HOMETOWN SECRETS

Was the explosion that took the lives of Sarah Russell’s parents an act of murder? Her teenage daughter thinks so and is determined to seek answers in the sleepy small town where Sarah grew up. Sarah fears the teen will uncover a secret she’s not ready to share: everyone, including Sarah’s daughter, believes the girl is Sarah’s kid sister. Even the child’s father doesn’t know the truth. But as Sarah reunites with Nick Tyler to look into the mysterious deaths, she knows she’ll have to tell him—and their daughter—the truth. Yet someone wants to ensure that no one uncovers any long-buried secrets.

“Remember what I told you last night?” Nick said.

She glanced at him.

“You’re not alone, Sarah. We’ll find Emma.”

“Emma is sixteen and my responsibility, and I’m the only one left alive now who knows how impulsive she can be. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I can’t take any chances with her.”

“I’m catching on pretty quickly to her tactics. Let me take some of this load, okay? You won’t be any good to yourself or Emma if you give in to panic.” He placed a hand over hers.

Sarah felt the warmth of Nick’s hand melting into her icy fingers. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was wound. She shook her head. “I can handle this.”

“You lost both your parents and suddenly became the guardian of a very headstrong teenager who also, most likely, has PTSD mingling with grief after discovering their deaths might have been murder. I’m so sorry my efforts to get to the bottom—”

“Enough with the poor-little-Sarah routine, okay? I’ll deal with it.”

Because getting to the bottom of things was what Sarah was so afraid of.

HANNAH ALEXANDER

is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Cheryl and Mel Hodde (pronounced “Hoddee”). When they first met, Mel had just begun his new job as an E.R. doctor in Cheryl’s hometown, and Cheryl was working on a novel. Cheryl’s matchmaking pastor set them up on an unexpected blind date at a local restaurant. Surprised by the sneak attack, Cheryl blurted the first thing that occurred to her, “You’re a doctor? Could you help me paralyze someone?” Mel was shocked. “Only temporarily, of course,” she explained when she saw his expression. “And only fictitiously. I’m writing a novel.”

They began brainstorming immediately. Eighteen months later they were married, and the novels they set in fictitious Ozark towns began to sell. The first novel in the Hideaway series won the prestigious Christy Award for Best Romance in 2004.

Collateral Damage

Hannah Alexander

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

—Jeremiah 29:11

This book is dedicated to those who spend so much of their time and finances to keep a piece of history alive in Jolly Mill Park, Missouri. May God be with those on this special private park board, who strive to remind us that we are always making history.

Contents

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

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Extract

ONE

The warning shriek of a siren accompanied a blur of Missouri roadside shrubs and the flash of red-blue-red in Sarah Russell’s rearview mirror. She dabbed at her wet face with the cuff of her sleeve. Another blast of sound and flash of lights near her back bumper told her she was busted. “Oh, sure,” she muttered. “Don’t go after the real speeders. Pick on me.”

All she needed right now, atop everything else, was public humiliation—it would be bad enough when the whole Russell family found out she’d lost Emma after having custody for only three weeks. And she hadn’t been speeding. True, squealing tire rubber on the road was never a good idea, and she should have known better than to attempt highway traffic while fighting tears that flowed faster than her speedometer, but still...

With a wet sniffle, she pulled to the shoulder of Highway 60. A few more seconds and she’d have been out of the Sikeston city limits and on her way toward Jolly Mill.

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing deeply. The word murder reverberated through her mind in time with her heartbeat. Impossible. Couldn’t be! But what if it was true? Innocent, trusting sixteen-year-old Emma was headed toward disaster in more ways than one.

Sarah fumbled in her purse for a tissue and was blowing her nose when a uniformed figure stepped from the cruiser behind her. She lowered the window, winced at the squeak she’d never had repaired and looked up—into the face of her cousin, John Fred Russell.

“Oh, John.” She nearly burst into fresh tears at the sight of the man who’d been like a brother since her family moved here. Among all the Russell cousins, John was her favorite. A person couldn’t spit on the sidewalk in this town without the whole Russell clan hearing about it, but John had kept silent for years about her most devastating secret. He was a true man.

“Sarah Fey Russell,” he muttered with a voice of resignation.

“John, this isn’t a good time. Please, just let me go. Didn’t you recognize my car?”

“All I saw was a set of taillights weaving back and forth on the road like a flag in a high wind,” he drawled, wiggling his hand in the air. “But yes, when you finally stopped, I knew it was you.”

A pickup truck sped past. He glanced toward the receding vehicle then sighed and returned his attention to her. “I have to ask, of course, so just tell me you haven’t suddenly taken up drinking and driving for recreation.” Again, the dry tone, his southeastern Missouri accent as pronounced as usual. His typical expression of serenity was firmly in place, which meant he knew she wouldn’t need to breathe into a tube.

She shook her head, sniffed and dabbed at a few stray tears with her sleeve.

He leaned over and peered at her face more closely. “Hey, cuz.” His tone softened. “You crying? What’s wrong?”

He’d been a rock since Mom and Dad died three weeks ago.... Could Emma be right? Was it possible their deaths weren’t just a tragic accident? “I’ve already blown the guardianship.”

“How?”

“I’ve lost Emma.”

“What?”

Sarah reached toward the passenger seat for the printout of the long email she’d found after arriving home from her final, long day of teachers’ meetings to end the school year.

He took the sheet and squinted. “Wow. Save me some time. Give me the short version.”

“She’s driving across the state to Jolly Mill to investigate a rumor that the explosion that killed Mom and Dad was intentional.”

John hunkered down, eyes wide. “Someone thinks your parents were murdered?”

More tears surfaced as Sarah’s throat threatened to close. It was too fresh. Only three weeks since her world had shattered. “Nick Tyler suspects something. He’s Aunt Peg’s son.”

“She was the other person killed in the first explosion. You’ve mentioned Nick. You two were best buds when you lived there, right?”

Sarah hesitated. If John only knew. And perhaps he should. “If Nick suspects something, then I believe there’s something to suspect.” She held up Emma’s note. “There was another explosion the next day and another woman died—a nurse in an infirmary not far from the conference center where Mom and Dad and Aunt Peg were killed.”

John let out a long, low whistle. “There’s no police force in Jolly Mill.”

“That’s probably why Nick’s staying with his dad for a while, just to keep an eye on things.”

“If that’s where Emma’s going, will she be safe there?”

Sarah leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, trying not to think about it. “Her email to me was time-stamped two-thirteen. If she left soon after, she could be there by now.”

He looked at his watch. “Seven now. Yep, she could be.” He blew out a puff of air. “What on earth did that girl think there was to investigate?”

“You know Emma. She wants to be a police officer like her cousin John, so it’s your fault.”

“You’ve tried calling her, of course.”

“She’s not answering her cell.”

Another car sped past, and John grimaced. “Wish we weren’t already two people short tonight. I should go with you. Have you spoken with Nick?”

“All he and I have exchanged since our family moved away from there are sympathy notes after the explosion. Emma spoke with him on the phone.”

“Well, okay, but he is a son grieving the death of his mother. Even the most solid people I know can go a little off-kilter when they’re reeling from that kind of shock.”

“Two explosions a day apart, John. That’s not too much of a stretch. And, John, there’s more.” Sarah hesitated, closing her eyes. “Please promise this doesn’t go anywhere.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the car door until he was eye level with Sarah. “How much worse can it get?”

“I know under the circumstances this shouldn’t be an issue, but I’m pretty sure he’s Emma’s father.”

There was a long moment of silent shock that froze her cousin’s face like a statue. “What do you mean you’re pretty sure?”

“There was a going-away party for Shelby and me. Someone spiked the soda with ecstasy right there under the guard of chaperones and everything. Anyway, that night’s a huge blur, but—”

John interrupted with a groan. “It’s okay, I don’t need the details. I’d like to wring the neck of the scum who did that to a bunch of innocent kids. Does Nick know she’s his?”

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head, allowing the impact of her past to hit her full force. All these years, at the urging of her parents, she’d been encouraged to treat Emma like her surprise baby sister, born just after Sarah and her twin, Shelby, turned seventeen. They never knew she suspected that Nick was the one. Who else could it have been? How her family had sacrificed for her wild, childish heart and for someone’s nasty practical joke.

