Pink panties.

Hot-pink panties.

He’d gone into the store on high alert, hovering near Nina and watching to make sure that nobody else got close to her.

What he hadn’t realized was that shopping with a woman could be such an intimate experience. He’d been fine as she’d grabbed several T-shirts and sweatshirts, some jogging pants and a nightshirt. His close presence next to her had felt a little more intrusive as she’d shopped for toiletries.

He’d finally managed to snap himself back into professional mode when she’d headed to the intimates section. It was when she tossed that single pair of hot-pink panties in the cart that his head once again went a little wonky.

Nina was the witness to a vicious crime and a victim of arson. She was here to be in his protective custody, not to be an object of his sexual fantasies. Speaking of protective custody, he pulled himself off the bed, grabbed his gun and went in search of his houseguest.

Colton Holiday Lockdown
Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. In 1995 she won an award from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series, also from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Dr. Rafe Granger would never escape this rotting purgatory. The small, cramped town where he had grown up had sucked him back inside, barring and locking the gates behind him. If being trapped behind a perimeter monitored around the clock by armed guards wasn’t bad enough, Rafe’s return had brought with it a terrible series of events: an unidentified virus was claiming victims by the dozens, the virus research lab had been trashed and a murderer had escaped the local prison and was adding to the terror and paranoia of every person in town.

Unless he foolishly attempted to brave the Laramie Mountains and climb his way to freedom, there was no way to escape Dead River. For Rafe. For the killer. For anyone.

Rafe strode to his childhood friend and current Dead River Chief of Police, Flint Colton. “You know what we’re trying to do here, don’t you?” He knew he sounded like a perfect jerk, but he was beyond caring what anyone thought of him. He was angry and he didn’t care who knew it.

Flint nodded, touching the brim of his cowboy hat. “I do.” He sounded calm, which only frustrated Rafe more. Did no one in this town understand?

“This can’t happen again.” Rafe could feel the ends of his temper burning, but he couldn’t help himself. Knowing two months of research into a cure for the Dead River virus, the virus that was responsible for quarantining the entire town, had been destroyed was enough to push him over the edge. “I’m going in there.” He pointed to the clinic and pushed past Flint.

His old friend grabbed his arm. “Wait for Stan to clear the scene,” Flint said, referring to Fire Chief Stan Burrell.

Rafe tugged his arm away. “Forget that. I need to see the damage.” The clinic wasn’t on fire. The fire had been contained. If it hadn’t, they would have been evacuating the patients inside.

Flint didn’t try to stop him again. Rafe entered the clinic through the single metal entry door. The smell of smoke hung in the air. Behind the reception area, the clinic’s patient files had been pulled from the shelves and littered the floor, the rainbow of folder colors mocking him. The path of destruction led to the tiny, closet-sized offices he, Dr. Abigail Moore and Dr. Lucas Rand occupied. Rafe suspected they were once intended to be just that: closets. Dr. Rand’s office had been broken into and searched a few days before by an unknown culprit. Rand had reported that some of his notes had been stolen. The culprit had returned to do much worse to Rafe’s office and the lab.

The metal trash can in Rafe’s office was charred, whatever had been inside unrecoverable. His computer was missing from its location on top of his desk and the two-drawer file cabinet tucked under the desk was overturned, papers spread on the floor and into the hallway. Dread pooled low in his stomach. What had been taken? What had the thief been looking for?

Rafe had not much of importance in his office. The most critical work had been stored in the lab. The mobile lab had been brought in to Dead River by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. State of the art, it was attached to the clinic via the backdoor. The lab had a biosafety level of four, the level reserved for research centers that worked with the world’s most deadly viruses: Lassa, Ebola, Marbug and in this case, the unknown virus rampaging through Dead River. The lab had a closed venting system, complex HEPA filters for the air and epoxy surfaces for cleaning and sterilization. Though they were missing the proper security, like a round-the-clock guard and iris scanners to enter the lab, it was the best the CDC could do under the current conditions.

Given the events of late, skimping on security in lieu of expediency was a mistake.

Rafe checked and pulled on his protective gear and entered the lab, noting the lock was broken on the door. He connected his suit to the hoses that hung from the ceiling and then signed in, noting the last authorized person inside the room had been Dr. Rand, the doctor who had been on shift when the break-in had occurred. The staff at the clinic was working every spare hour they had to find a cure for the virus spreading through Dead River.

Only Dr. Moore hadn’t been cleared to work in the lab due to her asthma.

Anger and frustration shook Rafe to his core. The inside of the lab was a disaster, tables overturned and petri dishes and beakers smashed to the ground. Equipment was thrown to the floor but the most alarming thing was what had been done to the samples. The small refrigerator they’d been using to store the carefully labeled Vacutainer tubes was open and emptied.

Rafe let loose a curse he almost never used. But this situation was beyond all repair.

He felt a hand on his back and whirled around, coming face-to-face with Gemma Colton, one of the clinic’s registered nurses. He was ashamed of what he’d said when she most likely had overheard him, but her face spoke of the same anger he felt.

“Where are our samples?” Gemma asked, sounding shocked and panicked. Her green eyes were filled with concern. As many times as he had looked into those green eyes, the vibrancy and beauty of them struck him every time. She was the one pleasant surprise he’d found when he’d returned to Dead River. Young Gemma Colton was grown up and she was worth a long look.

Her voice sounded deeper through the microphone and speaker equipment built into the gear, making it possible to hear over the roar of the vents. Deeper and sexier, though some of it could be more related to her exhaustion than the speakers.

“Stolen,” he said.

Gemma turned to scan the room.

Rafe and the clinicians had been collecting blood samples from every victim of the virus they could and looking for a common sequence. The process had taken thousands of man-hours and now, those samples were gone. Starting from ground zero would have a devastating impact on their research.

“Who would do this?” she asked.

Someone who didn’t mind taking their life in their hands. Handling the blood samples that contained the virus was dangerous for the trained professionals at the clinic. The CDC expert, Dr. Colleen Goodhue, reminded them daily to exercise precaution whenever coming into contact with patients or working in the lab. She was understandably strict about following every security procedure. “That virus on the street is deadly,” Rafe said.

“We already have an epidemic and now we have to worry about someone running around with vials containing the virus,” Gemma said, her voice shaking.

Rafe heard shouts and banging from the clinic. He and Gemma exchanged looks. What else could go wrong? They exited the lab, stood in the chemical shower, removed their protective gear in the suit room, and hurried to find Anand Gupta, the clinic’s other registered nurse, his normally calm demeanor vanished. He was standing in the clinic’s storage room among shelves of ravaged supplies. Their drug locker had been forced open and bottles of life-saving medicines spilled on the ground.

The culprit had been bent on destruction. Rafe knew of no other explanation for this level of ruin. He had no understanding of why someone would do this. Who in Dead River didn’t want a cure found?

“It will be days, if not weeks, before we receive another shipment to restock these supplies,” Anand said.

Shipping products into Dead River was difficult and slow.

