From detective to daddy?

An ex-cop guards a vulnerable family

After an injury, Detective Forrest Colton is forced into early retirement. But Forrest isn’t the type to sit still, so he volunteers to protect alluring single mom Rae Lemmon, whose life is threatened after a dead body is discovered on her property. When Forrest finds a note threatening Rae’s infant son, his senses go on high alert. He needs to save this family even if it means his own “permanent” retirement.

Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel (a Mills & Boon story, of course) at age eleven, all she wanted was to be a romance writer. With over forty novels published with Mills & Boon, Lisa is living her dream. She is an award-winning, bestselling romance author. Lisa loves to hear from readers, who can contact her on Facebook, through her website, lisachilds.com, or her snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.

Also by Lisa Childs

His Christmas Assignment

Bodyguard Daddy

Bodyguard’s Baby Surprise

Beauty and the Bodyguard

Nanny Bodyguard

Single Mom’s Bodyguard

In the Bodyguard’s Arms Soldier

Bodyguard

Guarding His Witness

Colton’s Cinderella Bride

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Colton 911: Babys Bodyguard

Lisa Childs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09424-5

COLTON 911: BABY’S BODYGUARD

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Marie Ferrarella, Carla Cassidy and

Beth Cornelison—it was an honor to work on this

Colton series with such amazing authors!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Her eyes were wide with fear and death. She stared up at him as if appealing to him for help. She wasn’t the only one.

“Come on, Forrest,” his brother Donovan implored him. “Whisperwood PD needs your expertise.”

Forrest gestured at the body lying amid the piles of dirt where Lone Star Pharma had intended to expand its parking lot. The drug company had had to put its plans on hold once the asphalt crew had dug up the body. “This isn’t a cold case.”

She couldn’t have been buried that long; the body had barely begun decomp. Not that he was that close to the scene, which the techs were still processing. He’d wanted to stay out of the way, but his brothers had urged him closer.

“This isn’t the only body that turned up recently,” Jonah, the oldest of his brothers, chimed in on the conversation. He and Donovan had picked up Forrest from their parents’ ranch and brought him out here. Now he understood why. They were trying to get him involved in the investigation.

They stared at him now. And even though Donovan wasn’t biologically their brother, he looked more like Jonah than any of their biological brothers did. They were both dark haired and dark eyed, whereas Forrest’s hair was lighter brown and longer than their buzz cuts, and his eyes were hazel.

“Unfortunately she isn’t the only recent casualty,” Forrest agreed.

A dozen people had lost their lives due to the flooding and wind damage Hurricane Brooke had wreaked on Whisperwood, Texas. Despite being early in the season, the storm had been deadly.

“That’s why we’re here—to help out because of the natural disaster,” he reminded his brothers. They were part of the Cowboy Heroes, a horseback rescue organization formed years ago by ranchers and EMTs. Forrest had volunteered to help the Heroes’ search-and-recovery efforts—not the police department. “And this isn’t a natural disaster.”

Though this person might have been one of the people reported missing since the hurricane, the storm hadn’t caused her death. From what Forrest could see in the lights that the Whisperwood PD’s forensic unit had set up to illuminate the crime scene, the young woman had bruising around her neck and on her arms and legs. She hadn’t drowned or been struck by a fallen tree.

She’d probably been strangled and maybe worse.

A chill raced down his spine despite the warmth of the August night. The death had happened recently.

“This is murder,” Jonah said. He must have noticed what Forrest had. “Just like the body that Maggie and I found last month.” He shuddered now. “And that one definitely falls within your area of expertise.”

Forrest shook his head. “Not anymore.”

A shooting had forced his early retirement from the Austin Police Department’s cold-case unit. That shooting and the pins that held together the shattered bones in his leg were why he’d had to retire with disability and why, as a volunteer with the Cowboy Heroes, he was consigned to a desk, operating the telephones. He took the calls about what people were missing: loved ones and livestock. But he’d rather be out in the field with his brothers, actually searching for those missing people and animals. Hell, he’d rather be back on the job. And they knew him so damn well that they were aware of that.

Jonah lowered his voice to a gruff whisper and murmured, “Not because you don’t want to.”

Sure, he would love to go back to the job, but there was no way in hell that he could pass a physical now. Not with his leg.

As if he’d read Forrest’s mind, Jonah continued, “But you can now. The chief will give you a special dispensation to help out as an interim detective.”

The “special dispensation” pricked his pride, and he clenched his jaw. “I don’t need you all doing me any favors.”

“You’d be doing me the favor,” Donovan said. “I was just about to leave on my honeymoon when this call came into the department.” Donovan helped out only part-time with the Cowboy Heroes; he was a full-time K9 cop with Whisperwood PD.

“It’s a mini honeymoon,” Forrest reminded him. “You’re not going to be gone long.”

“But even when we get back, I’m going to be distracted,” Donovan claimed. “Bellamy’s pregnant.”

Jonah chortled and slapped their brother’s back. “That’s great! That’s wonderful news.”

And with everything that had happened since the hurricane, good news was more than welcome.

“Congratulations,” Forrest said, and he reached out and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. Donovan and Bellamy so deserved their happiness. They’d been through so much recently.

“Thanks,” Donovan said with a big grin. But then he glanced down at the body and shook his head. “She deserves someone’s full attention, and the police department and the chief are just stretched too damn thin right now, dealing with the aftermath of the hurricane.”

And the other dead body.

The chief’s sister. Had someone else really murdered her? Or was serial killer Elliot Corgan messing with everyone from beyond his grave?

Forrest wouldn’t put it past the sadistic son of a bitch. When he’d been on the job, he’d dealt with quite a few serial killers. They got nearly as much enjoyment playing mind games with law enforcement as they did killing.

He glanced down at the dead girl. At least one thing was for certain: Elliot hadn’t killed her. He wouldn’t have been able to manage that from beyond the grave. Unless...

“You’re already on the case,” Jonah said with a slight smile. “I can see your wheels turning.”

Forrest glared at his big brother, but he didn’t deny it. Too many thoughts flitted through his mind. Was she one of the people presumed missing because of Hurricane Brooke? Had someone taken advantage of the storm to murder her, thinking that law enforcement would assume she’d been lost in the flooding that had followed the storm?