“Sarah?”

“You know how it was. Mom and Dad believed if they didn’t adopt her I wouldn’t go to college, wouldn’t have the chance Shelby had. I have nothing to go on but memories of seeking Nick out at the party—they’re fuzzy, at best. Everyone found out about the spiked soda, so my parents always knew I’d been caught up in something I had no control over.”

“So you can’t be sure it was him.”

“He was the only one I’d have even gotten close to. He was the only one. Ever. She looks like him.”

John sighed. “This one’s a doozy, Sarah Fey, I’ve gotta tell you.”

“I’m worried about Emma. She’s still such a little girl in so many ways. It’s partially my fault she’s been so sheltered. I spent so much time with her—”

“You’re good for her, Sarah. You practically gave up dating. In fact, I think she was smothered, if you ask me.”

“Didn’t ask.” Still, his words soothed her. “So, you letting me go? My tire went off the shoulder, that’s all. I’m fine.” Jolly Mill, a five hour drive from Sikeston, seemed as far away as the moon right now. “If Emma reaches Nick and he sees the family resemblance in person—”

“You can’t stop her now.” He patted her arm. “Maybe it’s time she knew—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“As her sister, you may not be able to control her, but if she knows you’re her birth mother and that you love her like a mother loves a child—”

“That’s the last thing she needs. You know how tender her heart is. The shock would break it all over again, especially with this question about murder hanging in the air.”

“If not now—”

Sarah held a hand up. “I’ve been living this fiction since I was her age. For her sake I have to keep it up at least until she’s strong enough to handle reality again.”

John gave a heavy sigh. “At least let me find Nick’s number and call him for you.”

That was tempting. Talking to Nick after all these years and with such a connection hanging between them from their past—and one he knew nothing about—would be hard. But right now Emma’s safety was Sarah’s only concern. “I’ll call him. We were once the best of friends. Can you find the number for Edward Tyler for me?”

John gave her a salute and quickstepped back to the cruiser as Sarah allowed her thoughts to dwell on Nick—something she’d stopped doing when she heard of his marriage seven years ago—and continued after Mom shared that his wife divorced him. Had it really been nearly seventeen years since she’d seen Nick? She’d cried most of the way across the state the day they left Jolly Mill. She’d had no reason to believe that she carried a child inside her—Nick’s child. It had to be. The very reason she’d sought Nick out that night was to tell him how she really felt about him, that their friendship had blossomed into something so much more powerful....

Over the years, she’d often imagined Nick’s dark, soul-filled eyes in his daughter’s face. She’d also seen his and his father’s cleft chin. Hadn’t she? Would they see their own features in Emma when she showed up on their front porch? Mom had sent Aunt Peg pictures of all of them throughout the years, but Nick had left Jolly Mill for premed as soon as he graduated. Sarah’s only chance to get through this with no one being the wiser was that Nick couldn’t possibly recall that long-ago night any better than she did—or even as well as she did.

John returned with a slip of paper and handed it to her. “Don’t talk on the phone while you’re driving. I saw what you’re capable of tonight.”

She thanked him and reached down for the automatic window control.

“Wait, did you log on to Emma’s email account, check her activity?”

“That was always Dad’s job. I’ve tried to respect her privacy.”

“My turn, then. I still have a key to the house.”

“She keeps her password info taped under the lip of her desk, but she keeps her email up on the home computer, so it’s not hard to log on.”

“If you’re gonna traipse off after Emma, the least I can do is search around and see if I can’t fill in some gaps for you. Got your cell phone charged?”

What would she do without John? “I even brought my car charger. Proud of me?”

He grinned at last, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got your back, cuz. Watch for deer and call me when you get there.” He straightened and stretched. “Guess I’ll overlook your poor driving skills this time, but beware of weekenders. That can be a bear, even on the four-lane.”

He’d pulled away in his cruiser before she edged back onto the road. This was not the time to resume panic mode, and she couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse.

* * *

Nicolas Tyler slid the hasp one more time along the riding mower’s blade, sharpening it to perfection. He was rotating to the next cutting edge when the wall phone rang loudly enough for the neighbors to go deaf. His hand jerked, and the fleshy part of his right thumb encountered the newly sharpened blade.

It was a clean cut, and while the pain of it registered he couldn’t help a buzz of pride at the quality of his work as he watched blood seep from the wound. He winced at the continued ringing of the phone. Should’ve chosen lawnmower maintenance as his primary profession twelve years ago and avoided all the frustration of education, more education, sleepless residency, divorce, frivolous lawsuits. He preferred the landscaping business to family practice for now, and solitude to marriage to a cheater.

He glared at the phone as the ringing persisted. Voice mail was turned off; everyone knew Dad’s cell number. Why did Dad keep this phone out here, anyway? Didn’t a guy deserve some time to himself? But then, Dad wasn’t a recluse. Nick had been the one to morph to introversion when he received the notification of a frivolous malpractice lawsuit. Things had gone downhill from there.

He’d disconnected the doorbell after Chloe left and discontinued the landline at his home in Rockford, Illinois, only a few weeks before the explosion.

The ringing stopped and Nick relaxed. Dad had his cell phone with him in case someone wanted to contact him, but he was on leave from the church. A pastor couldn’t lead his flock when he was driven to his knees with grief; his church should understand that. Nick could think of no one he wanted to talk to. The neighbors knew he wasn’t much of a socializer these days.

He reached for the first-aid kit in its cubicle above the work stand. A little peroxide, gauze and tape would take care of this.

He was pouring medicine into his wound when the phone jangled again. He jumped, splattering the liquid in a three foot radius and giving the garage floor an expensive cleansing. Peroxide bubbled on his hand, the gauze hovering over his thumb, tape tangling in his arm hair. With a yank and a grunt, he tore away the tape and lost a considerable amount of arm hair. And women waxed. Go figure.

He pulled out another strip of tape, secured the bandage and replaced the top on the peroxide bottle before strolling toward the phone. Maybe it was Dad. One never knew when he might run into trouble with that old pickup truck.

A quick check of the incoming number sent a shiver down Nick’s spine as it had the last time he’d answered a call from Emma Russell—the name Mark Russell flashed on the tiny screen. As if he was receiving a message from a dead man.

For that fraction of a second, as before, Nick’s mind ricocheted through the grief, blackness and shock. Then he answered the phone, fully expecting to hear young Emma’s voice again. She’d called him and emailed him after he’d sent the girls flowers and a sympathy card, and she’d called again today. The kid had an uncanny sense of compassion for one so young. It surprised him that he didn’t mind talking to her.

“Hello, Nick?”

He hesitated. Not Emma. Too mature for a sixteen-year-old. He found his voice, but only barely. “Is this...Sarah?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Sarah was the quiet one, the twin who’d always remained in the shadows at her own insistence. Though he hadn’t heard her voice for many years, he recalled the beautiful script on her sympathy card after the tragedy.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” Her voice continued to wobble.

Not how he remembered her at all. “Bother? You? Never.” Her loss had obviously taken a heavy toll. “Kind of startled. I thought it was Emma. I saw your father’s...uh...name on the caller ID.” Oh brother, just what she needed.

“Yeah, Dad had all of us on a family plan for our cells. He wanted his name to show up when we called anybody, especially when Emma called boys. Leave it to Dad to be overprotective.”

“I remember Mark could be intimidating when boys came around.”

“Not with you, of course. Listen, um, I need to warn you that you might have company soon, if you don’t already.”

“Company?”

“Emma.”

“She’s coming here?”

“I’m on my way there, too. She told me about your theory.... The explosions? Murder?”

He wanted to bang his head against the wall in self-reproach. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean for this to reach you or Emma. You’re struggling enough. I was looking for help from neighbors and friends here in Jolly.” That was how a newly minted recluse did things—online.

“You believe it.”

“I...have my suspicions.”

“Too coincidental to have two explosions like that.” As she spoke, her voice regained the steadiness he remembered from their teen years. “Two days in a row.”

