Slade’s pulse raced. It had been too damn long since he’d held a woman. Since he’d even wanted to…

But Nina had been trembling and afraid. He’d seen the relief in her eyes that finally someone believed her story, and he hadn’t been able to resist.

Oh, hell…it was more than that.

She’d fought against all odds to find out what had happened to her baby girl. How could he not admire her dedication and determination?

And now…one touch wasn’t enough.

He traced his hand down her hair, then along her cheek.

She tensed slightly as if to pull away, and he tilted her chin up with his thumb.

“I promise you I’ll find out what’s going on,” he said in a deep voice.

She nodded. He traced his finger over her mouth, and her breath hitched, desire flaring in her eyes. “Slade…”

Her raspy sigh was his undoing.

He groaned, then lowered his head, angled his mouth and closed his lips over hers.

Dear Reader,

Twenty-four years ago I gave birth to my third child, a beautiful little girl I named Emily. As I wrote Unbreakable Bond she was pregnant with her first baby. Watching the excitement and anticipation as she carried her son brought back precious memories of having my own children and the unbreakable bond between mother and child.

It also reminded me of another special little girl, the real Rebecca, the daughter of a very close friend of mine. She was due to be born around the same time as my daughter, but was one of triplets who came prematurely. Sadly, the other two babies didn’t make it, but although Rebecca weighed less than a pound and had several health issues, she not only survived, but went on to touch and inspire the lives of everyone around her.

While one would think she might have complained or been a sad child, Rebecca had (and still has) a glow about her.

Unlike the little girl in my story, Rebecca was blessed with two wonderful parents who loved her unconditionally and gave her every opportunity available.

When I see or hear about other challenged children, I often wonder how different it would have been if she hadn’t had those parents. And as most mothers, I’ve thought about how awful it would be for any mother to be separated from her child.

All those elements came together to inspire me to write this story, one I hope will touch you, as well.

So hug your children, love them unconditionally and cherish every precious memory you make together. Children are godsends to us all.

Sincerely,

Rita Herron

Unbreakable Bond
Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my beautiful daughter Emily

and her new son, Bradford

And to the real Rebecca.

Thanks for inspiring us all!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling to kids for romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Slade Blackburn —Finding missing children is his job—but he can’t let his heart get involved.

Nina Nash —Everyone thinks she’s crazy, but she believes her daughter Peyton, who police ruled dead, is still alive.

Brooks Nash —Nina’s father was upset with her for keeping the baby; does he know more about Peyton’s disappearance/death than he’s telling?

William Hood —The father of Nina’s baby never wanted the child—could he have had the baby kidnapped?

Mitzi Hood —William’s wife hated Nina for getting pregnant with his child—would she steal the baby to keep William to herself?

Eileen Hood —William’s mother was furious about the child. How far would she go to protect her son’s future?

Diane and Dennis Lucas —William’s sister and brother-in-law have an eight-year-old daughter who was born around the same time as Peyton. Could the child possibly be Nina’s?

Dr. Don Emery —The ob-gyn who delivered Peyton claims there was no way the child survived or was kidnapped. Is he lying?

Paula Emery —Dr. Emery’s wife. How far would she go to protect her marriage and money?

Carrie Poole —A nurse on the neonatal unit. Does she know what happened to Peyton?

Stanford Mansfield —Does he arrange illegal adoptions?

Gwen and Roan Waldorp —Gwen gave birth to a stillborn child the night of the fire. Could she have stolen Peyton to replace her own baby?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Prologue

A thunderous boom rocked the hospital walls and floor, jarring Nina Nash awake. What had happened? Had she been dreaming, or had there been an explosion?

Screams and shouts suddenly echoed in the halls, and footsteps of people rushing around outside her room pounded. Somewhere a food cart crashed and glass shattered.

Then the smell of smoke wafted to her.

Panic seized her. Dear God, there had been an explosion. The hospital was on fire.

She threw off the covers, not bothering to grab her robe or slip on her bedroom shoes, but the stitches from her C-section pulled as she shuffled to the door and shoved it open. Smoke flooded the hallway in a cloud so thick that she immediately coughed, her eyes watering.

She had to get to her baby. Little Peyton had been a preemie, less than five pounds, and was in the neonatal intensive care unit.

What if the fire was near the babies?

God, no…

Stumbling forward as fast as she could with her sore abdomen, she heard the sound of voices shouting again, another person crying. The fire alarm trilled, adding to the chaos. Through the gray fog, she spotted patients stumbling outside their rooms, everyone searching for an escape, confused and frightened.

“The east wing is on fire,” someone yelled.

“Find the stairwell and get out!” someone else shouted.

“Help me!” a woman screamed.

Someone bumped Nina as they raced down the hall toward the stairwell.

Heat flooded the hall and an orderly grabbed her arm to push her toward the staircase. “This way, miss.”

“No, I have to get to my baby,” Nina cried.

“No time, the nurses and firefighters are getting the infants out! And that corridor is engulfed in flames.”

“Then I’ll find another way,” she said and tore away from him.

Another woman darted into the fog of smoke, coughing as she collapsed onto the floor, and the rescue worker rushed to help her.

Determined to save Peyton, Nina hurried down the hall. But just as she reached the end, the ceiling crashed down, and flames shot all along the wall and floor, blocking the turn into the corridor.

She pivoted and headed in the opposite direction, feeling along the wall until she reached the next corner, but the smoke was so thick she could barely see, and flames rushed toward her. No… There was no way to get through….

Tears mingled with the sweat on her face as the heat scalded her. She had to try another direction.

Coughing, she dashed back the way she’d come, but suddenly another explosion rocked the building, the floor shook, and the ceiling crashed down.

Nina covered her head to dodge the debris, but plaster rained down on her, and a piece of metal slammed into her head. Another pummeled her leg and foot, and ceiling tiles smashed into her stomach, ripping open stitches. Pain rocked through her, and she screamed as she collapsed onto the floor. The scalding flames crawled toward her.

Through the haze, more footsteps rumbled, then a firefighter appeared and scooped her up. “My baby,” she cried. “I have to get her.”

“We’ll find her,” he said. “Just let me take you outside before the whole wing is engulfed in flames.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks as he carried her through the blazing hallway, dodging flames and more falling debris. She gulped in the fresh air as he burst out the front door and raced down the steps to the lawn. Blinking her stinging eyes to clear her vision, she searched the haze and chaos.

Firefighters were scrambling to help victims and extinguish the flames, but at least half the hospital was ablaze. Patients, hospital employees, doctors, nurses and visitors ran, crawled and helped each other from the burning building.