Chief Thompson had been moving around the crime scene, talking to the techs and officers guarding the perimeter. Ignoring the reporters who shouted questions at him from the other side of the police tape, Whisperwood PD’s top cop walked toward Forrest and his brothers. Thompson had been doing this job for a long time, and his experience showed in the lines in his face and the way his shoulders sagged when he looked down at the body. He shook his head and sighed, and his Stetson slipped lower over his face.

Forrest had realized some years into his career that it would never get any easier to see someone dead, especially murdered, and the chief just proved that to him. He let his own hat slide down to shield his face.

Thompson turned away from the body to focus on Forrest now, his blue eyes sharp with intelligence and determination. “So, you going to do it? You going to take the job?”

His brothers stared at him, nodding and smiling to encourage his acceptance. They probably figured this would be good for him, would get him back doing the job he loved. But when he’d been shot, the job hadn’t been the only thing he’d lost that he loved.

That experience had taught him never to risk his heart again. So the job was all he had—even if it was just a short-term assignment.

He nodded. “Yes, I’ll take it.”

Not for his sake, though, like his brothers obviously wanted. But for hers.

He stared down at the dead woman, determined to make sure she got the justice she deserved and that the killer would not hurt anyone else.

* * *

“He’s so cute,” Bellamy cooed as she cradled the baby against her chest and kissed the top of his head. He’d been born with a full head of soft brown hair, the same chocolaty color as his mama’s. He also had her big brown eyes.

Rae’s heart swelled with maternal pride. “Yes, he is,” she said just as a yawn slipped out. He’d also been keeping her up nights with a bout of colic, and Bellamy’s bed was so comfy, Rae was tempted to take a nap right there amid the pile of clothes and the suitcase.

“Hey, you need to finish packing,” Maggie told her sister as she pried the baby from Bellamy’s arms. “You’re supposed to be leaving for your honeymoon.”

“I will,” Bellamy said. “As soon as Donovan gets back from the crime scene.”

Rae shuddered. “So another body’s been found?” Twelve people had died in the hurricane, but she’d thought all of the missing had been accounted for—thanks to the Cowboy Heroes’ rescue-and-recovery efforts.

Maggie had been one of the missing. Fortunately she had been found alive. Jonah Colton hadn’t just rescued her, though; he’d also fallen in love with the former beauty queen. A pang of wistfulness tugged at Rae’s heart, not that she wanted anyone falling in love with her.

She was too busy with her two-month-old son and her law-school classes and her new job as a paralegal to fit a man into her life right now. Or ever.

Connor was the only man for her. She smiled as he clutched his fingers around a lock of Maggie’s pretty blond hair. Like every other male in Whisperwood, he was drawn to the former beauty queen.

Rae might have been jealous if Maggie wasn’t as beautiful inside as she was on the outside. She twisted her pretty features into comical faces as she cooed at the fascinated baby. Then she glanced up at Rae and a frown pulled down the corners of her mouth. “From what the chief told Jonah, it sounds like the death had nothing to do with the hurricane.”

Rae gasped. “Was it...like the body you and Jonah found?”

Maggie shuddered. “I hope not.”

That body had been mummified. Rae hadn’t seen it, but just the thought of it had given her nightmares. She couldn’t imagine what Maggie had gone through because of that and the threats to her life.

All of the crime in Whisperwood was what had compelled Rae to take the LSAT to try to get into law school. Nobody had probably been as surprised as she’d been that she’d done so well that she’d had her pick of schools. Of course she’d chosen to stay in Whisperwood with her friends. With her mom gone, they were the only family she had now—except for Connor. She’d already been pregnant with him when she’d taken the exam.

Bellamy nipped her bottom lip with her teeth. “Maybe Donovan and I shouldn’t go away right now.”

“No!” Rae and Maggie both shouted.

Connor, startled, began to cry. Rae jumped up from the bed and took him from Maggie. Holding him close, she rubbed her hand up and down his back and murmured, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

He settled down with a hiccupping sob. Then the tension drained from his tiny body and he began to drift off to sleep like Rae had longed to.

“You’re so good with him,” Maggie said with a smile.

“You are,” Bellamy agreed. She looked more like Rae, with dark hair and eyes, and with as long as they’d known each other, they were more like sisters than friends. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe how much you’re doing all on your own.”

Rae smiled with pleasure and pride. But then she reminded her friend, “You’ve done the same.”

Maggie’s mouth pulled down into another frown, and regret struck a pang in Rae’s heart. She hadn’t meant to cause any issues between the sisters. They’d already had too many.

“I was never alone,” Bellamy said. “I had you, Rae.” She turned toward Maggie and smiled at her sister. “And you... I just didn’t realize what all you were doing for me.”

“Rae’s right,” Maggie said. “You did all the heavy lifting on your own.” Taking care of their ailing parents. “You deserve this honeymoon. You deserve every happiness. Don’t let Donovan back out of going.”

Bellamy smiled. “Not a chance. He’s determined to go. He and Jonah are going to work on convincing Forrest to step in and take over the murder investigations.”

Maggie nodded. “Oh, that’s what big brother is up to.” She’d fallen for the oldest of the Colton brothers. “He said he was going to pick up Forrest.”

Another little pang struck Rae’s heart at the mention of that particular Colton brother. It was probably just regret again. She shouldn’t have asked him to dance at Bellamy and Donovan’s wedding. But as one of two maids of honor, she’d wanted to make sure every guest enjoyed the celebration. That was the only reason she’d asked—not because he was ridiculously good-looking, with his chiseled features and his brooding intensity.

He hadn’t had to be so curt with her, though. Sure, she’d known he had a limp from an injury in the line of duty. But he still worked with the Cowboy Heroes, so she hadn’t thought he was really disabled. He could have held her and just swayed from side to side. It wasn’t as if she’d asked him to two-step or line dance with her. But she shouldn’t have asked at all. The only reason she had was because of how alone he’d looked...even among all of his family.

And that loneliness had called to hers. Because even with her son and her good friends, she sometimes felt alone like that, too. That was better, though, than falling for someone only to have him leave.

“I didn’t think Forrest was going to stick around much longer,” she said. “Won’t he move on to the next natural disaster, with the rest of the Cowboy Heroes?”

“Whisperwood needs them for more than rescue-and-recovery efforts right now,” Maggie said. She shuddered again. “There’s a killer on the loose.”

“That’s why we should postpone our honeymoon,” Bellamy said.

“No,” Rae and Maggie said again, their voices soft this time, though.