“Exactly.” Why hadn’t he crawled from his hidey-hole here at Dad’s and gone door-to-door and faced all those neighbors instead of setting up that blog? “I was hoping to talk to you about all this after I’d found out more. You’re sure about Emma? She called me today, a little after noon, and she didn’t say anything about coming here.”

“You’ll understand better once you meet her. She thinks she’s going to help. She left me an extended email explaining it, which I didn’t receive until I got home from work tonight. I’m sure that was her intention.”

“I’m sorry. I knew that controversial blog could stir up trouble, but not for you.”

“So you were trying to gather information from the community?”

“Exactly.” And it was the very community that was never the same after Sarah was gone. The weight of seventeen years dropped from his shoulders for a few seconds, and he recalled with exquisite clarity the impact of Sarah’s presence in his life—and the dark pit that remained in his heart after Mark Russell moved his family away to St. Louis. By the time Nick was in college, he heard they’d moved to Sikeston so Mark could take a job as pastor of a congregation again.

After a brief hesitation, Sarah said, “I don’t understand. Didn’t the investigator blame the explosions on gas leaks from faulty pipes?”

“Two gas leaks in two days? Not likely. The investigator was a new kid, not only wet behind the ears, but as slick as if he’d just hatched. His father’s a local judge, and the kid—his name’s Chaz Collins—missed some inspection reports that showed no cracks where he indicated. He’s off the case, and right now there’s no one to fill his shoes. The sheriff’s busy chasing meth labs, and you know Jolly Mill’s always been low priority.”

“Chaz inspected both explosions?”

“Yep. He wouldn’t look me in the eye when I spoke with him.”

“Could he have had something to do with it? You know, start a fire, cause an explosion so he could make the judgment and prove his worth?”

“And kill people in the process? Chaz and his family attend Dad’s church.”

“Just because he’s a churchgoer doesn’t mean he’s a good boy.”

Nick hesitated. Emma was on her way here and Sarah was following her; they’d find out the worst as soon as they arrived. “The problem is, Sarah, Chaz is nowhere to be found.”

There was a soft intake of breath.

“There’s a search under way. His parents called yesterday, and they’re frantic.”

“You think he did find something incriminating?” Sarah asked.

“Judging by his behavior, I’m almost sure of it.”

For a moment Sarah didn’t speak, and Nick recalled her tendency to choose her words carefully. In that way she was very different from her twin, who would chatter to anyone and everyone in school—Shelby, the popular twin.

“You think someone might have threatened him,” Sarah said.

“Seems possible.”

“A gas leak could have developed after the last inspection,” she said.

Nick shook his head, though of course she couldn’t see him. “Leo Larner constructed that conference building above code thirty years ago. Dad even did his own inspection before each event. He’s cautious that way. There were no faulty pipes.”

There was a soft sigh. “But why our parents?”

“I don’t know yet. You know they always stay to clean up after the others leave, but Dad just happened to get a call on his cell while they were working, and walked outside—that building never had good reception. That’s when the place exploded. It’s eating at him.”

“Who called?”

“He said it sounded like someone crying, but when Gerard Vance—he’s an ex-cop—had a check run on the number, it was from a burn phone. No name connected to it.”

There was another long silence. “So it was an attack on either Mom or Dad or Aunt Peg by someone who definitely wanted to spare Edward. But why him specifically? Does he have any ideas?”

“No, and it’s torturing him.”

“Why the nurse in the infirmary the next day?”

“All I can figure is that she might’ve been close enough to look out her window and see something before the explosion at the conference center.”

“So she could’ve been killed because she was an eye witness?”

“It’s all wild conjecture at this point. She wasn’t even from here—she was from Texas—so unless someone followed her here...I just don’t know. It’s why I got involved, and Gerard Vance is helping me. He was the nurse’s employer.”

More silence.

He gave Sarah time to assimilate what he’d told her, then frowned as the silence continued. “Hello? Are we disconnected?”

“I’m...here. I’m trying to grasp it all, and I can’t yet.” Sarah sighed. Sniffed. It was a wet sniff that told him how hard this was hitting her, and then it hit him, too. Again. As it did several times a day. Mom was gone. “I know Edward’s got to be torn up about this.”

“He just got out of the house for the first time last Sunday. Your cousin and her friends are all worried about him, bringing food.” Carmen Delaney, Mrs. Russell’s cousin, had been good about keeping friends and neighbors abreast of how the Russells were doing since they left Jolly Mill.

Carmen was also the one who’d broken the news about Emma’s birth nine months after their family left Jolly Mill. There were still moments when Nick wondered about the timing of her birth, and tried to weave his mind through the cloudy memories of Sarah’s twin, Shelby, on the night of the party. Nothing had ever come of his attempts. “I hear from Carmen that Emma’s an impulsive, intelligent, inquisitive kid.”

Sarah gave a soft groan. “Emma. She’s...amazing. She’s also a handful. I’m afraid you’ll find out what I mean soon.”

“Headstrong, obviously. I can’t believe she would let you worry like this.”

“We had a little spat last night, and that doesn’t often happen. In her note she told me she needed more information about how Mom and Dad died. I haven’t been able to reach her on her cell.”

He leaned back in the chair, focusing, for a moment, on the gentle wave of Sarah’s voice—recalling her quiet but welcome presence from their teen years. That voice had a musical quality that always soothed the soul, though he couldn’t miss the distress in it now. “The girl has her mother’s stubborn streak.”

There was a soft gasp, and then, “What?”

“Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to diss your mother. I just remembered my mom always talked about Lydia Russell and her determination to get things done. Mom admired her.”

“Oh. Thank you. Yes, Dad always said Shelby and I inherited Mom’s strong will.”

“As did Emma, obviously.”

“I need to get her back home to Sikeston,” Sarah said.

“Meaning I’ve frightened you.”

“You’d better believe it. I can’t believe the sheriff’s department isn’t even investigating.”

“He has very little manpower with all the budget cuts, and there’s a lot for him to cover in our county. Don’t worry, Gerard’s got a good eye on things, and if Emma shows up I’ll take care of her.”

What was it about Sarah’s vulnerable presence over the phone that brought out his old protective instincts? What was it about connecting with her that made him see the man—or lesser man—he’d become? He wanted to be that former man, who could be counted on for help, who actually wanted to help instead of search for ulterior motives behind every word. Divorce and the lawsuit had changed him, and he disliked the curmudgeon he’d become.

“Sarah? I’m serious about this. You’re not alone.”

There was another sniff. “Thanks, Nick. I’m glad I called.”

He closed his eyes at the memories Sarah’s voice resurrected. It sounded as if he might have company at any time, and he couldn’t help remembering her eyes—the color of the ocean on a cloudy day—and the tenderness of her heart, which she’d taken such pains to conceal behind her dyed-black hair, Goth makeup and clothing as a teenager.

Why had he allowed Shelby’s effusive, chatterbox ways to distract his attention from Sarah for even a few moments? And what kind of kid had he been to momentarily fall for externals at exactly the wrong time?

For the first time in many months, Nick found himself thinking about someone besides himself and his personal battles. “It’s going to be okay.” He only had to convince himself of that, and it was threatening to become an impossible task.

TWO

The shadows of the night whipped past Sarah’s headlights as the depth and warmth of Nick’s reassuring voice continued to echo in her head. The rhythm of his words soothed her into a near-trance. Her eyes were half shut when a deer flitted across the road in the far reach of the high beams, shocking her awake. She hit the brakes, glad the lateness of the night had emptied this highway of most automobiles. This part of Missouri was notorious for its nightlife; nocturnal animals could outnumber cars on the road.

Another deer leaped past the beams, and another, and she braced herself, pressing harder on the pedal.

The chirp of her cell phone claimed her attention as the small herd disappeared into the blackness of forest south of the road. When she answered, she heard John’s wide-awake voice.

“Got something, Sarah. Are you hands-free?”

“No, but there’s no traffic.”

“Pull over so we can talk. I’ll wait.”

“John, stop being such a policeman. I’m practically stopped already.” No need to mention the deer. She pulled far off the shoulder into the grass beyond. “Just tell me what you’ve got.”

