Dane knew her, knew how to touch her, to kiss her, to take her exactly as she wanted to be taken.

And the next time, because now she was sure there would be one, she would return the favor, calling up everything she’d learned of him, of what he liked, to make sure he would be the one driven mad. She would show him she understood, that she knew what they’d nearly lost, how rare and special it was.

And then he was easing into her, hot and hard, slow and taunting, and rational thought fled. Her body arched in eager anticipation as he slid home bit by bit, and the low groan that broke from him, the first sign he wasn’t as completely in control as he’d seemed, made her every muscle clench.

He lifted his head, looked straight into her eyes. “Don’t throw this away, Kayla.”

She tightened her arms around him. “No more taking for granted,” she said.

Her words were apparently what he’d needed to hear, because he abandoned all efforts at teasing slowness and began to move with an urgency that was no less compelling. Kayla gave herself up to the driving stroke of his body, let slip all restraint and reveled in the sweet, delicious fact that he was hers again.

For now.

Cutter’s Code: A secret network of operatives specializing in lost causes

Dear Reader,

Writers are strange people. I say that with full knowledge that I fall squarely in that category. I have a motto that in various forms is espoused by many writers, I’m sure: “It’s all research.” I’m certain of this because of all the tiny bits and images that clutter my mind, making me a wiz at Jeopardy but not so hot at things like, oh, remembering birthdays.

Many of these little bits and images fade over time, but some do not. One day, long ago, I was picking up mail from my post office box. As I went inside, I saw a young man, jaw tight, eyes suspiciously wet, wad up a piece of paper and an envelope and throw them somewhat energetically into a trash can as he stalked out of the building. As I came back moments later, hands full of mail, there he was again. Only, now he was digging through the trash to retrieve that wadded-up letter. He took it to the nearest sort counter and tried to smooth it out, then folded the wrinkled paper and envelope neatly and put it in his pocket before leaving again.

I’ve lived with that image for all these years, wondering what the story was behind it. I’ll never know, but with a little tweaking and some role-reversal, I’ve finally unloaded that image. It’s yours now, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Happy reading,

Justine Davis

About the Author

JUSTINE DAVIS lives on puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by, and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tail-less raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.

Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at twitter.com/Justine_D_Davis, or on Facebook at Facebook.com/JustineDareDavis.

Operation
Reunion
Justine Davis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Miz Cedar Dogge

February 25, 2001–April 24, 2012

Cedar was intelligent, inquisitive, willful, demanding,

bratty, expectant, a dragon in a golden retriever’s body.

She never met a stranger and fully expected everyone

she met to love—and pet!—her, and they generally did.

She was the perfect travel companion, the consummate

hostess, an intuitive and compassionate friend. She

always had a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

She always got the last bite of everything I ate and took

her duties as pre-wash cycle for the dishwasher very

seriously. She loved when I bought a Kindle because it

gave me one more hand available to pet her with while

I read. She loved to go to the dog beach—not for the

dogs, or the beach—but for the pets she received from

all the dog-friendly people there; a roll in a dead crab

and some seaweed was always a bonus. Her favorite

thing in the world was a good roll in some scratchy

grass, even better if some wild creature had left

something good and stinky there first. She was a force

of nature who has left very big paw prints on our hearts

and a huge hole in our lives. I miss her every day.

Sharyn Cerniglia

Cedarzmom

This is the first in a series of dedications from readers

who have shared the pain of the loss of a beloved dog.

For more information visit my website at

www.justinedavis.com.

Chapter 1

Kayla Tucker stared at the note in her hand. She was barely aware of the woman opening the post office box next to her, stepped out of the way of the man emptying trash, ignored the girl chattering loudly into her cell phone, all without looking up from the page obviously torn out of a spiral notebook.

The note wasn’t signed. If it had been printed, she could have pretended it was a mistake. That he hadn’t written it. But there was no mistaking the handwriting; the slightly crooked hand, falling off the lines in her brother’s typical way, was definitely Chad’s.

Of course it was, just like all the others.

The writing blurred suddenly. She blinked, once, twice, then a third time. The last line swam, then cleared.

I’m sorry. I love you, sis.

She swore inwardly. “Then why did you leave, damn it? We could have fought this!”

Furious, mostly at herself for letting this latest in the long line of notes get to her, she wadded the ragged-edged piece of paper and the envelope into a tight ball. Dane would be unhappy yet again, she thought.

No, she thought as the memory stabbed at her. Dane Burdette would not be unhappy. Because he wasn’t around anymore. He’d given up on her at last.

His image shot through her mind, vivid and painful. Tall, lean, dark, silky hair that kicked forward over his brow, golden eyes alight as he looked at her, flashing his killer smile. The smile that had grown rarer and rarer as the time passed.

Smothering the usual ache at the thought of the man she’d once expected to spend her life with, she slammed the small metal door of the post office box closed, turned the key and yanked it out. She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. She tossed the wadded up note into the trash can just outside.

“Kayla!”

The last thing she wanted to do just now was talk to someone. But she thought she recognized the voice, so she stopped, turned. And was enveloped in a huge hug.

“I’m so glad to run into you this morning. I was going to call and tell you—Leah and I actually went out to dinner last night.”

Kayla managed a smile for the older man who several weeks ago had brought his reluctant wife to the counseling group she ran. “I’m glad to hear that, John. How did it go?”

“Not perfect, but better than I expected. And she’s encouraged enough to try something else now.”

“That’s good to hear. Very good.”

She meant it. She’d started the group for victims of violent crime as a means to help herself after the brutal murder of her parents, but in the process she had found a calling. She’d even gone back to school so she could be certified. And moments like this were why. Leah Crandall had been mentally immobilized after her son had been killed by an armed robber at a convenience store, and this was the first time she’d done anything socially normal in more than a year.

Kayla hoped they would make it, she thought as John promised he and his wife would continue with the group and would see her at the next meeting. So many marriages didn’t survive the death of a child; the murder of that child only made it worse.

The overcast morning matched her mood as she headed for the parking lot. She glanced down the row of parked vehicles toward her own, the little blue coupe Dane had always kept in perfect shape for her. She spotted a familiar motorcycle parked across from it and slowed her steps. Rod Warren truly was the last person she wanted to see now. Or ever. She’d had an aversion to him ever since she’d found him trying to burn holes in the wings of a living butterfly with a magnifying glass when they were kids. She’d tried to stop him, even though he was older and bigger, and had in return been pinned against a wall and groped in a way she was too young to completely understand.

But Dane had, and when she’d told him about it, Rod had later shown up with a split lip and a black eye, and he’d kept a wide berth from then on. Still, she’d never forgotten the repugnance she’d felt. But the rider of the motorcycle with the picture of a nude female arranged in a particularly obscene way on the tank was thankfully nowhere in sight, so she kept going.

She was almost to her car when she changed her mind.

She should keep the note. The envelope with the postmark at least; this might be the one time when it helped. She turned around and began to walk quickly back. She felt the breeze of her own movement edging her tears sideways across her cheeks.

A loud clank echoed against the block wall of the post office. And the trash can she’d tossed the crumpled note into rolled into her path. She stopped, staring. There was no wind to catch the now-empty metal container, nor anyone to knock it over. The janitor had worked his way around to the other side of the building, and nobody else was even close.

No human anyway.

But there was a dog.

Sitting beside the toppled trash can was a dog, a striking animal with a thick, longish coat colored black from the tip of his nose past his upright, alert ears all the way down past his shoulders, where the color of his fur changed to a rich, reddish brown.

He was looking at her rather intently.

And he had what she would swear was her note between his front paws. It had to be, she thought. The can had just been emptied before she’d tossed it. The wadded paper and envelope lay on the cement in front of him as if carefully placed. He must think it was some sort of ball to play with.

For a moment she pondered the dangers of approaching a strange dog. He wasn’t huge, but he was far from small. Big enough to be intimidating, to make her wary.

And then he grinned at her.

She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. His mouth opened, revealing some formidable teeth, but it was impossible to be frightened when his tongue lolled out on one side and the corners of that mouth seemed to curl upward.

Just when she had decided it might be safe to pet him, at the same time reaching for her note, he moved. He grabbed up the note and she froze. But he was holding it in a way that seemed oddly gentle. Like Dane’s sweet Labrador, Lilah, used to hold her pups long ago, so gently there was barely a dent in the fur. The memory made her ache even more for the man who had left her.

And then the dog got up and started to go toward the parking lot.

Angry at herself for tossing the note in the first place, Kayla didn’t know what to do. She wanted it back, desperately now, but she didn’t want to provoke a strange dog into biting her.

The dog stopped. He looked over his shoulder at her. And waited.

Images from countless movies and television shows flashed through her mind. Was she supposed to follow him? Did dogs really do that? He took a couple of steps, still looking at her, the note still held almost delicately in his mouth.

She followed tentatively. He started off again. Not running, not teasing her as some dogs did, playing a canine version of keep away; he just trotted off. He headed into the half-full parking lot, past the obscene motorcycle and toward the second row of vehicles. When he looked back yet again, as if to be certain she was following, she could have sworn his dark eyes were urging her, compelling her somehow.

Kayla shook her head sharply.

“It’s a dog,” she muttered under her breath.

She picked up her pace, determined now to retrieve the note. She’d only thrown it away in the first place because she was so upset over Dane.