Bellamy sighed. “Okay, but you both need to promise me that you’ll be extra careful.”

“Of course,” they agreed, again in unison.

“I know Jonah won’t let anything happen to you,” Bellamy told her sister. “But you...”

Rae smiled. “I can take care of myself.” She’d done it for most of her life.

Bellamy took the sleeping baby from her arms and snuggled him against her. “But you have Connor to worry about, too, and your classes. I’m really concerned about you living out there in the country, alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Rae reminded her.

Bellamy pressed another kiss to the soft hair on Connor’s head. “He’s not going to be much protection against a bad guy—at least not for a few more years.”

“Like twenty,” Maggie added with a chuckle.

“I don’t need a man to protect me,” Rae said. She’d never had one. Her father had been more likely to put her and her mother in danger—at least financially—than to protect them. “I don’t need a man at all.”

“You proved that by having this little guy on your own,” Maggie said. “I admire you.”

“Me, too,” Bellamy added. “Although I think I had more fun conceiving mine the way we did.”

Rae stared at her friend. “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” the new bride announced, her face glowing with happiness and love.

Tears rushed to Rae’s eyes. “That’s wonderful.”

“So wonderful,” Maggie agreed as her eyes filled with tears, too. “I’m thrilled for you.”

“Me, too,” Rae said. “You and Donovan are going to be amazing parents.”

“I’m going to drive you crazy,” Bellamy warned her, “with all the questions I’ll be asking you.” Bellamy’s mom was gone, like Rae’s was.

Rae missed her mom every day. They’d been so close; Georgia had been more of a friend than a mother to her. Now that she was a mother herself, she’d never needed her more.

“You won’t drive me crazy at all,” Rae assured her. “I’m not sure I’ll have all the answers, though.” Mostly she felt as if she was stumbling around in the dark, blindly finding her way as a parent and as a student again at thirty-five.

“You’ll have more than I’ll have,” Maggie said. “You’re the smartest, most independent person I know.”

The tears already stinging her eyes threatened to spill over, but Rae blinked them back to smile at her friend. “I’m not sure about smartest. Law school is tougher than I thought it would be.”

“Because you just had a baby two months ago and you’re working,” Bellamy reminded her as she stared down at Connor, who was sleeping so peacefully in her arms.

If only he slept that peacefully at night...

“It’ll get easier,” Rae said. That was what she kept telling herself.

Bellamy chuckled softly. “You’re smart, but I think it’s your stubbornness that keeps you going.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Rae’s mouth. She couldn’t deny that.

“Just don’t be so stubborn and independent that you put yourself in danger,” Bellamy advised. “Promise?”

Rae sighed. “Of course I’m not going to put myself or Connor in danger,” she assured her. “Stop worrying about me. And let’s get you ready for your honeymoon!”

“Since she’s already pregnant, I think she knows about the birds and the bees,” Maggie teased.

They all laughed, rousing Connor from his impromptu nap. But he didn’t cry when he awakened; he just groggily looked up at Bellamy, who was holding him. She was like an aunt to him, and Maggie was fast becoming like another. These women and her baby were the only family that Rae needed.

She didn’t need a man for protection or for anything else. But when she left Bellamy’s cute two-bedroom house and headed home with Connor safely buckled into the back seat, an odd chill passed through her despite the warmth of the August night. Fear.

Maybe it was all of the talk about bodies and killers.

Or maybe it was her postpartum hormones.

She preferred to blame the hormones. Because she had nothing to fear.

* * *

The television screen illuminated only the area of the dark room around the TV. From the shadows, he watched the evening news report from the crime scene at Lone Star Pharma.

Her body had been found. His hands clenched into fists as rage coursed through him.

Damn it...

The news crews had been kept back, behind the police barricade. But the camera zoomed in on the scene and captured the people investigating the discovery. The Cowboy Heroes.

What the hell were they doing there?

He unclenched one fist to turn the volume up.

“Chief Thompson has enlisted the help of former Austin cold-case detective Forrest Colton,” the reporter announced. “Colton has been given special dispensation from the Whisperwood Police Department to lead the investigation of this murder and the body discovered last month in a mummified condition. Colton holds the highest clearance rate in the Austin Police Department, so an arrest seems imminent.”

He cursed again.

No. An arrest was not imminent. Forrest Colton might have gotten lucky in Austin, but his luck was about to run out in Whisperwood. And maybe his life, as well.

Chapter 2

A week had passed since his brothers had ambushed him at the crime scene. A week of frustration that gripped Forrest so intensely, he wished he’d never accepted the position no matter how temporary it was going to be.

The hurricane had caused so much damage, and not just physically. Emotionally people were dealing with the loss of loved ones and their homes or their livelihoods. The Whisperwood Police Department was stretched thin. The crime-scene techs were understaffed and overworked, so nothing had been processed yet from either scene. And the coroner...

She hadn’t even taken the bodies from their refrigerated drawers yet, let alone begun the autopsies. And until he had more information, Forrest didn’t want to parade in the family members of every missing person to see if the dead woman was their loved one. He didn’t want to put every family that was missing someone through that kind of pain.

Hell, he didn’t want to put one family through that kind of pain. But it was inevitable. Once they figured out who she was.

Everybody expected miracles from Forrest, but his hands were nearly as tied as the poor victim’s hands had been—bound behind her back.

He wrapped the reins around his hands and clenched his knees together as the quarter horse he rode scrambled over the uneven ground. Despite taking the detective position, Forrest continued as a volunteer for the Cowboy Heroes. The team was not done with Whisperwood and the surrounding area, which had been hit particularly hard with flooding after Hurricane Brooke.

The water had begun to recede, though, leaving only muddy areas like the one in which the horse’s hooves now slipped. His mount leaning, Forrest nearly slipped off it and into the mud. Ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad leg, he tightened his grip.

“Whoa, steady,” Forrest murmured soothingly. When the horse regained its balance, a sigh of relief slipped through Forrest’s lips. This was why he usually handled the desk work for the rescue agency and not the fieldwork. But like his brothers, he’d been born in the saddle. He couldn’t not ride.

He wasn’t able to help with the rescues as physically as he would have liked, though. Sometimes his leg wouldn’t hold his weight, let alone the weight of another person or animal. He sighed again but this time with resignation. It was what it was.

He’d accepted that a while ago. And he helped out where he could—like riding around to survey the areas. There were still some people missing, and maybe the floodwater had hidden their remains.