She spotted one of the neonatal nurses unconscious on a gurney, and two nurses holding infants, and hope shot through her. The firefighter carried her toward an ambulance, but she pushed against his chest. “Let me down.”

“Ma’am, you need to see a medic. You’ve been injured.”

She didn’t care if her head was bleeding, that her stitches had popped or her leg was throbbing. She had to make sure her daughter was safe. “No, not until I find my baby.”

She managed to get on her feet, then stumbled toward the nurses. But her heart sank when she realized neither of the babies was Peyton.

“Where’s my little girl?” she cried. “She was in the neonatal unit.”

One of the nurses frowned, and the other one shook her head with worry. “I’m not sure. Maybe one of the other nurses got her.”

Another baby’s cry rent the air, and she turned and raced toward the sound. A medic was holding the infant, but when she neared him, she realized the baby was a boy.

Panic clawed at her, and she ran from medic to medic, from nurse to doctor to orderly. Screams and cries flowed freely as people were carried from the hospital and the body count began to rise. More sirens and cries reverberated as police, friends and relatives of the hospital employees and patients arrived, each searching for loved ones.

Finally she found one of the nurses who’d cared for Peyton lying on another stretcher, and she hobbled toward her. “Where’s my baby?”

Sorrow filled the nurse’s eyes as she looked at Nina. “I don’t know. I thought someone else rescued her.”

The sound of the NICU exploding rent the air, and Nina’s legs gave way, a sob of terror ripping from her.

Dear God…

Where was her baby?

Chapter One

Eight years later

Finding missing children was the only thing that kept Slade Blackburn going. The only thing that kept him from giving into the booze that promised sweet relief and numbness from the pain of his failures.

That was, when he found the children alive.

The other times…well, he locked those away in some distant part of his mind to deal with later. Much, much later when he was alone at night, and the loneliness consumed him and reminded him that he didn’t have a soul in the world who gave a damn if he lived or died.

Voices echoed through the downstairs as the agents at Guardian Angel Investigations entered the old house Gage McDermont had converted into a business and began to climb the stairs.

Slade’s instincts kicked in. He’d arrived early, situated himself to face the doorway in the conference room so he could study each man as he entered.

Not that he hadn’t done his research.

Gage had started the agency in Sanctuary and recruited an impressive team of agents.

The moment Slade had read about GAI in the paper, he’d phoned Gage and asked to sign on. Leaving his stint in the military had left him wired and honed for action, yet the confines of the FBI or a police department had grated on his newfound freedom.

Too long he’d taken orders, followed commands. Now he was his own man and wanted no one to watch over, not as he’d had to do with his combat unit.

But he needed a case.

Bad.

Being alone, listening to the deafening quiet of the mountains, remembering the horrific events he’d seen, was wreaking havoc on his sanity.

He refused to be one of those soldiers who returned from war damaged and suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

He would not fall apart and become needy, dammit.

And he would keep the nightmares at bay.

By God, he’d survived his childhood and Iraq, and he wouldn’t go down now.

Still, returning to the small town of Sanctuary, North Carolina, held its own kind of haunts, and when he’d passed by Magnolia Manor, the orphanage where his mother had dropped him off without looking back, he’d questioned his decision to settle in the town.

Gage McDermont strode in and took the head seat behind the long conference table while the others filed in. Slade maintained his stoic expression, honing his self-control.

Gage gestured toward Slade. “This is Slade Blackburn,” he said. “He just finished his first case and returned Carmel Foster’s runaway daughter to her.”

The men surrounding the table nodded, then Gage gestured to each of them as he made the introductions. Slade analyzed each one in turn.

Benjamin Camp, a dirty-blond-haired computer expert with green eyes. Brilliant techy, he’d heard. Slade would bet he had a shady past. Maybe a former criminal with skills that could come in handy in a pinch.

Levi Stallings, former FBI profiler, black hair, military-style haircut, dark brown eyes. Intense, a man who studied behaviors and got into a killer’s mind. He cut his gaze toward Slade as if dissecting him under his microscope, and Slade forced himself not to react, to meet him with an equally hard stare.

First rule of engaging with the enemy: Never let on that you’re afraid or intimidated.

Not that he was, but he didn’t like anyone messing with his mind or getting too close.

Adopting his poker face, he angled his head to study the man, seated next to him, whom Gage introduced as Brock Running Deer.

“Running Deer is an expert tracker,” Gage said in acknowledgment.

A skill that would be needed in the dense mountains. He was also big, slightly taller than Slade’s own six feet, had shoulder-length brown hair, auburn eyes and was part Cherokee. He scowled at Slade as if he were permanently angry, but Slade shrugged it off. He hadn’t come here to make friends.

“And this is Derrick McKinney.”

Slade nodded toward him.

Next Gage introduced Caleb Walker, who also looked mixed heritage. He had thick black hair, black eyes, and wore a guarded expression. Gage didn’t elaborate on his particular skill, which made Slade even more curious about the man.

Gage gestured to the last man seated around the table. “This is Colt Mason, a guns and weapon expert.” Slade sized him up. Short, spiked black hair, crystal-blue eyes, sullen and quiet. He had that military look about him, as well, as if he’d stared down death and it hadn’t fazed him. Probably former Special Ops.

The door squeaked open and a petite brunette with hair dangling to her waist and large brown eyes slipped in.

Gage’s face broke into a smile. “This is Amanda Peterson, our newest recruit. Amanda is a forensics specialist, and we’re glad to have her on board.

“Now that we’ve all been introduced, I want to get you up to speed on the latest case and the arrests made in Sanctuary. Brianna Honeycutt, now the wife of Derrick, adopted an infant son when the baby’s mother, Natalie Cummings, was murdered. Our investigation revealed that Natalie learned about a meth lab in town that was connected to the creators of a lab eight years ago, the one that caused the hospital fire and explosion that took dozens and dozens of lives.”

Gage paused and twisted his mouth into a frown. “The police have made several arrests, but locals are up in arms now that they know who was responsible. There’s also been speculation that there might have been more locals involved in the lab. Lawsuits are cropping up each day, and people who lost loved ones are asking questions. Due to the fire and contamination of evidence, there are questions regarding some of those who were presumed dead.”

Slade frowned. “Presumed?”

“Ones whose bodies were never found or identified,” Gage clarified. “Among those were women and children. I expect that we might have some work ahead of us.”

Slade’s blood began to boil. Women and children…who’d died because of some stupid drug lab. Women and children whose bodies had never been identified.