Gemma slipped her arm around the large man and hugged him. Rafe ignored the sense he was intruding on a private moment. Anand and Gemma were good friends and Rafe hadn’t worked at the clinic as long as they had. Rafe didn’t have the same connection with the staff Gemma and Anand did with each other and the rest of the doctors and nurses.

“Why don’t you head home, Anand? Your shift is over and I’ll clean up what I can,” Gemma said.

Anand shook his head. “I’ll stay a few more hours and help with this mess.”

The staff was working twelve-hour shifts and far too many of them per week since the virus had started spreading.

Gemma and Anand bent to the floor to pick up supplies and organize the salvageable ones on the shelves. The small room didn’t have enough space for the three of them, so Rafe excused himself. “I need to speak with Flint,” Rafe said. He left the clinic via the front entrance and tried to put a lid on his anger. He was only wearing scrubs and the cold December air felt good, almost a welcome contrast to the heat of his fury.

Rafe needed answers. He needed a plan to put them back on track to finding a cure.

Flint was directing another officer who was taking pictures of the scene. He stepped away as Rafe approached.

“Is it as bad as you thought?” Flint asked.

“Worse. They took samples of the virus.”

He didn’t need to explain to Flint how devastating that was. Many residents of the town who had contracted the virus were remaining in their homes. The clinic didn’t have enough beds or staff for every patient, though Dr. Goodhue was checking in with every known victim of the virus and tracking symptoms and changes.

“What are you doing about this?” Rafe asked.

Flint tipped his hat back on his head and in the sunlight, Rafe saw the dark circles of exhaustion around the chief’s eyes. “Everything I can. I’m trying to keep this quiet and out of the media to avoid more panicking, but the virus is big news, maybe the only news anyone in this town wants to read about. I suppose the media would be distracted if we recaptured Hank Bittard, our resident killer-at-large, but we haven’t managed that yet. I’ll have some uniforms drive by the clinic more often, but we’re stretched thin as is.”

The clinic was stretched thin, too, and somehow, they were expected to do more with less. More patients, more problems, limited time and dwindling supplies. “Can’t you ask the National Guard to help with security at the clinic? They have enough soldiers patrolling the border. They can spare a few men,” Rafe said.

Flint shook his head. “No one in and no one out.”

“We won’t find an antidote if every time we take a step in the right direction, we’re tossed back two,” Rafe said. It took all his willpower to keep the edge off his words and not lash out at Flint.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. No one wanted this. Everyone is pulling for you to find a cure.”

“Not everyone. Whoever did this doesn’t want a cure found,” Rafe said.

Flint folded his arms across his chest. “You have a theory on why?”

Rafe couldn’t imagine anyone who wanted to stay in Dead River longer than they had to. “I have no clue why anyone would want this to drag on longer than it has to. The virus will keep spreading and claiming more lives.”

Rafe, for one, couldn’t wait to beat feet out of Dead River and not solely on account of the virus. He was honoring a promise he’d given his late father by working at the clinic. But that was as far as his commitment to Dead River extended. He wasn’t getting entangled in small-town life again. He could almost hear his mother’s raspy laughter knowing that he’d planned to stay a short time and now couldn’t leave. She’d warned him about getting sucked into this tiny town. She used to say Dead River had wrapped its tentacles around her, one by one, until it was impossible to leave.

His mother’s big dreams had died when she’d become a young mother. Rafe felt lucky he’d had an opportunity for an education outside the small Wyoming town and had used his career trajectory to escape.

Only now, he was back and he was stuck. He refused to let any of the town’s charms keep him here. Not even his friendship with Flint or his attraction to Flint’s sister, Gemma, would trap him. The job and the life he had worked hard for was waiting for him in New York City.

* * *

After a few minutes, feeling nervous about Rafe’s irritation and what he might do, Gemma left Anand in the storage room with an apology and a promise to return. She followed Rafe outside. Her brother Flint was on the scene and she was worried about him and Rafe. Flint had been working too hard and while his new relationship with the Dead River Diner owner Nina grounded him, the pressure was wearing on him.

It was wearing on everyone.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t have someone to confide in. From what she could see, he was married to his job and without an outlet for his stress, he was a time bomb. He behaved as if the patients at the clinic and finding the cure for the virus were his responsibility, and that was too much pressure for anyone. Rafe seemed to believe that the health and welfare of every single patient rested solely on his shoulders. Though Dr. Goodhue was leading the effort in finding a cure and lending her considerable expertise and experience, Rafe was driving them hard and closer to a breakthrough.

Gemma had tried to be a friend, but Rafe was a hard man to get close to. He was standoffish and prickly, bullheaded at times, and a strange combination of self-centered and completely selfless. Self-centered in that he thought he had control and selfless because he did it for his patients.

The most difficult trait for Gemma to deal with was how intensely handsome she still found Rafe Granger. Bad-boy-turned-doctor, wild-teenager-turned-disciplined-man and, oh, what a man he was. Sexy and brooding and someone she should stay far away from. Her brothers had warned her in high school about Rafe and her instincts warned her now. He was a twelve out of ten on the scale of her top temptations. Better than wine. Better than chocolate.

If she let him, he would burn her. He would break her heart. She knew it, but even that didn’t stop her from thinking he was the single most fascinating man she’d ever met.

She was closer to her brother and Rafe now and she wished she had minded her own business and stayed inside to help Anand. She had often stood between her brothers Theo and Flint when they argued, but this was different.

She didn’t know Rafe as well and he didn’t have a soft spot for her the way her brothers did.

The tension between Flint and Rafe was palpable.

“Everything okay?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t, but looking to tamp down their mutual frustrations.

“We’ve lost hundreds of hours of research,” Rafe said.

“I know,” Gemma said. “But we’ll get it back.” She didn’t know how they could do more, but they would. Too many people were relying on the clinic to succeed.

Rafe stared at her incredulously. “How is that, Nurse Colton? Do you have the test data and the lab results and additional samples we can work with?”

His sharp tone stung. He was mad and having trouble controlling his temper.

“You know that I don’t,” Gemma said, countering his anger with a cool tone.

“Then how can we make this right?” he asked.

“We have the data we uploaded to the CDC. We have what we’ve learned. We won’t make the same mistakes and we already know what doesn’t work,” Gemma said, thinking of the time they had lost because they’d stored earlier samples at the wrong temperature and killed the virus.

“Mistakes?” Rafe asked.

He and Dr. Rand insisted the temperature issue hadn’t been a mistake. It was research. Gemma preferred to call a spade a spade. “I’ll give you that if we could lower our patient’s temperature to zero degrees Celsius for a time, the virus would die.” A concession.

He scowled. “We learned from that same failure that the virus can’t live off a live host for more than a couple of hours.”

“See? We have dozens of those observations that we can start with. We’re not starting from a blank slate this time,” Gemma said. “We’re past the initial confusion. We know better what we’re doing.”

Rafe looked away, though his shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch. She was calming him and she took it as a win. Every little forward step with Rafe was progress.

“Hey, easy,” Flint said, patting Rafe’s shoulder. “She didn’t do this. She’s trying to help.”