She passed her own car, then the big pickup parked next to it and the tiny electric car next to that. With her mind distracted for an instant by the absurd contrast between those two vehicles, she was late to realize the dog had come to a halt beside the driver’s door of the next car in the row, a dark blue SUV that was a few years old but looked in perfectly maintained condition and had the glass hatch in the back raised up.

Her breath caught as the driver’s door swung open and a man slid out. She stopped sharply, momentarily unable to move. He was tall, lean, hair as dark as midnight, with a forbiddingly strong jaw. But that jaw was unshaven, and his tousled hair spoke of a hurried morning rather than trendy style. Still, she took a step back instinctively.

He hadn’t seen her yet. He crouched down beside the dog, who was fairly wiggling with pleasure yet holding gently on to that ball of paper. Kayla felt her anxiety fade as the man smiled and reached out to scratch below the dog’s right ear.

“That’ll teach me to leave the back window open. What’d you find, boy?”

The man’s voice was low, steady, strong. He took the paper wad from the dog, who surrendered it easily and looked almost humanly satisfied, as if at a job well done. And then the dog looked back at her, staring in a way she’d never seen from any animal. She felt pinned in place, for a moment helpless and unable to move.

Meanwhile, the man had taken the note out of the crumpled envelope. Her note.

The spell broke. “That’s mine,” she said, afraid after she’d spoken that she’d sounded like a spoiled child who’d had a toy taken from her.

“I gathered,” he said, and she realized she’d been wrong; he’d known she was there all the time.

And then he straightened. And she realized just how tall he was.

Most men seemed tall to her, at five-three. But this one had to be at least six feet, and something about the way he held himself made him seem even bigger. That he was obviously fit and strong only added to the impression.

She sucked in a breath, trying not to be intimidated. Nothing would happen here, in such a public place as the post office parking lot.

Then his face changed, softened, and his icy blue eyes warmed.

“Hayley,” the man said, his voice raised just slightly.

Kayla frowned, puzzled. Then had her answer as a woman stepped past her, a post office receipt in one hand.

The dog greeted the woman effusively, on his feet, tail wagging madly. The woman reached to scratch the same spot the man had as she glanced from dog to man to Kayla. Mirth was in her voice and echoed in vivid green eyes as she spoke to the animal.

“And now what have you done, Cutter, my lad? And why are you running around loose anyway?”

The dog yipped, short and sharp.

“He jumped out the back and took off like…a dog with a mission,” the man said as he lifted one arm toward the woman. She stepped into the shelter of it so naturally that Kayla knew these two were together in a way few people were. She could feel it, coming off of them in waves, could see it in their faces—love, respect, comfort and, in the glance they exchanged, passion.

She smothered a sigh. She’d known all that once. She’d had a place like that at Dane Burdette’s side, a warm, safe, welcoming place. And she’d thrown it away. Dane was a man of near-infinite patience, he’d proven that for years, but she’d pushed and pushed until she’d finally found his limit.

The pain of losing him wasn’t just emotional; it was a harsh, physical hurt, an aching for him with heart, mind and body. Oh, yes, body, she thought with an inward moan. Sometimes at night she would curl up into a ball and weep for missing him beside her, loving her. She gave herself an inward shake; if she let herself slide back into that morass of pain and loss, she’d break down sobbing right here in public, in front of these total strangers.

Belatedly she realized she’d seen the woman inside the post office, that she’d walked past her on her way to her post office box. She’d been comparing the woman’s warm, auburn hair to her own shorter, dark-brown bob, wondering if a change would help her outlook.

Not that anything could help because Dane had walked out of her life.

“I was just about to go round him up when he came back,” the man said, gesturing with the note. “It seems he stole this.”

“Stole?” the woman named Hayley asked as she looked at the balled-up paper. “Can you steal something someone obviously didn’t want?”

Kayla tried to explain. “I…”

The man looked at her, and she hated the way her voice faded into nothing. But it was too big, too complicated to explain. Still, there was something oddly calming in this man’s eyes, as if he’d reached out a hand to steady her.

Kayla tried to get a grip; whoever these two were, they clearly weren’t a threat. Stick to the simple facts, she told herself.

“I didn’t mean to throw it away.” She sighed, corrected herself. “I mean, I did throw it away, but I shouldn’t have. I’d like it back.”

“Of course.”

He handed it back without hesitation, reassuring her further. She smoothed out the note, realizing after a moment that the paper wasn’t even damp from the dog’s mouth. She glanced at the animal, who was looking up at her intently. She’d never had a dog, and suddenly she wondered if this one would have the same effect on her if she was more familiar with them. Or if it was just this dog who could look at her in that piercing way that made her feel as if she shouldn’t move.

“He’s…a beautiful dog.”

“He is,” Hayley said. “And clever enough to be amazing and annoying by turns.”

Kayla smiled at that. She thanked the man, nodded at the woman and turned to head back to her car.

The dog stopped her.

Not aggressively—in fact, he was looking up at her with the same tongue-lolling grin she’d seen before. She tried to walk around him, but he moved to block her again.

“I’m sorry,” Hayley said quickly. “He’s a herding dog by breed, and it’s his nature.”

She reached for the dog’s collar. Before she could grasp it, the dog dodged slightly, the bright blue, boat-shaped tag Kayla had caught a glimpse of rattling. Cutter, she thought. Hayley had called the dog Cutter. As in coast guard cutter? Was that why the man looked so imposing, some military background?

The dog yipped again, now looking from her to his owners and back. He clearly wanted something, but—

He snatched the note again, right out of her hands.

Kayla let out a startled yelp that probably sounded like the dog’s yip. This time the animal didn’t run off. Instead, he turned and with a startling sort of delicacy, presented the note to the woman, who glanced at it, then up at the man beside her.

“Uh-oh,” the man said.

“So it seems,” Hayley agreed.

Kayla had no idea what they were talking about, what was going on, but it was all starting to make her nervous again. And no amount of telling herself she was perfectly safe here, out in the open in a public parking lot with people coming and going around them, seemed to help. Without Dane solidly by her side, she felt vulnerable.

She summoned up all the old coping tricks she’d been taught in the days after her world had been shattered. It was only normal she be nervous around strangers, even after all this time, she told herself. And she knew how to deal, really she did.

“Please,” she said, trying to sound merely polite instead of pleading, “that’s personal.”

“Someone’s in trouble,” the woman said. It wasn’t really a question. But her voice was so soft, so gentle, it eased Kayla’s rising anxiety.

“Yes,” she admitted. That much was clear in the note now open for all to see, so there didn’t seem much point in denying it.

The man spoke. “Time for names, I think. I’m Quinn Foxworth. This is my fiancée, Hayley Cole.”

“Congratulations,” Kayla said, not sure what else to say in this odd situation.

“And this rascal,” Hayley said, scratching the dog’s ear again, “is Cutter.”

“Nice to meet you.”

It was automatic and sounded utterly inane. She needed to get out of here, collect her thoughts. But first she had to get that note back.

On the thought the dog moved once more, this time closer to her. And then he was leaning against her leg, looking up at her with what for all the world looked like reassurance.

“What an…unusual dog,” she murmured, half to herself.

“You have no idea,” Hayley said, her tone wry.

“He has a nose for trouble,” Quinn agreed. “In this case, apparently, yours.”

She looked up at the man then. And read the same kind of reassurance in his eyes that she’d fancied she’d seen in the dog’s.

“It’s my brother’s trouble, really.”

Now why had she said that? She didn’t make a habit of discussing her ugly family history with strangers.

“And now ours,” Hayley said quietly.

Kayla blinked. “What?”

The woman gestured at the dog. “This wasn’t coincidence. But we’ll explain all that later. In the meantime, let’s go somewhere where we can talk and figure out what to do about your problem.”

Kayla took a step back. Or tried to. The dog, once again, was there. He seemed uncannily able to sense her every move before she made it.

“Who are you?” she asked, something dark and unsettling churning in her stomach.

“Friendlies,” Quinn said, as if he’d sensed her fear.

“We just want to help,” Hayley said. She glanced at Quinn, such pride in her face that it went a long way toward soothing Kayla’s nerves. “It’s what we do.”

“You can’t help. Nobody can.”

Bitterness spiked through Kayla. She’d accepted the lost years, the thrown-away money, but Dane…. Losing Dane was—

She cut her own thoughts off.

“This is beyond anyone’s help,” she said. “It’s a lost cause.”

“Well, now,” Hayley said, “isn’t that convenient? Lost causes are our specialty.”

Chapter 2

Dane Burdette paced the width of his home office, turned, made the return journey, then turned again. Although the apartment was large enough, this den was a small space, one that overflowed with equipment that now also filled the adjoining dining area.

A sound from outside brought him out of the reverie he’d slipped into and back to reality. A reality that, for the first time in more than a decade, didn’t have Kayla in it.

His jaw tightened. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying not to think about Kayla doing the same, as she so often did when he’d been working too many hours. And he barely managed not to look for the hundredth time this morning at the photograph on his desk, the picture he’d taken at the Washington coast last year, catching her at her most beautiful, happy, smiling, looking almost carefree. It was clear to even the most casual observer that the love and warmth in her eyes was aimed at the person behind the camera.

It nearly ripped his heart out every time he looked at it. He’d done the right thing. Finally. He’d meant what he’d said—he couldn’t go on like this. Ten years was enough.

Too bad knowing that didn’t stop the urge to give in, to go to her and patch things up. Again.