Not that he wanted to find any more bodies.

But that was the purpose of the recovery part of the Cowboy Heroes’ rescue-and-recovery operation. Survivors needed that closure of knowing what had happened to their loved one and having that body to bury. That was why he needed the body in the morgue identified, so he could give her family some small measure of peace.

Until he found her killer.

And he would.

His frustration turning back to determination, he urged the horse across the muddy stretch of land. Heat shimmered off the black shingles of a roof in the distance. He’d started out early from his family ranch, before the sun had even risen much above the horizon, and it wasn’t much higher now. So it was going to be another hot August day, which was good.

The last of the water should recede and reveal whatever secrets it has been hiding. Whatever bodies...of animals and people.

So much livestock had been lost, too. A pang of regret over all of those losses struck his heart. Then another pang of regret struck him when he realized whose house he’d come upon in the country.

Hers.

Rae Lemmon. His new sister-in-law’s best friend, and quite the beauty. He hadn’t lived in Whisperwood for years, but he remembered this was her family home. And maybe he’d subconsciously headed that way.

But why? Sure, she was beautiful, but because she was beautiful, she wouldn’t want anything to do with a disabled man. She’d asked him to dance at the wedding, but that must have only been out of pity or maybe just a sense of obligation to her friend.

And maybe that was why he’d come this way, to check on her place—out of a sense of obligation. She was his new sister-in-law’s best friend, so that almost made her family, too. And as much as the Coltons took care of everyone else, they took extra care of their own.

He knew that because of how everybody had taken care of him after he’d been shot. Well, everybody but one person. But she hadn’t been family yet, and after he’d been shot, she’d returned his ring.

He flinched as the memory rushed over him. Not that he could blame her. As she’d said, she hadn’t fallen in love with a cripple, so he really shouldn’t have expected her to stick around for him. It wasn’t as if they’d said their vows yet either, and now he expected those vows would not have included “in sickness and in health.”

While the old memories washed over him, the horse continued across the muddy field, toward the back of the house. The field was higher than the yard, so he could see into it, could see that a tree had toppled over into the water pooled on the grass. Maybe the roots had turned up a mound of dirt, or maybe something else had made the hole. The pile was almost too neat, as if it had been shoveled there.

Maybe she’d thought the hole would drain away the water.

But as Forrest drew nearer, he peered into the hole and discovered it wasn’t water filling it. Something else lay inside it, something all swaddled up in linen material smeared with mud and grime.

“What the hell...?” he murmured.

He swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted. His boot slipped on the muddy ground, but he used the horse to steady himself. Like all of the horses for the Cowboy Heroes, Mick was well trained and helpful. Forrest patted his mane in appreciation before stepping away from his mount and turning toward the hole. He leaned over and peered inside it, and his boot slipped again.

This time he didn’t have the horse to steady himself, so his leg—his bad leg—went out from beneath him. As he began to fall, he reached out to catch himself. But like his boot, his fingers slipped on the mud, too, and he slid into the hole, knocking the loose dirt into it with him. It sprayed across that weird material.

Whatever it was, it had contoured to the shape of the object beneath it. But it wasn’t an object.

It was a body with arms and legs and a face.

A mummy...like the one his brother Jonah had found. But unlike that body, Forrest suspected the storm hadn’t turned up this one. Someone else had either dug it up or dug the hole to bury it here, like someone had buried the woman by the pharmaceutical company.

But why here? Why in Rae Lemmon’s backyard?

Forrest reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He needed to call in a team to process the scene. Hopefully he could remove himself from it without compromising any evidence. After he called the coroner and some crime-scene techs, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and tried to pull himself out of the hole. Using his good leg, he dug his boot into the side of the hole and climbed out. As he pulled his boot free, some dirt tumbled down into the hole, next to the body, and the sun glinted off it.

It wasn’t just dirt. There was something shiny beneath the mud and grime. Something metallic. Like coins or...

Buttons?

Had those belonged to the victim or the killer?

* * *

Rae closed her eyes and savored the silence. She would have to get up soon for work, but she had a few minutes to rest her eyes and relax. And after Connor had spent most of the night crying inconsolably, she needed some peace. He’d finally fallen back to sleep.

The pediatrician suspected the baby had colic, for which Rae blamed herself. The stress of law school, her job and single parenthood had affected her ability to produce breast milk and she now had to supplement with formula. When she’d called the doctor’s service last night, she’d been told to switch to a soy-based formula, which she would do today on her way to bring Connor to day care.

Exhaustion gripped her, pulling her into oblivion. But she had been asleep for only a moment when a noise startled her. It wasn’t the light beep of the alarm, but a loud pounding at a door. Worried that the knocking would wake up Connor, she rushed out of her bedroom without bothering to grab a robe. The only people who visited her were Bellamy and Maggie. Maybe Bellamy was back.

But she probably would have just let herself in; she had a copy and knew where the spare key was hidden. Disoriented for a moment from lack of sleep, Rae rushed to her front door and opened it. But nobody stood on her porch. If someone was there, they probably would have rung the bell.

The back door rattled as that fist pounded again. And a soft cry drifted from the nursery. Connor wasn’t fully awake, but he was waking up. She ran across the living room and kitchen to pull open the door. “Shh,” she cautioned her visitor. Then she gasped when she recognized the man standing before her. “What—what are you doing here?”

What the hell was he doing there? Especially now?

She had to look like death—after her sleepless night—with dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair standing on end. And her nightgown...

She glanced down at the oversize T-shirt an old boyfriend had left behind. At least she’d gotten something comfy out of the relationship. But she hadn’t expected much. Her experience with her father had taught her to never count on a man to stick around, and every boyfriend she’d ever had had reinforced that lesson.

That was why she’d chosen to be a single mother. She didn’t need a husband to have a family. She didn’t need a man. But this one...

He was so damn good-looking, even with mud on his clothes and smeared across his cheek. A fission of concern passed through her. “Did you get thrown?” she asked. Over his shoulder—his very broad shoulder—she caught a glimpse of a dark horse pawing at the muddy grass. “Are you okay?”

“I did not get thrown,” he said, his voice sharp as if she’d stung his pride.

Or maybe that was just the way he always talked. He’d sounded that way when he’d told her that she couldn’t be serious about asking him to dance.

