* * *

He knew he was pressing it to expect Zora to spill her guts so soon after the shooting. But a killer was on the loose—Zora’s aching chest had to take a backseat.

“How can we be sure it wasn’t the same guy I saw at the football game?”

“We can’t. But neither you nor I saw anyone tailing you back here. The fact that you were shot, when you live here as Zora and not Chaplain Hammermill, tells me it could be more personal.” He knew not to ask her who she worked for and why she’d been the one sent to pose as a female minister. Superintendent Todd had been explicit in his orders for Bryce to mind his own business.

“No one wants to kill me. The only work I’ve ever done has been with the navy, and that’s nothing that would bring a killer to Silver Valley.”

“What about your work downrange, during the war?”

She shook her head and opened her mouth to reply, then winced.

“Sorry. I keep forgetting that I need to breathe shallowly.”

“No, you need to take deep breaths so that you don’t get pneumonia.”

“What, are you a medical professional, too? My tours to Iraq and Afghanistan had me mostly behind the scenes, providing intelligence.”

He tried not to glare at her.

Not that she wasn’t beautiful to watch. If he hadn’t known her before, he would have described her as a redheaded Sofia Vergara, although even slimmer. But he saw beyond her physical features to the sharp intelligence behind her eyes, the keen wit that had drawn him to her during his own nerd days. They’d been perfect as friends. Neither of them had particularly cared about hanging out with other teenagers, not when the talk revolved around the opposite sex, booze and, too often, drugs. They were both academics at heart. He’d studied biology with a vengeance, convinced he was going to discover a cure for cancer. The same cancer that had taken his little sister when she was a toddler and left his family forever changed.

Zora had mirrored his studious nature. She was passionate to the point of obsession about anything that had to do with science, particularly astronomy and physics.

“I didn’t go into medicine, in case you haven’t figured that out yet,” he said.

“What made you change your mind? I thought you’d be a top research doctor by now.”

“I didn’t have the brains for the chemistry. Organic chemistry was a killer. But I loved the lab work that parlayed into forensics. I majored in criminal justice.”

She nodded.

“That makes sense.”

“What about you, Zora? You were going to be an astronomer like Jodie Foster’s character in Contact.” They’d watched the movie together one autumn night, forgoing their homecoming dance. He’d imagined being her best friend for life. More, if she’d let him.

Instead, they had barely made it through senior year.

“I wanted to go far away. The navy made sense to me. I found out about the academy at the last minute—I didn’t get in right away, remember? I was put on a wait list.”

“You left two days after you found out. That’s what your mother told me.”

“About that...I’m sorry, Bryce. We were kids, and I realize you probably don’t even remember much about it, but the way I left—it was chicken shit.”

“Yes, it was. And no apology necessary. You’re right. We’re different people now. Certified grown-ups. That was a lifetime ago.”

* * *

Zora thought that living back in town for two years meant she’d dealt with all of her memories arriving in Silver Valley as a little girl. At first coming back home to where she’d found shelter after leaving the cult had stirred up all kinds of memories, and she’d been able to utilize her counseling classes and training to work through them. Even her memories of Bryce—she hadn’t needed to see him to exorcise his ghost from her mind.

Yet since last night, it was as though he’d never left her life. As if they could go back to being friends again.

“I’m taking too much of your time, Bryce. You’re free to go, you know.”

“Showing me the door already?” His grin was easy but it didn’t reach his eyes, which looked wary.

“I’m safe, Bryce. Buttercup is the best security system out there. And as you know, I’m armed.”

“And on pain meds, nursing bruised ribs and sore muscles.”

“There’s that.”

“We’re going to place surveillance on your house starting when I leave today.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Superintendent Todd and I beg to differ.”

“You don’t think the shooter will come back here, do you?”

“Actually, no, I don’t. If it was the man you saw at the game, he’ll be too afraid to get caught. He’ll see the patrol car—we’re not going to do anything covert here. And if he still wants to target female ministers, he’ll do anything to stay out of jail.”

“I should have taken him out last night.”

“At the game? Get real. You never saw a weapon.”

“No, but you have to trust me—I saw him ready to pull it on me. But it was as if he was testing, to see...”

“To see if you were for real.” Bryce ran his fingers over his chin. “I think we messed up with that op, Zora. It was too coincidental for the holiday festival to have an invocation that was publicly announced and advertised for the entire week before. We were too obvious.”