Families with no answers just as his own hadn’t had answers when his older sister had disappeared. Not until Slade had found her in the morgue.

Maybe it was right that he’d come back to Sanctuary. If he had the opportunity to find closure for even one of the families involved, it was worth it.

Then maybe he could finally find peace and forgive himself for his sister’s death.

NINA’S BABY’S CRY HAUNTED her every day.

Peyton would have been eight years old had she survived, the same age as the children Nina taught at Sanctuary Elementary.

She tried to envision what her daughter would look like now as she watched her students rush to the school bus, squealing and laughing, excited to be out for summer break. Most of the teachers were jumping for joy, as well.

“Freedom at last,” one third-grade teacher said with a laugh.

“Vacation,” another one boasted.

But instead of dreaming about long, lazy days at home or a vacation road trip, tears filled Nina’s eyes.

To her, summer break meant weeks of being without the kids. Long, lonely days and nights of silence. Of no tiny hands reaching out for help, no sweet voices calling her name, no little patter of feet or giggles, no little arms wrapping around her for a big bear hug.

Tortured nights of an empty house and more nightmares of what her life would have been like if her little girl were alive.

For a moment, she allowed herself to dream of taking her daughter to the beach. They’d build sand castles, collect shells, ride bikes. She could almost hear her daughter’s laughter in the wind roaring off the ocean….

The bus driver gave a big honk of its horn, jerking her back to reality. Kids waved and screamed out the window, and the bus roared away. Teachers cheered and waved, laughing and talking about their plans as they dispersed back to their rooms to tidy up for the day.

Nina wrapped her arms around her waist and watched until the last bus disappeared from the school drive, then turned and walked back inside, her chest tight.

She should be over the loss of her daughter, people had told her. “Move on with your life,” her father had insisted. “Let it go,” the ob-gyn had said.

But sometimes at night, she heard her baby’s cries, and she sensed that Peyton was still alive. That she hadn’t died in that fire. That she was out there somewhere, and that she needed her.

Moving on autopilot, she went to her classroom, packed up boxes, wiped down the chalkboard, stripped the bulletin boards and cleaned out her desk.

Finally she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. The empty room was almost as sad and overwhelming as her house. Here she could still see the kids’ cherub faces, hear their chatter and smell their sweet, little bodies.

She stuffed her worn plan book in her favorite tote, one emblazoned with a strawberry on the front and sporting the logo Teachers Are Berry Special, then added a copy of the language arts guide for the new language arts program the county had adopted, threw the tote over her shoulder, flipped off the lights and headed outside.

The late-afternoon sunshine beat down on her as she walked to the parking lot. The sound of engines starting up filled the air, and she noticed a group of teachers gathering for an end-of-the-year celebration.

Celia, her friend from the classroom across the hall from her, looked up and waved as she climbed in her minivan. Celia had invited her to join them, but she’d declined. Celebrating was the last thing on her mind.

Instead she drove to the little bungalow she’d bought in town, picked up the newspaper on the front stoop, then dragged herself inside and poured a glass of sweet iced tea. Hating the silence that engulfed her, she flipped on the television, then glanced at the front page of the paper.

The headlines immediately caught her eye.

Murder of Natalie Cummings and Kidnapping of Her Son Ryan Leads to Answers about the Hospital Explosion and Fire Eight Years Ago.

Nina skimmed the article, her own memories of the explosion taunting her. For years now the town had mourned the lives lost back then. Now they finally had answers.

Police have learned that a meth lab built by local teenagers at the time was the cause of the explosion that killed dozens. Recently Natalie Cummings had overheard students at Sanctuary High discussing a new meth lab nearby, and she was apparently murdered when she connected the current lab to the one eight years ago.

Derrick McKinney, an agent from Guardian Angel Investigations, was instrumental in uncovering the truth about the explosion, the kidnapping and murder connection.

Nina frowned, her heart racing. That night had been horrible. The explosion, the fire, the terrible confusion. The burning bodies.

Her frantic rush to find Peyton…

Her stomach knotted. She’d wondered if her baby might have been confused with another that night, or if she could have been kidnapped in the chaos.

But the investigation had been a mess, and the sheriff had assured her her fears had been unfounded. Even worse, the P.I. she’d hired had been convinced she was just a hysterical mother and had done nothing but take her money.

Still, one question nagged at her. They had never found Peyton’s body.

She glanced at the article again. Guardian Angel Investigations. They specialized in finding missing children.

Her hand shook as she went to the mantel and picked up the photo of her newborn. Peyton had been so tiny Nina had been able to hold her in one hand.

If someone had kidnapped her, how would she have survived?

Still, every night when she crawled into bed, she heard her cries. And every time she closed her eyes, a little angel’s voice sang to her in the night.

Determination and a new wave of hope washed over her as she grabbed her purse. “I’m going to find you, baby.”

If GAI had dug deeply enough to find out who’d caused that fire, maybe they could dig even deeper and find out what had happened to her daughter.

JUST AS THE MEETING was about to disperse, the bell on the downstairs door jangled. Gage gestured for the group to wait while he descended the stairs. A minute later, he returned, escorting a young woman with him.

A beautiful blonde with long wavy hair, enormous blue eyes the color of the sky on a clear North Carolina day, and a slim body with plump breasts that strained against her soft, white blouse.

But nothing about the woman indicated she was aware of her beauty.

Instead, those blue eyes looked wary and were filled with the kind of grief and sadness that indicated she’d lived through a hell of her own.

“This is Nina Nash,” Gage said. “She’s interested in our services.”

Gage gestured for her to sit down, and Slade noticed her body trembling slightly as she slid into a leather chair. Why was she on edge?

Was she intimidated by the agents, or in some kind of trouble?

“How can we help you, Miss Nash?” Gage asked.

She bit down on her lower lip and twisted her hands together, glancing at each of them as if to decide whether to continue.

“Just relax and tell us your story,” Gage said in a soothing tone.

She nodded, then jutted up her little chin, took a deep breath and spoke. “I read about your agency in the paper and saw that you found the people responsible for the hospital fire and explosion eight years ago.”

“Yes,” Gage said. “The police made some arrests.”

“I…lost my baby that night,” Nina said in a pained tone. “At least she went missing.”

A hushed silence fell across the room as everyone contemplated her statement. Finally Gage assumed the lead and spoke. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell us what happened.”