“Listen, how much time does Emma spend online? I’ve warned her about the danger of predators.”

Already startled awake by the deer, Sarah felt her muscles tense. “What did you find?”

“I’ve got a couple more names and addresses for you. Did you know a man by the name of Alec Thompson? His comment on Nick’s blog was, ‘Emma, I know your family.’ It was as if he was trying to lure her into a conversation. I’m getting ready to call Sheriff Moritz over there to give him a heads-up on—”

“No, don’t. Alec’s okay.” The lack of sleep, the worry about Emma, the reconnections to the past were all catching up with her.

“You know the guy?”

“His family owned several businesses in Jolly Mill when we lived there, and he dated a friend of mine. You know, I haven’t been there in over sixteen years, but I still think of Jolly Mill as my hometown. We’re talking about a small community, where everyone knows practically everyone else. The thought that someone I might have known could’ve been a killer—”

“And that Emma’s headed there?”

Sarah gritted her teeth. Yes. Exactly. “And she won’t answer her phone.”

“Sorry she’s doing this to you. I know you think your old hometown’s the best place on the planet, but things change over the years.”

“Not so much. Those explosions would have stirred up the whole community, even though we’ve been gone since Emma’s conception. People are going to talk, and when they talk, some questions might be answered. Nick’s blog was a good idea.” Sarah opened the window and allowed the cool night air to rush into the car. “Emma wasn’t there when I called Nick.”

“I’m sorry, cuz. You know we’ll all be praying for you to have a safe trip.”

“I’m not even sure I can make it there tonight.”

“Why not?”

Sarah took a deep breath of fresh air and watched the fog of moisture drift through the moonlight when she exhaled. “I barely slept after a little tiff with Emma last night. It’s catching up with me now.”

“Where are you?”

“Close to Cabool.”

“Only halfway. You’d better get thee to a safe hotel and get some rest. You won’t do Emma any good if you have a wreck.”

Sarah needed coffee. The clock in her dashboard told her it was nine-thirty. Two and a half more hours of driving, and she still had no idea if she would find Emma when she arrived at her destination.

“I checked out Nick a little more thoroughly,” John said.

“How?”

“It’s all about computers these days, cuz. It’s there—you just have to find it.”

“So...what did you find?”

John chuckled. “Can’t help yourself, can you? I have a feeling you might be carrying some glowing embers for the guy.”

She felt herself smiling in spite of everything. “John.”

“Sorry, but if Nick wants you to know about his business, he’ll have to tell you himself.”

“Did you read his blog?”

“Yep. Cuz, don’t freak, but I’m afraid he might be onto something. He asked for information about a toxin leak many years ago in a river about twenty miles from Jolly Mill, but unless he comes up with more there, I think that’s a no-go. Still, something’s up.”

“Nick didn’t say anything about that.” She shoved open the door, stepped out into the cool night air and was nearly sideswiped by a speeding motorcycle. She ran around the front of her car and into the ditch on the other side, her footing precarious.

“Breathe, Sarah.”

“I’m breathing.” But this was feeling too real.

“What’s wrong?” John asked.

“Someone intentionally called Edward just before the explosion. Everyone in town probably knows about the bad cell reception in that conference center, so they must have known he would step outside. Our parents were best friends. Those meetings they had every year? They used to hold them in a place on Spring River until that toxin scare. After that, Dad made the decision to change the venue to the conference center at Jolly.” She stepped from the soggy, weed-filled ditch into the heavier darkness of the woods. “The man who owned the place on the river killed himself after the dioxin spill at Verona, and Dad blamed himself.”

“What? Why?”

“Because when Dad withdrew from the Spring River center, others did, too.”

“That’s no reason for Uncle Mark to blame himself. He was protecting people.”

“What if someone else blamed him for that poor man’s suicide? The guy lost his income and lost hope.”

There was a hesitation. “Okay, listen, Sarah, I’ve got some vacation days coming to me. I could call the chief, see if—”

“No, you don’t need to go to Jolly. You need to get that detective position.”

“This is getting a little too much for nonprofessionals to handle.”

“Nick told me there’s an ex-cop he’s working with.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Guess you know where to find Nick.”

“I practically lived at their house half the time when I was a kid.”

“I’ll update you if I find anything else. You stop and rest. And, Sarah—”

“I know. You’ve got my back.”

“That’s right, cuz, I’ve got your back.”

* * *

The gentle melody of Sarah’s voice echoed in Nick’s mind instead of the scrape of the hasp he eased over one of the push mower blades. She was coming here. The last time he’d seen her in person she’d had long, Goth black hair and her beautiful eyes had been overwhelmed by the heavy makeup. How would she look as a grown woman?

He realized he wanted to see her, looked forward to it.

Once again breathing in the scent of motor oil, dried grass and gasoline in the two-car garage, he glanced at the clock and wondered where Dad was. For the time being, both of them had been parking their vehicles in the driveway so there would be room for Nick to work on the mowers and lawn-care equipment he’d purchased two weeks ago. Dad had pulled Mom’s car around back to a shed where he wouldn’t have to look at it every time he stepped to the kitchen window. He refused to drive it. Instead, he continued to rattle around in the twenty-year-old Ford pickup he’d always driven. Small-town pastors didn’t bring in millions from their congregations.

Nick’s thoughts returned to Sarah and the stress evident in her voice, her sorrow over the loss of her parents, the love he’d heard between the lines for her younger sister. Nothing felt quite real tonight. Except for Sarah.

Like Dad, Nick was still grieving hard over Mom’s death. After the shocks in life these past couple of years, he was still scrambling to catch up with a lot of things. Maybe he was grasping for something from the past—something of comfort. If nothing else, Sarah’s presence, even over the airway, had served to take him back to a gentler time when she was his friend and confidante, solid and serene and capable of gentle humor. Her twin had the infectious giggle and quips that kept everyone else laughing, but sometimes it was at the expense of others. Sarah never did that.

He was turning the rotary to the next blade when he heard the unique murmur of a Volkswagen Beetle engine pull to a stop outside the house. The engine died. He frowned. He’d neglected to ask Sarah what kind of car Emma drove.

A car door closed, and he was waiting for the chime of the doorbell when a knock against the garage door three feet away startled him.

“Dr. Tyler?”

Young. Feminine. Sounded a little shaky. And he couldn’t ignore the title. Respectful, as she’d seemed online and on the phone. Emma. He hesitated, relieved beyond expectation that she’d arrived safely, but for Sarah’s sake unwilling to make her entrance an easy one. She must have seen his work lights seeping out from beneath the big door. It was why she hadn’t gone to the front.

“Hello?” she called.

“Yes?” He drawled the word slowly.

“Um, I’m Emma? You know, Russell?”

He waited for more explanation.

“We emailed and talked to each other a few times about our mothers?” she continued. “They were friends. And you went to school with my sisters. The twins? Do you remember Shelby and Sarah Russell?”

Shaking his head, amazed she’d think he wouldn’t remember, he grabbed a slightly stained work rag and wiped as much grass and oil as he could from his hands. “Don’t you live in Sikeston?”

“Well, yeah, but I came here to see you.”

Sarah was right: this one was a handful. “And Sarah’s waiting for you in the car?”

“Um, no. I’m by myself.”

“What! How old are you, young lady?” He allowed disapproval to reflect in his voice and made her wait and wonder, the way Sarah was waiting and wondering.

“I’ve got my license.”

“You don’t say.”

“I’ve been five hours on the road—well, okay, six, no, wait, seven, because I got lost a couple of times trying to find Jolly Mill—and I didn’t stop. I thought I’d run out of gas before I could find your place.” She giggled nervously. “You people sure like to keep to yourselves, don’t you? You got a bathroom? I really have to—”

“Does Sarah even know where you are?” He was tempted to keep stalling. Sweet and genuine as she seemed, the kid could use some discipline.

“Um, yes?”

“You don’t sound so sure of that.” He reached for the button to raise the door but didn’t push it. “You’re trying to tell me she sent you driving across the state all by yourself? I would never have believed the Sarah Russell I knew would be so irresponsible.” He silently apologized to Sarah.