“I agree. When I heard the local rock station announce the prayer and moment of silence was going to be dedicated to the two slain ministers, I hoped the killer was stupid.”

“He—or she—obviously isn’t.”

“No.”

“I hate to put you on the spot again, Zora, but I’d really like to know what you were doing in the patrol car last night. Why you, why now?”

“I’ve told you—I can’t tell you.”

She hated not being able to open up to him, especially in light of how shabbily she’d treated him in the past. No matter what his words said, she felt his judgment with each glance he shot her.

And she found her attraction to him was real and adult. Nothing like the schoolgirl crush she’d had on him throughout high school. Back then she’d buried it, not wanting anything to threaten their friendship. After the daily terror of living in a religious cult, she’d needed stability and calm, relationships without drama.

Besides her adoptive parents, Bryce had been part of that safety net.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Superintendent Holt about it. In the meantime, it looks as though we’ll be working together for a bit longer, until we nab the killer. And if you work with me, you have to accept that I’m not going to let you put yourself in harm’s way unnecessarily.”

“And you need to know that while I may not have the same level of experience that you do, I have the training I need to handle myself. I won’t let you down, Bryce.”

He got to his feet.

“I’m sure you won’t. Rest up and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He walked to the bottom of the stairs and called for her mother.

She hoped they’d catch the killer soon. Holding back her feelings for Bryce wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter 4

“You did the right thing, Zora. It’s not your job to inform Detective Bryce Campbell or anyone about your background. If you feel a need to tell him about your past, that’s your call. I don’t see how it has any relevance to the current mission, however.” Claudia looked out over the farmland surrounding Zora’s home as she spoke. She’d come out to see Zora on a Sunday morning, underscoring Claudia’s dedication to her role as head of the Trail Hikers. Anna had excused herself to go for a walk around the property, giving them privacy. Zora was grateful for the patrol cars Bryce had ordered to specific points around her place, so that her mother could walk in peace.

“I appreciate that you came to visit, Claudia. As you can see, I’m okay.”

“You could have been killed! That’s not something I’ll ever take lightly.” Claudia’s eyes sparked with anger and concern as she faced Zora.

She was a formidable woman, Claudia.

Her sable chin-length bob was thick and shot through with streaks of silver. On anyone else the gray would be aging but Claudia could have a second career as a cover model. She certainly didn’t look like the chief of operations for a government shadow agency, apart from her exceptional height and obviously pristine physical condition.

“No, ma’am.”

“Cool it on the ma’am. I told you, I’m Claudia, you’re Zora. We’re all on a first-name basis no matter how long we’ve been with the Trail Hikers. This isn’t a ranked organization, nor is it military. It’s barely government.” Claudia grinned and Zora caught a glimpse of the woman she must have been years ago, before the responsibilities of the Marine Corps and now Trail Hikers weighed on her.

“Sorry—it’s a reflex.” Zora suspected that Claudia had participated in her share of covert ops before she’d become a high-ranking military official but wasn’t about to ask.

“I know.” Claudia tapped her foot impatiently. “Just as it’s reflexive for me to want to nail the scum who shot you, preferably between the eyes.”

“That’s not very PC, Claudia.” Political correctness wasn’t something Zora missed from her military days.

“I see your pain meds won’t be needed much longer.”

They both laughed.

Claudia sat on the ottoman across from Zora. Claudia had insisted Zora stay on the couch through their meeting.

“I’m relieved that you’re doing so well. I must admit, I had my doubts when I first spoke to your attending doctor.”

“He was rather old-school. Plus he has no idea what we do, what we’re trained for.”

“But he is a doctor and you have to listen to him. I need you to heal quickly enough to be of help to the op.” Claudia’s no-nonsense expression was back.

“Yes, ma—Claudia.”

Claudia patted her knee.

“That’s my gal. Now, let’s try to figure out how the man you saw on the football field could have made it here in time to be waiting for you when you drove up.”

“If he knew that I lived here ahead of time, then he knew I was undercover. That means there’s someone on the inside of the Trail Hikers who’s leaked the information, doesn’t it?”

“No, impossible. All of us have the highest level of clearance not only by government standards but by our standards. There is someone at the SVPD who knows about us, of course. Theoretically it’s possible that he leaked it...or that someone overheard him talking to me. But I doubt it.”

“How do you know it’s not him?”

Claudia answered with one decisive shake of her head.