Rafe rubbed his eyes, perhaps trying to shake off his exhaustion. “Let me tell you what I don’t get. How did someone break into the clinic, trash my office, destroy the storage room and then decimate the lab without anyone hearing it? It took a flaming fire to set off the alarms and summon help.”

Gemma agreed the timing was strange. “Dr. Rand, Anand and Felicia were in the virus wing. You know it’s hard to hear inside the suits,” she said. At least, it was her understanding that Felicia, Anand and Dr. Rand had been alone. The overnight shift was bare bones. Dead River wasn’t big enough to support a hospital, so the clinic provided the town’s medical services. Before the outbreak, complex and inpatient cases were referred to nearby Cheyenne Memorial. Now, they were short staffed, trying to run the clinic twenty-four hours a day.

“I’ll look into it, Rafe,” Flint said carefully. “Maybe someone saw or heard something that will help.”

Rafe looked at the sky and then nodded at Flint. “Let me know if I can help. In the meantime, I have more samples to collect. We’re starting over and I don’t have time to waste.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away.

Gemma stared after him for a few seconds, deciding if she should tag along to help or give him time to cool off.

“Careful, Gemma,” Flint said.

Gemma inclined her head at her brother. “Careful about what?”

“He’s not sticking around. I know that look in your eyes. You can’t save him. Rafe is a man with too many demons.”

Gemma straightened. She wasn’t thinking about saving Rafe, but she could be a friend, one he sorely needed. If he could stop seeing her as his friend’s annoying kid sister, they could have a real relationship. “The look in my eyes is a look of concern. I am worried about you. I am worried about everyone on staff here. I am worried about my patients.” She threw up her hands and gestured around them. “I am worried about everyone in this town if we don’t find a cure.”

Flint slid his arm around her shoulders. “I know you are. You have the warmest heart I’ve ever met, except for maybe Gram Dottie.”

At the mention of their grandmother, Gemma’s heart fell. “I’m worried about her,” Gemma said. Their grandmother had contracted the virus and had been admitted to the virus wing because her case was severe. Gram Dottie was tough, but the virus was proving tougher. As yet, not a single person had recovered.

“Me too,” Flint said. He kissed the top of his sister’s head. “Go help Rafe. He’s always been rough around the edges, but he’s smart. I’ve got my money on you and him to find the cure.”

Gemma was doing everything she could, but virology and epidemiology weren’t her fields of expertise. “We’ll find the cure. You find who did this,” Gemma said. She hugged her brother goodbye, smiling when she smelled Nina’s perfume on him. She was happy to know her brother finally had someone special in his life.

Gemma returned to the clinic and put on her protective suit. She entered the virus wing, where she knew she’d find Rafe. She didn’t hear him over their comm system. He must have shut off his microphone.

He was in one of their patients’ rooms. From his demeanor, if she hadn’t witnessed it herself, she wouldn’t have known he’d been upset. With his patients, he was warm and concerned. He joked with them, laughed with them and didn’t rush them, taking time to answer questions at length. With the influx of critical cases, they were short on time, but Rafe didn’t make anyone feel that way. He had an easy way about him that was disarming.

Rafe was the only doctor on staff who drew patients’ blood samples. Dr. Goodhue, Dr. Rand and Dr. Moore always called for a nurse to take care of the task. It was another way in which Rafe was different. From the time Gemma had started working at the clinic, she was an assistant to the doctors. Rafe didn’t make her feel like she was helping him. When they worked together, she felt she was pulling her weight and making important contributions.

Gemma entered the room and Rafe glanced over his shoulder at her. “How can I help?” She had to speak loudly for Rafe to hear her over the venting in his suit.

“We need samples from each of our patients,” Rafe said.

He was accustomed to giving orders. His tone was mellow, but Gemma heard the edge and the command.

Carter Saunders, a wrangler in his midforties, struggled to sit up. “Have you made any progress on a cure?”

Rafe hadn’t told Carter about the break-in and fire at the clinic. They needed to keep their patients’ spirits high. Rafe had undertaken the project to make their patients more comfortable, setting up video streaming on-demand via the small televisions in the rooms and providing e-readers for patients. He’d also configured video conferencing software on laptops so patients could see and talk with their families during their extended time in isolation. His kindness touched her and his savvy with technology impressed her.

“Every day, we’re getting closer,” Rafe said.

“Can I bring you anything while I’m here?” Gemma asked Carter. Since the outbreak, the clinic had taken to serving food around the clock to their patients. The Dead River Café and the Blue Bear Restaurant were dropping off soup and meals for the patients and staff daily. It was an unexpected and welcome convenience. The clinic hadn’t been constructed to provide food service, and without an on-site kitchen, Gemma guessed she and the other nurses would be heating canned soups over Bunsen burners for their patients.

“Some more water,” Carter said.

“I’ll be right back,” Gemma said. She retrieved water from the small sink in Carter’s room. Though the patients had confirmed cases of the Dead River virus, they were confined to their rooms to prevent the spread of symptoms.

Gemma sat with Carter for a few minutes, and as he dozed off to sleep, she and Rafe slipped from the room. The Dead River virus was exhausting for patients to fight. Some slept fifteen to sixteen hours a day. Keeping them hydrated and eating enough nutrients was a challenge.

Rafe typed notes on Carter’s chart and Gemma moved to the next room.

Tammy Flynn, their youngest patient, a six-year-old girl, was watching television in her room when Gemma entered. Her parents video-conferenced with her several times a day, but the separation was taking its toll. Tammy had grown close to Gemma and Gemma had “adopted” her as her temporary daughter.

Thinking about what the virus was doing to families broke her heart. Gemma didn’t allow her patients to see her break down, but some nights, she returned home and did just that. The Dead River virus had brought so much heartache to this town.

“Hey, Tammy,” Gemma said, coming to the girl’s bedside.

“I have a gift for you,” Rafe said, entering the room behind Gemma.

He handed Tammy a shiny pink gift bag. Tammy’s eyes grew wide and she opened it, pulling out plastic beakers and tongs and a pair of goggles.

“This is awesome!” The little girl held up a plastic beaker with the tongs.

“That’s really cool,” Gemma said, surprised at Rafe’s thoughtfulness. When had he had time to acquire such a gift and how?

“I told you I would bring some lab equipment so you could help me,” Rafe said.

Was she hearing the conversation properly? As distant and cool as Rafe was with everyone in Dead River, he had certainly allowed Tammy into his heart. It was touching and Gemma wondered how detached Rafe was able to stay.

“Please show me what to do,” Tammy said, sounding excited.

“We’ll set it up,” Rafe said.

With a couple pitchers of water and some food coloring, Tammy was conducting her own study. She fell asleep with her beakers lined up on the slim table next to her bed.

After they left the room, Rafe took notes on the laptop in the hallway to update Tammy’s case. The notes would be sent electronically to their record system in the main clinic and uploaded to the CDC at the end of the week.