Her face heated with embarrassment, but she didn’t know if it was because of what had happened then or how unkempt she looked now. And with the way he kept staring at her, he couldn’t have missed it. He was probably horrified.

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked again.

“I’ve called the police.”

“I thought you were the police,” she said. She knew, from the news reports and the gossip around Whisperwood, that the chief and his brothers had successfully talked him into investigating the murders.

“I am,” he said. “That’s why I called. I need to tape off your backyard. It’s a crime scene.”

Despite the heat of the August day, a cold chill raced down her spine and raised goose bumps on her skin. “Crime scene?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I found something in your yard,” he said.

“Why were you searching my property?” she asked. “Did you have a warrant?”

His face flushed now.

“I know my rights,” she said. “If you didn’t have a warrant, your search was illegal.”

“I was surveying the flood damage,” he said, “and your yard was in plain view from the field behind it.”

Which was his family’s property. In Whisperwood, the Coltons’ ranch was second in size only to the Corgan spread.

“So you weren’t even acting as a lawman when you performed this illegal search?” she asked. “You were just riding around your own property?”

His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to answer her, but she cut him off with a, “How dare you!”

She’d thought she’d let it go—her embarrassment over how he’d rejected her request to dance. But now that embarrassment turned to anger, which she unleashed on him.

Or maybe her exhaustion had made her extra irritable.

“You’re trespassing on my property,” she continued. “And when your fellow officers arrive, they will be obligated to issue you a citation.”

“Rae—”

“You’re not above the law,” she said, “just because you’re a Colton.”

“I know I’m not above the law,” he said, his face still flushed, but with anger now. It burned in his hazel eyes, as well. “And neither are you.”

“I am a law student,” she said. “And I’m already working as a paralegal. I probably know the law better than you do.”

He snorted then. “I’ve been a police officer for years,” he reminded her. “I know the law. Why did you switch from managing the general store to law?”

She narrowed her eyes and studied his handsome face. He’d barely talked to her at her friend and his brother’s wedding, so why was he curious about her now? Especially since he seemed to know more about her than she’d realized.

She was proud of her decision to go to law school, so she answered him, “I want to do something about all the crimes happening around Whisperwood.”

“Then you should want me to investigate what I found on your property,” he pointed out.

Now she was curious, which she probably would have been right way if she wasn’t so damn exhausted. “What did you find?” she asked.

“A body.”

She gasped in shock and shook her head. “No.” It wasn’t possible. Someone couldn’t have been murdered in her backyard, where she’d imagined her son playing as he grew up, just like she had played there as a child. She shuddered and murmured again, “No.”

Forrest nodded. “I’m afraid it’s true.”

“But—but I didn’t hear anything.” Wouldn’t she have heard something if someone had been murdered in her backyard? But with work and school, she was gone so much that she probably hadn’t even been home when it had happened. “I didn’t see anything amiss.”

“Have you missed anyone?” he asked. “Somebody staying with you that suddenly disappeared?”

She shook her head. Somebody had disappeared years ago on Rae, but that had been his choice to leave. Nobody had murdered him, although she’d sometimes wished she would have...when she’d watched her mother suffer.

“So you didn’t notice anything in the backyard? Any digging?” he asked, persisting with his questions.

She shook her head again. “Why the hell would someone bury a body in my backyard?”

“I’m not sure if they’d just buried it, or if it was just uncovered,” Forrest said. “It could have been there awhile.”

“Like the body that Maggie and Jonah found after the hurricane?” she asked.

They had just stumbled across the body—the mummified body. She shivered with revulsion. What if that was what Forrest had found in her backyard? Another mummy?

“I’ll know more once the coroner arrives,” he continued.

The wail of a siren grew louder as it came closer to her house. Maybe the coroner was arriving now, along with the squad cars with the flashing lights that were pulling into her driveway.

Connor cried out now, and it wasn’t a sleepy little cry but a wail almost as loud as the siren.

“What the hell is that?” Forrest asked in alarm.

And Rae bristled all over again with outrage. “That is my son,” she replied as she hurried off to the nursery.

* * *

Tension gripped the chief, and he tightened his grasp on his cell phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

Behind him, sitting on the porch of his two-story farmhouse, Hays Colton chuckled. “Forrest has always had good timing,” he said of his son. “You drive out here, looking for him, and he calls you like he somehow knew.”

Chief Thompson shook his head. “That’s not why he called.” And he could have pointed out that Forrest’s timing wasn’t always perfect, or young Colton wouldn’t have taken that bullet in his leg. But if his instincts weren’t as strong as they were, he might have taken that bullet in his heart or his head instead of his leg.

He had survived.

His shooter had not.

“What’s wrong?” Hays asked, his blue eyes wide with alarm. “Is he all right?”

Thompson nodded. “Yeah, he just called to give me a heads-up.”

“Did he find out the identity of that poor girl found at the pharmaceutical company?”

The chief shook his head. “I wish that was why he called. Or better yet, to tell me he caught the killer.” Because it would probably hit the news soon anyway, Archer Thompson shared, “He found another body.”

Another person for the already overworked coroner to identify.

“I’m sorry,” Hays said. He rose from the porch swing, set his coffee cup on the railing and reached out to pat Thompson’s shoulder.

They’d known each other for a long time, but Thompson didn’t need any more sympathy. He needed answers—about his sister’s murder and about these bodies that had recently turned up. He uttered a ragged sigh as he pushed himself up from the rocking chair in which he’d been sitting. He didn’t move as fast as he once had, his bones aching now with age and overuse. He didn’t stand quite as straight and tall as he once had either.

Neither did Hays, though, who had spent too many of his seventy-some years in the saddle, working his ranch. “My son will find out who really killed your sister,” Hays assured him.

Thompson wanted to believe the killer was Elliot Corgan, because then he would have the satisfaction of knowing the sick bastard had died in prison. But Elliot had denied killing his sister, and there was no way he could have killed that woman whose body had been discovered in the Lone Star Pharma parking lot.

There was another killer in Whisperwood.

And until he was caught, the chief had a feeling that bodies would keep turning up.

Chapter 3

Cries emanated from the house, drawing Forrest’s attention back to the one-story ranch structure and to her. A shadow passed behind the windows as if she was pacing in her kitchen. She had a baby.

Somebody had probably mentioned it to Forrest, but he didn’t remember. He’d been preoccupied with the hurricane damage and now with the murder investigation. He surveyed the crime scene. Techs worked on bagging those corroded coins or buttons he’d uncovered, while the coroner worked on removing the body from the hole. They knew what they were doing; they didn’t need his supervising their every move. In fact they’d probably resent it if he did.