“It’s not him. Our contact at SVPD is a virtual vault when it comes to operational security.”

“You’re that sure, huh?” Zora had a hard time believing anyone could be trusted completely. She’d held clearances and guarded national secrets for her entire career. Even the best of agents made mistakes, left files in the wrong place, spoke about something they shouldn’t have in an unsecured area.

“Let’s focus on the region around the farmhouse.” Claudia pulled a tablet out of her designer leather tote and tapped polished fingernails on the surface. A satellite image of Zora’s property appeared, taken in the spring, judging from the heavy foliage on the oak trees that peppered her yard.

“The timing doesn’t match, Claudia. Even with driving back to the station and getting into my car, it would take me only five or seven minutes longer than if I’d driven straight from the high school. Which we’re presuming the shooter did, if it’s the same guy?”

Claudia sat, her chin resting on her hand as she leaned over the tablet from the corner of the ottoman.

“It’s far-reaching but indeed possible. If he was driving a four-wheel-drive vehicle, he could have made it via these three farm roads.” Claudia used her cursor to mark the route. “He would have had to hide his car in the woods here or here.” She circled the copse of trees nearest to Zora’s house, and one a mile or so away.

“Bryce tried to pursue him and had the area blocked off within minutes of me going down. I find it hard to believe that no one saw anything at all while the shooter escaped. Don’t you find it odd, too?”

“I do. Unless the shooter lives around here.”

Zora sat up straight and immediately regretted it as a sharp stab of pain bit through her rib cage.

“Easy, Zora.”

“I’ll relax once we have the bastard. I know all of my surrounding neighbors. None of them look like the man I saw at the football game.”

“Like you, he could have been wearing some kind of disguise.”

“Has anyone done a profile on the residents?” Zora had a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was sickening to think one of the neighbors that she trusted to get her mail or watch Buttercup could be a killer.

Claudia swiped her tablet a few times until a spreadsheet of the Trail Hikers’ findings on her neighbors appeared.

“That’s fast work.”

“It’s what we get paid for.” Claudia handed the tablet to Zora and leaned back. “Robert Blumenthal, the Trail Hiker you met during your initial read-in, did the work.”

“It’s impeccable.” She’d expect no less from the agent who had, in two days, briefed her into the Trail Hikers and taught her their history, mission and capabilities. On top of that Rob had certified that she was proficient in a variety of weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat.

The Trail Hikers had to be dependable. It was part of what made Zora agree to sign on for a five-year stint. The other part had been that she knew she was going to miss the navy in terms of being operationally relevant. As much as she loved counseling and the people she helped, nothing compared to helping local and national LEA take down the bad guys in the most expeditious manner possible.

“Looks as if my neighbors are all trustworthy, thank God.”

“Which leaves the shooter on the loose.”

* * *

“Sit down with your father and eat your borscht, Zora.” Anna motioned at the spot near her father, Adam. Zora’s Ukrainian immigrant parents had given her a love for authentic Ukrainian cuisine as well a new name when they adopted her. They were as American as anyone but when it came to food, no one made a meaner borscht than Anna.

“I can’t thank you enough for setting up the tree for me, you two. I don’t know when I’d have gotten it off the back porch.” They’d cut down two trees last weekend and Zora had brought the smaller noble fir to her home, leaving it on the back porch to settle in a bucket of water.

Adam and Anna had set it up while she napped, and they had all decorated it together. It lit up the front room, its glow visible from the table where they ate.

“Your mother tells me you’re involved with more of your detective work, Zora.” Adam’s gravelly voice was in stark contrast to his fit form. Seen from behind, he looked thirty years younger than his true age.

“It’s not my work, Dad, it’s with a private agency. They were looking for someone with my background for some local work.” She’d given them minimal information on her work with the Trail Hikers and they hadn’t pressed it, accepting that it was similar to the type of work she’d done in the navy. She hadn’t been able to talk about that, either.

“Counseling’s not enough?” Anna slid into the chair opposite Zora, next to Adam.

“Yes, it’s more than enough. But it’s good for me to still give back in some way.”

“You owe nothing to no one.” Adam spooned the hot red broth and appeared calm but Zora knew better. Under his steady exterior was a bear that, once disturbed, could be formidable. And when it came to his only child, Adam was overprotective and immovable.

“Dad, it’s not as if anyone is forcing me to do this. I want to. And I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“We’re talking about it because we love you, Zora.” Anna spoke quietly from her seat, her bright blue eyes reflecting her concern.

