“I told you I’d protect you and find the truth, and I keep my promises.”

“I guess I’m not accustomed to men I can count on,” she said.

Caleb rubbed the back of her neck with his thumb, and a frisson of something sweet and sensual rippled between them. “Some men actually care about family and honor, about protecting women and children.”

Madelyn desperately wanted to believe him. “But you don’t have a family of your own?”

Intense pain filled his eyes so quickly that it sucked the air from Madelyn’s lungs. Then a shuttered look fell across his face, and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong, Caleb.” Madelyn touched his arm, needing to apologize, to make up for whatever she’d said to upset him, but he launched himself to his feet and slanted her a look that warned her that the conversation was over.

Madelyn missed the intimacy she’d felt between them. But he was right to keep their relationship focused on the case.

Still, the anguish in his eyes haunted her. Caleb had his own secrets. Secrets he obviously didn’t want to share. Secrets that had hurt him deeply.

And for once, instead of thinking about her own pain, she wanted to alleviate his.

The Missing Twin
Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

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

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

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

To Mother for all the love she gave her own twins…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Caleb Walker —He will do anything to protect Madelyn and find her missing child—anything but lose his heart to the woman and her twins.

Madelyn Andrews —She thought one of her twin daughters died at birth. Now she has reason to believe she’s alive, and she’ll die herself before she’ll give up her search to find her.

Sara Andrews —She knows her sister is alive and in danger. But everyone thinks she’s crazy—everyone except Caleb Walker, the big Indian who can walk on fire. Will he find Cissy in time?

Cissy Andrews —She’s running for her life. Can her sister, Sara, hear her cries for help?

Tim Andrews —The father of the twins abandoned Madelyn and Sara after they lost Cissy. Was he too grief-stricken to stay with them, or was he guilt-stricken instead?

Jameson Stanford Mansfield —The lawyer who handled adoptions for Dr. Emery insists he has no knowledge about the missing twin. Is he lying to protect himself?

Nadine Cotter —A nurse who consoled Madelyn the night she lost Cissy. Did Nadine know that Cissy survived?

Howard Zimmerman —The funeral director handled the memorial service. Did he cover up the fact that the casket Madelyn buried was empty?

Ava and Bill Butterworth —The child they adopted is not Madelyn’s; but they may know where she is.

Rayland and Beatrice Pedderson —Someone tipped off Rayland that Caleb and Madelyn would be coming and asking questions. But Rayland Pedderson talks with his gun.

Danielle and Doug Smith —Is Smith really their last name or are they on the run?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

Fear clogged five-year-old Sara Andrews’s throat. She could see her twin sister running from the old wooden house, stumbling down the porch steps, crying as she raced toward the woods.

“Help me,” Cissy cried. “He’s gonna hurt Mommy!”

The wind whistled, shaking the trees. Leaves swirled and rained down. A dog howled in the distance.

Then thunder boomed.

No, not thunder.

It was the big, hulking man storming down the steps. “Cissy!” the monster bellowed. “Come back here.”

He slapped at the branches with his beefy fists, moving so fast he was nearly on top of her. Then he lunged for her.

Cissy screamed and darted to the right, running, running, running into the darkness….

The monster reached a pawlike hand toward her and snatched her jacket. Cissy screamed again, stumbled and fell to the ground. But her jacket slid off in the man’s hands, and he cursed.

Sweat slid down Sara’s temple. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it beating in her ears. “Get up,” Sara whispered. “Get up and run, Cissy.”

As if Cissy heard her, she took a deep breath, grabbed a fistful of dirt and hurled it at the man.

The dust sprayed his eyes and he cursed, then swung one fist toward Cissy. Cissy dodged the blow, pushed herself to her hands and knees and stood. Tree branches cracked. The wind screeched.

The monster roared and dove for her.

“No!” Sara cried. “Run, Cissy, run.”

Tears streamed down her sister’s cheeks as Cissy tried to run, but the monster yanked her by the hair and dragged her back toward the house.

“Help me!” Cissy cried. “Please, help me!”

“No!” Sara screamed. “Let her go….”

Madelyn Andrews raced toward her daughter’s bedroom, her lungs tightening at the sound of her daughter’s terrified sobs. Outside, the wind roared off the mountain and sleet pelted the window, reminding her that a late winter storm raged around the small town of Sanctuary, North Carolina.

Shivering with the cold, she threw open the door, flipped on the sunflower lamp Sara had begged for and crossed the distance to her little girl’s bed. Sara was thrashing around, tangled in the bright green comforter, sobbing and shaking.

“No, don’t hurt her, don’t hurt Cissy…”

Madelyn’s heart broke, worry throbbing inside her as she eased herself onto the mattress and gently shook Sara.

“Honey, wake up. It’s just a nightmare,” she whispered. Although Sara would insist that it was real.

Sara sobbed harder, swinging out her hands as if fighting off an invisible monster, and Madelyn pulled her into her arms. Tears blurred her own eyes as she rocked her back and forth. “Shh, honey, Mommy’s here. It’s all right.”

“Gonna hurt Mommy…” Sara wailed. “Help Cissy. We have to help Cissy!”

“Shh, baby.” Madelyn stroked Sara’s fine, blond hair. “No one is going to hurt Mommy. I’m right here.”

Sara jerked her eyes open, her pupils distorted, her lower lip quivering. For a moment, she stared at Madelyn as if she didn’t recognize her.

“But Cissy’s mommy is hurt,” Sara said in a shaky voice. “The bad man chased Cissy into the woods and he catched her, and…”

“It was a dream.” Madelyn cupped Sara’s face between her hands, imploring her to believe her. “A really bad dream, sweetheart, but it was just a nightmare.”

“No,” Sara choked out. “It was real. Cissy’s in trouble and we gots to help her or he’s gonna hurt her…”

“Oh, honey,” Madelyn said softly.

Sara gulped. “It was real, Mommy. I saw Cissy.” Tears rolled down her face. “And she saw me. She begged me to help her. I tolded her to get up and run, but he caught her and dragged her back to the house….”

Shaken by the horror in Sara’s voice, Madelyn took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm the anxiety bleeding through her.

She dried Sara’s tears with her fingers. “Sara, I told you that we lost Cissy a long time ago.”

“No,” Sara said with a firm shake of her head. “She lives with that other mommy. But if we don’t helps her, that mean man’s gonna kill ’em both.”

Madelyn hugged Sara to her, lost in turmoil.

Something was very wrong with her little girl. She’d been having these nightmares for the past two months, ever since they’d moved back to Sanctuary, and nothing Madelyn had done or said had helped. Not her long talks with her about Cissy, Sara’s twin who they’d lost at birth, or the therapists Madelyn had consulted for assistance.