“That was really nice of you,” Gemma said. It wasn’t the first gift Rafe had brought Tammy or the other patients. The staff tried to think of activities to keep boredom and cabin fever at bay. Rafe had a knack for coming up with games for Tammy to play.

“Danny helped me put it together,” Rafe said. “I told him about Tammy and he thought of it.”

Danny was Rafe’s foster son. Rafe mentioned him often, though he didn’t delve into much detail about him. The few times Gemma had tried to draw him out, Rafe hadn’t taken the bait.

“I’ll take Jessica’s blood sample,” Gemma said.

Rafe’s hand on her arm stopped her. Even with layers of plastic between them, her skin prickled with desire. Rafe dripped charisma and a raw sensuality she couldn’t ignore.

“Are you planning to tell her what happened?” Rafe asked.

Jessica was Gemma’s best friend. They told each other almost everything. But Jessica was pinning her hopes on the staff at the Dead River Clinic finding a cure and if she knew how much they had lost that night, she’d be devastated. A blow to her morale was bad for her health.

“No, not today,” Gemma said.

Rafe nodded his approval. Gemma collected the supplies she needed.

Jessica had lost ten pounds since being admitted. She was a tall, slender woman and didn’t have the weight to spare. Jessica smiled when Gemma entered the room. She put the television on mute. “Tell me you have some good news.”

Gemma double-checked that her microphone was off so Rafe wouldn’t hear their conversation. “I dropped off Annabelle with Molly before I came to work. Molly was planning to meet Ellie and Amelia at the library for story time.”

“She’ll love that.” Jessica closed her eyes. Like most of their patients, she’d been chronically tired, sleeping the majority of the day. It was difficult to see Jessica, who was normally active, being so listless. “How is Tom holding up?” she asked.

Jessica’s husband Tom was struggling under the weight of his responsibilities of being a single parent while Jessica was in isolation. Gemma and her cousin Molly had stepped in to lend a hand, but he wouldn’t feel better until Jessica was home. “He’s doing the best he can.”

Jessica smiled a weak half smile. “That bad?”

Tom had confided how scared he was for Jessica and for their daughter Annabelle. He worried about his little girl becoming another of the virus’s victims. His worry wasn’t unique. Some parents had stopped sending their children to school because of that fear. “He loves you and he wants you to feel better,” Gemma said.

“I know. I love him and Annabelle too. I’m trying. But this virus is like a flu that won’t quit.”

Many of the virus’s symptoms were similar to the flu, which was how they had missed the severity with their first case. The flu wasn’t an emergency, not for someone otherwise healthy, as their first virus patient had been. This virus was new territory for them. “I uploaded new pictures for you to look at and a video of Annabelle reading a new book from school.”

“Thank you for everything that you’re doing. Talking to my family and you is getting me through this.” At Gemma’s prompting, Jessica took a sip of the drink at her bedside. “Tell me what’s new with you. You tell me about my family, but you have a lot going on too.”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s a regular revolving door of men at my place. Everyone’s looking to score a date with the plague nurse who works all the time. When I can, I’ve been visiting Theo, Ellie and baby Amelia. She’s getting big so fast and I love spending time with her.”

“They do that. One minute, you’re cradling them in your arms, the next, they’re grown and rolling their eyes at you. What about that new doctor? He’s worth a second look.”

“Rafe? He’s not new exactly,” Gemma said, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks.

Jessica hadn’t attended high school with Gemma. Tom had moved to town to work on Theo’s ranch, bringing his pregnant wife with him and Gemma had hit it off with Jessica immediately. They’d been fast friends ever since. “Oh, come on, you said you thought he was cute in high school. What about now?”

Still cute, although seeing him now brought entirely different feelings. She didn’t feel like giggling and blushing when she saw him. She felt like seeing if he was as incredible a kisser as he was a doctor. “He is. I’m not blind. But I’m also not interested in an affair. He’s only here until we find a cure for the virus, then he’s heading back to New York City. His dream job awaits him.”

“His dream job, but maybe his dream girl is right here.”

Gemma laughed. “No way. I dated a doctor once and you know how that went down. Badly. Like a ten-mile-long-train-wreck badly.”

Jessica sighed. “I do. But that was one person, one time. You can’t judge the whole lot of doctors over one jerk.”

Gemma waved her hand. “I’m too busy, anyway. I’ll worry about finding a boyfriend when men can come and go freely in this town.”

“Valentine’s Day is right around the corner.”

A day Gemma didn’t like much. Being single for the majority of Valentine’s Days in her life gave her a different perspective. The perspective that she didn’t need another excuse to drink wine and eat chocolates—that she bought herself—in her home alone. “Not right around the corner. It’s not even Christmas yet.”

“You know as soon as those Christmas decorations are put away, the red hearts and boxes of chocolates come out,” Jessica said.

Gemma nodded, but she thought of the bare shelves at the grocery store and shops along Main Street. If the quarantine wasn’t lifted, nonessentials like seasonal items wouldn’t make it on the shipments into town.

She couldn’t imagine this dragging on for that many months more, but what if it did? What if every person in Dead River succumbed to the virus?

Dr. Colleen Goodhue said she had only seen rare cases where a virus obliterated an entire town, usually in third world countries. The Dead River virus was proving to have staying power. It was stronger and stealthier because it kept its human host alive long enough to infect many others.

With her grandmother and best friend sick, Gemma had plenty of reasons to devote everything she had to finding a cure. Knowing so much was on the line only drove her harder.

Chapter 2

At the end of her shift, Gemma found Dr. Goodhue and Rafe in the lab. Dr. Goodhue seemed shell-shocked as she looked through some notebooks, but as usual, Rafe worked like a man on a mission.

“It’s hard to believe someone would do this,” Dr. Goodhue said. “I called the home office and they said they’d send more supplies, but it will take time. How will our research continue without a proper lab?”

Gemma didn’t like to hear Dr. Goodhue sounding distraught. She was the most experienced in this type of work and while the break-in and fire were upsetting, they didn’t have the option to quit.

“We’ll work with what we have left,” Rafe said.

Rafe wouldn’t let time pass while they waited for a shipment and forgo possible progress. From the beginning, he had been driving them hard, urging them to work more and longer. He had good reasons, but sometimes Gemma thought breaks and time away could give them a fresh perspective.

What did Rafe do with his free time? Did he have free time? Gemma didn’t go out often, and rarely now that she worked so much. What would it be like to have a social life again and how would she feel if Rafe was part of it? Her conversation with Jessica had given her something to think about.

“What is left?” Dr. Goodhue asked, slamming closed the notebook she was reading.

Gemma had spaced out. Was Dr. Goodhue speaking to her?

“Rafe and I collected blood samples from our current patients. Those are places to start,” Gemma said.

“What about patient zero? We can’t obtain more blood from her!” Dr. Goodhue said.

Until they had evidence to prove otherwise, they believed Mimi Rand was patient zero. Mimi Rand, the ex-wife of Dr. Lucas Rand, had died in the clinic, but not before she had infected several other people in town.

“We don’t know that blood from patient zero will help,” Rafe said.