And the same stubborn attitude as her husband.

“I know, Mom, and I appreciate that. I wouldn’t be here without either of you.”

“You’d be here, lubovichka, just with another family. We’re blessed that we got the pick of the litter.” Adam laughed at the family inside joke. They’d done all they could to draw Zora from the hardened shell she’d arrived with when the social worker had dropped her off in Silver Valley. Zora didn’t remember those days clearly, only that she’d taken months to learn to cry again, to allow her heart to open and pour forth incredible sorrow and grief over what she’d experienced in the True Believers cult. The trauma and emotional abuse she’d been subject to with the cooperation of her biological mother...

She shuddered.

“What? What did I say, Zora?” Adam’s bushy silver brows meshed into one.

“Nothing, Dad. I’m just thinking of how grateful I am that you both took me in.”

“We didn’t take you in like you were some bum off the streets. We adopted you.” Anna’s voice wrapped around Zora’s heart like a hand-knit alpaca throw.

“We would have taken her in if she were a bum, too. Enough of this.” Adam pointed a salad fork at Zora. “You need to relax. You did your navy time, and you don’t have to do anything that’s so dangerous anymore.”

Working for the Trail Hikers was far more dangerous on a day-to-day basis than her navy job had been, but she wasn’t going to volunteer that to her parents. They’d been through enough, worried plenty about her over the years. Not to mention their own struggles before and after they immigrated to America.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. And my counseling is starting to take off.”

“Until your client was murdered.” Anna spoke as simply as if she’d said it was getting chilly outside. Zora loved the practicality of her parents, who had escaped the former Soviet Union as soon as the Berlin Wall’s collapse had allowed them to. They, too, had seen a lot in their lifetimes when they were still so young. Learning to speak English without much of an accent was the least of their accomplishments.

Zora didn’t believe in coincidence, and the fact that Adam and Anna had become her adoptive parents remained a miracle in her estimation.

“Have they found this Female Preacher Killer, Zora?” Adam buttered a piece of the bread Anna had baked.

“No, not that I know of.” Her parents didn’t know she was working the very same case.

“We’re worried, Zora, that maybe who shot you is somehow connected to what you left behind in New York all those years ago.”

“New York is a crazy place!” Anna chimed in.

“It’s a very large state, Mom. And the city is only part of it. I never lived anywhere near the city.” She turned back to her dad. “No one from that cult knows where I went. My name, my entire identity, was changed. You know that, Dad. How could they find me? Besides, so many of them are gone, either dead or in prison.”

“Some of their prison sentences are up.” Anna voiced the concern she’d mentioned yesterday in front of Bryce.

“I know—you pointed that out yesterday in front of an SVPD detective who knows nothing about it, Mom.”

“Don’t give me that stern tone, Zora. I’m your mother. And Bryce is like my own son. I certainly fed him as much as you while you were growing up.”

“He’s a detective now and he doesn’t know anything about my past. He doesn’t need to.”

“How was I supposed to know you never told him?”

“Mom, I was in the Witness Security Program. None of us were supposed to talk about what we’d been through, ever. You know that. You never mentioned it to his mother, did you?”

“No, of course not. Your soup’s getting cold, honey.” In typical Anna fashion, her mother deflected Zora’s ire and sidestepped her own culpability.

“I noticed a police car at the end of your drive when I came in.” Adam carefully buttered a second slice of the pumpernickel bread, the creamy spread in direct contrast with the rich dark brown grain.

Anna reached out quicker than a viper and slapped Adam’s hand. “Your cholesterol!”

Adam grunted.

“They’re giving me a little extra security, just in case that random shooter thinks of coming back. But he won’t. It was a chance in a million.”

Adam grunted again and Anna crossed herself three times in Orthodox Russian fashion. She’d remained faithful to her beliefs throughout the communist era and occasionally visited an Eastern Orthodox church two hours away in Washington, DC, but they attended a local Roman Catholic church normally, where Zora had gone with them.

“It’s not that dire, Mom. You can relax already.”

“I’ll relax when I’m dead.”

“Mom, you know I hate it when you say that.”

Anna shrugged. “It’s true, right?”

“Enough dark talk. When are you going back to work, Zora?” Adam stood up from the table and started to make tea for all of them.