“Please, Mommy,” Sara cried. “We gots to do something.”

A tear slid down Madelyn’s cheek. The day the twins had been born was the happiest and saddest day of her life. She’d gotten Sara but lost her sister.

She’d heard that twins had a special connection, but why was Sara still dreaming that Cissy had survived?

Knowing neither she nor Sara would sleep well the rest of the night, she carried Sara to her bed, then snuggled beside her. Sara lay on her side, sniffling for another hour, then finally drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Madelyn’s heart wrenched, and she lay and watched her daughter, unable to sleep. Just as dawn streaked the sky, her telephone jangled. Who could be calling at this hour? She checked the caller ID. Her mother.

She grabbed the handset, then slid from the bed, walked to the window and connected the call.

“Mom? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“Yes, honey, I’m fine. Have you seen the news?”

“No, why? What’s going on?”

“A big story aired about a doctor in Sanctuary who stole babies and sold them. His name was Dr. Emery. Isn’t that the doctor who delivered the twins?”

“Yes. Oh, my god. What else did the story say?”

“This lady named Nina Nash thought her baby died in that big, hospital fire eight years ago but discovered her child was alive. She hired these detectives at an agency called Guardian Angel Investigations there in Sanctuary. These men are all dedicated to finding missing children and they found her little girl.”

A cold chill swept up Madelyn’s spine. She glanced back at the bed where Sara was sleeping. Dear God.

Was it possible that Cissy could have survived?

CALEB WALKER ENTERED the offices of GAI, his neck knotted with nerves. He hadn’t liked the sound of his boss’s voice when he called. The urgency had him postponing his visit to the cemetery to visit his wife’s grave this morning, and that pissed him off. He’d wanted to go by first thing, to pay his respects, leave Mara’s flowers, talk to her and beg her forgiveness one more time….

Gage’s voice rose from his office, breaking into his thoughts, and Caleb forced himself to focus. There would be time for seeing Mara later. Time to drown his sorrows and guilt.

He climbed the steps to Gage’s office, his mind racing. Had another child gone missing?

Or was there another case related to Sanctuary Hospital? Ever since the news had broken about the recovery of Nina Nash’s daughter and Dr. Emery’s arrest for selling babies, the phones had gone crazy.

People from all over were demanding to know if their adoptions were legal. GAI had been plagued by crank calls, as well, two from distraught women whose accusations of baby kidnapping had turned out to be false. The women had been so desperate for a child they’d tried to use the illegal adoptions to claim one for themselves.

Caleb twisted the hand-carved arrowhead around his neck to calm himself as he knocked on his boss’s office door.

“Come in.”

Caleb opened the door and Gage stood.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Gage said without preamble. “We have a new client. One I’d like for you to handle.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Why me?”

Gage’s eyes darkened. “You’ll know after you meet her and her five-year-old daughter, Sara. Sara insists she sees her twin in her nightmares, that her sister is in trouble.”

“I don’t understand,” Caleb said. “Sounds like a child having bad dreams, not a missing person case.”

“It gets even more interesting.” Gage flicked his gaze to the conference room across the hall. “The mother claims the twin died at birth, but Sara insists she’s alive.”

Damn. Gage requested him because of his so-called sixth sense. He wished to hell he’d never divulged that detail.

But Gage had caught him in a weak moment.

Gage motioned for him to follow. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

Caleb rolled his hands into fists, then forced himself to flex them again, struggling to control his emotions. Emotions had no place in business. And business was his life now.

The moment Caleb entered the conference room, he spotted the woman sitting in a wing chair cradling the little girl in her lap. Gage had purposely designed the room with cozy seating nooks to put clients at ease.

But nothing about this woman appeared to be at ease.

Her slender body radiated with tension, her eyes looked haunted, her expression wary.

Yet he was also struck by her startling beauty. Copper-colored hair draped her shoulders and flowed like silk around a heart-shaped face. Big, green eyes gazed at him as if she desperately needed a friend, and freckles dotted her fair skin, making her look young and vulnerable. Her outfit was simple, too, not meant to be enticing—long denim skirt, peasant blouse—yet the soft colors made her look utterly feminine.

And downright earthy.

Earthy in his book meant sexy. Lethal combinations to a man who had been celibate for the past three years.

Dammit. He hadn’t been attracted to another woman since Mara. He sure as hell didn’t want to be attracted to a client. Not one with a kid who claimed to see her dead sister.

Then his gaze fell to the little blonde munchkin, and his lungs tightened. She looked tiny and frail and terrified and so lost that his protective instincts kicked in.

“Ms. Andrews,” Gage began. “This is Caleb Walker. He’s one of our agents at GAI. I’d like for him to hear your story.”

The woman squared her shoulders as if anticipating a confrontation. She expected skepticism.

“You can call me Madelyn,” she said in a husky voice that sounded as if it was laced with whiskey.

Gage claimed the love seat, leaving the other wing chair nearest Madelyn for him. Caleb lowered himself into it, aware his size might intimidate the little girl.

“What’s your name?” he asked in a gentle tone.

Eyes that mirrored her mother’s stared up at him as if she was trying to decide if he was friend or foe. Smart kid. She should be wary of strangers.

He smiled slowly, trying to ease her discomfort. But his senses prickled, suggesting she was special in some way. That she possessed a sixth sense herself.

Not that he would wish that on anyone, especially a kid.

“Let’s see,” he said, a smile quirking his mouth. “Are you Little Miss Sunshine?”

A tiny smile lit her eyes, and she relaxed slightly and loosened her grip on her blanket. “No, silly. I’m Sara.”

“Hi, Sara,” he said gruffly. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” she said, her tone sounding grown up for such a little bitty thing. “It’s my Gran’s middle name.”

“Okay, Sara. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

Madelyn stroked her daughter’s hair. “Sara’s been having nightmares for the past two months, ever since we moved back to town.”

“Where are you from?” Caleb asked, probing for background information.

Madelyn hugged Sara closer. “We moved to Charlotte four years ago to be near my mom, but Sara was born in Sanctuary. Recently my mother suffered a stroke, and I found a nursing facility here that she liked, so I bought the craft shop in town, and we packed up and moved back.”

“I see,” Caleb said. Had the move triggered these nightmares? “Sara, did you have dreams of your sister when you lived in Charlotte?”

Sara nodded and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “We talked and sang songs and told secrets.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What kinds of secrets?”

Sara pursed her mouth. “They’re not secrets if I tell.”

Hmm. She was loyal to her sister. But those secrets might be important.

“She has dreamed about her twin all her life,” Madelyn confirmed. “But lately those dreams have been disturbing.”

Sara piped up. “Her name is Cissy, and she looks just like me.”