Rafe had mentioned the possibility of the virus morphing over time. Their patient information indicated that patients who had contracted the virus early on seemed to be faring better than those who had been admitted more recently.

Mimi Rand was dead. Dozens of others had died. These were facts not far from Gemma’s thoughts.

“We’ll salvage what we can and we’ll reproduce the results we need,” Gemma said. “Rafe? Our shift ended an hour ago. I’ve been waiting to speak with you.” She had decided she would reach out again, offer her friendship and see if he needed to talk.

Rafe turned in his chair. He looked at her as if he expected her to speak to him now. At least he’d faced her.

“Alone. Please,” Gemma said. Talking in their protective suits was uncomfortable and no way would Rafe open up in front of Dr. Goodhue. He might not open up at all, but the chances were better if they were alone.

Rafe stood. He looked at the clock on the wall. “All right. Let’s scrub out.”

Twenty minutes later, changed into street clothes, Gemma searched for the right words to explain what was on her mind. The latest interference in their research was a good reason to take a step back and regroup. If they were tired and run-down, they’d be ineffective and inefficient. Maybe if Dr. Rand, Anand and Felicia hadn’t been so drained, they would have heard the break-in and prevented someone from getting into the lab.

“I’m hungry. Mind grabbing a bite with me at the diner?” Gemma asked. A friendly environment would make it easier to talk. In the clinic, despite his treating her as a colleague, Gemma still felt strict professional boundaries.

“I have dinner with Danny,” he said.

She didn’t want to give up so easily. “You can grab some carry-out. This won’t take long.”

“You can’t tell me what you need now?” he asked. He used that irritated tone he sometimes had with the rest of the staff. Gemma ignored it. Some doctors thought they could strong-arm others into bending to their will.

Gemma was not one of those people. Even though she didn’t enjoy confrontation, someone needed to talk to Rafe and have him blow off some steam before his head exploded.

“No.” Gemma folded her arms across her chest.

Rafe jammed a hand through his hair. “You are persistent. You win. Let’s go.”

He’d agreed if only because he knew she wouldn’t back down. That was fine with her. When she had a problem on her mind, she needed to say it. Then she would smooth things over.

* * *

The Dead River Diner was crowded. As they searched for a free booth, Rafe felt eyes on him. He was accustomed to stares in this town. From the time he had been a young boy, he’d been given looks that made it plain he was not welcome.

Whether it was because he was now an outsider or his medical degree hadn’t covered the stench of being from the worst part of town, he wasn’t welcome in Dead River. He had never felt it more than now.

He ignored the looks, like he always had. He slid into a booth across from Gemma. Why did she need to talk here? It had been a long, bad day. He wanted to go home, have dinner with Danny and catch up on some virology articles that were waiting for him. One might spark an idea that could lead to a cure.

“Dr. Granger—”

Too formal. “When we’re not working, call me Rafe.”

He almost surprised himself, but the words had come naturally.

“Rafe,” Gemma started again, sounding unsure. “How can I help your stress level?”

Rafe inclined his head. “My stress level?”

Gemma shifted in her seat. “We’re under a tremendous amount of stress, but you most of all. You drive us hard and yourself harder—”

He felt a criticism coming from her pink mouth. “Are you saying you need a break?” Losing a member of their staff would be hard, but he wouldn’t work someone into the ground. If she needed to step back from her duties, he understood.

Green eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a break. I’m concerned about you.”

Why? He hadn’t come apart. “No reason to be. I know my limits.”

The waitress took their order. Rafe asked for his food to go and a coffee. He couldn’t feed Danny cereal or a sandwich again as a meal. They were guys, but Rafe had hit his limit on crap food and Danny was a growing teenager.

The waitress lingered at the table. “Any news?” she asked.

About the cure? The break-in? “About what?” Rafe asked. He’d been in the clinic and didn’t know if news of the break-in had hit the gossip mill. It was Dead River, so most likely it had.

The waitress looked around. “About the virus. I heard you found a cure, but it ended up making everyone sicker. Is that true?”

If they’d had a cure that made people sicker, it wouldn’t be a cure. Luckily, Gemma answered before Rafe could make any more enemies with his sarcastic response.

“We’re doing our best, but we’re still working on it,” Gemma said.

The waitress frowned. “It’s been months. Have you tried asking for outside help?”

Rafe kept his temper. It was difficult for people of the town to believe that finding a cure wasn’t a straightforward task. It wasn’t as if the clinic had a computer that would take the virus, find the antidote and print it out on paper like a recipe for them to mix. “There are a number of factors at play. We’re closing in on it,” Rafe said. He curbed the urge to say more.

The waitress nodded. “Okay, thanks. Everyone is so worried.” She bit her lip. “I’ll put your order in.”

Gemma reached across the table, and then drew her hands back into her lap. “Dr. Granger, she didn’t mean to be insulting.”

The people of Dead River wanted a cure found and they were putting their faith in the clinic to deliver. “It’s hard to explain to someone why we don’t have a cure.”

“Everyone knows you’re an exceptional doctor,” Gemma said.

He didn’t need his ego stroked. “But what?”

Gemma smiled. “But I am worried you’ll burn out. You can’t keep going at the pace you’re going and not break down.”

She had no idea what he could and could not do. Since he had gotten out of Dead River, he had worked as if the devil was chasing him and would catch him if he slowed. College, medical school, a fellowship with the CDC and his residency had led to the pinnacle of his success: a position as an ER doctor at Presbyterian University Hospital in New York.

“I will not have a breakdown. Is this about getting upset with Flint earlier today?” The Coltons had always stuck together. Rafe understood if she was sticking up for her brother.

“This isn’t about Flint. He’s a big boy and he can take it. This is about you. You’re the only doctor who works additional shifts.” Gemma pointed to the coffee the waitress had slid in front of him. “Is that the majority of your meals?”

Rafe glanced at the coffee. He wasn’t keeping track of his food. “Worried I’ll have shaky hands during a procedure?”

Gemma shook her head. “Please hear me. I am not concerned about how you treat others. I am not concerned about your patients. I am concerned about you and how you will drive us crazy if you don’t ease off.”

Gemma had struck a nerve. Ease off. Slack off. Sit around and wait for someone else to do the work. He would set Gemma straight now. “I do not expect you or anyone else to help.” The cold in his voice hit its mark. Gemma drew away and her face dropped.

“I can do this entirely on my own if that’s what it takes. I don’t need to rest. I need to find a cure to help the people of this town get better. I will not put my personal needs ahead of someone’s life.”

Gemma seemed shocked and then gathered herself. “That’s not really true is it, Dr. Granger? You want to help our patients, but you have another motive.”

He’d made no secret of his desire to escape this town. “Like everyone else here, I can’t wait to leave.”

Gemma drew back. “I don’t want to leave.”

She wouldn’t. She had a great family, people who cared about her and she’d gone with the flow and seemed happy doing what was expected of her. Even in high school, she’d been the school’s sweetheart, not popular exactly, but few had a bad word to say about her. “Then I guess that’s one reason we don’t get along. I don’t want to be here a minute longer than I have to.”