She rolled her tiny hands into fists as if to hold herself together. “My baby girl was early, a preemie, and I had to have a C-section,” she said as if she’d repeated this story a thousand times already. Then she rushed on as if she had to spit it out or she’d completely crumble. “I was asleep when the sound of the explosion woke me. Everyone started shouting and screaming, and I smelled smoke so I got out of bed and tried to get to the nursery, to Peyton…” Her voice cracked in the deafening silence stretching across the room.

But no one spoke. Her anguish was like a palpable force in the room.

“It was chaos,” she said on a choked breath. “Everyone was screaming, desperate to escape. Patients were struggling and needing help, and an orderly told me to go to the stairwell, but I couldn’t leave my baby so I pushed him away.”

She hesitated and drew a shaky breath. “Smoke filled the halls, but I ran toward the corridor leading to the neonatal intensive care unit, but it was on fire, and I couldn’t get past, so I tried the other way, then the ceiling crashed and debris was falling and I was hit…”

She swiped at a tear that trickled down her cheek, and Slade sucked in a sharp breath. Others shifted restlessly.

“I fell and was bleeding and a fireman carried me outside, but I wouldn’t let them treat me. I ran through the crowd searching for my baby. I found two nurses holding infants, but none of them was Peyton…” A shudder ripped through her body. “Then the building crashed down in flames.”

Slade knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway. “Did they find your baby’s body?”

She shook her head no. “The scene was a mess. It took hours for the firefighters to control the blaze. Later the police said my baby must have died when the building crashed, that it would probably take months for the medical examiner to sort through the bodies.” Her mouth tightened, then she looked up with steely determination in her eyes. “They never found her. And I know she didn’t die that night.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I know it in my heart, and I want you to look for her.”

“Nina,” Gage said quietly. “I understand your grief, but if Peyton had lived, don’t you think the hospital would have informed you?”

“I don’t know,” she said in a quivering voice. “It was so chaotic that night, someone could kidnapped her, or she could have gotten switched with another baby.”

Caleb Walker cleared his throat. “You had a breakdown afterward, didn’t you, Nina?” His tone was low, not accusatory but understanding. “And you saw a woman who claimed to be a medium. You tried to communicate with your little girl, but it didn’t work.”

She clenched her jaw. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I’m not crazy. I’m not. I can hear her cries sometimes at night. I’m her mother, I have instincts. We bonded.” Another tear escaped but she didn’t bother to wipe it away this time.

Slade gripped the arm of the chair to keep himself from going to her and wiping it away.

“Peyton would be eight years old now,” she said, her voice growing stronger with conviction. “I know she’s out there and she needs me.”

Skeptical looks passed quietly around the room. Nina obviously noticed because she stood, anger sizzling in her eyes.

For some reason he didn’t understand, Slade couldn’t let her leave. Not yet. “You hired a P.I. before?”

She nodded and hissed in frustration—or rage. “But he didn’t believe me. He just took my money, then told me I was stupid to keep searching.” Her voice rose another decibel. “But how can I not look for my little girl when I think she might be alive? It would be as if I abandoned her.”

Slade gritted his teeth. Plenty of mothers did just that.

She jammed her hands on her hips. “Everyone thought that fire was an accident, and GAI proved it wasn’t. Why can’t you believe that my baby might be alive, that someone might have taken her that night? Why can’t you at least just look into it?”

Because they all knew the infant had probably died in the fire, Slade thought. But he refrained from saying it, and so did the others.

“With all the revelations you’ve uncovered about that fire, about people in the town covering up the reason for the explosion,” Nina continued, pressing, “maybe someone knows something about my baby.”

Slade considered the possibility. The town had kept its secrets and people had suffered for it.

He’d also seen and heard bizarre stories before, knew that people could be devious. Gage had indicated that there might be more locals who’d known the truth about that night but hadn’t come forward. That there might have been more people involved.

Nina’s theory that someone could have kidnapped her baby in the chaos actually sounded feasible. If there was a chance that she was right and her child was alive, how could they not investigate?

Chapter Two

Nina recognized the skepticism in the room, and frustration welled inside her. She’d been a fool to come here, to hope that someone would finally listen to her.

That they would open a case that had been closed for nearly a decade—actually a case that had never been opened.

Even her own father thought she’d lost her mind and that she should let it go.

It was the reason she hadn’t spoken to him in months.

She glanced at the only female in the room, hoping she’d at least piqued her interest enough to take on the investigation, but pity darkened her eyes and she made no offer.

Irritated at them all, and with herself for thinking she might have found an ally in this group, she gritted her teeth. “Fine, if you won’t help me, I’ll ask around again myself.” Although she knew that would lead her nowhere. Most of the people she’d talked to knew her story and thought she should get psychological help, not a detective.

She had just reached the doorway when one of the men said, “I’ll take the case.”

Uncertain that she’d heard him correctly, she froze and slowly turned around. The intense man who’d sat next to Gage McDermont stood. “My name is Slade Blackburn, Miss Nash. I’ll look into your child’s disappearance.”

Nina blinked in stunned shock. Of all the men at the table, he’d acted the coldest, looked the hardest. He was tall and big, his broad shoulders stretching the confines of his black button-up shirt. Jeans hugged his thighs, thighs that looked like tree trunks compared to her own.

Her gaze fell to the scar down the left side of his cheek, a knife wound that had to have been done fairly recently. Tousled brownish-black hair fell across one eye, and he swept it back with his hand. A hand also scarred with a jagged cut.

This man looked intimidating, impressive, like a fighter.

“Slade,” Gage began, but the man cut him off with a dismissive gesture that seemed to surprise his boss.

“You don’t have another case you need me on right now, do you, boss?”

“No,” Gage said. “But you just returned from one. I figured you might want some time off.”

“No,” Slade said in a deep take-charge tone. “I came here to work. I like to stay busy.”

The woman spoke up next. “We’ll help any way you need us.”

A chorus of agreements and nods followed, and Nina finally released the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you.”

Slade didn’t acknowledge her thanks. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “I’d like to talk to you in private, ask you some more questions.”

Nina’s chest tightened. Searching for Peyton would mean opening old wounds, but she had to suck up her pride.

She’d do anything to find her daughter.

SLADE ESCORTED NINA to his office and gestured for her to sit. “Would you like coffee or some water?”

Her delicate body collapsed into the chair as if she were too weary to stand any longer, and the temptation to comfort her hit him.

But that would be a mistake.

“Water, please,” she said in a low voice.

He disappeared for a moment, went to the kitchen then returned with coffee for himself and a bottle of water for her. By the time he walked in, she’d straightened her shoulders as if regaining control and bracing for an interrogation.

His suspicions mounted. What was she hiding?