“Um, well, no, she didn’t. But she knows where I am now, anyway. I’m sure she does, because I sent her an email.” There was a soft moan.

Nick grinned, relenting at last, though Dad was still gone and it was totally against the unwritten rules of preacher-kid conduct for a teenager to visit a single, grown, male nonfamily member alone in a house.

He pushed the button that started the garage door’s slow and noisy ascent. Light from the garage revealed bare legs to the knees—though the temperature certainly didn’t warrant shorts this late at this time of year—and bare arms. He could practically see goose bumps from twenty feet away.

Then her shoulders and head came into view. Long, dark brown hair; deep, familiar brown eyes; the slight curves of a girl younger than sixteen. Those curves were covered demurely enough. She had the wide, uncertain gaze of a teenager who knew she was probably in trouble and was having second and third thoughts about acting out. She was the image of her older sister, Shelby—would be the image of Sarah at that age, as well, of course, if Sarah had kept her natural hair color and wiped the glop from her face.

He sucked in his breath as memories accosted him—fuzzy memories of a party and of Shelby Russell and once again a haunting at the back of his mind over Emma’s birth nine months later, despite being assured she belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Russell. He’d seen pictures of her and wondered, but Shelby had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Had that night even happened? Maybe Sarah could clear things up.

“You wanted to talk to me, remember?” Emma rushed into the garage, hugging herself and doing the girly dance of urgency. “You said so in your last post.” She sounded like Shelby, too, and her voice held that breathless, excited quality that Shelby had used when she was cheerleader their sophomore and junior years.

“I said I wanted to talk to you and Sarah. Big difference. You should have waited until she could come with you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming when you called?”

She continued to dance and hug herself, the dainty lines of her face making it clear she was struggling with guilt and agony. “I’m sorry. If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have let me come. And I know Sarah wouldn’t have come. She always has some excuse to stay home. A-always better to do the deed and then apologize later than to ask for permission first and then disobey, r-right?” She was trying to sound so blasé, and failing so prettily.

He suppressed a grin. “Really? I always heard that was the coward’s way out. You couldn’t have learned that from the Sarah Russell I knew.”

“From a cousin in Sikeston. You got a jacket or something? You didn’t tell me you lived on the North Pole.” She was still trying to brave it out, though he could read her emotions from the quick blinking and sniffing, the wobbling of her dimpled chin.

“I live on the same latitude as you, so you should have known better.” He grabbed his sweatshirt and tossed it to her, then glanced out the door. Every resident along Capps Creek would know about this visit before breakfast in the morning, not that any of their neighbors would think ill of him—not that he even cared for his own sake. He did care about Dad, however. As good and kind as most folks were in this town, at least one sin dwelt in abundance in this place: gossip.

“B-bathroom?”

He nodded toward the door to the house. “Down the hall and to the left.”

She crashed through the door before he finished talking. “Thank you!”

He stood where he was for a moment, amazed, charmed, far too curious and somehow, beyond all else, comforted, and he didn’t even know why. Time to share some of that comfort with someone who needed it more than he did. He picked up the receiver and dialed Sarah’s number.

* * *

Sarah’s eyelids pulled downward as if ten-pound barbells weighted them. She forced them open for at least the fiftieth time and was jerking the car back onto the road when her cell rang. It awakened her only slightly. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw a wall of semitrucks coming from behind. Her foot had slid off the accelerator and she had slowed to fifty miles per hour.

Must take this call. She slapped her right cheek hard enough to water her eyes, sped up, grabbed the cell and answered. She checked the screen for a fraction of a second and allowed herself a rush of elation when she saw it was Nick. “Please tell me she’s there.”

“She’s here.”

She gasped instinctively, and her emotions rolled on a current of remembered thrill at the deep tone of comfort in his voice.

“You sound awfully tired.”

Without warning, the moisture in her eyes turned into a cascade, and Sarah felt her face contort. As in Sikeston, she could barely see the road, and this four-lane was a lot busier. “I had some coffee, but that’s not cutting it.” She steered the car onto an exit ramp as trucks rumbled past. “Thank You, God,” she whispered, unable to contain the sobs.

“Hey, Sarah, honey, it’s going to be okay.” He used the endearment as if without thought, but it was exactly what she needed at the moment.

It gave her time to compose herself and manage traffic. She stopped at a signal, realized it was green, turned left and followed the road toward the outer edge of Springfield. “I’ve been so scared. If anything happened to her I’d just...” She would want to die. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Sorry.” She took some quick gulps of air to regain control. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t called, Nick. Thank you. I can never repay you, and I’m so sorry to be causing all this trouble, and—”

“You aren’t the one causing trouble, Sarah. You’re the one trying to manage everything on your own. Why don’t we start worrying about you now? Where are you?”

The flow of his words wrapped around her like a blanket held in front of a fireplace. “I just pulled off the interstate in Springfield. I don’t know why I didn’t just stay on Highway 60, but—”

“Springfield’s a good place to stop.” His voice was so gentle she felt more easing of the ache that had been with her for hours. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

“No need for that.” She glanced around her at the signs, then caught a familiar logo. Airport. There would be parking. “If I could just get a little rest, freshen up, get some coffee—”

“Let me call a nearby hotel and make reservations for you. My treat. I don’t want you taking any chances.”

She turned right at the airport sign, then pulled to the side of the road, unable to continue. “Why are you being so kind? You don’t even know me now.”

“Damsels in distress, that kind of thing. Besides, how can you say I don’t know a lifelong childhood buddy? How many English tests did you prep me for? Remember how well we knew the woods around town and every inch of the creek bank? Sneaking into the backside of the cave? Do you still have that little egg-sized formation I found and gave you?”

That brought a slight smile. “Sure do.”

“There are brothers and sisters who don’t know each other as well as we do. Don’t sixteen years count for anything?”

She smiled a little more as she recalled the happy times they’d gone fishing together, hiked the hills together and yes, even explored the cave before the adults discovered what they were doing and put a stop to it. He’d even confided in her one day when they were sixteen about a crush he’d developed on Shelby. Which had, of course, broken her heart.

“Your little sister looked kind of frightened,” he said.

“Why? Did something happen?” Sarah went on immediate alert.

“She got lost, and I don’t think she was sure of the reception she’d receive here.”

Good. “So what kind did she get?”

“Firm but fair.” There was a smile in his voice, and it warmed her.

“Don’t worry, Dad will be here before long. In fact, I’ll call him now and see what’s keeping him, but he’s out with old friends and probably forgot to check his watch.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She dabbed at her face and resisted checking her reflection in the mirror—and why on earth would she do that? It wasn’t as if he could see her. And it wasn’t as if she wanted to impress him with her appearance.

“Sarah, it’s late. By the time you’d get here we would all be asleep, including you, and that would be dangerous. There are two spare rooms for guests—you know how Mom loved company. They opened up the attic to make another guest suite just last year, and that’s where I’ll put Emma. She’ll be safe and warm and fast asleep before you could get here. I’m serious about making reservations for you in Springfield.”

“No. Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Her parents had taken care of her responsibility all these years. This time she could handle it herself. “You’re right. I’ll get some rest and pick up Emma in the morning.”

There was a short silence. “Pick her up?”

“I need to get her back home to Sikeston where she belongs, and out of harm’s way.” And keep our lives from exploding in our faces.

“You know what? I’ve been thinking about that. School’s out for the year, right?”

Sarah grimaced. “Yes, but Emma’s been talking about getting a summer job, and I still have so much legal work to take care of for Mom and Dad.”

“Can it wait? Dad’s been through a lot these past weeks. He’s barely functioning. Same with me. You and Emma must be reeling.”

“And thus this crazy flight across Missouri.”

“You don’t need to be alone right now. Some time here could help.”

She grabbed a paper towel from the passenger seat and tore off a sheet to wipe her face. Again. “Jolly Mill isn’t exactly safe.”

“I had alarms put up in the house. We have a motivated neighborhood watch. Everyone’s on the alert, and Gerard has a lookout from his place on the hillside above the town, complete with telescope. He’s taking it seriously. Dad and I could really use your company. If it makes you feel any better, nothing else has happened since the explosions three weeks ago.”