Caleb nodded, aware that she used the present tense. “Sara and Cissy. How old are you?”

“Five,” Sara said and held up five fingers. “Cissy’s five, too.”

He smiled again. “You’re identical twins?”

She swung her feet. “Yep, ’cept I gots a birthmark on my right arm and hers is on the other side.” She pointed to a small, pale, crescent-moon shape on her forearm.

Caleb folded his hands. He needed to keep Sara talking. “Tell me what happens in your dreams, Sara.”

Terror darkened the little girl’s face. “Cissy is scared and she’s screamin’ and she runned into the woods.”

Damn. He understood about nightmares, how real and haunting they could seem. “Who is she running from?” Caleb asked.

“From a big, mean man. He screamed at her mommy,” Sara said with conviction. “Cissy says he’s gonna kill them.”

Caleb intentionally lowered his voice. “Can you see his face? Does she call him by name?”

Sara chewed on her thumb for a moment as if trying to picture the man in her mind. “No, I can’t see him.” Her voice rose with anxiety. “But I saw Cissy running and crying.”

Caleb clenched his hands, listening, hating the terror in the little girl’s voice. The last thing he wanted to do was traumatize a troubled child by doubting her or confirming her fears. And she was genuinely afraid and believed what she was telling him.

His sixth sense kicked in. This little girl was…different. Did she truly have a psychic connection to her twin?

Other questions bombarded him: If her sister was dead, was Sara seeing and conversing with her spirit? Was Sara a medium? If so, why was she seeing images of Cissy at the same age as herself instead of the infant she’d been when she died? Was Cissy’s growth a figment of Sara’s imagination?

Another theory rattled through his head. Or could Sara be experiencing premonitions? Could Cissy’s spirit be trying to warn Sara that Sara was in danger from some future attacker?

“You’re a brave girl,” Caleb said, then patted Sara’s arm. “And if you see anything else—the man’s face, or the mommy’s—I want you to tell me. Okay?”

Sara bobbed her little head up and down, although she looked wrung out now, as if relaying her nightmare had drained her. Or maybe she was worried that describing the terrifying ordeal might make it come true.

He lifted his gaze to Madelyn. “Can we talk alone?”

Her wary gaze flew to his. “I don’t like to leave Sara by herself.”

Gage retrieved a pad of paper and some crayons and gestured to the coffee table. “It’s okay, Madelyn. I have a little girl, too. Her name is Ruby and she likes to draw when she comes to the office.” He stooped down and handed the crayons to Sara. “Would you like to use Ruby’s crayons to draw a picture of Cissy while Caleb talks to your mother?”

Sara studied him for a long moment, then nodded. Madelyn reluctantly stood and settled Sara on the floor in front of the coffee table. Caleb gestured to the door, and she led the way out into the hallway.

The moment he closed the door, she whirled on him, arms crossed. “Listen, Mr. Walker, I know you probably think that Sara is disturbed, and believe me, I’ve taken her to shrinks, consulted with specialists, tried to talk to her myself, but these nightmares keep reoccurring, and there has to be a reason.”

Caleb shifted. “Did these doctors make a diagnosis?”

Madelyn sighed, her expression strained. “Oh, yes, lots of them. The first doctor suggested Sara was seeing herself, that the twin was a mirror image. Doctor Number Two implied that she was terrified because she had no father, then suggested she made up the bizarre connection with Cissy to get attention. His colleague indicated Sara might be bipolar and wanted to put her in a special twin study, run a mountain of tests and analyze her brain.” She blew out a breath, sending her bangs fluttering. “The last one suggested she was schizophrenic and advised me to let him prescribe drugs.”

Caleb frowned. “Did you try medication?”

“No,” Madelyn said emphatically. “She’s only five years old.” She paced across the hall, her hands knotting in the folds of her skirt. “I really hoped that I could handle it, that if I carried Sara to see Cissy’s grave she’d accept that her sister is gone.”

“What happened at the cemetery?” Caleb asked. “Did she see Cissy?”

Madelyn cleared her throat. “She insisted that Cissy wasn’t buried in the grave. That it was empty.”

Tears filled Madelyn’s eyes, making Caleb’s gut clench.

“But I know she is,” Madelyn said in a haunted whisper. “Because I buried her myself.”

Chapter Two

Sara’s words haunted Madelyn as Caleb coaxed her into his office.

“Cissy’s not dead, Mommy. She gots another mommy, and she likes to play dolls and read stories just like me.” Then Sara had started to cry. “But her mommy’s in trouble and this mean man’s gonna hurt her and Cissy.”

Only she had buried Cissy five years ago.

Caleb propped himself against the desk edge while she sank onto a chair.

“If you’re so sure Sara is wrong, why did you come to GAI?” Caleb asked.

Madelyn desperately tried to decipher the intensity in his deep brown eyes. The man scared the hell out of her.

He was huge, broad-shouldered, muscular, dark-skinned, with shoulder-length thick, black hair, and had the gruffest voice she’d ever heard. His Native American roots ran deep and infused him with a quiet strength that radiated from his every pore but also made him appear dangerous, like a warrior from the past.

Yet he had been gentle with Sara and obviously the head of GAI trusted him.

“My mother phoned. She heard a news story about GAI uncovering some illegal adoptions associated with Dr. Emery, babies he delivered at Sanctuary Hospital.”

“You delivered the twins there?”

“Yes.”

“What about the father?” Caleb asked.

Madelyn chewed her bottom lip. “He left us when Sara started calling her dead sister’s name. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since.”

Caleb frowned. “He doesn’t send child support?”

“I didn’t want it,” Madelyn said. “Not that he would have come through. He was having financial problems back then, his business failing.”

Caleb sighed. “I’m sorry. Tell me about the delivery.”

Grief welled inside Madelyn. “The night I went into labor, I had a car accident,” Madelyn began. “I was going to the store when a car sideswiped me. I lost control and careened into a ditch.” She knotted her hands. “My water broke and I went into labor.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What happened to the driver?”

Anger surged through Madelyn at the reminder. “He left the scene.”

Caleb’s big body tensed. “He didn’t stop to see if you were okay or call an ambulance?”

“No.” Madelyn rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “And the police never caught him.” Not that they’d looked very hard. And she hadn’t seen the vehicle so she hadn’t been able to give them a description of it or the driver.

Caleb’s expression darkened. “So the accident triggered your labor?”

Madelyn nodded.

“Were you injured anywhere else?”

She shrugged. “Some bruises and contusions. I lost consciousness and the doctor said I was hemorrhaging, so he did an emergency C-section and took the babies.”

Caleb’s jaw clenched. “You weren’t awake during the delivery?”

“No,” Madelyn said, fidgeting.

“But you held the babies when you regained conscious ness?”