“All right,” she said. “What did you want to ask me?”

He offered a small smile as he settled at his desk, hoping to relax her, but she clenched the water bottle in a death grip.

“I need some background information,” he said, then reached for a legal pad and pen. “Tell me the date of your daughter’s birth. And her name.”

“I named her Peyton,” she said, then gave him the date and time of her birth. The realization that she’d counted the birthdays since made compassion twitch at his veneer.

“You said she was in the NICU?”

“Yes, she was premature,” Nina said. “A seven-month baby. She had trouble breathing at first, and weighed a little over four pounds.”

His gaze shot to hers. “Any other problems?”

“She was only a day old. The doctors planned to run more tests… They thought she might have had vision problems…”

Slade swallowed. If someone had kidnapped this preemie, and she had had health issues, she might not have survived afterward. He needed to check old police reports to see if any premature infants had been abandoned around that time.

Or if any infants’ bodies had been found.

Damn. The thought made his own stomach roil. He couldn’t imagine the torture this woman had suffered. The fear, the horror stories of other abandoned babies she’d heard about on the news, the not knowing or thinking that each time an infant’s body had been discovered that it might be hers…

Forcing his mind back to his job, he glanced at her ring finger, but it was bare. No tan line where a wedding ring might have been either.

“Who was the baby’s father, and is he still in the picture?”

She glanced down at her hands. “His name was William Hood. He was nineteen, and I was eighteen at the time. And no, he’s not in the picture.”

“Tell me what happened between you.”

Her gaze flew to his, anxiety lining her face. “Is it really necessary for me to go into this?”

Slade leaned forward, his arms on the desk, his expression neutral. “I know this is difficult, but you came to me for help, Nina. If you want me to investigate, I need to know everything about that time in your life.” He swallowed. “And I mean everything. So don’t hold back or lie to me or I’m off the case.”

Anger glittered in her eyes, but she gave a nod. “All right.”

“How did William react to the pregnancy?”

“Not well. He had a scholarship to Duke, and didn’t want his life interrupted.”

“But your life was,” he said calmly.

A tiny smile slowly softened her eyes. “Yes. Even though I was young and the pregnancy was a surprise, I really wanted the baby. I felt connected to her immediately.” Her hand automatically went to her stomach, and an image of a young, naive girl flashed in his head.

One who would have made a wonderful mother.

Slade tried to ignore the feelings that realization stirred.

“So, what did William do? Did he refuse to accept responsibility?”

Nina’s mouth thinned again. “Pretty much. He and his parents tried to convince me to have an abortion.” A shudder rippled through her. “His mother even offered me a bribe to leave town and get rid of the baby.”

Slade studied her for a moment. “Did any of them threaten you?”

Nina frowned as if thinking back. “Not in so many words, although Mrs. Hood warned me that I’d be sorry if I ruined her son’s life. William’s father had died the year before, and she wanted William to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer.”

Slade tamped back his anger. “What did you say to her?”

“I let them all off the hook,” Nina said calmly. “I told them I didn’t want their money, that I didn’t need or want William, and that they could all go to hell.”

Admiration stirred in Slade’s chest. “Have you heard from him lately?” Slade asked.

“No. I did hear that he got married to a former girlfriend, a debutante named Mitzi. I’m sure his mother was thrilled.”

“What about your family?”

Anguish flickered in her eyes momentarily before she blinked away the emotion. “I lost my mother when I was little. My father was upset with me about the pregnancy. He also tried to convince me to abort the baby, then insisted if I kept her, that I should give her up for adoption.” She uncapped the water bottle and took a long sip, then set it down and looked at him again. “He thought I was too young and irresponsible to raise a child. And when the doctors declared that Peyton died in that hospital fire, he assured me it was for the best.”

Slade gritted his teeth. Was her father simply protective, or a bastard with an insensitive heart?

“He didn’t believe that your daughter might still be alive?”

She made a sound of disgust. “No, he actually seemed relieved. He thought I was crazy and insisted I go into therapy.”

“Because he loved you,” Slade said.

Another sound of disgust. “That’s what he said. That I was better off that my little girl died.” She turned an anguished look his way. “How could anybody say that? That it was God’s way of giving me a second chance at a normal life?” Her voice quivered again. “All I wanted was my baby back.”

“Maybe he was trying to help,” Slade suggested.

She shook her head. “No, he was embarrassed that I had an illegitimate child, worried about what it would do to his precious reputation.” She looked down at her hands where she’d twined them in her lap. “He didn’t give a damn about Peyton.”

He let her words sink in. So her father was relieved to have the child out of the way. He already disliked the man. “And you did go to college?”

She nodded. “Not at first, but eventually I pulled myself together and earned a teaching degree. Now I teach second grade at Sanctuary Elementary.” Her eyes softened again as if being around the children helped alleviate her suffering.

Slade considered her mental condition and hated the doubts assailing him. Needing to know the truth was one thing. Obsession to the point of stalking, another animal instead. “You stayed in Sanctuary because you thought your daughter might be here, didn’t you?” Slade asked. “You looked for her in every child in school and in town.”

But she didn’t hide her motives or defend herself. She nodded instead, tears blurring her eyes. “I know that sounds pathetic, but I just felt close to her here.”

Just as his mother had refused to move from their home after his sister had disappeared. She’d claimed that she had to be at the house in case his sister returned. Eventually, though, her obsession had driven her over the edge….

“No,” Slade said evenly. “I understand.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “You do?”

Unable to resist, he reached out and covered her hands with his own. “My sister disappeared from our house when I was fifteen. For days and months afterward, I looked for her in every teenager I spotted.”

“You found her?” Nina asked.

God, he didn’t want to answer that. Didn’t want to shatter any ounce of hope she had. But the truth could be brutal sometimes.

“Yes,” he finally answered. “But we didn’t have a happy ending, Nina. She was in the morgue.”

Nina inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, then squeezed his fingers. “What happened?”

Hell, he’d already said too much. And she was looking at him with such compassion that emotions he’d long thought buried pummeled him.

No. He couldn’t, wouldn’t blurt out the rest.

“You don’t want to know.” He cleared his throat. “But think long and hard about this, Nina,” he said gruffly. “What will you do if we investigate and find out that your baby did die in that fire? Are you prepared for that reality?”

NINA’S CHEST ACHED from trying to maintain control. Slade’s question threatened to shatter that control.

Was she prepared? How would she respond if he discovered that Peyton really had died? All these years she’d lived on the belief that her little girl was out there needing and wanting her.