She wasn’t up to an argument right now. She’d just have to convince him in the morning that she and Emma couldn’t stay there. He was being a gentleman about twisting her arm, but he was twisting. Why? Part of her felt a little thrill at the thought that Nick Tyler—the guy she’d adored for years as a teenager and had thought about constantly when Emma was growing up—now wanted to reach out to her. Another part of her wanted to hide.

She couldn’t respond. The longer Emma stayed in Jolly Mill, the more secrets might emerge.

“Your cousin lives right down the street from us,” he said. “Carmen even packs a pistol and learned how to shoot since our ex-cop moved to town, and I know for a fact she has plenty of room in her big old house for company.”

“And does Carmen have an alarm system in her house, as well?”

“Sure does. A woman living alone can’t be too careful. She had it installed a week ago.”

Sarah leaned her head against the headrest. On this long drive across Missouri, why hadn’t she considered what she would do about a situation like this? She hadn’t expected Nick to be so generous with his time. She hadn’t thought, period.

There was a sigh. “Sarah, I know you’ve got to be exhausted. Stop and sleep. Find a safe place. Everything’s covered here, so I’ll see you in the morning. Will that work for you? We’ll talk about the rest then.”

“It’ll have to. I’m afraid my brain’s on lockdown.”

His voice lowered and lingered, comforting and kind. “Then sleep.”

“Nick...you’ve always been the sweetest guy.” Always.

“And you’re everything I remembered you to be.”

“Um...I’m not sure what that means,” she said with a smile. “Good night, Nick.”

“Sleep well, Sarah.”

Her whole body tingled as she disconnected and placed her phone on the passenger seat. She buzzed. Excitement? Memories? Fear?

She pulled onto the deserted road that led to the airport. She would find long-term parking and catch a few hours of sleep, then wash up as well as she could, maybe even catch a shower at a nearby truck stop.

Tomorrow she could place the mantle of worry back over her shoulders.

THREE

On Saturday morning Sarah craved a shower. After a few hours of sleep at the far edge of the Springfield/Branson airport parking lot, she’d tried uncountable times to call Emma, but of course she was diverted to voice mail. The line for a shower at the truck stop in Mount Vernon was too long for her to wait.

At least she’d had a chance to brush her teeth and wash her face and grab a fast-food breakfast, so her stomach was full, but it rumbled with nerves. Last night, despite her fatigue, she’d struggled to fall asleep because she couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. After all these years, she wouldn’t have believed his voice would have the power to affect her. But it was more than just his voice—it was the sense of caring he’d related over the phone, the words of kindness. He’d brought back so many memories, and she caught herself wondering how their lives would have gone if they’d made different choices.

How often she’d longed to crawl back into the past and never leave town.

She pulled into Jolly Mill thirty-five minutes after finishing her breakfast and felt blasted by memories she’d believed had settled into the dust along the surrounding country roads. She admired the modest, three-bedroom brick house when she pulled into the Tyler drive. Someone had done a fine job of landscaping, with trimmed hedges, a freshly mown lawn and real grass—not the mowed weeds she’d always managed to grow on her own lawn.

She parked behind an old brown Ford pickup. Edward’s truck. It had been nearly new when her family moved away. Okay, this set of recollections was hitting a little too hard.

She glimpsed a flash of bright red peeking out from behind a juniper tree at the corner of the house, and felt a quick squeeze of her chest. It was Mom’s beloved VW Beetle, which Mom had been generous enough to share after Emma got her driver’s license. Soon it would belong to Emma, though the title wouldn’t be in her name until Sarah was convinced Emma could handle the responsibility. Maybe by the time she was twenty-one...

Lowering her squeaky driver-side window, Sarah sniffed the air. Bacon and other smoked meat scents combined with a sweetness of maple, reaching her from the restaurant a couple of blocks away, across the street from the big old wooden grain mill from which Jolly Mill had gotten its name. No telling who owned the restaurant now. Nick’s uncle, Will Parker, had once made the place the most popular hangout around for local high-schoolers—therefore, Shelby had loved the place, and Sarah had seldom gone there. Nick and his cousin, Billy, Will’s son, had never run in the same circles at school. Nick was more scholastically minded, and Billy hung out with the hard-partying crowd. Where Nick went, Sarah went. Why hadn’t it occurred to her during those years of innocence that there might have been a reason why she and Nick stuck so closely together?

She continued to admire the neatly trimmed shrubs, the bricks surrounding the flower beds, the trees, nicely mulched, that shaded the yard with spring green. Nick had begun earning money for college and med school in eighth grade by doing lawn care...and working on a wonderful tan and beautiful muscles that she was sure would’ve had most of the girls in their class following him around like hungry kittens if he’d ever gone without a shirt.

It was difficult for Sarah to decide if she felt more relieved or worried that Emma had spent the night under the Tyler roof—likely with her own father and grandfather, both oblivious. Family and old friends would surround Sarah and Emma here in Jolly Mill...if they stayed.

A dog barked from down the street, and a lawnmower fired up a few blocks away—actually, in a town of eight hundred twelve people, there were only a few blocks in any direction. Sarah had loved growing up here. How she’d missed this place.

Focusing to keep her breaths steady, she marched to the front door and pressed the doorbell. The deep, soothing sounds of Westminster Abbey chimed through the house. She recalled those chimes from her earliest memories, and that soothed a little of her tension. Today was Saturday. Maybe everyone but Emma was sleeping in. Emma never slept in.

The door opened a crack, and dark brown, sleepy eyes peered out.

“Emma?”

The eyes widened and Emma gave a soft gasp as she pulled the door open. “Um, hi, sis. Wow, what’re you doing here so early?”

Sarah stepped past the threshold. She grabbed Emma in a tight hug that obviously surprised Emma as much as it did her. “If you ever do anything like this again I’ll ground you for the rest of your life. Do you know how scared I was?”

Emma held still for a moment, breathing slowly, as if soaking in the hug. They’d been close all of Emma’s life, but because Mom and Dad were the disciplinarians, Sarah had always taken advantage of the opportunity to just enjoy time with her. She would need to start relying on her instincts as a kindergarten teacher when it came to discipline from now on. She could only imagine how Emma would respond to that.

Too soon for Sarah, her daughter wriggled free. “I told you where I was coming.” She folded her arms across her underdeveloped chest. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to take care of myself a few miles from home?”

“You drove across the whole lower state of Missouri! And don’t think you’re going to get away with this.”

Emma sighed. “I know,” she said in a singsong voice, “I’ll have my cousin John to answer to when we get home.”

“You’ll have me to answer to, but the Tylers have been through too much already. They don’t need two feuding sisters on their hands.” It was a little late to start being the boss in Emma’s life, but too often these past weeks she’d depended on John to step in as a father figure.

“According to Nick,” Emma said, “when you and Shelby were together you were always feuding.”

“Nick said that?”

“He even told me he had a crush on Shelby that lasted maybe a couple of weeks.”

Sarah forgot to breathe for a moment. “He said that?” A couple of weeks?

“Okay, then he admitted maybe it lasted a little longer than that, but he wasn’t in her league. He was a nerd, you know, not one of the jocks Shelby went for.” She grinned up at Sarah. “Edward said you were Nick’s true love, and everybody knew it.”

Sarah tried not to react to that, but oh, it felt good to hear those words, whether or not they were true. And then she wondered why she felt so strongly about it after all these years.

“Y’all must’ve talked a lot last night.” Sarah glanced up at the set of family photos to their left in the vestibule. One showed Nick at sixteen, standing above his seated parents. After all these years the memories tied knots around her heart. But before she could get maudlin she caught sight of a photo of Aunt Peg and Edward on their wedding day. Peg was what, twenty-four? Had Emma caught sight of herself in her grandmother’s photo?

Emma closed her eyes with a sigh, and when she opened them again, they were slightly moist. “I’m sorry I scared you, sis, really. I couldn’t stop thinking about that all the way here. I kept imagining how hurt you’d be, and I wanted to call you before I left, but really? Don’t you want to know what happened to Mom and Dad?” Her typically soft, girlish voice tapered to a tiny tremble.