“I’ll start seeing clients again next week. I thought I’d go out on my own tomorrow.” She’d already cleared her client schedule for a week, as Mark had directed her at the hospital.

“Are you sure?” Anna had been at Zora’s side for the past several days, not wanting Zora to lift or strain herself in any way.

“Yes, Mom. You should go home, too. I’m doing fine. I showered on my own today.”

“You did.”

“And I have Butternut.” She also had several types of weapons available to protect herself from any intruder. Another fact her parents never needed to know about.

Butternut’s tail thumped on the kitchen floor as she sat in her usual dinner spot, far enough away from the dining table so that she wouldn’t get reprimanded for begging, but close enough to dive in if any crumbs fell from the table.

“She’s a good girl, aren’t you, baby?” Anna stood up and placed her soup bowl, still half-full of broth and bits of beef, on the floor in front of the shepherd.

“Mom, I told you to please not feed her people food.” Zora’s tone sounded lame even to her. As if she was going to get up and stop Butternut from enjoying the yummy snack—not.

They all watched Butternut devour the treat with her incredibly long, almost clownish tongue.

“That dog has the life!” Adam chuckled as he brought the mugs of steaming tea to the table. “When we were kids, dogs were lucky to live a few years. This dog will outlive us all.”

“It’s not the USSR, Dad.” Zora still liked teasing her parents, even though she was immensely proud of them for the pioneering spirits they possessed. Not a day went by that she didn’t send up a prayer of gratitude that they’d made it to the States and had been available to nurture her when she’d needed it the most.

She felt a wave of nostalgia and she wanted to blame her healing body, or the coziness of being together with her parents over a bowl of borscht, or setting up the Christmas tree.

But she knew none of that was the reason for her sense of loss. It was the realization of how the time since she’d left Silver Valley could have been spent.

With Bryce.

* * *

“This isn’t as straightforward as I’d like it to be.” Superintendent Todd stood behind his desk with his hands on his hips, a look of frustration stamped on his face.

“Sir, I went over all of the people in the immediate vicinity of Ms. Krasny’s house and they’ve all come out clean.”

“Which leads me to believe that whoever shot her could have been our man. It may have been the man she saw at the football field.”

“I still don’t know how we let him slip away.” Bryce’s gut twisted in knots and he regretted the near miss at the football game. If Zora’s observations were accurate, and he had no reason to think they weren’t, they’d come very close to nabbing the killer at the game.

“There’s something you need to be aware of, Bryce.” At Superintendent Todd’s somber tone, Bryce felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Colt Todd was the furthest possible thing from a trauma-drama type. Never an alarmist, he approached operations methodically. This was perhaps his strongest character trait and the one that had gotten him hired as Silver Valley’s police superintendent.

“Sir?”

“As you’ve probably figured out, we occasionally have part-time agents of a sort who help us out with particularly difficult cases, or cases that involve federal jurisdiction.”

“Like Zora Krasny.” Posing as a minister.

“Right.” Superintendent Todd looked as though he was hesitant about what he had to say. Bryce had never seen Todd appear anything but confident.

“You’ve caught their attention, Bryce.”

“Whose attention, sir?”

“The agency I’m talking about. Hell, they’re not even an agency. It’s a contract group, for want of a better term. You need to meet with their CEO later today.”

Bryce felt an automatic resistance to having these sorts of decisions made for him and tried to hide the anger in his voice.

“I have a job, sir. It’s here at SVPD.”

“And that won’t change. But I can’t be the only one to interface with them—if something were to happen to me, or if they needed to pull in a local officer, you’re the best candidate for the job. Just go meet them and decide after that, okay?” Superintendent Todd pulled out his wallet and drew out a business card.

“Go to this address. There’s an intercom at the door. They’ll buzz you in, same as our security here.”

“And if I’m not interested?”

“Tell them.” Superintendent Todd had his “you’re dismissed” expression in place and Bryce knew better than to refuse. Todd was one of the most fair-minded men he knew—he had to have good reason to send Bryce to this mystery organization.

Besides, Bryce didn’t mind finding out about the organization Zora really worked for.

* * *

Zora had been eager to get out of the farmhouse and away from her mother’s scrutiny, but twenty minutes into her field trip to Walmart she was winded, sweaty and annoyed.

Her irritation was at herself for allowing a lone shooter to get close enough to hit her, and on her own property to boot. As much as her past with the True Believers was over, she more than anyone should have known to put a decent security system around and in her home when she purchased it two years ago.