But he’d meant it this time. He’d spent too long living with her obsession. She’d idolized her big brother, believed completely in his innocence and had never given up trying to find him. She’d traveled thousands of miles, going every time one of those damn notes arrived, chasing postmarks. And every time it came to nothing. She’d spent time, money and much of her energy on the quest, and there was no end in sight.

He glanced at the heavy dive watch Kayla had given him for his twenty-fifth birthday. She’d be at the post office even now; she went every Friday to pick up the mail for her counseling group, but in truth she was both hoping for and dreading the arrival of another communication from her brother. Dane himself was long past hoping; he was firmly in the dread category.

He needed to quit wearing the watch, he thought. Even though he liked the solid weight of it on his wrist, that Kayla had chosen it and given it to him—and the passionate night that had followed—was not something he wanted to be reminded of at every move.

“I had to do it,” he muttered under his breath, as if actually saying the words would be more convincing to a heart and mind that felt as if something vital had been torn away.

At this point, Chad Tucker’s guilt or innocence didn’t matter much to him. What mattered was that Kayla couldn’t seem to move on. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand—he did. He’d been there that night, in the bloody, awful aftermath. He’d been the one to hear her scream, the one to run to her, to pull her out of the room that held the nightmare. To this day he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the teenage girl to walk into that hell.

That it was a girl he cared about made even thinking about it difficult. And he had cared about Kayla since the first day he’d seen her, a slight, fragile-looking fourteen, sitting on a limb high up in the old tree between their houses. She had been staring downward, turning her head this way and that, and he’d realized after a moment what was going on.

“Stuck?” he’d called to her.

“Not yet,” she’d answered, making him laugh.

She’d been in his life one way or another ever since that day. Until now. Until he’d had to leave her, had to walk away. Even though it was like leaving a part of himself behind. But he knew—

“Dane?”

He spun around, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t realized his roommate and business partner Sergei was standing there. He needed to get his head back in the game.

“I need to go if I’m going to make it on time. Don’t want to speed out of here because our downstairs neighbor the cop is out washing his car. Is what you sent last night the final cut?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be on my way then,” his partner said.

But he stopped in the doorway and looked back. He and Sergei Kesic had built their small, digital video promotion company from nothing to a going concern, thanks to Dane’s knack for tailoring the product to individual customer needs and Sergei’s no-nonsense, bottom-line sales approach that appealed to companies in a belt-tightening era.

“You sent it at 3:00 a.m.,” Sergei said.

“Did I?”

“You’re keeping some pretty long hours, buddy.”

“Don’t be late,” Dane said. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged into discussing the reasons behind his late nights and lack of sleep. Sergei hadn’t asked why he’d suddenly taken to sleeping here instead of at Kayla’s, and he didn’t want that conversation to start now.

He had to put it out of his mind, he told himself as Sergei shrugged and left. There were decisions to make, plans to go over.

A sour laugh escaped him. Plans. Yes, indeed, plans. He’d had a lot of those.

He yanked the watch off his wrist, opened a desk drawer, shoved it in the back and slammed the drawer shut. One more step, he thought. And he should do it now, when he knew where she’d be, at the post office checking for another one of those damned notes. He would go over to Kayla’s and pick up the last of his stuff.

And leave his key.

He winced at the thought but shored up his determination and grabbed his key ring from the desk. He pried the ring open and worked the gold key off, fighting memories of the night she’d given it to him.

He shoved the key in the watch pocket of his jeans.

With a final glance at the photograph, he headed for the door. That picture was going, he told himself firmly. As soon as he got back.

This was crazy.

Kayla stared at the business card in her hand. It looked official enough, but anybody could churn out a good-looking business card. And there was no indication on the card of exactly what the “Foxworth Foundation” did.

They had walked across the street to the small city park and were seated on the stone wall that surrounded the kid’s play area, deserted now at this morning hour. The dog that had started all this was sprawled in the grass, basking in the morning sun and looking decidedly smug.

“Does he do this often?” she asked.

“Cutter?” Hayley said.

“Yes. Does he drag total strangers with a problem to you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Kayla blinked. Hayley smiled.

“He has a knack,” she said. “I don’t know how he does it, but he seems to know when people are troubled.”

“And he brings them to you?”

“It’s not usually as…neatly as today,” Quinn said with a wry smile. “But yes, he does.”

Kayla glanced at the dog, who seemed blithely unconcerned about the entire situation. As if his job was done, she thought, even as she realized she was going a bit overboard with the anthropomorphism.

“And he makes it pretty obvious,” Hayley said, “that he expects us to fix whatever’s wrong.”

Whatever’s wrong, Kayla thought. And lost causes are their specialty?

I love you, but I won’t—I can’t—stay and watch you throw the rest of your life away on a lost cause.

Dane’s final words as he had walked out her door echoed in her mind, drowning out every other thought. He’d been upset with her before but always seemed to find a reserve of patience she marveled at even as she used it up. But this time had been different. She’d heard the finality in his voice, seen the sadness in his eyes. The man she’d loved since she was fourteen had finally had enough. His departure had left her bereft and a little stunned at how completely off balance her already damaged world now felt.

“Whatever it is,” Hayley said softly, “let us help. It’s what we do.”

Kayla looked up. “Lost causes?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” She glanced at Quinn, gestured with the card, remembering his introduction. “You’re the Foxworth.”

“One of them,” he said.

“What’s this foundation do?”

“What should be done but isn’t,” Quinn said, with a warm glance at Hayley that made Kayla miss Dane all the more.

“They—” Hayley caught herself, smiled and went on, showing Kayla she wasn’t used to saying it yet, “we work for people in the right who don’t have anyone else to help them.”

Curious now, she looked at them both. “Who decides who’s in the right?”

Quinn grinned suddenly. Kayla could have sworn she heard Hayley’s breath catch; she didn’t blame her, it was a killer grin. Nothing on Dane’s, of course, but still….

“That’s the joy of being privately funded. We decide. We have a crack research team to help in that.”

“Research team?”

“You’d be amazed,” he said, his voice taking on a wry note, “how many people sound like they’re in the right until you look into the other side.”

Kayla sighed. “Then you won’t want to help me,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the other side is the police, and when you look into it you’ll probably find some notes saying I’m delusional, disturbed or maybe just crazy.”

“Are you?” Hayley asked, sounding merely curious and not at all bothered by the mention of the police.

“No!” Kayla stopped, sighed. “I’m…determined. Dane thinks I’m obsessed. But he and Chad never got along anyway.”

She realized she was starting to sound a little mental, talking to total strangers about people they didn’t know. She should get out of here. Whoever these people were, they couldn’t really do what they said they did. People didn’t just help strangers like that. Did they?

And even if they did, what she’d said was true. If they looked into this they’d find all the evidence the police had pointing to Chad and probably some mentions of his sister. Not nasty ones, she didn’t think; they had been kind, if unbelieving. They’d probably just gently suggested, in some police jargon, that the suspect’s little sister was a bit nuts, driven to the edge of insanity by what had happened.

She needed to get out of here. Getting one of these notes always revved her up, and she needed to calm down, to think. How she was going to do that when she no longer had the option to go to the one person who had always helped her with that, she wasn’t sure.

Oddly, the moment she decided to get up and leave the dog awoke from his snooze and scrambled to his feet. Before she could rise he was there, as if he’d somehow read her mind and was once more preventing her from leaving. The animal leaned into her, resting his chin on her leg as he stared up at her. And suddenly it was impossible to move.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Quinn suggested.

“And pet Cutter,” Hayley added. “It’s remarkably soothing.”

Kayla nearly smiled at that; people got so silly about their animals. But maybe if she did pet the dog, he’d be satisfied and get out of her way. She lifted a hand and ran it over the dog’s head, then, remembering what Quinn and Hayley had done, added a scratch below his right ear. The dark eyes never wavered, but he let out a sound that was amazingly like a happy sigh.

It was soothing, she thought, startled. She felt calmer, steadier. And when Quinn again suggested she start at the beginning, to her surprise, she did.

“Chad is my big brother. We moved here when I was fourteen. He was sixteen. Two years later, ten years ago, our parents were murdered in a home invasion robbery. The police suspected Chad. He ran. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Well,” Quinn said to Hayley without any of the horrified reaction Kayla was used to whenever she told the tale, “that could give Rafe a run for his money for succinctness.”

“I’m sure she’s had to tell it a few times,” Hayley said.

Although there was a world of sympathy in her voice, the auburn-haired woman didn’t gush. Nor did she recoil from the blunt, grim story. Kayla was a little amazed at how comforting that was. Like petting this darn dog, a motion she only now realized she’d continued the entire time she’d been speaking. And it really did soothe her at a time when she needed it.

“That,” Quinn said, gesturing at the note that began it all, “is from him?”

She nodded. “I get one every few months. He never says where he is, or has been, just that he’s sorry he had to leave, he didn’t do it and he loves me.”

“Where do they come from?” he asked.

“Oregon. Northern California. Idaho. Montana once.”

“So he stays in the northwest, generally.”

She nodded.

“And what do you do when you get one?” Hayley asked.

Kayla shrugged. “The only thing I can do. I go there, wherever he sent it from.”

“Have you ever found anything?”

She sighed. “Nothing useful. I don’t have a current photo, obviously. I tried an agency that aged up an old one for me, but it didn’t help. A few times in the beginning someone thought they remembered seeing him, but most times it’s like he was never there.”

“He’s gotten better at it,” Quinn said, sounding thoughtful.