“How can I not find out the truth?” she finally said. “I need closure, Mr. Blackburn.”

“Slade,” he said automatically. “And are you sure it’s closure you want? She might be gone forever.”

Pain rocked through her, but she cloaked herself in the coat of armor she’d donned years ago. She would survive no matter what. “I realize that, but not knowing is no way to live.”

He studied her with such an intensity that she was tempted to squirm. But she refused to show weakness or he might decide she was the nutcase her father and Dr. Emery thought.

He gave a brisk nod. “All right. But what if someone did kidnap your baby, and she’s been adopted and is now happy? What will you do then?”

She had considered that theory, but somehow in her heart she knew that wasn’t the case. “She needs me,” she said simply. “I’m her mother. I feel it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You have to consider every scenario, Nina. What if she has loving parents and doesn’t know anything about you? What if she has a family that she loves?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly, honestly. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when, or if, we come to it. But I am her mother and I deserve to know where she is.”

“Fair enough.” Slade nodded, then released her hand.

Odd how she hadn’t leaned on anyone in years, but for a moment, she’d felt as if she had someone on her side now.

Someone she trusted. And after her father’s and William’s betrayals, she’d never trust anyone again.

SLADE HAD HIS WORK cut out for him. Even though Nina insisted she could handle the truth, no matter what he discovered, he understood the emotional roller-coaster ride involved in looking for a missing child. The toll it took could be dangerous.

His mother certainly hadn’t survived the ride.

And judging from Nina’s fragile looks, she’d been surviving on hope for years. If he stripped that hope, she might crash and burn just as his mother had.

Then again, beneath that tenderness, she was stub born. Determined. And he also understood the torture not knowing caused.

She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth, and a foreign feeling bled through him, one he didn’t want. He itched to draw her tiny hand back into his, kiss it and promise her that he would make things right.

His body reacted, hardened, betraying his better sense and reminding him that his libido wasn’t dead after all. Geesh, a fine time for it to burst back to life.

Fortunately she didn’t seem to notice.

“Where do we start?” she asked.

Reining in his sudden bout of lust, he forced his mind back to the case. “I’ll put out some feelers across the States, search the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children Web site, check into adoptions that occurred around the time of the fire. I’ll question nurses, hospital staff and other locals at the scene that night.” He hesitated. “I’ll also have to question your father, and William Hood and his family.”

“They won’t be happy that I’ve opened this up again,” Nina said.

Slade shrugged. He already didn’t like her father or the Hoods. “I don’t give a damn who I piss off, Nina. I’m on the case now, and I will find out exactly what happened to your baby girl.”

He just hoped to hell she could handle the truth when he did.

Chapter Three

Fatigue from dredging up the past pulled at Nina, but hope fluttered wildly in her chest. Slade would be opening up old wounds between her and her father, and her and the Hoods, but she’d survived their disdain before and she would again.

At least someone was finally going to ask questions.

“Does your father live in town?” Slade asked.

“No, he’s in Raleigh.” She gave him her father’s contact information, including his work number at the bank. “I’m out of school for the summer and want to accompany you when you talk to him.”

He arched a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

No, but she wanted to see her father’s reaction. “I can handle it.”

He gave a clipped nod. “What about William and his family?”

“They’re in Winston-Salem. William took over his father’s law practice there.”

Slade jotted down the name of the firm, then ran his hand through his hair. “What was the name of the doctor who delivered your baby?”

Fresh pain burned her stomach at the mere mention of his name. The delivery had been harrowing enough, but he had been a strong proponent of adoption. “Dr. Don Emery.”

“Does he still live and practice in Sanctuary?”

“Yes, I think so, although I haven’t seen him in months. I tried to talk to him several times, but like everyone else, he encouraged me to move on.”

Slade’s mouth tightened slightly. “I know this is difficult, but think back to the night of the delivery and the day after. Did you notice anything strange, anyone suspicious at the hospital?”

“God, I was so scared that night and was in such a panic, that I don’t remember much. Just that I knew my baby was coming too early, and that I was afraid for her.”

“You were in labor?”

She nodded. “I’d developed complications. They rushed me to the operating room and took her immediately.” Her heart quickened at the memory. “She wasn’t breathing at first, and they had to give her oxygen. She was so tiny and weak that I didn’t know if she’d make it…”

His eyes held compassion as she paused to pull herself together.

“What about the next day? Did you notice someone watching the nursery, looking at the babies?”

Nina massaged her temple as she struggled to force the details of the hospital stay to the surface. “Not that I recall.”

“Did anyone make an odd comment to you about keeping the baby?”

Nina grimaced. “Dr. Emery agreed with my father and encouraged me to give Peyton up for adoption. They both thought that she needed two parents. A couple of nurses also mentioned that adoption might be a good idea.”

“Do you remember those nurses’ names?”

Nina rubbed her temple again. “I don’t know last names, but one nurse was Jane and the other Carrie. I saw both of them outside the hospital after the fire, but they claimed they didn’t know where Peyton was.”

Slade frowned. Was it possible someone had taken the baby from the nursery before it caught on fire?

SLADE BIT BACK HIS thoughts. He hated offering Nina false optimism.

“So where do we start?” she asked.

Slade checked his watch. “It’s already getting late. I’ll start putting out contacts on the Internet tonight, call a couple of friends who might be able to help look into the adoption angle, and drop by the hospital and see if the administrator and Dr. Emery are there.” He paused. “Tomorrow I’d like to talk to your father and meet the Hood family.”

Nina gripped the armrest. “Let’s get started.”

Slade sighed. “Nina, why don’t you go home tonight and rest.”

“No,” she said in a pleading tone. “I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I feel…lost in that house alone right now.”

Hell, the trouble was he did understand. He knew how the silence could eat at you, how a person’s absence could feel like part of you had been ripped out. How the walls could scream at you with recriminations.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “But remember, we may not find anything.”

She took another sip of water, then wiped her mouth. “Thanks. I appreciate your candor.”

“Let me talk to Derrick, then we’ll head to the hospital.” He stood, then strode down the hall to McKinney’s office.

Derrick was on the phone when he knocked, but ended the call and gestured for him to enter.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Slade said bluntly.

Derrick pointed to the chair beside his desk. “You’re taking on the case for Nina Nash?”

Slade took the chair. “Yes.”

Derrick frowned. “You know that baby may not have survived.”

Slade’s gut knotted. “I know. But after hearing Nina’s story, it’s possible that someone could have kidnapped the baby in the chaos.”

Derrick folded his arms. “What can I do to help?”

“Talk to your wife, Brianna, for me.”