“I was out for a couple of hours. When I came to, I got to hold Sara for a minute. She’d been in ICU, being monitored.” Madelyn ran a hand through her hair. “But Cissy… No, I never held her. Dr. Emery said…she was deformed, stillborn, that it was better that I not remember her that way.”

Caleb arched a thick, black brow. “So you never actually saw your other baby?”

“No…” Emotions welled in her throat. She tried to steel herself against them, but memories of that night crashed around her. The fear, the disorientation, the joy, the loss… “I…was so distraught, so grief-stricken that the doctor sedated me.” She wiped at a tear slipping down her cheek. “Besides I…I believed Dr. Emery. Then there was Sara, and she was so beautiful and tiny, and I was so glad she’d survived. And she needed me….”

Caleb’s silence made her rethink that night, and questions nagged at her. If she hadn’t seen Cissy, maybe she hadn’t died or been deformed at all.

“Did the medical examiner perform an autopsy on the baby?” Caleb asked.

“No.” Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. “I…didn’t want it. Didn’t want to put her through it.”

Although maybe she should have insisted. Then she’d have proof that her baby hadn’t survived, and she’d know exactly what had been wrong with her.

Sara’s insistence that she saw Cissy in her visions taunted her. If Dr. Emery had lied to other people, perhaps he’d lied to her. “We have to talk to Dr. Emery and force him to tell me the truth about Cissy.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Caleb said quietly. “Dr. Emery hanged himself the day after he was arrested.”

A desolate feeling engulfed Madelyn. “If he’s dead, how will we ever learn the truth?”

Caleb’s intense gaze settled on her. “Trust me. We’ll find the truth.”

“Then you’ll investigate?”

“Yes.” He gestured toward the conference room and pushed open the door to where Sara was drawing.

The childlike sketch showed Sara and her twin sister displaying their birthmarks. A second picture revealed a greenhouse full of sunflowers, and a tire swing hanging from a big tree in the yard.

Sara had also drawn an ugly, hairy, monsterlike man with jagged teeth and pawlike hands. “That’s the meanie gonna hurt Cissy and her mommy,” Sara said.

She turned her big, green eyes toward Caleb. “Will you stop him, Mister?”

ANXIETY KNOTTED CALEB’S shoulders. How could he say no to this innocent little girl? She seemed so terrified….

But if he promised to save her sister and this woman and failed, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Not after failing Mara and his own son.

Hell, he was getting way ahead of himself. First, he had to determine if Cissy Andrews was actually alive.

The fact that Sara truly believed that she was real was obvious. But he couldn’t dismiss the shrinks’ theories, either. Not yet.

Gage glanced at the sketch, then at him as if silently asking his opinion.

He gave him a noncommittal look. “We need access to Emery’s records.”

“Afraid that’s not going to happen,” Gage said. “He destroyed them before he killed himself.”

Damn. So they had no records, and he couldn’t push a dead man for answers. His visions didn’t work that way.

“What about the lawyer who handled the adoptions?” Caleb asked. “Wasn’t his name Mansfield?”

“Yeah. The sheriff brought him in for questioning. He’s facing charges, but his case is still pending, so he was released on bail.”

“Then we look at his records,” Caleb said.

“D.A. already confiscated them,” Gage said. “And she’s not sharing. Not with privacy issues and the legal and moral rights regarding adoptions.”

Caleb stewed over that problem. They didn’t work for the cops or have to follow the rules. If he knew where those records were, he’d find a way to search them.

But talking to Mansfield would be faster.

First, there was something else that had to be done. Something that would be painful for Madelyn. But a task that was necessary in order to verify whether or not that grave held a baby.

“Madelyn,” he said in a voice low enough not to reach Sara’s ears. “We need to exhume the casket you buried.”

Grief flickered in her eyes as she glanced at Sara who was madly coloring another picture of her and Cissy. This time they were holding hands, dancing in the middle of a sea of sunflowers.

“All right,” Madelyn said firmly. “If it’ll help us learn the truth, then let’s do it as soon as possible.”

MADELYN PICTURED THE Lost Angels section at Sanctuary Gardens where they’d held Cissy’s memorial service in her mind and nausea flooded her. Still, with the questions Caleb had raised, Sara’s nightmares, and the revelations about Dr. Emery, she wouldn’t rest until she knew if Cissy was really buried in that grave.

Compassion darkened Caleb’s eyes. “Okay. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Madelyn nodded, gripping her emotions with a firm hand. For so long she had accepted that Cissy was dead that it was hard for her to wrap her mind around the fact that she might have survived. That she might be living somewhere with another family. That a physician would actually deceive his patients and sell their babies.

But the doctor’s arrest was proof of the possibility, creating doubts, and she had to investigate or she would always wonder.

Sara ran to her, waving her drawing, her ponytail bobbing. “Look, Mommy, Cissy’s gonna be so happy when we brings her home with us. She loves sunflowers. They’re all around her.”

“The sunflowers are beautiful,” Madelyn said, her heart aching as worry knotted her insides. Was it true that twins were only half of a whole? What if they didn’t find out Cissy was alive and bring her home? How would Sara take the news?

Would she be able to move on and finally be happy?

Sara tugged at Madelyn’s hand. “We gots to hurry, Mommy.”

Madelyn stroked Sara’s hair away from her forehead. “Sweetheart, that’s why we’re here. Caleb—Mr. Walker—is going to investigate and find out why you’re seeing these scary things.”

Sara angled her face toward Caleb. “Thank you for ’vestigatin’, Mister.”

Madelyn smiled in spite of her turmoil because, after all, Sara was a charmer. Caleb knelt and extended his hand to Sara, and Madelyn couldn’t help but notice how strong and calloused and tanned his fingers were, how masculine.

“I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Sara.”

An odd look crossed Sara’s face, then she took Caleb’s hand and turned it over in her own small one and studied his palm as if she could see inside the man through his fingers. Madelyn noted the breadth of his palm against Sara’s tiny one and thought that Sara might be frightened of him, but she seemed to immediately trust him.

In fact, neither one spoke for a moment. They simply stared at each other, silent, assessing, as if sharing some private moment.

“You gots an Indian name?” Sara asked in a whisper.

Caleb nodded. “Firewalker.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “You walks on fire? Does it hurt?”

Caleb shook his head then pressed a hand to his chest. “No. Not if you hone in on your inner strength and power. On peace and faith.”

Sara smiled. “I gots faith that you’re gonna find Cissy.”

A pained look crossed Caleb’s face. “I will do my best, Sara,” he said gruffly.

Madelyn’s heart melted. Sara had not only missed her twin sister, but she’d missed having a father, as well. And she had been so caught up in raising her little girl, on being a single mother, surviving the loss of her husband and Cissy and making ends meet, that Madelyn hadn’t once considered a personal relationship with a man.