They both seemed so open, so willing to listen, unlike the police, or even Dane, who had grown so weary of it all.

“I set up a page on a couple of social media sites,” she said, “but it’s the same problem. And I got more junk than genuinely helpful stuff. Even got some real creeps, pretending to want to help.”

She shivered at the memory; if Dane hadn’t insisted on going with her every time who knows what would have happened. Twice, guys who looked nothing like their own profile photos, had shown up obviously with something other than help in mind. They’d taken one look at Dane and departed hastily.

“It’s definitely a cold case after all this time,” Quinn said.

“That’s what the police say, too. So why would you help me?”

“I know something about worrying about a brother,” Hayley said. “I have one I haven’t heard from in months. Walker’s not on the run, or in trouble that I know of, but I don’t know where he is or how he is.”

So the empathy in the woman’s voice had been real, Kayla thought. It helped her decide.

“I believe Chad. He didn’t do it. I don’t care what the police think they know—I know he didn’t. He couldn’t.”

“If it’s true, then we’ll prove that,” Hayley said. “You’re not alone any longer, Kayla. You have—”

She broke off as Cutter’s head came up suddenly. His eyes had been closed as Kayla petted him—in fact, he’d seemed to be snoozing as she stroked her fingers over his soft fur—but something had clearly brought him to alert. She’d heard nothing, but her ears weren’t as keen as a dog’s. As Kayla glanced around, she saw nothing different than it had been moments ago. There had been a few people coming and going while they’d been here, and the dog hadn’t reacted at all.

She would have written it off to unfamiliar dog behavior if not for two things; Hayley never finished her sentence, and Quinn immediately stood up. And suddenly he was no longer the friendly man with the nice smile, but someone altogether different, alert, ready and capable. He glanced around much as she had, but then he looked at the dog, watching, waiting, as if for some signal.

Cutter’s head moved sharply in what looked, impossibly, like a nod.

“What have you got, boy?” Quinn’s voice was low, and Kayla heard something in it that hadn’t been there before, some edge that made her think Quinn could be a very dangerous man. The dog made an answering sound she couldn’t quite describe. Hayley stayed silent, her gaze flicking from man to dog and back, waiting.

The only thing Kayla was sure of was that this, or something like it, had happened often enough that none of the three found it unusual.

She shifted to look around again, wondering what had set the dog off. He seemed to have settled on a direction now, looking out toward the street. And then, unexpectedly, his tail began to wag just slightly. She looked that way and saw nothing amiss—an older couple walking arm in arm, a kid on a skateboard, a man crossing the street from the post office parking lot, a car—

Her gaze shot back to the man. A man heading quickly toward them. The way he moved, with that easy grace and long stride, the way he held his head, the gleam of the morning sun on dark hair….

Dane.

Her pulse kicked up, as it always did at the sight of him. But how had the dog known, of all the people around this morning, that this was the one? And what was he doing here anyway?

Hope leaped in her, but she quashed it; Dane hadn’t been angry when they’d parted, or she would have nurtured that hope that he would, as he always had before, get over it. He’d been quietly weary in a way that told her as nothing else could that he was done.

“It’s not that I don’t admire your loyalty,” he’d said. “I do. I just could have used a little more of it myself.”

She shivered at the memory of the words and of her own freezing reaction when she’d realized, for the first time, he’d used the past tense.

“You know him?” Quinn’s voice broke through the awful memory, and that edge in it shook her back to the present.

“Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t think of another thing to say that would explain who this man was to her. There were no words that were adequate. But as she looked at Quinn, then Hayley, she realized she didn’t have to.

They knew.

Chapter 3

“Who he hell are you?”

Dane stared at the man standing between him and Kayla. The guy looked tough, solid and ready for anything. Just about matched his own mood, Dane thought. Which made no sense; who Kayla hung out with wasn’t his business anymore. Not that that had stopped him from bolting over here when he’d spotted her with two strangers.

“He’s my fiancé.” Dane’s gaze snapped to the woman who had been sitting beside Kayla. It was further evidence of his mood that he hadn’t really focused on her before; she was lovely, and if her words hadn’t completely disarmed him, her smile might have. “I’m Hayley Cole, and this is Quinn Foxworth. Behave, both of you.”

Dane wasn’t sure if she meant him and Quinn or Quinn and the dog. The dog who was looking at him in the oddest way. Not in the love-filled, melt-your-heart kind of way Lilah always had, but with an intensity that spoke of a clever brain behind those amber-flecked dark eyes.

“And you, I gather, are Dane.”

The man’s voice was steady, with no particular inflection, but Dane couldn’t help thinking this was a man who would react quickly and effectively if necessary.

It hit him somewhat belatedly that this stranger had known who he was. And the only way that could be was that Kayla had told him.

His gaze shifted quickly to the woman who had been part of his life for so long. Had she really told these strangers about him? Maybe even how he’d walked out on her, telling her wrenching story, making anybody who hadn’t lived it with her over the past ten years wonder what kind of heartless bastard left a woman whose life had been torn apart like that?

A sense of betrayal filled him, and he took a step back. But it turned out to be only a half-step; somehow the dog had gotten in his way and he had to stop.

“I thought you were through with me,” Kayla said. Her voice was quiet, unemotional. And that sparked a new feeling in him, one that was almost anger. She didn’t even think they were worth fighting for?

That he didn’t want to fight with her, that he never had, was something he cast aside just now. He focused on the fact that she sounded so calm. As if she’d processed that it really was over. And instead of crying over it, or getting angry at him, she was…accepting?

“So that’s it?” he said sharply, ignoring the three unknown onlookers. “You just quit on us?”

“You’re the one who left.” She gestured with the note. “And he’s still out there, Dane.”

“Yeah. And I’m here. I’ve done nothing but support you and love you and help you for ten years, while that spoiled, manipulative brother of yours plays with you, taunts you, but is too big of a coward to come back and deal with the mess he left you with.”

“Dane! He’s not—”

He held up his hands; he really had had enough.

“He always skated by on his looks. He used you, took for granted that you’d always worship your big brother.” Dane grimaced. “And I guess he was right about that.”

His anger faded as once more the reality hit him in the face. This time she was silent when he took a breath. And he realized he had no right to stay upset at her for talking about them—and him—to strangers when he’d just dumped a pile of dirty laundry in front of them. To their credit, they’d said nothing, but they hadn’t left them alone either.

“I tried, Kayla. I really tried.” He heard his own voice, realized he sounded as tired as he felt after that last burst of pained rage and resentment. “But I can’t play second fiddle to your fixation any longer. I won’t. The woman I…loved is buried beneath this obsession and I can’t find her anymore. You’re on your own.”

“That’s just it,” Kayla said, showing a spark of spirit now. “I’m not on my own anymore.”

She waved toward the couple standing a couple of feet away in a gesture that seemed to include the dog.

“They’re going to help find Chad.”

Suspicion bit as hard and deep as that dog probably could if motivated. Ignoring the jab of pain at the reminder that, although she’d given up on them, she obviously wasn’t about to give up on her obsession, Dane spun on his heel to stare at the trio. On the surface they looked harmless enough—handsome guy, beautiful woman, nice-looking dog. Quite the picture they presented.

He didn’t believe it for a minute. And he hadn’t forgotten his first impression of the man as someone not to take lightly.

“Are they?” he said, focusing on the man introduced as Quinn. “And just how much do they want you to pay for this ‘help’?”

One corner of Quinn’s mouth quirked, and Dane saw something flicker in the man’s eyes, something that looked strangely like approval.

“Nothing,” Kayla said.

Dane turned his head to look at her. “Haven’t you learned? Didn’t that phony P.I. and that guy who took you for five grand in California teach you anything?”

Kayla flushed. He hated doing it, but somebody had to protect her from herself, and right now he was the only one around.

The dog moved and, oddly, came to sit between him and Kayla. The animal looked from him to her and back, with an expression that looked for all the world like impatience. Dane shook his head; he loved dogs, but he didn’t usually impart human qualities to them.

“Quinn?”

It was the other woman who’d spoken, drawing his gaze. She looked the picture of innocence, which made him even more suspicious.

“Yes,” the man said. “I think so.”

Another stab of pain shot through him. He and Kayla had been like that once, able to communicate without words. But lately he’d quit trying, or even asking what she was thinking, because his gut knew one more admission that she was worrying about her brother would send him over the edge.

And it had.

“Walk with me,” Quinn said. Dane eyed him warily. “You have questions,” the man said in answer to his look. “I’ll give you all the answers you want.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe you?”

“No,” Quinn said. “I expect you to do your homework and then decide if you believe us.”

That surprised him enough to make him follow the man’s lead. And if he wanted to be out of earshot of Kayla, it could mean he wanted to hear the other side of the story.

“That note she got today…” Quinn began as they neared a stand of cedar trees along one edge of the park.

“Don’t bother. I know exactly what it said. ‘I didn’t do it. I love you. I’m sorry. Forget about me.’ Even as he keeps sending them so there’s no hope she ever could.”

Quinn stopped walking and turned to look at him.

“I know that sounds harsh,” Dane said, “given what she’s been through.”

“Crimes like that have a far-reaching ripple effect,” Quinn said. “They touch many more lives than just the immediate family.”

The rather detached yet undeniably true observation made Dane take a second look at the man. He was as tall as he himself, and while Dane biked and ran to keep in shape, he doubted he was as strong as this guy looked. He’d been thinking of adding some weights to his regimen, and just looking at the arms on this guy was enough to convince him.