So he headed back to the house. He raised his fist to the frame around the glass in the back door but hesitated before knocking. The cries were louder now, so he wasn’t at risk of waking the baby.

The little guy was already awake and squalling. Seeing through the glass that Rae had her hands full with the baby, Forrest reached instead for the knob, turned it and let himself back into the house.

She gasped at his bold intrusion, but then she didn’t seem to like anything he did. The invitation to dance had definitely been extended out of obligation or pity. Probably obligation...because she didn’t seem to like him enough to pity him.

She glared at him over the baby’s head. “Why did they have to come here with the sirens blaring?” she asked. “It doesn’t look like an emergency.”

“No,” he agreed. The body was far beyond help. Rae Lemmon looked as if she needed help, though, as she rocked the baby’s stiff little body in her arms.

Dark circles rimmed her brown eyes, but instead of detracting from her beauty, they highlighted it. She looked both vulnerable with her delicate features and sexy as hell with the old T-shirt molded to her generous curves.

“He had just finally gone to sleep,” she murmured with a little catch in her voice, “when the sirens woke him up.”

A pang of regret struck Forrest. The officers hadn’t needed to put on the sirens. It would have been better to draw less attention to the scene than more.

Fortunately no reporters had followed them. Forrest had never enjoyed dealing with the press. So he definitely should have advised the police not to use the sirens when he’d called in what he’d found. He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, chimes rang out.

Was that the sound of her doorbell?

Maybe a reporter had picked up on the call after all. He grimaced—just as Rae held out the baby toward him.

“That’s my phone,” she said, as she handed him the crying infant.

Because he had no experience with babies, he didn’t know how to hold him. But he reacted instinctively, closing his hands around the baby’s midsection. Was he supposed to cup his head or something? He moved one hand to the baby’s neck, and the little guy’s head swiveled toward him.

The face that had been scrunched up with cries froze with shock, and his dark eyes widened as he stared up at Forrest. Was he scared?

His crying stopped, though, so that was a good thing. Forrest could hear himself think again. He could also hear the soft murmur of Rae’s voice as she spoke to someone—maybe the baby’s father. She must have left the phone in another room, since in order to answer it she’d left him alone with her baby.

Forrest was as frozen with fear as the little guy was. What if he was holding him wrong? Or he dropped him?

Rae would hate him even more then.

And Forrest would hate himself. But the kid was light and easy to hold. Maybe he could do this. And if he figured it out, he would actually be able to hold Donovan and Bellamy’s baby once it came, and not harm his little niece and nephew.

He crooked his arm and eased the baby into that, so the kid could stare up at him more comfortably. And he kept staring like he had no idea what the hell Forrest was, let alone whom. Keeping his deep voice to a low rumble, he murmured, “I’m Detective Colton.”

Not that the baby could actually understand him. But he stared up at Forrest’s face as if he was listening.

Maybe Forrest reminded him of his father. Where was the guy? Forrest didn’t remember seeing anyone hanging around Rae at the wedding. But then, as one of the maids of honor, she’d been busy. Not too busy to ask him to dance, though.

But that must have been just part of her duty as a maid of honor—to look after the guests. Maybe that was why the baby’s father had made himself scarce. Or maybe he’d stayed home to watch the baby, since he probably would have been newly born at the time of the wedding.

She hadn’t looked like she’d recently given birth then, though—not with how well her navy blue maid of honor’s dress had fit her.

Forrest had so many questions about Rae Lemmon, so much curiosity. It was that curiosity that had drawn him to her house this morning and to the body in her backyard. That—more than anything—should have proved to him that she was going to be trouble.

He had to restrict his curiosity to professional only, since his broken engagement had convinced him that personal relationships were not for him. The only personal relationships he was going to allow himself was with his family.

Being around this little guy might help him prepare for the new baby so that he would be able to help Donovan and Bellamy when they needed it. So that he could be a good uncle to the little cowgirl or cowboy that the newlyweds would have.

“What about you?” Forrest asked the baby. “Are you going to be a cowboy? You want to learn to ride?”

Despite having no experience with kids, he realized this one was too young to answer any of his questions, but the baby seemed fascinated by his voice. Those already wide brown eyes widened even more. With those enormous eyes, delicate features and brown hair, the baby looked so much like his beautiful mother.

A little bubble floated out of the baby’s lips as he gurgled. And Forrest tensed with concern. Was something wrong?

And where had the baby’s mother gone?

Forrest had felt more comfortable finding that mummified body in her backyard than he did standing in her kitchen, holding her child. That body was beyond saving; the only thing he needed to do for her was find her killer.

But the baby...

He could screw up. He could cause him harm, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

* * *

Why had the crying stopped?

What had Forrest Colton done to her baby?

Rae peered through her open bedroom door at the man standing in her kitchen. He’d moved Connor to the crook of his muscular arm, and her child lay there, staring up in adulation at the man holding him.

Connor hadn’t looked at her that way in a while—with fascination. Frustration, instead, scrunched up his little face when he stared up at her. He’d been so fussy lately.

For her.

But not for Forrest Colton.

What the hell had the man done to him?

“Rae? Are you there? Are you okay?”

It wasn’t his deep voice rumbling in her ear as she pressed the cell phone into the crook of her shoulder and tried to dress while peering through the crack of her door. “Yes, Kenneth, I’m fine,” she assured her caller, who was one of the lawyers at the firm where she worked as a paralegal.

“Do you need me to come out there?”

“No,” she automatically replied. She’d been saying that to him a lot since she’d been hired at the firm—no to an offer of coffee or dinner. Not that he was harassing her. He’d made it clear that he was happily married and that his offers were only intended to make her feel welcome at the firm.

“I just wanted to be available in case any legal issues arise out of this search of your property,” he explained. “You’re one of the family here at Lukas, Jolley and Fitzsimmons.” He was more family than she was because he was related by marriage. His father-in-law was Fitzsimmons.

“I’m actually going to leave soon.” Even though this was her home, she didn’t want to stay here while Forrest Colton was on her property. “I’ll drop off Connor at day care and come into the office.”

Kenneth blew out a ragged breath of relief. “That’ll be good for you to get out of there.”