Or finding a father for Sara.

She didn’t need a man, she’d decided long ago. Sara had her, and she would be enough.

Only she wasn’t enough. And now she needed this detective’s help.

Her breath fluttered as he swung his gaze up to her. His dark eyes sparkled with questions, yet she also sensed that she could trust him.

She hoped to hell that was true.

Sara dropped his hand and skipped to the door.

“Caleb, you’ll let me know what you find.” She didn’t know if she could bear to be at the exhumation.

He nodded, then extended his hand to her this time. Wariness filled Madelyn, but she slid her hand into his. An odd sensation rippled through her at the feel of his rough, leathery skin against her own. It had been so long since she’d touched a man that her belly fluttered with awareness.

She pulled away immediately. She couldn’t afford to indulge in a romantic flirtation. Finding out the truth about Cissy and ending these nightmares for Sara was all that mattered.

AS SOON AS MADELYN LEFT, Caleb set the wheels in motion for the exhumation.

“Sheriff Gray said he expects this won’t be the last request for one,” Gage said. “Damn Dr. Emery.”

“Damn him for killing himself,” Caleb said. “He should have to face every patient he deceived and make things right.” Although there was no restitution, nothing that could make up for the loss of a child.

“The sheriff said workers will be meeting at the cemetery early in the morning for the exhumation. They want to make sure it’s as private as possible,” Gage said.

Caleb nodded. “I’ll meet them there.”

Yanking on his rawhide jacket, he headed outside. Time to pay his respects to Mara.

Wind battered his Jeep as he plowed across the mountain toward the Native American burial grounds. As he parked and climbed out, the sounds of ancient war drums and echoes of fallen friends bombarded him. Stones and wooden markers etched with family names stood in honor of loved ones, while handmade Native American beads and baskets decorated others, holding treasures.

Gripping a bouquet of lilies in one hand, he crossed the graveyard, grateful he’d managed to bring Mara here where her own parents were also buried. He paused at their markers, then stopped in front of Mara’s, his heart heavy as he placed the flowers on her grave.

Today would have been Mara’s twenty-eighth birthday. If she had lived.

And his son, if he’d been born, would have been two.

That hollowness he’d lived with since Mara’s murder gnawed at him, and he traced a finger over Mara’s name. His throat tightened as an image of what his son might have looked like materialized in his mind.

A toddler with chubby cheeks, thick, black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes like Mara’s. His son would have been walking and climbing onto everything now.

But his little boy had never had a chance…

The icy cold of the winter wind seeped through him, adding to the chill he’d felt for the past three years. Three years of living alone. Of wondering why Mara and his unborn child had been taken instead of him.

Three years of living with the guilt.

Gritting his teeth, he stood, the vision of his son disappearing in the foggy haze. But Mara waited, an ethereal beauty in her traditional white wedding dress.

Although each day he sensed her fading. That her soul was preparing to move on. That she was waiting on something…something she needed from him…

For him to let her go? He wasn’t sure that was possible. The guilt alone kept him coming back, kept him praying, kept him…prisoner.

Why couldn’t it have been him instead of her?

Sara’s insistence that her sister was still alive echoed in his mind. He understood the draw Sara felt, the difficulty in letting a loved one go. Did Sara suffer from survivor guilt as he did?

The sound of a flute echoed in the wind, and he closed his eyes, remembering their marriage ceremony. The traditional Love Flute playing, the fire ceremony with the golden glow illuminating Mara’s beautiful face, the Rite of Seven Steps, the moment the traditional blue blanket had been removed from around them and the white one enfolded them, signifying their new ways of happiness and peace.

Yet that happiness and peace had been shattered a month later with bullets that had been meant for him. Mara had been struck instead and died in his place.

Hell. A fat lot of good his vision or gift, whatever the hell it was, had done him.

He hadn’t foreseen Mara’s death or he might have been able to stop it.

“What should I do, Mara? I don’t want this gift, and I sure as hell don’t want that little girl to have it.”

But he had felt something kinetic pass between them when he’d touched Sara’s tiny hand. He’d seen the dark images in her mind. Felt the violence she felt.

And he’d witnessed a little girl identical to Sara running for her life, disappearing into the dark woods just as Sara had described….

What if Sara was right? What if her sister was alive and in trouble?

“I know I failed you,” Caleb said in a pained voice. “I just pray I do not fail this little girl.”

Madelyn’s big, green eyes and frail smile flashed in his head, and a twinge of guilt assaulted him. He had also experienced a faint flicker of awareness when he’d touched Madelyn, a current of desire he hadn’t felt since Mara.

But that was wrong. Mara had been his wife. He owed her his dedication. His life.

The wind suddenly whipped through the trees, hissing as it tossed dry leaves to the ground and sent them swirling across the cemetery. The scent of wilted roses filled the air, the sound of broken limbs snapping mingled with the echoes of the dead.

He waited, hoped, prayed he would hear Mara’s voice one more time, but a bleak silence followed.

He turned and hurried back to his Jeep, started the engine and peeled from the parking lot. Tomorrow was the exhumation. It wouldn’t be easy for Madelyn.

But nothing personal could or would happen between them.

Not ever.

NIGHTMARES OF MARA AND HIS son tormented Caleb all night. He woke drenched in sweat. No wonder he had connected with Madelyn and her daughter.

He and Madelyn had both lost a child.

A five-mile run and shower, then he grabbed a Thermos of coffee and jumped in his Jeep. But dread filled him as he drove across the mountain to Sanctuary Gardens. The sheriff’s car was parked in the cemetery parking lot, a crew of men a few feet away preparing to exhume the body.

Anxiety needled him as he swerved in beside the patrol car, jammed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and strode toward the sheriff.

Sheriff Gray extended his hand. “You must be Caleb Walker?”

Caleb nodded. “Thanks for arranging this so quickly. You have the paperwork in order?”

Gray indicated the envelope in his hand. “Signature from Madelyn Andrews giving us permission. The license. And—” he gestured toward a tall, white-haired man with glasses wearing a lab coat “—Environmental Health Officer present, as required by law.”

Caleb glanced at the E.H. Officer as he met up with the men designated to dig the grave. The transport service with the second coffin arrived and the driver stepped out, then crossed the graveyard to speak to the sheriff while two men from the funeral home erected a tent around the grave for privacy and to show respect for the grave while the exhumation took place.

Sheriff Gray introduced him to the medical examiner, Dr. Hal Rollo, who seemed pensive as he waited to do his job.

Caleb had witnessed a couple of exhumations before, but none for a child.

The thought made his stomach knot.