“Look, I know she loved Chad, but he was…”

“Spoiled and manipulative?”

Dane’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Chad never once had to suffer the consequences of his actions in his entire life.”

“His parents protected him?”

Dane nodded. “He was the firstborn, and he was spoiled rotten. Until Kayla came along. He was jealous at first, but she adored him so much he finally decided he liked it. She would do anything for him, and he wasn’t above using that.”

“You didn’t know them back then.”

He didn’t sound particularly accusatory, but Dane was raw enough that he answered a bit sharply.

“Their father told me the first part. The last part I saw for myself. Chad used Kayla from the day he realized she was smarter than he was. I don’t know how many school papers he conned her into writing for him, even though she was two years younger. Or how many times he convinced her to lie for him, cover for him, with their parents. A couple of times she even took the blame for something he did when he was skating too close to the edge with their father.”

“How long did that go on?”

“Until I was able to convince her she wasn’t doing him any favors.”

Again Quinn studied him for a moment. “You’ve always had her best interests at heart.”

It didn’t seem to be a question, but it reminded Dane he should be worrying about those best interests now. “Who are you? And what’s all this crap about helping Kayla find Chad?”

“It’s what we do.”

“Find missing persons? You some kind of private investigator? Because she’s been there, and she got taken. I proved that and convinced her to give up on them,” he ended with a pointed glare at Quinn.

He didn’t mention the large insurance policy their parents had had, with Kayla and Chad as sole beneficiaries. It wasn’t a huge fortune, but it was enough to tempt unscrupulous types. Hayley Cole seemed innocent enough, but there was an edge about this man that made him wonder. He just hoped Kayla hadn’t been foolish enough to say anything about the money. He didn’t think she would; she might be foolishly obsessed, but she was far from a fool, and she’d learned her lesson after that P.I. ripped her off.

Of course, he also didn’t know how much of that money was left after ten years of pouring it into her endless search.

“No, we’re not private investigators,” Quinn said. “We don’t work for just anybody. Only people we believe in.”

“And you do it for free? Right.” He’d slipped from skepticism into outright sarcasm, but Dane didn’t care. He might be through with Kayla, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care at all; he couldn’t turn it off like a faucet.

“That’s why we’re very particular about what we take on.” The man’s mouth quirked wryly. “Unless it’s somebody Cutter brings to us.”

Dane blinked. “The dog?”

Quinn sighed. “It’s a long story. But the bottom line is, he’s better than a lie detector.”

The whimsy of that, coming from a man like Quinn Fox-worth, almost made Dane smile. But his own reaction made him even more wary; he knew predators often used animals to lull their targets into trusting them. They didn’t seem the type, but did the type ever really seem like the type? He shook his head before his thoughts got even more muddled.

“I think your canine lie detector misfired on this one,” he said.

“Kayla mentioned you and Chad didn’t get along. Were there other reasons?”

Dane’s jaw tightened. “Nothing that has anything to do with this. Why should I believe anything you say?”

Quinn looked at him thoughtfully. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “I’m not going to give you answers you’ll question. Find your own answers. Do that homework.”

“You can count on it,” Dane said, letting more than a hint of warning into his voice. “And you stay away from Kayla until I do.”

Chapter 4

Dane leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer monitor, tapping his pen on the note pad at his side. The top page was full of scribbled notes; his search had been easier than he’d expected. And quicker. It had only taken him a couple of hours to become convinced.

He’d ignored most of the stuff on the website for the Fox-worth Foundation. Anybody, as he knew better than most, could put together a website and put anything they wanted on it. It was a sad fact that if it looked genuine enough, far too many people took it at face value. The Foxworth site gave away very little information, however, as if anybody who went looking for it had to already know what they did.

But he’d noted the areas across the country that had contact numbers for them and then called local authorities in those places. Many had never heard of the foundation and some had heard of them but not had any contact with them, but a few had dealt with them directly, and it was those he concentrated on.

The results were impressive, to say the least. More than one cop or D.A. he spoke to admitted they’d been wary at first, or even irritated that Foxworth was treading their turf, but because most of the cases were cold anyway, they’d decided to let it play out, figuring the amateurs wouldn’t be able to do much anyway.

“Boy, were we wrong,” one detective told him. “They wrapped up a rape and murder case we’d had to move on from years ago. And they didn’t care about taking credit for it either, which smoothed some ruffled feathers around here.”

And that seemed to be the theme from the official side. And there were enough stories like that to make him begin to believe the Foxworth Foundation might be for real. So he’d gone on to track down stories about those cases and then find some of the people involved, the people who had turned to Foxworth for help.

The stories there were even more impressive, and the praise imparted was heartfelt and moving. Not only for the success rate, but for the kind of things they took on. From reuniting long separated family members to helping a troubled teenager find the right path, from giving a lost soul a new lease on life to giving a grieving family a reason they could bear for someone’s suicide.

And then there was the stolen locket. It was the only memento an adopted child had had of her real mother, and it seemed Foxworth had set upon finding that as wholeheartedly as they had what some would consider more important cases.

He shook his head and sat upright. What he should be focusing on, he told himself, was the fact that on more than one occasion, Foxworth had been instrumental in proving the innocence of people suspected of crimes. Nothing quite as grim as Kayla’s parents’ murders, but still….

Maybe they could. They seemed to be very good at what they did, and he couldn’t deny he liked the idea of what they did.

He picked up the business card and looked at it for a moment. He thought of the stories he’d heard, how many people had said simply, “Someone gave me their card and told me they could help.”

He picked up the phone again. This time he dialed the number on the card. To his surprise, Quinn Foxworth himself answered.

“It’s a policy we have,” the man explained. “Each card has our own number on it. We like to maintain consistency of contact.”

“Don’t you get a lot of spam calls that way?”

“Some. Better that than make somebody who’s feeling helpless jump through the hoops of a big phone menu system.”

He heard sounds in the background, some equipment running and the familiar harsh honk of a heron passing overhead; Quinn was obviously outside.

“What if you can’t answer right then?” he asked.

“Then it rolls over to our head office. But a live person will always answer.”

“That’s in St. Louis?”

“Been doing that homework, I see.”

“Yes. Detective Saunders in Phoenix says hello, by the way, and Mrs. Louis sends her love.”

Quinn laughed. “I thought you might be thorough.”

“Yes.”

He heard the sound of a door and the background noises ended. Dane wondered where Quinn was, where he’d stepped inside.

“So have you decided we’re who we say we are and do what we say we do?” Quinn asked.

“Let’s just say I’m open to the idea.”

“Fair enough. And I’m ready to believe that you had nothing to do with Kayla’s murders.”

Dane went still. “What?”

“Your alibi was solid.”

“Yes, it was.” He’d been with five other kids and a teacher at a college prep study session at the time of death, and he’d never left or been out of sight. He had been home barely fifteen minutes when Kayla’s horrific screams from next door had sent him racing over there. “What the hell are you doing investigating me?”

“We’re working for Kayla. We’ll do whatever it takes to get her the answers she wants.”

“Even if it means wasting time on innocent people?”

“If Kayla’s right, that means the real guilty person is still out there.”

Dane couldn’t argue with that. It was something he thought about often, even if Kayla didn’t seem to.

And it was the size of that “if” that always threw him.

“Ready to tell me why you and Chad Tucker didn’t get along?”

“Hasn’t Kayla already told you?”

“I’d like your version.”

“Why?”

“We don’t build the kind of success rate we have by only listening to one side.”

“Fair enough,” Dane said. “I didn’t like him. Part of it was that in school I was one of the nerdier kids, and Chad was one of the cool guys.”

“You don’t look like much of a nerd.”

“That’s because Kayla challenged me to change that.”

“Challenged you?”

“She said we couldn’t change the fact that people judged on appearance and bought into stereotypes—except by breaking that stereotype. So I started running, lifting weights to get into shape. Found I liked it, and it cleared my head for the tech stuff. And she was right. People looked at me differently, tolerated the…geek in me because that wasn’t all I was.”

“So she’s as wise as she seems.”

“Wiser. She was fourteen at the time. Still just the girl next door, who felt like the little sister I never had.”

“But she already had a big brother.”

“Yeah,” Dane said, his tone sour. “And Chad didn’t like me either.”

“Not surprising, if you saw through him.”

Quinn really was open to the idea that Chad might not be the good guy Kayla insisted he was, Dane thought. So he’d meant it when he’d said they weren’t taking her viewpoint as the only one. Encouraged by that, he went on.

“When Kayla turned sixteen and her folks let her date, Chad kept trying to set Kayla up with his best friend, Troy Reid. I’d started to look at her differently then, and he wanted to get her away from me. Her folks went along with him—they adored Troy, he was the catch of the whole town, and they thought I was too…something. Her mom, especially.”

“But it didn’t work. Kayla stayed with you.”

“She’s incredibly…loyal.”

He stumbled over the word, remembering how he’d thrown the word at her the day he’d finally walked away.

“Were there other reasons Chad didn’t like you?”

Dane had the uncomfortable feeling Quinn already knew. What was that they told lawyers, about never asking a question you don’t already know the answer to? Hell, maybe this Quinn was a lawyer, for all he knew.

“He got into some trouble, a couple of times, right after they moved here.”

“Stole a bike, joyriding in a senior citizen’s car, breaking into a convenience store for cigarettes?”