He’d called because he’d heard on his police scanner that the coroner and a crime-scene unit had been dispatched to her address. He used the scanner to drum up business for the firm—chasing ambulances.

“Yes,” she agreed. It would be good for her to get away from Forrest Colton. And to get him away from her child. “I’ll see you soon,” she said as she clicked off her cell phone.

While juggling the phone, she’d managed to replace her nightgown with a long summer dress. She’d even managed to rub some concealer over her dark circles and cover it up with a dusting of powder. A swipe of mascara across her lashes finished her makeup routine.

She stepped out of the bedroom and rushed into the kitchen. Forrest looked up from her son and focused on her face.

Did he notice the makeup? Did he think she’d put it on for him?

The heat of embarrassment rushed up now, probably flushing her face under that thin dusting of powder. “I had to take that call,” she told him.

“Was it your husband?” he asked.

A chortle slipped through her lips at the thought of her being married. “Not mine,” she said.

“Somebody else’s?” he asked.

She grimaced. “Don’t make it sound like that. He’s one of my colleagues. He heard the call and was concerned.”

Forrest’s brow furrowed. “How did he hear it?”

She shrugged. It wasn’t illegal to own a police scanner, but since starting law school, she’d already grown tired of the ambulance-chaser comments.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you hear anything last night?”

“I already told you I hadn’t,” she reminded him. Then she pointed toward the baby, who’d actually fallen asleep now in Forrest’s arms. “He’s the only one who’s been making any noise around here at night.”

The detective looked down at the baby again, and his lips curved into a smile, which was quite a turnaround from the grimace of horror that had crossed his face when she had first handed him her son. “What’s his name?” he asked.

“Connor.”

He glanced up at her as if waiting for more.

So she added, “Lemmon.”

“You’re not married?” he asked.

“I thought I already established that,” she said. When she’d asked him to dance at that wedding.

She was old-fashioned enough that she wouldn’t have asked a single guy to dance if she was married. But apparently she wasn’t as old-fashioned as he was.

“You know you don’t have to be married to have a baby,” she said.

“The father didn’t want to marry you?”

Both outraged and offended, she gasped. Forrest Colton wasn’t just old-fashioned; he was a jerk. “The father doesn’t even know me.”

He gasped now.

And she laughed at the shock on his face.

Her son tensed briefly in Forrest’s arm, but he moved him in a rocking motion, and Connor settled back to sleep. How could the man soothe her son while he riled her up? She’d never met anyone who’d infuriated her as much as Forrest Colton did.

“I chose to have my son on my own,” she informed him. “I used a sperm donor.” And before he could jump to another unflattering assumption about her, she added, “From a sperm bank.”

“Oh,” he murmured.

Not everyone understood or appreciated what she’d done. But she didn’t care. She loved Connor so much—even when he kept her awake. She moved closer to Forrest and brushed a fingertip along Connor’s cheek. He was so perfect.

“You chose to be a single parent,” he murmured.

And she couldn’t tell if he approved or disapproved. But she didn’t give a damn what he thought anyway.

“He’s the only male I need or want in my life,” she informed Forrest, just like she’d told her friends a week ago. She didn’t want anyone to answer to, anyone to disappoint or abandon her.

“That’s too bad,” he said.

And she gasped with surprise yet again. Was he...interested in her after all? She glanced from Connor’s face to his, which was flushed now.

“I meant...because it would be safer for you and Connor if you weren’t out here alone,” he said quickly, as if he was worried she’d misunderstood him.

She sighed. “You sound like Bellamy and Maggie,” she admitted.

“They’re concerned about you, too?”

She nodded. And that had been before Forrest’s discovery in her backyard. She couldn’t imagine how much they would worry now. She was surprised that he was concerned, though.

Why?

He barely knew her. And if he was interested in her, he wouldn’t act like such a jerk. Maybe it was just the lawman in him that had him worried about her safety.

“Your friends are wise to worry about you being out here all by yourself,” he said.

“They’re my friends, so they should know better than anyone else does that I can take care of myself and my son without the help or protection of any man,” she informed him.

“I’m not saying you need a man,” Forrest told her. “I’m saying that you need someone, though. You’re training to be a lawyer, not a police officer.”

She tensed. “You really believe I’m in danger?”

He shrugged, which jostled the sleeping baby into opening one eye and peering up at the man holding him.

If she was in danger, Connor would be, as well. So she had to ask, “What do you think?”

“I think there’s a killer in Whisperwood,” he said. “So nobody’s safe.”

She reached for her son, taking him from the detective’s arm. When her fingers brushed across his muscular forearm, a tingling sensation rose from her fingertips to her heart, jolting her.

And Connor.

He awoke with a cry of protest. Apparently he’d preferred Forrest Colton holding him over his mother holding him. But then he had to be frustrated with her; she hadn’t managed to comfort him last night, hadn’t managed to make him feel better, like her mother had always made her feel better.

Even when Mama had been so very sick, she’d offered solace to Rae, had held her and soothed all of her fears. She missed her mom every day. And she needed her now more than she ever had.

Because Rae was scared...and not just of the killer on the loose. She was scared that she may have taken on more than she could handle alone.

* * *

She was alone.

He had watched the house all day, had watched the police collect their evidence, had watched Rae Lemmon leave and then return later, after the police had already gone for the day. So she was the only one near the house now.

She and her baby.

He waited outside, watching the house until all of the lights flickered off inside, leaving it dark. Then he moved away from the tree against which he’d been leaning, and he headed toward the house.

Beside the sidewalk leading up to the porch, a big iron pot overflowed with red geraniums that matched the flowers overflowing the window boxes of the little white ranch house. He bent over, tipped the pot and fumbled beneath it.

Then a grin curved his lips, and his fingers closed around a key and tugged it free from beneath the pot. A magnet glued to the key had kept it stuck to the bottom. With the key in hand, he climbed the short steps up to the porch. As he moved across it to the front door, boards creaked beneath his weight. He unlocked the door, and it creaked as he opened it.

He tensed, waiting for lights to flash on inside, but everything remained dark and quiet.

The house was small, just two bedrooms off the living room, with a bathroom in between them. The door to the first bedroom was mostly closed, so he walked past it and the bathroom to the second bedroom. Moonlight streaming through the window reflected off the glow-in-the-dark stars painted on the ceiling. That light shone down on the face of the baby sleeping in the crib.

He crossed the room to the crib and stared down at the sleeping child. Something twisted in his chest, and he sucked in a breath.