“You really believe there’s truth to the woman’s story?” Sheriff Gray asked. “I heard her kid is the one stirring things up, that she claims she sees her dead twin.”

So much for keeping that part of the story under wraps to avoid skepticism. “I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

He followed Gray over to the Lost Angels corner of the cemetery, noting the wrought-iron gate protecting the resting place for the little souls. Ivory doves were perched above a bubbling fountain, and a statue of Jesus, hands folded in prayer as he looked toward the heavens, sat at the head of the plots as if guarding the angels below. Bright flowers, toy trucks, teddy bears, dolls and various other toys had been left as if to keep the children company, marking birthdays and holidays. His throat tightened at the sight. Two rows back, he spotted the marker for Cissy Andrews.

The plot had been well maintained, her marker adorned with plastic sunflowers. A small photo of Madelyn and Sara also sat at the head as if to reassure Cissy she wasn’t forgotten or alone.

Drawn to the spot, he walked over and knelt beside it, his vision blurring as he studied Cissy’s name and birth date. Sometimes touching objects, items of clothing, people triggered his visions.

His hands shook as he reached out to press them over the small grave. Behind him the other men’s voices faded to a distant hum. He hesitated, a sliver of apprehension needling him. He might see nothing.

Or he might see the child’s small body in the ground.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he told himself he had to do this.

Reality slipped away and the wind screamed through the trees as he laid his hand on the mound.

Chapter Three

Madelyn’s emotions pinged back and forth as she drove Sara to her mother’s home. She had already called her assistant at the craft shop and asked her to cover for her for a few days. She needed time to see this through, and Sara needed her.

She so did not want to see Cissy’s grave upturned. Or her body desecrated.

But she’d trusted Dr. Emery and the hospital staff, virtual strangers, with her daughter before, because of her vulnerable emotional state, and she refused to do that now.

She had to know for sure if Cissy was buried and, if not, where she was.

The images Sara had painted tormented her.

Please dear God, if she did survive, let her be okay.

She glanced at Sara who gripped her blanket in one hand, a bouquet of sunflowers in her other for her grandmother. Sara never visited without a bouquet, and she always insisted they were from her and Cissy, not just her. Why was Sara obsessed with sunflowers?

Could her daughter possibly have some kind of psychic ability? Madelyn had never actually believed in anything supernatural, but what if she was wrong?

Perspiration trickled down the back of her neck, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter, mentally giving herself a pep talk as she had over the years.

She could do this. She was strong.

She had Sara, and no matter what happened, nothing was going to change that.

“Mommy, I liked Mr. Firewalker.”

Madelyn smiled, ignoring the tickle in her belly that the mere mention of the man’s name evoked. “I think he liked you, too, sweet pea.” She tousled Sara’s hair, well aware that Sara didn’t always make friends easily. Some of the children in preschool shied away when she boasted about a sister they couldn’t see. “After all, how could he not? You’re adorable and smart and have that gorgeous smile.”

Sara beamed a gap-toothed grin, and Madelyn steered the station wagon into the driveway at the assisted living facility, Sanctuary Seniors, and parked in front of her mother’s unit. A few months ago, her mother had suffered a stroke and was partially paralyzed on one side, leaving her confined to a wheelchair. But her mind was quick and seeing Sara always lifted her spirits.

Sara bounded out of the car clutching the flowers in one hand, raced up to the door and banged on the front. “Gran, guess who’s here,” she sang. “We gots a surprise for you!”

A second later, Liz Cummings, one of the health care workers, greeted Sara with a big hug.

By the time Madelyn made it inside, Sara was already perched on her mother’s lap in the wheelchair, talking in an animated voice about the big, dark-skinned Indian who could walk on fire, and Liz was putting the flowers in a vase on the window ledge so her mother could enjoy them.

Sara’s mother arched a brow as Madelyn entered. “So is this young man handsome, dear?”

Madelyn blushed. Her mother never ceased to play matchmaker. So far, Madelyn had managed to avoid a real date with the men her mother had thrown in front of her.

“He’s big, so biggg, Gran.” Sara threw up her hands indicating that he was gigantic, and Madelyn bit back a laugh. “And he’s gonna find Cissy. He promised.”

Madelyn’s smile faded. She hated to give Sara false hopes and then have her be even more devastated if things fell through. “Honey, he’s investigating, but we can’t be sure what we’ll find.”

“He will find her,” Sara insisted stubbornly. “He said he would and he can walk on fire so he can do anything.”

Madelyn’s mother, Cora, stroked Sara’s hair. “I’m sure he’ll do his best, pumpkin. Now, why don’t we have a tea party while your mommy does her errands? Liz brought us some cookies, but they look pretty bare to me.”

Sara clapped her hands. “We can decorate them, Gran! We’ll make ’em look like sunflowers for Cissy!”

“That sounds like a fabulous idea,” her mother said.

“Come on,” Liz said. “Help me put out the icing and sprinkles so we can make those cookies pretty.”

Sara skipped to the kitchen with Liz but worry knitted Madelyn’s brow.

“She’ll be all right.” Her mother wheeled her chair over and clasped Madelyn’s hand. “And so will you.”

Madelyn soaked in her mother’s smile. She loved her and Sara more than she could say. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mom. Sara and I…we both need you.”

Her mother barked a laugh. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, sugar. Now you go and do what you need to do. I’ll take care of Sara while you look for Cissy.” She tilted her head toward the sunflowers. “I think Sara is right. Cissy loves sunflowers.”

Madelyn’s stomach twisted. Apparently her mother trusted Sara’s visions.

They exchanged concerned looks. But her mother refrained from commenting further on Sara’s recent sunflower obsession. They’d both hoped it would play itself out, but now Madelyn wondered if the sunflowers might be some kind of clue to her other daughter.

Pasting on a brave face, she hugged her mother. “I’ll call. You two have fun.”

“We always do,” her mother said with a beaming smile.

Madelyn’s throat thickened, and she nodded, afraid if she spoke, the dam holding back her emotions would break, and she’d fall on the floor in a puddle and start sobbing. Once she started, she might not be able to stop.

The morning sun sliced through the bare trees as she jogged to the minivan, then drove around the mountain. Early morning shadows flickered across the dark asphalt as the sun fought through the storm clouds gathering above. She slowed as she spotted the cemetery, dread flooding her at the sight of the sheriff’s car and the hearse.

The day of the funeral threatened to replay through Madelyn’s head, but she hit the pause button in her brain and zapped it on hold. She refused to relive that day again now with all these men watching.

Swallowing back nerves, she parked and walked to the top of the hill overlooking the Lost Angels corner where the sheriff and three other men stood conferring. Where was Caleb?