Gemma leaned in and glared at him. “You can try that bad-boy routine on me, but I see through you. You’re here because you want to be.”

He snorted. “You know nothing about me. I am here because of a promise I foolishly gave.”

“Why not break the promise if you hate it here?”

“Because breaking a promise to a dead person would make me the tyrannical, self-serving shithead you’re implying I am.”

Gemma’s mouth dropped open. “I said no such thing.”

Rafe threw several twenties on the table. “See you at work.”

He fled the diner and ignored the looks from the people around him. He didn’t need their condescension and he didn’t need this town.

* * *

Rafe opened the door to his rental, a two-story, three-bedroom colonial. It was too big for him, though somehow he thought it was too small for him and Danny. The teenager seemed to have a lot of stuff, or maybe it seemed that way because nothing was ever put away.

“Danny! Are you home?” Rafe asked.

Rafe was accustomed to some signs that Danny was inside. Muddy shoes by the door, winter jacket thrown over the chair in the living room or the sound of music pulsing from the boy’s bedroom.

It was quiet.

“Danny!”

Was he wearing headphones?

Rafe took the oak stairs to Danny’s room and found it empty. No backpack slung on the floor. Rafe picked up an empty box of cookies and tossed it in the trash. He called the cell phone he’d given to Danny, but the call went directly to voice mail.

Worry knotted in his stomach. He gave Danny his freedom and his privacy, as Danny’s grandfather had, but Rafe and Danny had an agreement. Danny would let Rafe know where he was and when he would be home and Rafe did the same for him. That morning, Danny had told him he’d come home directly after football practice. After the fire at the clinic, Rafe had texted him that he would be late tonight. Danny was usually good to his word.

Rafe called the Dead River Youth Center. It was a safe place for students to hang out after school and Danny had friends there. Maybe he’d forgotten to tell Rafe he’d changed his plans. A quick call to the director of the youth center and Rafe was again at square one. Danny wasn’t there.

His worry increased. Dead River was usually quiet, but with the virus outbreak and a murderer hiding somewhere in town, Rafe didn’t like the idea of Danny anywhere alone. He could be sick and unable to call for help. His cell phone battery could have died.

Danny wasn’t naïve or helpless, but Rafe cared about the boy. His anxiety ticked up a notch. Returning to his car, he drove the short distance Danny walked to school, checking the sidewalks.

No sign of him.

Football practice was over. The field was clear. Rafe’s phone rang and he fumbled to answer it. It wasn’t Danny. Worse still, it was Flint. If he was calling because Danny had been hurt, Rafe wouldn’t forgive himself. He should have called Danny after school or told him to text when he was home safe. He hated to place restrictions on Danny, but how else did a parent keep a son safe?

Rafe stuttered on the thought. Not that he was Danny’s father. Foster father was a big stretch from real father. Still, he’d taken Danny in without any parenting experience and he’d had no idea how hard it would be.

“Flint, what’s going on? Is it Danny?” Rafe rarely felt this panicked. Panic was an emotion he had learned to lock away in emergencies.

“No. Why? Isn’t he with you?”

At least Danny hadn’t been found hurt. “He’s late from practice,” Rafe said.

“Sounds like this is a bad time, but I need you back at the clinic.”

Another outbreak? “What’s happened?”

“Someone’s attacked Dr. Rand.”

Dr. Rand wasn’t a small man. He could handle himself. It would be ballsy for someone to openly attack him. “Is he okay?”

“Shaken, but okay.”

“What about Gemma?” Rafe asked. He had second thoughts about leaving her at the diner. Had she returned home safely? Recent events gave Rafe plenty of reasons to worry.

“I talked to her a few minutes ago. Gemma’s fine, why?” Flint asked.

“I was curious.” More than curious. Though Gemma was intrusive and pushy and seemed too eager to talk about how everyone felt, he liked her. She was good at her job and he enjoyed working with her.

If she had wanted, she could have her pick of hospitals to work in.

Rafe changed directions and drove to the clinic. He called Danny several more times on his cell phone.

He even tried calling a couple of Danny’s friends. They hadn’t seen him since football practice. He tried Danny’s brother, Matt, who hadn’t spoken to Danny recently. When Rafe arrived at the clinic, he parked in the lot. Half the spots were piled with snow and the ice underfoot was slick. In this part of Wyoming, snow and ice would stick around until the spring melt.

Rafe strode directly to Flint. It was the second incident at the clinic in twenty-four hours. “Did you find the person who did this?” Rafe asked. They had to have a lead to find and stop the person hindering the clinic’s research and attacking the staff.

Flint shook his head and pointed to the ambulance where Dr. Rand was being examined by a paramedic. “That’s what I need to speak with everyone about. Whoever is targeting the clinic is now targeting the staff. I need everyone to be careful.”

Rafe should ask the paramedic if he needed a consult. It wasn’t like Kit could take Dr. Rand to the nearest hospital in Cheyenne. Rafe approached and waited for Kit to acknowledge him. Nothing was more irritating than another medical provider intruding during an exam.

“Hey, Dr. Granger, good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances,” Kit said. Rafe had known Kit in high school. Even after so many years, she still had a splash of freckles across her nose and a warm smile.

Josh Hadaway, the EMT, climbed out of the back of the medic. “Crazy times around here, huh?”

Rafe was familiar with Josh from drop-offs at the clinic from time to time.

Dr. Rand was looking sad. Or was he embarrassed? Angry? Rafe wasn’t a huge fan of Dr. Rand’s. Lucas was arrogant, even more arrogant than most doctors. He’d claimed he had a cure for the virus, but it had proven to be ineffective with their patients. Rafe wasn’t sure why the man had thought his “cure” would do anything. Their lab tests were nowhere near ready to make such a claim.

“Dr. Rand, I’m sorry to ask you to tell your story again, but maybe you’ve remembered additional details,” Flint said, joining them.

Dr. Rand sighed and rubbed his face. “We have enough problems in this town. I don’t want anyone in trouble.”

Flint arched a brow and Rafe tamped down his irritation. They didn’t have time for this! If they could find the attacker, maybe they could recover their lab results or samples. Could Dr. Rand identify his assailant?

“The faster we find the person who stole our samples and destroyed our lab, the better off we’ll be. We can’t have these endless setbacks,” Rafe said, using the voice he usually reserved for speaking to his patients. Calm and relaxed. Rand wouldn’t respond well to irritation and threats.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rafe saw Gemma approach. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on at the diner, but she’d done her hair differently. It was braided over her shoulder. He liked it. Too much.

Gemma stood between her brother and Rafe. Gemma shivered as the wind blew stronger. Rafe removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders and Gemma looked at him in surprise. “Thank you,” she said.

“Dr. Rand, please tell us what you know,” Flint said.

Rafe took his eyes off Gemma, though he could see her watching the exchange intently.

“We don’t need to stand in the cold debating this,” Dr. Rand said.