Derrick arched a brow. “How do you know Bri?”

“I lived at Magnolia Manor when I was a teenager for a while. We met there. I heard she’s a social worker now with an adoption agency.”

The realization of where he was headed dawned in Derrick’s eyes. “She was,” Derrick said. “But she’s taken a leave of absence to stay home with the baby.”

“But Brianna has contacts, right?” Slade asked.

“Probably.” Derrick narrowed his eyes. “You know that adoption records are sealed?”

“Yes, but Brianna must have a friend who can look back through files quietly. Nina’s baby was premature, and had trouble breathing. Handling an adoption for a preemie with medical problems would be tricky—and memorable.”

“That’s true,” Derrick said. “I’ll talk to her and see if she can help.”

“Let me know if she finds a lead and I’ll look into it.”

Derrick agreed, and Slade thanked him and headed back to his office.

Nina was waiting when he returned, and she sat quietly as they drove to the hospital. That quiet strength roused his protective instincts.

Worse, her scent, some sweet fruity fragrance, stirred his desires.

But he tamped them down. Nina Nash was a case, nothing more. Slade would never give his heart to a woman. Loving and losing was too damn hard.

First his mother and sister. Then his men…all the people he’d cared about and failed.

He veered into the hospital parking lot and parked, and they walked silently inside. He introduced himself to the receptionist. “Is your hospital administrator in?”

She frowned and checked the schedule. “Dr. Lake has gone home for the day. He’ll be in tomorrow at nine.”

“How about Dr. Emery?”

She punched in a number, spoke into the phone then turned to them. “He’s with a patient, but you can go to his office on the second floor and wait there.”

“Thanks.” Slade coaxed Nina to the elevator, noting the tense way she held her shoulders. When they passed the nursery, grief and a wistfulness settled in her blue eyes. Newborns filled the bassinets; pink and blue blankets indicating the gender, while a young couple stood goo-goo-eyed, waving at their son through the window.

The intensive-care part of the unit was housed in a separate room beside the regular nursery, and one tiny infant plugged with tubes and wires lay inside an incubator, kicking wildly.

“He’s a fighter,” Nina said softly as she paused for a moment to watch. “Just like Peyton.”

He pressed a hand to her back in comfort, and she stiffened slightly, then inhaled and moved on down the hall to Dr. Emery’s office.

Slade surveyed the room as they stepped inside. Medical journals and books overflowed a wall-to-wall bookshelf behind a massive cherry desk that was neat and orderly.

Nina slid into a chair, but Slade stood with his arms folded and studied the man’s credentials on the wall between the windows. UNC. Duke. A third wall held a bulletin board decorated with photos of children he’d delivered.

“Is your baby’s photo here?” he asked.

Nina’s shoulders stiffened as she shook her head. He gritted his teeth, regretting the question. Some people reacted to a person’s death as if they’d never existed at all.

A minute later a bushy-haired, freckled man around five-eleven strode in. The moment he saw Nina, a frown swept across his craggy face. “Nina?”

“Yes, Dr. Emery, I’m back.” She gestured toward Slade. “This is Slade Blackburn. He’s with Guardian Angel Investigations.”

Dr. Emery’s eyes narrowed, his thick, graying eyebrows crinkling.

“I need to ask you some questions about the night of the hospital fire,” Slade said without preamble. “I want to know exactly what happened to Peyton Nash.”

NINA TRIED TO STUDY the doctor with an objective eye. But too many times he’d encouraged her to stop asking questions, so many that his dismissal of her had roused her suspicions.

“Honestly, Nina, you’ve hired another private investigator?” Dr. Emery asked, his tone reeking of exasperation.

“Yes, she has,” Slade said. “And I’d like to hear your version of what happened to Peyton.”

The doctor fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck, then sank into his office chair as if weary of her. “Nina knows exactly what happened, Mr. Blackburn, but she refuses to accept the truth, that her baby was lost in that fire.” His frown accentuated the deep grooves carved by age bracketing his mouth. “It was sad, horrific, tragic,” he continued. “But it happened.”

Slade simply stared at the man. “According to Nina, nurses rescued three other infants. Why not her baby?”

“That I don’t know,” the doctor said. “I spoke with the nurses later, and they all agreed that the baby wasn’t in the nursery when the fire broke out, that they thought she had been taken to another area for tests.”

“They told me they didn’t know where she was,” Nina said, contradicting him.

A spark of temper darkened Dr. Emery’s eyes. He shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, restacking them in an attempt at stalling. “I didn’t want to add to your distress at the time, Nina, but I had ordered heart tests for your infant. I suspected your baby had a hole in her heart as well as underdeveloped lungs, and that she wasn’t going to make it.”

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. “So she might have been somewhere else in the hospital, not in the unit when it burned down.”

“We’ve been over this,” Dr. Emery said as if talking to a child. “She did not survive.”

“How can you be so sure?” Slade asked. “Did forensics ever prove the infant was in the fire?”

Dr. Emery glared at Slade. “No, but the place, the ashes…it was impossible to identify all the bodies.”

“How about security tapes?” Slade asked.

“The explosion knocked them all out.” He sighed. “Mr. Blackburn, you’re doing Miss Nash an injustice by dredging up the past and raising her hopes. She needs to let her daughter’s death go so she can heal.”

Slade’s jaw clenched. “You tried to persuade Nina to give up her baby for adoption, didn’t you?”

The man curled his hand around a stress ball on his desk and squeezed it. “Yes. She was young, unemployed and single.”

“But she wanted to keep the baby,” Slade said.

“She was immature. And her father didn’t intend to support her or the child. I was trying to think of the baby. If she made it,” he continued, “there would be medical bills, therapy.” He shot a condescending look at Nina. “Miss Nash was not equipped to handle those expenses, much less raise a handicapped child.”

“That was my problem, not yours,” Nina said bitterly.

Dr. Emery pushed away from his desk. “I was, as always, looking out for my patients.”

Slade slapped a fist on the desk. “Well, someone didn’t look out for Peyton Nash that night, did they?”

Dr. Emery paced to the window, agitated. “You have no idea how traumatic it was. The hospital staff did everything possible to save the patients.”

Slade folded his arms. “And maybe you saw that chaos as an opportunity to take Peyton, to give her to someone else you deemed as a more appropriate parent. Or hell, maybe you sold her for the money.”

Hot fury heated the doctor’s cheeks. “How dare you imply such slander. I have an impeccable reputation. And I’ve lived and worked here in Sanctuary all my life.”