Inhaling a breath to fortify her courage, she stumbled down the hill and through the iron gate. Sheriff Gray gave her a concerned look, but she rushed past them, then looked into the tent protecting the site. Caleb was there, kneeling with his hand on Cissy’s grave. His dark skin had drained of color, and an odd mixture of grief and pain marred his face.

What was he doing? Could he see inside the grave?

CALEB’S WORLD SHIMMERED out of control as he felt a vision coming on. Darkness pulled at him, dragging him into an endless tunnel, a pit of silence that stretched below the ground, desolate, screaming with secrets…

“Caleb?”

The sound of a woman’s voice jerked him free of the spell.

“What are you doing?”

Twisting his head sideways, he spotted Madelyn staring at him, her arms crossed, her expression troubled.

He stood abruptly, taking a step back, confused by what he’d seen. By what he hadn’t seen. He needed more time, dammit. And he wasn’t ready to share his gift just yet. “Nothing. Just thinking about the case.” He crooked a thumb toward the sheriff. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Sheriff Gray gestured toward the E.H. Officer. “Madelyn, this is Oliver Gordon, the Environmental Health Officer. He’ll oversee the exhumation.”

Madelyn nodded in greeting, obviously struggling with the reality of the task to come and its ramifications.

Gordon cleared his throat. “For health reasons, I have to ask everyone to wait a safe distance away. We must respect this grave as well as the surrounding ones.”

“Of course.” Madelyn folded her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together while the funeral home employees approached with shovels. The distress on her face made Caleb’s protective instincts surge. He wished he could spare her this ordeal, but this exhumation was vital to whether or not they moved forward with an investigation.

Amanda Peterson, GAI’s resident forensic anthropologist, climbed from a sporty gray sedan at the top of the hill and walked toward them.

Caleb gestured to Madelyn. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

Her face paled, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she allowed him to guide her up the hill. Fine tremors rippled through her body as she stopped beneath a giant oak. Caleb rubbed a hand along her neck, hoping to calm her.

Amanda approached them, her expression sympathetic. “You must be Madelyn Andrews.” She extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Peterson. I work with Caleb and Gage at GAI.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Madelyn said. “I didn’t realize another agent would be present.”

Caleb’s gut pinched. “Amanda is a forensics anthropologist. We thought she might be helpful today.”

Madelyn’s eyes widened as the implications registered.

“She’s going to oversee the medical examiner’s work,” Caleb continued, “just so we can verify the findings. In light of Dr. Emery’s lies, we can’t be too careful.”

Amanda tugged her all-weather coat around her. “I’m sorry, Madelyn. I know this is difficult.”

“Yes, well, thank you for being here. If I’d had my wits about me five years ago, I would have demanded to see my child before I buried her.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Amanda said, her voice and smile genuinely understanding. “You were a victim. And we’re going to find out just how much of one today.”

Amanda’s pep talk seemed to give Madelyn strength, because she offered her a tiny smile.

Amanda nudged his arm as she headed down the hill as if silently ordering him to stay with Madelyn. Hell, she didn’t have to tell him that Madelyn was vulnerable.

But getting too close to her was dangerous for him.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, Caleb,” Madelyn said. “What were you doing at Cissy’s grave?” Suspicion flared in her eyes. “Do you have some kind of psychic ability that you didn’t mention? Is that why you believed Sara? Could you see inside the grave?”

Irritated that she’d caught him when he’d had no intention of revealing his personal visions, he hesitated. Telling her meant opening himself up to scrutiny.

His grandfather’s image flashed in his mind. White Feather, a shaman, a man with strong faith and belief in the Cherokee customs, in the healing power of herbs and the earth. And in the healing power of love.

He’d also believed in Caleb, in his visions, because his grandfather simply believed that he was special.

But if he had been so damn special, why hadn’t he foreseen the shooter that horrible day?

“Caleb, I’m not going to judge. I saw you with Sara, the look on your face. She trusted you and her trust doesn’t come easily.” Madelyn laid her palm against his cheek, stirring primal instincts and needs that had lain dormant too long. “Just tell me the truth,” she said softly.

His gaze met hers, and something sweet and frightening and sensual rippled between them, a connection he’d never felt, not even with Mara.

Because he had never shared the truth about himself with her. He had tried to be a man she’d approve of. A hard worker, a provider. They’d married because they both wanted to raise a family without the stigma of a mixed race.

But this sensual connection, this drive to be near Madelyn, was foreign and disturbing and heated his blood.

Arousing him.

Arousal and lust had no place in an investigation.

Self-loathing filled him. They were at a graveyard, for God’s sake. And Madelyn was inquiring about his gift and how it might impact this case. Not because she was remotely interested in him personally.

“Sometimes I sense things,” he said quietly, watching her for a reaction. “It’s not an ability I can control or call upon at will. It just…happens.”

Her expression softened. “That’s the reason you believed Sara? You sensed something when you shook her hand?”

“Yes, I believe that Sara is special,” he said by way of an answer. He jammed his hands in his pockets, ignoring the whistle of the wind bringing cries of the dead from the graves. He had to focus on one case here and that was the Andrews child. The other lost spirits would have to find another medium to hear their pleas.

Madelyn shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Leaves fluttered down from the trees, scattering amongst the markers, adding bold reds, yellows, and oranges to the brittle, brown grass.

Madelyn cleared her throat as if summoning courage. “What did you see when you touched the grave?”

His former vision flashed back. But he wasn’t certain it was a vision at all. A world of darkness spun around him, that long empty pit clawing at him.

Madelyn clutched his arm. “Caleb, tell me the truth. Please.”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said gruffly. “It was just dark and…I felt an emptiness. I…can’t explain it. Sometimes my senses, my visions aren’t correct. Sometimes they don’t even make sense.”

The heartbeat of silence while Madelyn stared at him felt like an eternity. “Just don’t lie to me,” she said. “I may seem like a fragile woman to you, but I can handle whatever happens.”

Caleb’s hearing suddenly seemed more acute. He could hear the scene behind him, the voices of the sheriff and funeral workers. Twigs snapped in the wind, leaves rustled, the shovel crunched dry dirt….

“How long has Sara had these nightmares about Cissy?” he asked.

Madelyn sighed, the weary sound of a worried mother. “I told you, the past two months, ever since we moved back to Sanctuary.”

“But you said she talked about her twin before?”

Madelyn nodded. “At eighteen months, she started acting as if she was playing with her. Even now, when she has tea parties, she sets a place for Cissy. When she colors, she draws Cissy and those sunflowers. When she plays on the seesaw, Cissy is always on the other end.”

Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to regain control, then forged ahead as if she needed to share her story. “When she was a baby, she’d lay on her side and giggle and reach out as if someone was there.”