They weren’t debating anything. They were waiting for Dr. Rand to tell them what he knew. Did everything with Dr. Rand need to be a production? The man’s eyes welled with tears and if he hadn’t recently lost his ex-wife and wasn’t struggling with his grief, Rafe would have punched him. He wanted to tell him to stop crying and focus on what was important. Like finding the vandal and finding a cure.

“I was attacked as I was leaving the virus wing. I only caught a glimpse of him.”

A disgruntled patient? A dissatisfied woman Dr. Rand had had a one-night stand with? Rafe kept his thoughts to himself. He was in a bad mood and he didn’t need to share his mood with everyone.

“That boy who’s living with Dr. Granger. Danny. He attacked me,” Dr. Rand said.

Flint and Gemma turned to Rafe. His denial was immediate. “You’re mistaken. Danny had football practice after school.”

“Where is Danny now, Rafe?” Flint asked.

Rafe had already told Flint that Danny hadn’t been home. Rafe felt Gemma’s hand on his back, her touch the only factor keeping him from going off the rails. Typical for the poor kid to be blamed, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. The kid who’d had a rougher childhood than most of these elitists could imagine. “He wasn’t home when I got there tonight. I don’t know where he is.”

He wouldn’t feed Flint any more details to use against Danny.

“I didn’t want to say anything. I know he’s had a hard time, with his grandfather dying and his brother taking off and leaving him,” Dr. Rand said.

Quiet rage hummed inside him. Danny’s brother, Matt, hadn’t taken off. Matt hadn’t been prepared to care for a fourteen-year-old boy and had let Danny enter the foster care system. Rafe understood where Matt was coming from. Rafe was years older and had access to more resources, and still he had trouble keeping track of Danny at times. Hence, his lack of knowledge about where the boy was. “Danny wouldn’t hurt someone. It isn’t in his nature.”

“You just said he plays football. Aggressive sport,” Dr. Rand said.

What did Dr. Rand play in high school? The flute? “Danny has no reason to attack you,” Rafe said. Danny and Dr. Rand had met once or twice when Rafe had brought him to the clinic, but Danny wouldn’t lash out at Dr. Rand. They’d barely spoken.

“If a cure isn’t found, then the quarantine remains in place and you have to stay in town,” Dr. Rand said. “That could be worth a lot to a boy who’s lost everything else.”

Guilt tripled in Rafe’s stomach. He’d agreed to take Danny into his home because Danny needed a place to live and Rafe thought he could help him. Help him through some of his grief, show him a life outside of Dead River was possible and put him on track to build a good future. Had he been wrong to take the boy into his home knowing he’d be around only a short time?

“I’ll try to reach him again,” Rafe said. He took a few steps away and dialed Danny. Speed dial number two. Why wasn’t Danny answering?

The call went to his voice mail again.

Rafe’s emotions were a combination of anger with Rand and worry and fear for Danny. He returned to the group. Gemma was watching him, worry plain on her face.

“It will be his word against mine, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I won’t press charges, but I want that punk to stay away from me.”

Rafe ignored the name calling and addressed Flint. “I’ll find him. I’ve been worried.” But now, he was deeply concerned.

“When you find him, I want to talk to him,” Flint said. His words seemed to please Dr. Rand, which may have been his intention.

“I’ll go with you,” Gemma said.

“I can handle it. You don’t have to take care of everyone,” Rafe said.

Gemma flinched, but then lifted her chin. “You are in no condition to drive and search. You tell me where you want to look and I’ll take you.”

She was right. It was dark and while he had a short list of places where Danny might be, what would he do if Danny wasn’t there? He’d need to search the town and two people working the problem were better than one.

“Come on,” Rafe said. He tossed her his keys.

Gemma slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted it so she could reach the pedals. “We’ll find him, Rafe. I’m here for you.”

It wasn’t the first time she had spoken those words to him. Did she remember the last time? Years before, when they’d been in high school together, Rafe had been desperate to leave Dead River. Even then, he’d hated this tiny, small-minded town. He’d gotten fired from his job at the record store because he’d been late for work again. His reasons for being tardy hadn’t mattered to the store owner, but then again, Rafe hadn’t explained that his father was on a bender and he’d stayed with his mom until his father had shown up because she had been worried. Gemma had tried to console him with those same words while he had waited for his father to show.

Drunkard fathers were something he had in common with Gemma, though his had eventually gotten sober. It wasn’t anything they discussed. Rafe’s father had been inconsistent, unreliable and more bent on getting drunk than moving his family out of the trailer park where they’d lived. Rafe had hated that trailer park. Hated it and everything it had stood for. Gemma’s father was destructive on a whole other level. Showing up now and then, causing problems, embarrassing his family and leaving her grandmother to raise her and her brothers.

“I know you and Mr. Sergeant were close,” Gemma said.

Rafe made a sound of acknowledgment. He and Danny’s grandfather, a guidance counselor at the high school, had gotten along. Rafe credited Danny’s grandfather for getting him into Harvard University, which had changed the course of Rafe’s life. “He knew I wanted out of Dead River and he gave me a study guide for the SATs. I read that book cover to cover.” Multiple times. He’d practically memorized it. Donald “Donny” Sergeant had told Rafe if he wanted a ticket out of Dead River, he’d have to earn it. Rafe’d had decent grades, but his SAT score had been the clincher to a full ride at Harvard.

“Now you can’t wait to leave again,” Gemma said.

Her voice held the slightest censure. “Can you blame me?”

“For wanting to leave? No. For not seeing how much you have here, yes.”

Her words struck a chord in him, but he didn’t want to talk about the reasons he could not stay. “Can you drive by the graveyard?”

Gemma turned his car in that direction.

“You can say it, Gemma.” He could practically hear her thoughts.

“You say mean things to me because you want to keep me at arm’s length. Me and everyone. Why?” Gemma asked.

He did no such thing. He didn’t sink time into his relationships because he didn’t have time. Danny was an exception and he felt guilty that he couldn’t do more for him. “I am doing everything I can.” He was working at the clinic. He was working for a cure. Why wasn’t that enough?

“Danny adores you,” Gemma said.

“I know. He’s a great kid.”

Another pause. “What will happen to him if you leave?” Gemma asked.

As if he hadn’t asked himself that question before and struggled with the answer. On a good day, he told himself he’d bought the foster care system another three months to find Danny a suitable, permanent place, one with experienced parents who could give Danny a family. He’d been honest with the social worker about his limitations. The social worker knew Rafe planned to return to New York City. Rafe was listed in their system as “temporary.”

On a bad day, Rafe couldn’t think about Danny being passed from family to family trying to find a fit. He couldn’t stand the idea of someone taking Danny in who cared more about the stipend than Danny. “The same thing that would have happened if I hadn’t returned to Dead River.”

“I am glad that you did,” Gemma said. “Even if it’s for a short time.”

Rafe wouldn’t read into her words. Why was she glad? Why did she care? Gemma was nice to everyone it seemed. But she wasn’t an easy woman to get to know. She hated being in the spotlight and she didn’t speak her mind as often as she should. Whenever she spoke, he felt like she was carefully choosing her words. He wondered what it would be like if she let loose and let her emotions run wild.