Slade stood, towering over him. “I don’t like the fact that you’ve stonewalled my client and dismissed her questions without adequately responding.”

“I have answered them, but Nina is obsessive and delusional,” Emery argued.

Nina flinched, but Slade continued, his voice cold and harsh, “I don’t think so. And I don’t intend to accept anything you say at face value or leave this case alone, not until all of our questions are answered to my satisfaction.” He gestured to Nina. “And if I find out that you withheld information or that you’ve been lying, I’ll be back, and I will hold you responsible.”

Fear flashed in the doctor’s eyes for the first time since Nina had known him. Was he afraid because Slade was right—did he know something that he wasn’t telling them?

SLADE GROUND HIS TEETH as he and Nina left Dr. Emery’s office. “Let’s see if any of the nurses you mentioned are here.”

Nina nodded, and they walked to the nurses’ station. “Excuse me,” Slade said. “Do you have a nurse named Carrie or Jane working here?”

A middle-aged dirty blonde with green eyes glanced up from the desk. “Yes, Carrie Poole, but she won’t be in until tomorrow. And Jane is on vacation and won’t be back until next week.”

“All right,” Slade said. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“What do you think?” Nina asked as they exited the building and walked to his car.

“I don’t know yet, Nina,” Slade said. “I don’t like Emery, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s lying.”

Nina’s shoulders sagged, and he pressed a hand to her waist to help her in the car.

“But I meant what I said. I will find the answers.” He offered her a sad smile. “I just hope the answers are what you want to hear. But I won’t lie to you or B.S. you either.”

“Thank you,” Nina said, her eyes sincere. “I know some people think I’m unstable, but I’m not. I just have to know the truth.”

He stared at her for a long moment, grateful to hear the strength beneath the fragile-looking exterior. He had a feeling Nina Nash was a lot tougher than anyone had given her credit for.

Moonlight flickered off her creamy skin and highlighted her golden hair, and a surge of sexual attraction shot through him.

Damn. Not good.

Determined to avoid personal involvement, he jerked his eyes away from her, started the engine and drove back to GAI headquarters.

He parked and told Nina he’d call her in the morning. A storm cloud rumbled, threatening rain, and she thanked him again and climbed from the car.

“Get some sleep,” he called just before she turned away.

But her distressed look indicated that she didn’t expect to rest, that dreams of her daughter haunted her nights.

Slade had his own share of nightmares, and as much as he’d like to comfort her, he wasn’t a hero. The men he’d lost were.

But he would investigate.

Tomorrow he’d ask Gage and Amanda to pull all the police and medical reports from the hospital. Maybe Amanda could use her expertise to determine if Peyton Nash’s body had been among those in the fire.

NINA’S PHONE WAS RINGING as she let herself into her house. Thinking it might be Slade, she hurried to answer it.

But the voice on the other end of the line startled her. William.

“Nina, what the hell are you doing hiring a private investigator?”

Nina tensed at the rage in his tone. “How do you know I hired a P.I.?”

“Dr. Emery called. He’s worried that you’re having another breakdown.”

Nina gripped the phone tighter. “Well, I’m not. And what I do is none of your business, William. You gave up that right the day you walked out on me and our baby.”

“Listen to me, Nina. I don’t need some nosy P.I. in my business, especially asking questions about something that happened years ago.”

“Something that happened?” Nina said, her own fury mounting. “What happened was that your daughter went missing. That I was told she died, but that no one ever proved it or even bothered to look for her.”

“For God’s sake, you need psychiatric help,” William bellowed. “My mother tried to warn me, but I thought eventually you’d come to your senses.”

“Maybe you don’t want me asking questions because you have something to hide,” Nina said between clenched teeth.

William’s breath wheezed with anger. “If you make trouble for me, Nina, I’ll make sure everyone at the school where you teach knows just what a basket case you are. Do you think the people of Sanctuary will want an obsessive nutcase teaching their precious children?”

Adrenaline sizzled through Nina’s blood. “Are you threatening me, William?”

“Take it however you want, Nina, just leave me alone and tell that P.I. to do the same.”

Nina started to shout at him, but he slammed down the phone, cutting her off.

She stared at the dead phone in her hand, then dropped it into its cradle, paced to the mantel and picked up Peyton’s photo. “I won’t give up,” she whispered. “Not even if William did threaten me.”

In spite of her resolve not to do it, she walked into the bedroom, dragged on her nightshirt then slipped open the drawer where she’d stowed the tiny pink dress with the butterflies on it that she’d bought years ago. The outfit she’d planned for Peyton to wear home. She knew it was crazy to have kept it. Pathetic.

But she crawled in bed, pressed it to her chest and inhaled the sweet scent of fabric softener.

Then she closed her eyes and imagined her daughter coming home.

EIGHT-YEAR-OLD REBECCA Davis fumbled for her glasses, sweeping her hand across the desk in the bedroom at her foster parents’ house. Without the glasses, she was nearly blind. But at least the social worker had gotten her a computer with big print.

She hated the clunky glasses though. They were too big for her face, and some of the kids teased her and called her Four Eyes.

Other kids looked at her with pity just because she was handicapped, and she didn’t have a mommy.

She didn’t want them to feel sorry for her. She did want a mommy though.

She clicked on the keyboard, brought up her journal and began to type.

Mommy, I know you’re out there somewhere. I prayed that you would find me on Mother’s Day but that’s passed, so maybe you will on my birthday.

I don’t like it here. The house is dark and dusty. And Mama Reese says her knees hurt too much to play with me outside. Papa Reese’s cigarettes make my eyes itchy and watery and then I cough, and then he tells me to shut up. They don’t like my singing either.

I have to sing though. I dream sometimes that you’re looking for me. That you didn’t just leave me. That we just got losted from each other, and that you can hear me. That one day you’ll follow my voice and come and get me.

She swiped at a tear running down her cheek. Crying was for babies but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Sniffling and swallowing to hold back more tears, she finished the journal entry.

I know I look kind of dorky, and I’m little for my age, and I can’t run like the other kids. And one of my eyes looks funny because I can’t see out of it, but I take my medicine every day so I don’t have the seizures anymore.

I’m getting better in school, too. I’m only a year behind. I’ve been practicing my writing, and I can almost make the letters right now. I can pour my own cereal and make my own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And I don’t mind wearing hand-me-downs if you don’t have much money.

Please come and get me, Mommy. I promise not to be any trouble.

She saved her entry, then pulled on her pj’s and crawled in bed. Then she closed her eyes and prayed her mommy would hear her this time and come to get her as she began to sing….

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.