So he did know. Dane filed that away to remember when dealing with this man.

“The bike was mine.”

“And you reported it.”

“My folks did. I didn’t care all that much by then—I’d started to drive, but it was a really good bike. And I remembered Chad asking how much it was worth.”

“And you told the police that?”

“Yes. And they tracked it down, found who he’d sold it to.” Dane jammed his fingers through his hair. “Even then he blamed somebody else. Said Rod Warren, a local punk, had put him up to it. But Chad was no angel, no matter what Kayla thinks.”

“Do you think he could have killed them?”

Dane sighed. How long had he been wrestling with that thought? How many times had be been on the verge of telling Kayla just that, only stopping himself because he couldn’t bear to see her face if he turned on her. Because that’s how she’d see it, he was sure.

In the end, he gave Quinn the answer that had always been his bottom line, even as he realized it stemmed more from his love for his own parents and an inability to relate to the idea of parental murder, than a real belief in Chad’s innocence.

“He had no reason to. They were good people. They loved him.”

“The police seem pretty certain. He was their only real suspect.”

“I know. After he ran, I don’t think they ever really focused on anyone else.”

“They’re a small department, overloaded, and they labeled the case cold fairly quickly. Not their fault—they just don’t have the manpower.”

“Kayla keeps pushing them, but…”

“They’re down to wanted posters and flyers and the occasional search of criminal databases, probably spurred by her pushing.”

“And everything is still focused on Chad.”

“Yes.”

“But Kayla’s right about the fact that there’s an innocent explanation for all the evidence,” Dane said, feeling the need to be fair despite it all. “They found cigarette butts with his DNA outside, but he always snuck out there to smoke. His fingerprints were on the den window, but that’s how he always snuck out.”

“All true.”

“But he ran,” Dane said, coming down to the final, damning fact.

“Never a good sign.” Quinn sounded completely neutral, like a man who truly hadn’t made up his mind. “If it wasn’t Chad, who do you think it could have been?”

He had spent literally years batting that one around in his mind. “The only one who ever seemed likely to me was Rod. He tried to hang with Chad, but Troy was too straight-arrow to like him, so that got in the way. For that matter, I always wondered why Troy hung with Chad—they were so different.”

“Why did Rod seem likely?”

“He scared Kayla once when she tried to stop him from some kind of twisted experiment with setting butterflies on fire. He…touched her.”

Quinn was silent for a moment. “And did he ever again?”

“No. He did not even go near her. Ever.”

“I see,” Quinn said with what sounded like amusement and understanding. “So, is this Rod still around?”

“Yeah. And he’s been in trouble a few times. Breaking into houses and stealing cash.”

“Sounds promising. Did the police look at him?”

“They did,” he admitted. “But he gave them an alibi they believed.”

Quinn didn’t miss the inference. “But you didn’t?”

“The alibi was that he was with another kid. One he used to harass. Unmercifully. Really harsh stuff. But the kid swore Rod was with him. The cops bought it, figured the kid had no reason not to but every reason to finger Rod if he could.”

“But?”

“After that, the harassment stopped.”

“So you think he made a deal with the kid?”

Dane shrugged. “Couldn’t prove it, but it seemed…coincidental, to say the least.”

“We’ll check him out,” Quinn said.

“What the hell can you do that the cops can’t?”

“We have resources. And sources. Time. The manpower. And we have an open mind about Chad’s guilt.”

“What if you come to believe he’s guilty?”

“Then we’ll tell Kayla just that. Gently but honestly. Hayley’s good at that.”

A memory of the couple as they’d stood together this morning in the park shot through his mind. Quinn had constantly been touching Hayley, and vice versa. Little brushes, a touch on the arm, brushing back an errant strand of hair. Even when they were clearly focused on something else, they were still touching, even if it was as simple as standing so close their arms touched. Not quite joined at the hip, but close.

Dane recognized it because he and Kayla were the same way.

Pain jabbed through him, knotting his gut. He and Kayla had been the same way.

“Can you really do this? Can you put an end to this one way or another?”

He didn’t care that he sounded angry. And he knew quite well he wasn’t asking the real question. Asking that would sound more pitiful than he was willing to sound before a man like Quinn Foxworth.

“We can. And we have people who will help Kayla deal with whatever we find.”

His confidence was bracing. Dane had spent so long being unable to do anything, about Kayla or her obsession, that he’d slid into unfamiliar territory—hopelessness.

If what he’d learned today was true, these people were the best and brightest at what they did. If they couldn’t find Chad, maybe Kayla would finally admit it was over, maybe she would finally move on.

Maybe he’d moved his things a bit too soon. He tried not to let hope rise too far. But it was one last shot, the last chance for them, and he couldn’t say no.

Chapter 5

Kayla tried to tamp down her excitement as she hurriedly made her bank deposit. She wouldn’t have stopped at all if her mortgage payment wasn’t set to go out in three days. But Hayley was gracious about the errand, waiting in her car, and as soon as Kayla was done here, they’d be on their way to what Hayley called the Foxworth building.

After a friendly goodbye to the teller, who happened to be her neighbor’s niece, Kayla stuffed her deposit receipt into her purse as she groped for her keys and the fob that would unlock her car door. At the same time, she tried to shoulder the heavy glass door of the bank open.

The door suddenly swung open. “Hey, pretty lady,” a familiar voice said, “let me get that for you.”

She looked up into the face of Chad’s best friend.

“Hi, Troy.” Troy Reid gave her a wide smile as he held the door for her. “How are you?” she asked.

Troy had been part of the fabric of her life ever since they’d moved here and he and Chad had become fast friends. Her parents had both liked him, and she suspected they’d secretly hoped some of his charm and friendly manner—and his politeness with adults—would rub off on her brother.

He shrugged. “Things are pretty grim here. I’m thinking of leaving soon.”

Kayla felt a surge of empathy. “I understand.”

“I admire you, Kayla. It takes courage to stay in the place that has so many ugly memories.”

“I’m in a different house, different neighborhood. That helps. But this is home for me. You always wanted to get out of here.”

“And I did, for a while,” he said with a wry smile.

“Did I ever tell you how wonderful I thought it was that you came back to take care of your mom after your dad died?”

“Yes,” he said, then with a smile added, “but you could tell me again.”

“It was.”

She meant it. It wasn’t just guilt that made her say it; she hadn’t made it to Troy’s dad’s funeral. It had been less than a month after the murders, and she just hadn’t been able to face it. Troy understood, had been more than kind about it—something she’d always appreciated.

“But not wonderful enough to pry you away from Dane.”

She was sure, after all this time, the irritation in his voice was feigned. His laugh a split-second later proved it. And Dane was not a subject she wanted to discuss just now.

“So, you’ll be leaving again now?” she asked hurriedly. “Nothing really holding you, if you want to leave, I mean, with both your folks gone.”

Well, that was tactful, she thought. Teach her to dodge without thinking.

“And my best friend,” Troy said. “Don’t forget that.”

Kayla blinked. As if she could forget. But until it had come together like this, she hadn’t quite realized just how many losses Troy had suffered. As many, in fact, as she had, albeit not in such an ugly way.

“You know, I still don’t believe it,” he said. “I know what the police think, and he ran and all, but I still can’t believe Chad really did it.”

The words, from someone who knew Chad almost as well as she did, were balm to her battered spirit.

“Thank you,” she said fervently.

He studied her for a moment. Then, gently, he asked, “You still don’t believe it either, do you?”

“No. No, I don’t. Chad couldn’t. Wouldn’t.”

“I agree.” He sighed. “I’d have been trying to prove it myself, if it hadn’t been for my dad, then my mom getting sick.”

“I know you would,” she said.

“Are you still looking for him?”

She nodded. “And I have some help this time. Some people from the Foxworth Foundation.”

He blinked. “Who are they?”

“They specialize in helping people when no one else will. Especially with what they call lost causes.”

“Never heard of them. Are you sure they’re legit? I wouldn’t want you getting taken.”

You and Dane, she thought. “Thanks for worrying,” she said.

Troy reached out and touched her shoulder comfortingly. “If there’s anything I can do,” he said.

“They may want to talk to you, since you were Chad’s best friend.”

“Send them around. I’ll be happy to talk to them.”

“Thank you, Troy.”

She felt much better now, she thought when Troy had gotten into his car and gone. He had that knack. And knowing she wasn’t the only believer in Chad’s innocence helped.

If only Dane felt the same way.

“You really don’t know where your brother is?”

Kayla looked at the woman across the table from her. Hayley shook her head. “No. But Walker is just a born wanderer, I’m afraid. I know he loves me, and I love him, but he just has this need to see what’s over the next mountain. And eventually, he always calls.” She smiled then. “But now it feels like I have a ton of siblings. Everybody at Foxworth seems to think I need looking out for.”

Kayla couldn’t help smiling at her tone of mock grievance. “Is that good or bad?”

“Mostly good.”

“You don’t seem like you’d need a lot of protecting.”

“I don’t,” Hayley said. “But they love Quinn, and he loves me, therefore…”

She ended the simple yet moving statement with a wave of her hand.

“Nice,” Kayla said, trying to quash the now familiar ache that was always threatening to crush her, making it hard to breathe.

“Very. And unexpected.”

Hayley’s cell phone chirped the arrival of a text message. She excused herself to glance at it. Kayla guessed, from the way her mouth curved into a soft smile, that it was from Quinn.