Sarah strolled past a padded foyer bench surrounded by a bentwood hall tree and an umbrella stand. She entered an open kitchen and living area that surely provided a pleasant great room for entertaining. She sank onto a pale green plush chair that faced an unobstructed view of the carefully tended backyard.

“I do want to know what happened to Mom and Dad,” she said. “I also want to keep you safe. Nick’s told me what he and his friend, the ex-cop, are doing, and I’m afraid we’ll just get in the way.”

Emma sat on the edge of a sofa that matched the chair, the sweet floral scent of her shampoo settling around them. “I’m not useless, you know. I can ask around. Besides, I want to get to know folks around here, and you can get reacquainted with old friends, right? What if Nick’s right and someone can tell you something? Don’t you want to know?”

Sarah suppressed a sigh. Her inquisitive, precious, irritating daughter. The trait of friendliness had been learned from the cradle. Sarah, on the other hand, would rather curl up for hours on her sofa in her tiny brick house at the edge of Sikeston, laptop across her knees as she compiled endless pages of fiction in her make-believe world with imaginary characters. For years she’d dreamed of having a novel published. It wasn’t as easy as she’d once thought. With Mom and Dad gone, would she ever be able to return to that?

“Nick’s really cool,” Emma said. “So’s Edward. We stayed up late last night and talked about Mom and Dad and Edward’s wife.”

“Aunt Peg.”

“He said you and Shelby always called her that.” Emma reached over and touched Sarah’s arm. “Please, please, don’t you think we can stay awhile?”

Sarah braced herself against this child’s well-known charm.

Emma turned and looked up at her, eyes large and entreating, a look Sarah had never been able to resist. “Did Nick tell you much about Gerard Vance?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

“The man who used to be a policeman down in Corpus Christi.”

“He told me a little.”

“He runs this homeless rehab place up at the top of the hills overlooking the mill. Isn’t that really great?”

“Homeless rehab?”

“Yeah. The guy married an old friend of yours, Megan Bradley?”

“Megan? Really?” With a sense of loss, Sarah realized she had so much catching up to do. She’d missed nearly seventeen years’ worth of Jolly Mill life.

“Yeah, she’s a doctor now, and she met Gerard at his mission in Texas. He looks for people living on the street who want a new start in life, and he moves them to the rehab place. Just up that way on the hill.” She pointed north. “He’s helping Nick research the...the deaths.” Her voice wobbled.

Sarah patted Emma’s knee. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry. This is hard, I know.” She blinked at the moisture that seemed so ever present in her own eyes the past three weeks. “Where are Nick and Edward now?”

Emma dabbed at her cheeks and sniffed. “Why do you call Edward by just his name when you always called his wife Aunt Peg?”

“Mom once told me it was a modified Southernism—instead of Miss Peg she was Auntie Peg, then the name shortened to Aunt when we got older. Edward insisted everyone call him Edward instead of Pastor or Reverend. He’s kind of a laid-back guy.”

“Edward said this is his only day to sleep late, so he’ll be up later. I think I heard the shower a while ago, so that’s probably Nick.”

Then now would be her only chance to get Emma out of here. “Emma, honey, I know you don’t want to think about it, but as I said, what if someone did cause those explosions? We could be in danger here, and Nick would be distracted if he has to see to our safety.”

“But we can help. You’re packing heat, aren’t you?”

Sarah blinked. “You mean, did I bring my Smith & Wesson?” she asked dryly.

“In the wheel well, where you keep it? John told you to always keep it near you for protection. A woman alone can never be too—”

“Yes, but I don’t ever want to have to use it, and it doesn’t have to come to that if we would just leave.”

“Nick got a couple more leads on his blog late last night,” Emma said. “New person, fake name, couldn’t trace it. Anyway, this person warned Nick to get on with his life if he wanted to keep it, and then they also mentioned how easily they could strike at any time. There was something about a party almost seventeen years ago?”

Sarah recoiled at the slap of those words. “The party?” So it was someone she’d known long ago. Someone, perhaps, who’d spiked the sodas at the going-away party Nora Thompson had thrown so the kids could say goodbye to Sarah’s identical twin, Shelby—a party thrown at Shelby’s request.

“Did Nick tell you about that?”

Emma shrugged. “He said someone spiked the soda. Edward said he thought the comment might be a prank. You know how sleazy people can get online.”

“I doubt Nick’s taking it casually. I’m not anymore.” All the more reason to get Emma safely out of town.

“Why?”

“Honey, some jerk slipped a bunch of ecstasy into the sodas at that party, and the kids all kind of went nuts. Whoever sent that message to Nick obviously knew about it and is probably still in town.”

Emma frowned up at her, scrunching her lips as she often did, which Mom had always warned her would give her wrinkles. “Edward would rather think it’s some kind of hate crime. You know, like maybe somebody who hates Christians found out about the retreat. We hear a lot of stories about church shootings.”

“But in Jolly Mill? This is the last place I can imagine that happening. Strangers couldn’t even find it. This place is isolated. Besides, as Nick pointed out to me, if they wanted to kill a bunch of preachers they’d have struck earlier. I think this was more focused.”

Emma took a shuddering breath, and Sarah wished she hadn’t said that.

“Has Nick gathered any more information about the retreat center on Spring River that got shut down because of a dioxin spill?”

Emma slumped back into the cushions. “No, but he told me about it.”

“So you can see why Dad might have been the one targeted. Hypothetically. He was instrumental not only in convincing the ministerial alliance to move their meeting place from Verona, but he spoke to others who met there, as well, and there was a general exodus.”

“Nick’s about to give up on that lead,” Emma said. “Not much to go on, and as Edward said, who’s going to wait more than thirty years to get their revenge? Nick made a few more calls last night. The retreat owner’s wife got remarried and moved away with their daughter about a year after he killed himself. Two of his brothers stayed on and farmed and did pretty well. Gerard Vance?”

“The ex-cop, yes.” Sarah smiled to herself. She could tell Emma was taken with Nick’s friend. What impressed Sarah was that Megan Bradley had married him. She wondered, however, how Alec Thompson had taken that. Megan and Alec dated for a couple of years in high school. Of course, who knew about life in Jolly Mill after Sarah and her family moved away?

“Gerard had a talk with both of the brothers, and they said he always struggled with depression. They never blamed anything but that, and Gerard believes them.”

“So Nick and Gerard are pursuing other leads?” Sarah asked.

“It’s kind of hard to dig up dirt on a well-loved pastor.” Never able to remain still for long, Emma sprang from the sofa and wandered through the room. “I drove through that town on my way here. Can you believe it’s tinier than Jolly Mill?”

Sometimes her quick subject changes were dizzying, but Sarah kept up. Barely. “Verona? Why did you drive that route?”

“I wanted to drive past the plant that processed Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. That’s, like, a gazillion years ago. That’s what the dioxin leak was, you know.”

“Emma, you went alone. At night.”

“When you think about it, it’s all kind of awful, huh?” Emma asked. “A tiny place in the middle of a peaceful farming community being used to make poison.”

“Which part of this whole thing isn’t awful?”

“Meeting Nick and Edward.” Emma grinned, though it was a smile tinged by sorrow.

An unexpected chill breathed across Sarah’s neck. Except for his temporary misadventures in English class—in which she tutored him—Nick was always brilliant, astute when it came to people. His initial hunch might have fizzled, and Sarah might just be allowing herself to be drawn into the drama, but she had always trusted his judgment.

Emma touched her arm. “Sis?”

Sarah allowed the warmth of that delicate hand to seep into her skin. “Yes.”

“What’s going on in your head? You look freaked.”

“We need to go back to Sikeston. Today.”

Emma jerked her hand away. “I didn’t come all the way over here just to turn around and go back. I want to help—”

“How? It’s sounding more and more as if someone intentionally killed our loved ones—there’s probably someone in Jolly Mill we can’t trust.”

“Don’t you want to see Edward again?”

“Of course I do.” Part of her, however, felt desperate enough to want to take Emma right now and skip town before things could get out of hand completely, or before Emma impulsively stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.