The thought triggered an entirely inappropriate image of Gemma he hadn’t had since high school. Gemma used to have a short black-and-red plaid skirt that she wore with a white collared shirt and a black sweater. He had fantasized about getting her on the back of his motorcycle and then getting under that sweater, and under her skirt. Gemma on a motorcycle. His motorcycle. He shook loose the thought before it escalated and he was forced to hide a raging hard-on in his jeans.

He didn’t have a motorcycle anymore. It was impractical in Wyoming weather. Gemma was off-limits, then and now.

Gemma turned onto the unpaved road leading to the graveyard.

The graveyard was surrounded by tall, bare trees. It was a peaceful place, the groundskeeper putting time into clearing the snow from the path leading to the headstones. Rafe had been there more times in the past several months than he had all his life. He’d visited his mother and father and sat with Danny at his grandfather’s grave.

Danny had told Rafe that the quiet of the field made him feel better and closer to his grandfather. It was a place where he could cry or think without anyone judging him. A tough admission for a teenage boy and Rafe gave him credit for finding an outlet for his grief.

The metal gate around the graveyard was locked.

“He can’t be in there. It’s closed,” Gemma said. She drew the car to a stop.

Two angels holding harps looked over the entrance.

“The groundskeeper might not have checked that it was empty before closing it. Or maybe Danny did what I’m going to do.”

Rafe climbed out of the car and scaled the fence. Though it was dark, he knew the way to where Danny might be.

“Rafe, be careful,” Gemma said.

When he was on the other side of the fence, he looked over at her. Underneath the sole light, she was beautiful. It was impossible to miss.

“I will,” Rafe said. He jogged through the snow. When he reached the back of the graveyard, he saw a dark figure hunched over.

Relief tore through him. “Danny, I’ve been calling you.”

Danny’s head was lowered, his hands jammed in his pocket and his shoulders tucked forward as if he could close into himself. He stood in front of his grandfather’s grave, his body shaking and not just from the cold. His eyes were red-rimmed. “I’m sorry. It was a bad day.”

Rafe drew the boy into his arms. He didn’t like treating Danny like a child, knowing he wasn’t. And given what he’d been through, Danny was more mature than most boys. But Rafe couldn’t stop himself now. He hugged the boy and wanted him to know he was a friend.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I asked a girl to the winter dance,” Danny said.

Rafe had been in his shoes enough to know this could be going many painful places. “Didn’t go well?”

“She said she wouldn’t go out with someone like me,” Danny said.

Someone like him? That could mean anything. “Like someone smart, strong and brave?” Rafe asked.

Danny let out a short bark of laughter. “Right. I’m none of those things.”

Rafe’s heart squeezed. He took Danny by the shoulders. “Look at me. You are all of those things. Every single one. If she’s too clueless to see it, then forget her. You don’t need that dragging you down.”

Danny shrugged him off and looked away. “No one wants me. Everyone rejects me. My mom died, my grandfather died, my dad didn’t want me. Matt says he wants me, but he rarely comes by. And you...”

Danny didn’t need to finish the thought. Rafe’s guilt did that for him. He was leaving. He was another person in the long line of people who had let Danny down. It felt terrible.

“Danny, I think you’re amazing. I think you’re an incredible person with a bright future. You know I have to return to my job in New York. I signed a contract. I gave them my word.”

“You have a job here,” Danny said. “The clinic needs you.”

It was a job he liked, but a town he didn’t. “Before I leave, we will find you a good family.”

“Yeah, right,” Danny said. “I wish you would stay. Forever.”

Rafe put his arm over Danny’s shoulder. “Let’s talk more about this at dinner.”

“Are you pissed I was late?” Danny asked.

“Not really. I was worried,” Rafe said. “Maybe we need a better check-in policy.”

“Okay,” Danny said.

Rafe was surprised he was agreeable to it. He expected resistance. He would have resisted if his parents had tried it with him.

“Danny, I need to talk to you about something that happened tonight.”

Danny sighed. “Here it comes. Am I grounded?”

Was he copping to the attack on Dr. Rand? Rafe sensed this was still about going missing. “You’re not grounded. This isn’t about coming here instead of being home. There was an incident at the clinic and Chief Colton needs to speak with us about it.”

Danny shook his head. “I’m not talking to the police. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know you didn’t. But we’ve had some problems at the clinic and Chief Colton wants to speak with us to make sure we’re safe and that we’re not doing anything wrong,” Rafe said.

Rafe read anger in Danny’s face. “I’m always doing something wrong. Everyone expects me to screw up.”

“I don’t,” Rafe said. “I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.”

Danny looked at the ground. “I want to go home.”

Rafe hated forcing Danny to speak with the police, but drawing it out meant the real attacker was at large and Danny would remain under suspicion. “We have to talk to Chief Colton. He’s a friend. Trust me on this, Danny.”

Danny let Rafe lead him to the car. Once they were closer, Danny stopped when he saw Gemma. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I would tell you first if I did.” He wanted Danny to feel safe in his home and not worried about random women passing through. Random flings weren’t Rafe’s style, anyway. “You know Gemma. We work together at the clinic.”

Danny tossed Rafe a half smile. “I know her. Maybe she’ll go to the dance with me.”

Rafe gave Danny points for courage. “She’s a little old for school dances.”

Danny mumbled under his breath, but he climbed into the backseat of the car.

“We were so worried about you, Danny. Are you cold?” Gemma turned up the heat in the car.

“I’m good,” he said.

“You look upset,” Gemma said.

“Girl stuff,” Danny said.

“Can I help? My brothers used to tell me about their girl problems when they were in high school,” Gemma said.

“Nah, I’m okay,” Danny said.

Gemma made small talk, mostly with Danny.

“We’re going directly to the police station,” Rafe said. “To talk to Flint.”

Rafe glanced in the rearview mirror. Danny appeared scared.

“Chief Colton is my brother. He’s a good guy. Trust me. He’s just trying to figure out what’s happening at the clinic,” Gemma said.

Hearing her words, Danny seemed to relax. Gemma drove them to the police station and parked.

“Gemma, could you give me a minute alone with Danny?” Rafe asked.

Gemma nodded as she exited the vehicle. “See you inside.” She closed the door and hurried to the station.

Rafe faced Danny. “I will only ask you this once and I will believe anything you tell me, okay?”

Danny nodded. “Something bad happened. I knew it. You’re blaming me.”

“I told you we had trouble at the clinic. Were you near the clinic today?” Rafe asked. He realized he was holding his breath and he let it out.

“No.”

“Did you go to football practice today?” Rafe asked.

Danny shook his head. “I skipped it. I didn’t feel like it.”

No alibi then. “Have you seen Dr. Rand today?” Rafe asked.

Danny shook his head again. “No.”

It was all Rafe needed to hear. Though he wouldn’t say why he believed Danny was telling the truth, he did. Wasn’t that what a good parent was supposed to do?

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