Kayla glanced around, looking for distraction from the pain that was so close to the surface. She’d been surprised when Hayley had directed her so far out; in fact, she had begun to feel a little leery the farther they’d gone. She supposed that was why it was Hayley, because if she’d been riding with Quinn, she would have been a lot more nervous; for all his offering to help he was still a stranger.

At just the time she really began wondering if she’d made an awful mistake, they’d arrived here. They’d left the city limits of Redwood Cove and entered a more rural county area. The three-story green building was somewhat isolated in a clearing hidden by a thick stand of tall evergreens. The color blended with the trees, making it even harder to spot. There were no markings, not even a street number or name.

“Sometimes we make people unhappy with us,” Hayley had explained. “So the less obvious we are, the better.”

Off to one side was what looked to be a large warehouse, and on the far side of that, a flat concrete pad with markings painted on it, and an orange wind sock that had been barely stirring in the minimal breeze. A landing site for a helicopter.

“I would have thought you’d have an office in Seattle,” she had said.

“Quinn picked this one, and he’s not a city boy at heart,” Hayley had answered.

No trace of the city here, Kayla thought now as she sat at the large table. The windows here in the top-floor meeting room were large, giving a full view of the rest of the clearing, the trees that ringed it and the sky above. Which was blue today, a clear early-summer day that made the long gray days of winter seem worth it.

Something moved in one of the trees, a large maple amid the firs. Kayla leaned forward, curious, and her breath caught when she realized it was a bald eagle. No, two of them, she thought, a pair, looking as if they were snuggling together on the sturdy branch.

“And that,” Hayley said, “is one of the reasons Quinn set up on the third floor even though we’re only using half of the first and the second not at all. They come here often.”

That bit of information reassured her in a way nothing else could have; the idea of a man like Quinn choosing to situate his office up two flights of stairs just to watch birds—albeit glorious, magnificent birds—was somehow very comforting.

“Tell me about Dane.”

Kayla stopped breathing altogether for a moment as the pain she’d quelled for a moment rushed back. Was she that easy to read? Or was Hayley just that perceptive? Probably both, she thought.

“He’s obviously crazy about you,” Hayley said.

“He was.” Even Kayla could hear the ineffable sadness in her voice. Just the sound of it made her sadder still.

“And you?”

“I’ve loved him in one way or another since I was fourteen.”

Hayley simply waited. Kayla sighed.

“That’s when we moved here. I met Dane the next day. I climbed the tree between our houses and couldn’t get down.”

“So he is literally the boy next door?”

“He was then, yes. And he was…wonderful.”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to say anything that made them think badly of Chad, not when she was asking them to believe her and help prove him innocent, but she also couldn’t not give Dane his due. He might have given up on her, on them, but she couldn’t deny he’d stuck with her longer than anyone else would have, that he’d been there for her every step of the way until even his considerable patience ran out.

“He was like a brother at first,” she said. “Only nicer.” The subtext “compared to Chad” was there, and she guessed Hayley knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. Besides, didn’t all siblings abuse each other in that familial sort of way? “Dane laughed with me, not at me, for being a skinny, bookish girl with braces. He knew how it felt to be the odd one. You wouldn’t believe it now, but he was kind of a geeky-looking guy back then. People teased him, so he understood how I felt.”

“He certainly grew up nicely.”

She smiled. “Yes, he did. We kind of made a pact. To work on ourselves, but not to let them change who we were inside. We couldn’t change other people, but we could change ourselves, challenge the stereotypes.”

“That’s pretty deep.”

“That’s the kind of thing we talked about. We used to have long, esoteric conversations about the state of the world and how to fix it, what era of time we’d like to go back to and why, that kind of thing. Even though he was a couple of years older, Dane never treated me like a dumb kid who didn’t know anything.”

She missed those days, she thought. And wondered if Dane did, too—missed those long talks about everything but themselves because they were fine and destined for a long, happy life together.

“So, you set out to what, change what people assumed?”

Kayla nodded. “Dane started working out and found he actually liked it. Pretty soon he was so fit and strong nobody bullied him to his face anymore. He could throw a football better than any guy in school, but no matter how much they recruited him he wasn’t interested. That caught people’s attention. He never changed who he was. He was still into computers, but he was making that cool.”

“And you?”

“I swore I’d never be ashamed of being smart. Never try to hide it. I’d kind of started to do that because I thought the cool kids might like me better.”

“It’s been my experience,” Hayley said with a wry smile, “that most of the ‘cool kids’ are in fact anything but.”

Kayla laughed. “That’s what Dane said.”

“When did he stop being your surrogate brother?”

Kayla blushed. “I always had a crush on him. But he…well, I was just a kid. The difference between fourteen and sixteen is a lot bigger than sixteen and eighteen.”

“Is that when it changed?”

“Sort of. At least, it started to, and then…my parents were killed.”

“And Dane was there for you.”

Kayla nodded. “Every minute. He never left my side. He took care of things I couldn’t, did things I didn’t have the presence of mind to even think of.”

She fought off the memories, trying not to let them swamp her. It didn’t happen often anymore, but when it did, it was as fresh and vivid and horrible as if it had been yesterday.

She felt the warmth of a touch and realized Hayley had reached across the table to put her hand over hers.

“I can’t imagine.” Those vivid green eyes were fastened on her and full of warmth and concern. “That you’re even upright is a testament to your strength.”

“Dane used to think that,” Kayla said with a sad smile. “Now I’m afraid he just thinks I’m crazy.”

“Ten years is a long time.” Hayley’s voice was very even, and Kayla wondered how hard she was having to try to keep it that way.

“So I should give up on my brother?”

“I didn’t say that. You are between the proverbial rock and a hard place.”

“Chad has his flaws—I’m not blind—but he’s no killer. I can’t just quit on him. People say I should forget about it, but—”

“You can’t.”

“No.”

“That’s always irritated me,” Hayley said, as casually as if they were discussing the weather, “when people say forget about it, put it out of your mind. Like the memory is a physical thing you could grab and shove in a box and hide. You can’t. But you can reduce the time you spend on it, and the only thing that can do that is time.”

“Dane says quit feeding it.”

“Good way to put it. But it still takes time. You can not dwell on it, you can have other things ready to supplant it for when it pops into your mind, you can keep busy to distract yourself, but you have to do all that long enough that it recedes from the front of your mind. And you can’t when these notes keep coming.”

Kayla was so grateful Hayley seemed to understand that she felt her eyes begin to tear up.

“Thank you for understanding.” Something occurred to her, and as she looked at Hayley’s gentle smile—no wonder her Quinn adored her, she was wonderful—she decided to ask.

“You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yes. My mom died last year, of cancer. And my father was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty when I was twelve.”

Kayla’s breath caught. “How awful.”

“That’s how I know forgetting’s not possible. Just like Quinn does.”

“He…lost someone, too?”

“He was younger than you were. Just a little guy. His parents were both on that airliner a terrorist brought down—bombed—over Scotland in 1988.”

Kayla gasped. “I remember my parents talking about that, on the anniversary of it, when I was little. They were horrified, all those innocent people. They thought it was one of the worst things that would ever happen.”

“I wish they’d been right,” Hayley said quietly.

The unmentioned memory, of the even more hideous attack that had happened thirteen years later hung between them for a moment.

“That was, in essence, the reason our foundation exists. When they turned the man who did it loose, the injustice of it, when those men in back rooms who had never suffered the loss made that decision, Quinn made one of his own.”

“And started the Foxworth Foundation?”

Hayley nodded. Kayla understood.

“September 11 was one of the reasons we moved here,” Kayla said. “My parents wanted to be out of the city. My mother couldn’t even bear to look at a skyscraper, and my dad would stare at every jet that flew overhead until it was out of sight.”

She stopped abruptly, the old, sad irony battering at her. She heard a bark from outside and wondered vaguely if it was Cutter.

“And two years later, they were dead anyway.”

Hayley’s words would have seemed cold, harsh even, had they not been spoken in such a gentle voice. And if they hadn’t been exactly the words Kayla had been thinking herself.

She tried to pull herself together. Everything seemed so much closer to the surface than it had been for a while. It was like that whenever a note came, but she had to admit this was more. Because this time she was dealing with it without Dane’s help, without his steadying presence, without his unwavering strength bolstering her.

“Yes. They were.”

“What happened to you? At sixteen, you were too young to be on your own,” Hayley said.

“My dad’s sister happened, bless her. She took me in until I went off to college. Aunt Fay never had kids of her own, couldn’t, but she loved me. She did her best, we got along great, she was fun and smart and the best thing that could have happened to me, under the circumstances.”

“Dane,” Hayley said.

“He was already in college by then. I—”

“No. I meant…” She gestured toward the door to the meeting room. Kayla turned.

He was here.

Chapter 6

Quinn, who had come into the room right behind Dane, signaled to Hayley and they left them alone to talk. It was, oddly, Cutter who seemed most reluctant to go. The dog, who had arrived with Quinn, lingered in the doorway, looking from Kayla to Dane as if he didn’t want to leave them alone.

Maybe he thinks we’ll start fighting, Kayla thought with a sigh.

But when Dane crossed the room and sat in the chair Hayley had vacated, she realized that, although he seemed tense, he wasn’t angry. She could read his mood almost as well as her own, sometimes better, and he wasn’t angry. Because he’d given up? Had he let all the anger go when he’d walked away?