“We need to spend some time with him, Sarah, not just say hi and bye. He was one of Dad’s best friends. Nick said Gerard is keeping watch from his place above town, where he has a clear view of all movement here in the valley, and besides, if we don’t go see Carmen while we’re this close she’ll never forgive us. You want that on your conscience?”

What Sarah wanted was for her daughter to be safe. Yes, she wanted justice, but what were a rebellious teenager and a kindergarten teacher—who had, admittedly, been well taught by her policeman cousin to shoot a target—going to do to help catch killers? Another thing she didn’t want was an emotional revelation that could have unbearable consequences—couldn’t it?

“Well?” Emma demanded. “Do you?”

“We can see Carmen on our way out of town.”

Emma crossed her arms again, her full lower lip jutting out in the tiny pout she often used to try to get her way—though she seldom succeeded, except with Sarah. “I’m staying.”

This was not going well.

* * *

Nick scrubbed at his hair with the towel until both were equally damp and wondered if the friction of his movements might have scorched the terry cloth. He had blades to sharpen, lawns to mow and clients to placate, but right now all he wanted to do was pull on his clothes, go downstairs and wait for Sarah—she might even be here already. Was that the door chime he’d heard a few minutes ago while the shower was pounding his head, or was he imagining that? She’d sounded pretty wiped out last night, so she might have slept in this morning.

He flicked the towel over the bar, trying to breathe through the steamy air and thinking about last night’s events. Emma was a good kid, as much as he could tell from a couple of hours of talk before they all retired. Immature, but what sixteen-year-old wasn’t? She was a worker, that much he knew. He’d put her to work helping him load the pickup and trailer with his lawn-care equipment before Dad got home last night, and she’d volunteered to help him mow and trim today. Of course, he’d turned her down.

He was reaching for his T-shirt when a voice trailed from the other end of the hallway. He jerked, bumped his elbow on the towel rack and gritted back a growl.

The voice was Sarah’s. He couldn’t keep a smile from his face. She was here.

Then Emma’s voice fell plaintively on his ears, not quite clear enough to make out the words. The voices grew softer but more intense, which meant they were probably arguing and didn’t want anyone to hear. Which made him want to hear.

He took two seconds to comb his still-damp hair and cracked open the door. Time to calm the waters.

“...don’t listen to me. You never listen! I told you, Nick said I could stay. We can both stay. Edward said so, too.”

“And you thought you could accept the invitation for both of us without consulting me?”

“Come on, Sarah, they’re family friends, practically family.”

“You’ve been communicating with him online. Do you know how dangerous that could have been? What if it hadn’t been Nick?”

“But it was.”

“You didn’t know that for sure. What would stop someone from contacting you online and posing as Nick to lure you down here? How did you know you weren’t walking into a deadly trap?”

“But Nick said he wanted to talk to me...to us.”

“He had no idea you were coming here. What you did was beyond dangerous.”

The silence that followed her statement was telling. Nick waited for some exclamation of outrage from Emma, maybe a good, out-and-out catfight, but that wasn’t Sarah’s way except when it came to her twin, and judging by Emma’s behavior last night, she might be impulsive but not aggressive.

“That car parked outside isn’t yours,” Sarah said at last. “The title reverted to me upon Mom’s death, and I’m the one who calls the shots in our household now, whether we like it or not. That car goes back to Sikeston today, and you’re driving it.”

More silence.

Nick could almost close his eyes and picture the twins, Shelby and Sarah Russell, arguing in the school hallway, or on their front porch or just about anywhere. Typically it was Shelby who instigated the fight in an effort to force Sarah to do something she didn’t want to do, such as join the cheerleading squad or go on a youth camping trip or sign up for summer sports. Sarah knew how to dig in and not be moved.

“I can’t believe you would force me back home before I even have a chance to meet folks Mom and Dad used to know. How could you?”

It was time for Nick to make an appearance and stop eavesdropping. As the two continued to argue, he stepped down the hallway barefoot. He saw them before they knew he was there, saw Sarah’s shiny, dark brown hair feathered around her face, those gray-green eyes that he used to look for in the school hallways. His friend. And when he wasn’t being an idiot about her twin sister for those brief couple of weeks, he’d occasionally admitted to himself, even that long ago, that Sarah was the one with a special quality that put him at peace.

His breathing stopped for a second or two. Sarah’s looks had changed dramatically, of course. Gone was the Goth look she’d worn to distinguish herself from her more popular sister. He still remembered the light of intelligence that had set off Sarah’s gaze from Shelby’s. Same coloring, different person looking out on the world, and that made all the difference.

“Sweetie, I’m not trying to be mean,” Sarah said.

“If we go home we might never come back. I want to meet these people and get to know them.” Emma marched across the living room to the sliding glass door that overlooked the backyard. Her warm brown eyes, that dark hair, the way she moved... Her appearance filled him with such curiosity. No one in the Russell family had brown eyes...did they?

“Now that we’re here, Nick says we should be safe,” Emma said. “Why can’t we stay?”

“You’re not calling the shots. I am.” Sarah’s voice held the barest thread of steel, tempered by gentleness.

Emma stood with her back to the room, arms crossed as she stared in the direction of the trees past the backyard.

“Do you know what people think when they see a girl your age drive up alone to a household of men?”

Emma turned around, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on, Sarah.” She held out her arms and looked down. “I could pass for twelve, and Edward’s a pastor. He and Nick know everybody in town. Who’s going to think something gross?”

“The smaller a town is, the more people notice.”

Nick realized he was becoming an eavesdropper. “Trust me,” he said at last, “most folks in this town know us better.”

Sarah jumped to her feet and swung toward him, eyes wide. And then her full lips curved up in a smile of recognition. He remembered vividly the familiar light that had so often glowed from her when they were both young and full of life and ideas and dreams about the future.

* * *

Sarah’s breath played and danced up and down her windpipe as she stared at Nicolas Tyler in his fully grown, fully masculine body, with shoulders appearing almost as wide as the swing set that they once played on in the Tyler backyard. His skin was already tanned, brown hair darkened by moisture from the shower. His dark brown eyes were still striated with flecks of sunshine gold. Emma’s eyes. He entered the room in well-worn jeans and a navy T-shirt.

The impact after all these years took her breath completely.

His mouth curved up in a smile, setting off that characteristic cleft in his chin—the cleft his daughter had inherited. “Is this really Sarah Russell, who never stepped outside without her black everything?” Voice twice as deep as when they were teenagers, much nicer, even, than his phone voice. He sounded almost bemused.

Sarah chuckled. “Goth does not live on forever.”

“I bet you were glad that spiderweb tattoo on your collarbone was temporary. And you finally dropped the face goo.”

Sarah didn’t blush easily, but she’d suddenly become Emma’s age. “Hi, Nick.” Stop it, Sarah. It’s no longer high school, and you’re a grown woman. “Thank you so much for calling me last night.”

He glanced at Emma. Was he studying her features a little too carefully?

Emma looked away. “Sorry, sis, really. I should’ve called you. Nick and Edward both drilled me on it. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Why did you turn off your cell?”

Emma grimaced. “I forgot my charger. My phone went dead halfway here last night.”

Something eased in Sarah’s stomach. So Emma hadn’t shut her out intentionally. Right? “It’s a good thing I didn’t know that last night when you were on the road alone. We’ll have to hunt for it when we get home.”

“But not today, right?” Emma gave Sarah her most plaintive look. “I know all about Dad’s side of the family, but Mom had family here in Jolly Mill. I wanted to find out more about her, okay? Talk to people who knew her. You got to live here. I didn’t. It’s not fair.”

“Fair? You grew up in Sikeston. Larger town, more relatives, and they all knew Mom, too. We’ll visit Carmen before we leave.”

“I miss Mom and Dad.” As more tears slid down Emma’s face, Sarah sneaked at glance toward Nick’s compassionate, sorrow-filled expression, and she knew all their lives had just taken a huge turn. He had questions; she could see them in his eyes. How was she going to answer them?

She was still lost in Nick’s gaze when the sound of a softly closing door reached her. She glanced around the room. Emma was gone. Seconds later came the sound of the Beetle as it revved and buzzed away from the house. Emma was going to get her way, and nothing would ever be the same.

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