There were members of the True Believers who’d probably give their eyeteeth to find her after all these years and make her life miserable, if not snuff it out completely.

Familiar anger left her hands shaking as she walked up and down the holiday aisles, reaching out to touch an ornament here and there. She’d been twelve, damn it, and the abuse had started years before that. Being primed to become a “true disciple” of Leonard Wise, the sick bastard who’d convinced over a thousand people that he alone knew the meaning of life and had direct contact with God. He’d preached that all of his descendants would inherit his God-given abilities, too. Hence the need for so many of his own offspring.

By as many young women—“god mothers” as he’d referred to them—as possible.

She’d been one of the lucky ones. She’d gotten out at age twelve, before he’d had a chance to touch her. Her biological mother had told her over and over how lucky she was that “the Master” had chosen Zora as one of his mothers for the True Believers’ children. Her mother had never wanted to believe that meant Zora would be molested by the man. Truth was, he molested all the girls once they reached seventeen. They’d be impregnated by him and a few select male disciples as mothers to his future minions. This way he skirted the law on the legal age of consent.

If not for the newspapers she’d read in the grocery store they’d visited on random Saturdays, she’d never have realized that the world wasn’t meant to be such a scary place. That real families who loved and nurtured their children did exist. That Leonard Wise was a criminal.

“Can I help you find something, ma’am?” A young clerk smiled at her and Zora willed her grimace to relax. Since taking her counseling courses she’d figured out she still suffered from PTSD, a remnant of a childhood under constant duress.

“No, thank you, I’m just browsing.”

“Let me know if I can help you.”

“Will do.”

The young man walked away and relief that it had only been a store clerk, not one of the True Believers, made her shoulders relax, as if they’d been carrying a huge burden.

There are no more True Believers. You’re safe.

Of course there would always be bad guys, just not the kind who wanted to entrap her for the rest of her life.

Her PTSD had kept her from choosing to serve on board a ship as a full-time career. The thought of being confined to a ship in the middle of the huge ocean could bring on a panic attack without warning. So she’d picked Intelligence, knowing her shipboard time would be limited, if not completely avoided. As it was she’d had to serve on board an aircraft carrier for two years, but only three months of the tour was exclusively on the ship since it had been in the yards for a refitting. She’d lucked out.

“I want some candy, Mommy!” A tiny girl harangued her mother from her precarious seat in a shopping cart, throwing skeins of yarn from the cart into the aisle.

“That’s not very nice. You know the rules—no candy in the morning, Becky. And if you make a mess of the nice yarn we picked out, there won’t be anything to make pom-poms with.” The mother looked like Zora felt—weary.

Had her biological mother ever taken her out for a normal mother-daughter shopping trip? Or had it all been as she remembered and centered on their “community”?

Cursing her trip down memory lane and knowing she had minutes until the exhaustion from her healing body would catch up to her, she made a beeline for the grocery section. Mom had said she needed eggs and milk. Zora preferred almond milk to cows’, so she’d need to get a carton of each if she didn’t want to listen to her mother’s explanations of why Zora should drink cows’ milk to ensure she got enough protein and calcium. She’d tell Anna that the almond milk was a treat, for special concoctions like her homemade hot cocoa. It was a bold-faced lie, though, as Zora rarely drank dairy milk if she could help it. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Whether it was the color of the woman’s scarf, her uniquely styled hair or the silhouette she made in her long, dowdy skirt and plaid blouse, topped with an unbuttoned, very basic wool coat, Zora didn’t know. But something forced her gaze to the strange woman who stood at the end of the aisle Zora pushed her cart in. The woman who stood there and watched every move Zora made.

As if she knew her.

Recognition bolted Zora to the spot.

The woman had the same green eyes as Zora. The same wide mouth. The same red hair, only streaked with gray, and pulled into a tight bun that made the woman look far older than she should, that emphasized the long lines that splayed from her eyes and again from her nose to her lips.

Deep wrinkles—the kind that either a long life or a hard life brought.

Lines a woman who’d lost her only daughter would have.

Panic pressed into Zora’s lungs, and bright spots floated across her vision. Her hands clutched her shopping cart.

No. Breathe, damn it.

She closed her eyes and breathed, using every yoga technique she could muster in the middle of the busy store.

When she opened her eyes, the woman was gone.

But she hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. Zora knew the woman too well.

Edith Simms. Her biological mother.

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