“I checked them out,” he said abruptly. “From what I could find, they seem to be who they say they are.”

Kayla went still. If he no longer cared at all, surely he wouldn’t have bothered, right? She didn’t ask, mainly because she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She didn’t know why he was here, and she didn’t want to ask that either. Instead, she explained what Hayley had told her about the founding of Foxworth.

“So Quinn was a victim,” Dane said.

She heard the musing note in his voice and understood; it was hard to picture today’s strong, tough Quinn as any kind of victim.

“He was only ten,” Kayla said. “And Hayley’s father was a police officer who was killed when she was twelve.”

He drew back slightly. “Is that why you trusted them both so quickly? You felt connected because of all that?”

“I didn’t know all that then. But I knew they understood.”

“And I don’t.”

“I didn’t say that. I’ve never said that.”

“But I’m lucky, right?” He was starting to sound confrontational. “I’m not a member of the club. I’m the only one here not damaged by tragedy.”

She winced at the oblique reference to her counseling group. She’d called it Collateral Damage because that’s what they were. Just as wounded as the actual victims, yet still up and walking around. She’d thought of Walking Wounded, but that didn’t make the point she so strongly believed in—that the perpetrators didn’t care who else they hurt. In war, it was an expected part of the grim business. But for civilians, it was the ugliest of side effects.

“Believe me, it’s a club you don’t want any part of.” She took in a quick breath. “Besides, I always thought you’d been damaged by mine. Because you loved me.”

As quickly as that, his demeanor changed. He let out a long, compressed breath.

“All right,” he said. “If these people are as good as they say, maybe they can do something.”

Her heart leaped in her chest, and hope sparked to renewed life.

“Dane!”

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. The touch, the contact, made joy well up inside her, as if some vital part of her had been restored.

“Listen to me, Kayla. I’m willing to give them a chance. Everything I’ve found indicates they are really good at what they do.”

“Yes,” she answered, tightening her fingers around his, feeling an elemental fear that if she didn’t hang on, he would somehow vanish again. “Yes, I think they are. Maybe even the best. Hayley showed me some of their case records. No names, but—”

“Then if they can’t find Chad, it’s likely nobody can.”

She saw suddenly where he was going. And knew his next words would require a decision from her. A difficult one. But nothing could be more difficult than his absence from her life the past two weeks.

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Then if they can’t, if this comes to nothing, will you quit making this the sole purpose of your life?”

She drew in a deep breath. she’d had a brief taste of life without him, and it had been immediately clear that it was worse, much worse, than life without knowing how and where Chad was. And she knew Dane, knew she’d pushed him to the edge, and that he was here now at all was a testament to the power of what they’d built together from the day he’d climbed up that tree to sit beside her. He’d understood her even then, that what she’d wanted, needed, wasn’t someone to come along and rescue her, but someone to help her figure out how to rescue herself.

She knew what she would be promising if she said yes.

“I won’t ever stop wondering, or worrying,” she said, wanting it to be perfectly clear.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I just want to know that you won’t obsess over it anymore, that you’ll take back your own life. Our life, together.”

He didn’t say, “Or it’s over,” but the words hung in the air between them as clearly as if he had.

“Will you give them a real chance and enough time?”

“I’ll give them a full, honest chance, if you’ll agree to accept whatever they find.”

Still feeling torn, she nevertheless gave the only answer she felt possible.

“All right,” she said.

Dane let out an audible breath. And then he was on his feet, pulling her up and into his arms. Kayla nearly wept at the rightness of it. She clung to him, trembling at how close she’d come to losing this, losing him, forever.

She didn’t know how long had passed before she heard a slight jingle from the doorway. She looked up and saw Cutter trotting into the room, tail up and waving slightly. The dog came to a stop before them and sat down. He looked at them both, with an expression Kayla would have sworn was satisfaction.

Quinn and Hayley followed the dog into the room.

“Why Cutter?” Kayla asked.

“He came with the name,” Hayley said, reaching to scratch the dog’s ear. “He turned up on my doorstep with only that tag. I tried but never could find out where he’d come from.”

The dog tilted his head way back to look at Hayley without changing position, looking so comical as he did it that Kayla couldn’t help but laugh. She heard Dane chuckle beside her and savored the sound of it; she’d missed his easy laugh, not just in the past two weeks but, she had to admit, for much longer. She’d caused that, she realized regretfully.

“I spent some time with a friend of mine this afternoon,” Quinn said in a back-to-business tone as Hayley gestured everyone back into the chairs around the table. “Sam works for the local sheriff’s office.”

Kayla sank down into the chair Dane held for her, feeling suddenly wobbly. This all seemed to be happening quickly now that it had begun. She’d only met them this morning, yet Quinn was already on the move.

“The sheriff’s office? But the Redwood Cove police handled the case.”

“Yes, but the sheriff’s office did most of the forensics. Redwood Cove doesn’t have its own lab.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Sam was able to pull up the reports for me, at least the basics. The locals trust this guy. He can get answers that others can’t because of that.”

“Meaning distraught, crazy family members?” Kayla knew she sounded bitter but couldn’t help it.

“They never thought you were crazy. And if you were distraught, they knew you had good reason.”

She sighed. “To be fair, they never said so. In fact, except for a couple who got sharp about it, told me they had their suspect and to give up, they were unfailingly kind. Even though I knew they hated to see me coming.”

“Cops get that way when they can’t help any more than they already have.”

“But they could have. They could have looked for other suspects, they—”

She stopped herself before the whole, long, painfully familiar spiel unwound.

“You know what the evidence was,” Quinn said gently. “It’s pretty conclusive that Chad was in that room either during or shortly after the murders.”

“The bloody fingerprint,” Dane said.

Quinn nodded. “He’s certain it was left while the blood was…”

Quinn’s voice trailed off as he looked at Kayla.

“Still wet,” she finished for him. “Fresh. I know. I’ve heard it a hundred times. I’m used to it.”

“It’s still awful,” Hayley said. Her tone was comforting, But nothing made Kayla feel better than Dane’s arm tightening around her.

“Yes. But I’m not going to fall apart talking about it. I really don’t wallow it in every day.”

She managed not to glance at Dane, although that wasn’t really fair; he’d never accused her of wallowing, only of letting this overwhelm her own life.

“I never disputed that Chad was there,” she said. “He still came to the house often, even though he’d moved out. He’d sneak in through the den window and then head to the kitchen to get food.”

“So you think that’s what he intended that night? To raid the fridge?” Quinn asked.

She nodded. “And he found them lying there in the den, panicked and ran.”

“Leaving you to deal alone, as usual,” Dane said.

Kayla stiffened. Dane let out a compressed breath. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll stop. I promised you one last shot, and I meant it.”

Neither Quinn nor Hayley commented on the moment of tension, although Cutter let out a low whine as if he’d sensed it and didn’t like it. After a moment, Quinn nodded.

“I’ll need some things from you,” he said. “Names of Chad’s friends, his interests. Then the same about your parents.”

Kayla frowned slightly. “That was all in the reports.”

Quinn smiled. “Sam bends the rules occasionally, but letting those reports leave the building without me jumping through all the hoops would be outright breakage. That we’ll have to do through regular channels.”

“Sorry,” Kayla said. “Of course.”

“Plus, I’d like to save bugging the local LEOs for things we can’t get anywhere else. They’re a bit understaffed.”

“Back at the time, they were thinking about dissolving the department and going back to contracting with the sheriff because they were so strapped and short-handed,” Dane said. “Maybe that’s partly why they didn’t pour a lot of energy into this after Chad ran.”

Kayla wanted to hug him for that; it was the most supportive thing he’d said lately.

“I know once they verified where I’d been at the time of the murders,” Dane went on, “they didn’t have time to talk to me much.”

“Except when you’d push them, for me.”

He deserved that acknowledgment, Kayla thought. For a long time, longer than most would, Dane had been right there with her, at the forefront, pushing, nagging, pressing the police. Dane gave her a smile that further warmed a heart that had been nearly frozen by his departure two weeks ago. He’d really asked so little of her, she thought. And she’d abused that.

“It got so they hated to see us coming,” Dane said.

“Can’t blame them,” Quinn said. “It’s a small department, they’ve got a huge case on their hands and they have no resources or experience dealing with that kind of thing. Sam said Detective Adams was a good guy, but he was out of his depth on this. And by the time he asked for help, what trail there was had gone cold.”

“He knows that,” Kayla said quietly. “He admitted that to me last year, when he retired. He feels guilty about it.”

Dane gave her a sideways look. “You never told me that.”

“You didn’t want to hear anything about it by then,” Kayla said, carefully keeping any sort of accusation out of her voice; Dane was back at her side, and she simply had to keep him there. She knew that now, that nothing mattered more.

“I’ll need the same info from you, too,” Quinn said to Dane. “Anything and everything you can remember.”

Dane nodded.

“And no comparing lists,” Hayley said. “You each have your own memories and viewpoint, and we need them as pure as possible.”

Kayla nodded, although the words made her a little nervous. Dane and Chad’s mutual dislike was going to color Dane’s recollections. But he was doing it, cooperating, which was more than she’d had this morning. She didn’t ever want to feel that alone again.

She would keep her promise as Dane was keeping his, she vowed. She would pour all she had into this last-ditch effort, she would do whatever Quinn and Hayley said was necessary and, in the end, she would accept the results.

And then, she swore silently, she would do what Dane had wanted her to do for a very long time now.

She would move on.

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