Caleb’s mind raced to paranormal research he’d done. “Parapsychologists believe that children can see ghosts when they’re babies. They have a connection then, but once their innocence is lost and society trains them, they no longer believe, so the spirits don’t appear to them anymore.”

Madelyn chewed her bottom lip. “I read that, too. But Sara never lost that ability. In fact, her connection only seemed to grow stronger. Last year she started insisting that Cissy was alive, telling me stories about things she did, places she went. That’s when I got really worried.”

Caleb heard the pain in her voice. “When you consulted the shrinks?”

“Yes.” The wind swept Madelyn’s hair into her face, and she tucked it back with her fingers. “Sara seems so certain that her dreams are real, that her sister is alive, that I started to believe her.” Her shoulders fell. “Maybe because I really wanted to so badly.”

“That’s understandable.” Caleb ached to touch her, to soothe the torment in her voice, but the only way to help Madelyn was to uncover the truth.

If Sara was right, then her sister had been kidnapped and adopted by another family, she might be in danger…. And if she was wrong, Sara’s visions might be ESP—or she might have some form of mental illness.

Or she might be communing with a dead girl….

A noise down the hill jarred him, and he jerked his head toward the gravesite. Sheriff Gray had stepped outside the tent and was motioning for him.

“Walker, we’re ready,” Gray shouted.

Madelyn’s legs buckled, and he caught her around the waist. “Sit down on that bench by the fountain. Let me see what they found.”

Too weak to argue, she nodded and allowed him to guide her to the bench. His heart climbed into his throat as he left her small form hunched inside her coat, shivering on that cold, stone slab.

But he squared his shoulders, determined to end the questions in her mind. It was the only way she and her daughter could find closure and move on.

Clenching his jaw, he raced down the hill and stepped inside the tent beside Amanda. The mood was somber, reverent, racked with tension and dread.

Slowly the E.H. Officer opened the casket.

Caleb braced himself but shock still ripped through him.

The casket was empty.

MADELYN TWISTED HER HANDS together, willing herself to remain calm as she waited. But every second that ticked by felt like someone was pulling out her fingernails one by one. The sound of a car motor drew her gaze back to the parking lot, and she saw an elderly man exit a sedan and hobble toward a grave near the church. Probably his wife’s.

Poor man. How long had they been married before he’d lost her?

She’d thought she and Tim would grow old together, not that he would abandon her and Sara when they needed him most.

Bitterness threatened but she tamped it down. She’d long ago vowed not to indulge herself in that emotion for fear Sara would pick up on it.

She never wanted her daughter to know the truth about her father.

Voices carried in the wind, and she spotted Caleb walking toward her. Her lungs squeezed for air at his bleak expression. A bird chirped from a tree nearby, and leaves fluttered down into the fountain. One landed on the wings of the angel, another at her feet.

She gripped her hands together, waiting, watching for the small casket to appear.

“Madelyn,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’m sorry.”

She lunged to her feet. “What’s wrong?” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, she realized that she’d actually held out hope that Sara might be right. That Cissy was alive.

Suddenly oblivious to her surroundings, she vaulted down the hill, stumbling blindly. Whatever he had seen, she had to know.

“Madelyn, wait!”

Her boots pounded the ground as she ran down the hill. All she could think of was seeing that tiny casket, knowing whether her daughter was in there…

Her pulse pounded, sweat slid down her temple, and she stumbled over a loose rock and felt herself flailing to remain on two feet.

Caleb caught her arm and righted her, then helped her to the tent. Her heart pounded as she stepped beneath the tarp.

Dear God…

She gaped at Caleb. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

A muscle ticked in Caleb’s jaw. “Someone lied to you, Madelyn. Dr. Emery, the funeral director maybe. But you didn’t bury your daughter five years ago. You buried an empty casket.”

Anger, shock and betrayal slammed into her along with a million questions. But the one fact that she latched onto was the one she wanted to believe more than anything.

The casket was empty because Sara was right.

Cissy was alive.

CISSY RAN AND HID BEHIND the door between the den and the kitchen clutching her dolly to her chest. They were screaming again. They’d been at it for a long time now.

“How could you do this?” her mama shouted. “Why?”

“Because you wanted a kid, you were grieving over losing Doug.”

“I know, but you lied to me.”

“Just keep your mouth shut!” the big man yelled.

Cissy peered around the corner and saw her mama reach for the phone. “It’s not right,” her mama cried. “What you’ve done… It’s not right. No wonder Cissy has bad dreams.”

“That kid is crazy. She always has been.” He grabbed her mama’s shoulders and shook her. “Listen to me. You call, you’ll lose her, and I’ll go to jail. You wouldn’t do that to your own family, would you?”

“But Cissy has a right to know the truth,” her mama argued. “And I won’t go to jail because I’ll tell the truth.”

“The truth. Hell, you don’t even know the truth, you stupid bitch.” He slapped her mother across the face. “You’re up to your damn eyeballs in this. The kid is evidence, and we can’t leave evidence behind.”

“What are you talking about?” Cissy’s mama looked terrified as she leaned against the sink.

Terror streaked through Cissy, and she backed into the hallway, but she tripped over a pair of work boots and yelped. He heard the noise and swung around. His face was red, his nostrils wide. His eyes bulged like a madman’s.

He was going to kill her.

“Damn kid,” he mumbled then turned and stomped toward Cissy, his big footsteps pounding the floor like a giant’s.

“No, I won’t let you hurt my baby.” Her mama grabbed his arm to stop him, but he swung his arm back with such force that he slung her to the floor. Her mama hit her head on the table with a whack and blood spurted and ran down her face.

Cissy bit back a scream. Tears blurred her vision.

His growl dragged her from her stupor though, and she turned and darted out the back door. The porch door slammed behind her. His loud bellow followed.

“Get back here, kid. Come on, we’ll play a little game.”

He didn’t want to play games, Cissy thought, as she barreled down the steps. He’d hurt her mama and now he was gonna hurt her.

She had to get away.

She dashed down the steps as quick as she could and ran toward the greenhouse and the sunflowers. It was the only place she’d be safe.

Sweat streamed down her face, and she heaved for a breath as she shoved open the heavy door and sneaked inside. She tucked her doll beneath her arm, then pushed with all her might to shut the door, pulling the metal latch. Then she ducked between the rows of sunflowers, weaving her way until she was hidden deep within the rows.

Crouching as low as she could, she hugged her dolly to her, closed her eyes and felt the tears flow.

“Please, Sara, help me,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much longer I can hide.”

The door rattled as he shook it. “Get out here right now, kid!”

Cissy rocked herself back and forth and rolled into a tiny ball. She could see her sister in her mind. She wasn’t crazy like the big meanie said.

“Sara, please come and get me,” she whispered. “I’m scared. I don’t wanna die.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

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

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