He hated to do this.

But he had no choice.

Not anymore.

His hand shaking, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and popped out the blade. Then he leaned over the railing of the crib, with the knife in his hand extended toward the sleeping child...

Chapter 4

Chief Archer Thompson was in over his head. He knew it. That was why he’d hired the detective from Austin—Forrest Colton. He hadn’t done that just because Hurricane Brooke had stretched the department so thin that it was nearly transparent. He’d hired Forrest because Archer was too close to one of the murder victims.

His hand shook as he reached for the picture on the bookshelf in his home study. Emmeline at sixteen. So beautiful...

So sweet.

The first body Hurricane Brooke had uncovered was his sister’s. Missing for all of those years...

Was it the same situation with the body that Forrest had found out at the Lemmon house? Had her family been wondering for decades where she was?

And what about the woman in the parking lot?

She hadn’t been dead long, but somebody was probably already missing her, wondering where she was, if she’d been hurt and stranded in the hurricane.

He didn’t need the coroner’s report to know that she’d been murdered like the others. Elliot Corgan was dead now, so he couldn’t have hurt her.

And he claimed he hadn’t hurt Emmeline.

But if not him, who? Who else would want to harm the sweet young woman his sister had been?

Yeah, he was in too deep—too emotionally invested in finding the killer. Forrest Colton wasn’t. He would be able to examine everything with objectivity. He wouldn’t have had all of the success he’d had solving those cold cases in Austin if he got too involved. So nothing and nobody should be able to distract Forrest from finding this killer.

* * *

He was distracted, so distracted with thoughts of Rae Lemmon and her sweet baby. Despite her insistence that she didn’t need any protection, Forrest should have insisted on leaving an officer at her house. He could have convinced her that it was protocol—to protect the crime scene.

But it wasn’t the crime scene he was worried about.

Her house was so far from town, so far from any other homestead. While some of his family’s ranch touched her property, the closest other dwelling belonged to the Corgans. And one of them had been a serial killer. How the hell had Elliot Corgan’s family kept the fact that he was a murderer out of the press for so many years?

Judicial order?

They must have paid the judge for that order. Had they paid for anything else in town? For someone else to start up the murders to try to make Elliot Corgan look innocent?

His blood chilled as the thought occurred to him. But why bother now after another Corgan had already been arrested? James Corgan had tried to kill his ex-wife, Maggie Reeves-Corgan, and Forrest’s brother Jonah, who was now Maggie’s fiancé. Fortunately James hadn’t been as successful at committing murders as his great-uncle had.

Those old case files sat atop Forrest’s desk, the top folders nearly sliding off the mound of records and onto the floor of his cubicle area of the Whisperwood Police Department. He’d looked through everything in those case files and was as convinced as the jury had been that Elliot had been responsible for all of those murders.

But one.

There had been one victim all those years ago that had been strangled but hadn’t had a scarf stuffed in her mouth like the others. She’d also been the only one of those bodies that had been mummified.

Like the chief’s sister...

Like the body found in Rae’s backyard...

No. Even back then, before Elliot had been arrested, convicted and sentenced to life in prison, there had been two killers. Were there two killers now? Or had that one just started up again?

Had his first recent murder been Elliot’s? After Jonah and Maggie had interviewed the serial killer in prison, he had supposedly committed suicide, but Jonah had had his doubts. And knowing serial killers as well he did, so did Forrest. Had this killer somehow gotten to Elliot to prevent the inmate from revealing his identity?

And if this killer could get to someone in a maximum-security prison, he could certainly get to someone who lived in a little ranch house outside town.

Forrest shivered despite the fact that the air conditioner barely worked in the big open area that was divided only by the short cubicle walls. Out of all of the cubicles, his was the only one currently occupied. The officers on duty had gone out on patrol hours ago. Except for the 911 area and the front desk, the building was pretty much deserted.

He needed to head home or his parents would worry. Despite all of the years he’d been gone or maybe because of them, his parents worried about him like he was a teenager staying out past curfew. Not that he ever stayed out late. It wasn’t as if he had anyplace—but work—to go. And maybe that was why they worried.

He touched his bad leg, which was stiff from all of the time he’d been sitting at his desk. They were probably worried that he was going to get hurt again—like he’d been hurt before. Like he still was...

His leg shook, threatening to fold, but he locked it and walked stiff-legged around his desk. He’d just stepped outside the dingy fabric walls of his cubicle when the phone on his desk began to ring. Dispatch probably didn’t realize he was still in the office, so the call hadn’t come through them. It must have come into his direct line.

Dread gripped his stomach, churning it, as he hobbled back to his desk and picked up the receiver. “Detective Colton.”

“This is Dr. Bentley from the medical examiner’s office,” the caller identified herself. “The ME wanted me to let you know that we’re pretty certain of an identification for that murder victim.”

Shocked, Forrest sucked in a breath. “That was quick.”

“For the one in the parking lot,” Dr. Bentley clarified. “Despite how well it was preserved, the other body may take a long time to identify.”

The body in Rae’s backyard.

His mind flitted to Rae Lemmon and to her son—to the two of them being alone in that house where the body had been buried just a few yards from their back door. And that dread gripped his stomach again.

He was more worried about her than he was about notifying the family of the murder victim from the parking lot. But he owed them his full attention; they’d already lost too much.

“Are you still at the office?” he asked the doctor.

“Yes, Detective.”

“I’m going to come down and take a look at the full report,” he said. Her family was going to want more than her identification; they were going to want to know what happened to her.

They were also going to want to know who did it to her. He couldn’t give them that person’s name. Not yet.

But he would. He had to stop this sadistic killer before he killed again. Before he hurt anyone else.

And again an image of Rae’s pretty face flashed through his mind. She’d said she could take care of herself, so she was strong and resourceful. To get into law school, she also had to be smart. Too smart to take dangerous risks. He really had no reason to be worried about her.

But those other women had probably thought they could take care of themselves, too, that they needed no protection. Now they were lying in the morgue. He did not want Rae Lemmon to wind up there.

* * *

Despite how exhausted she was from all of her sleepless nights, Rae couldn’t rest. Sleep continued to elude her. And it wasn’t because Connor was crying.

He was quiet—so quiet that she felt goose bumps of unease lift her skin. Why was he so quiet now?

He was exhausted, too, though. Probably even more exhausted than she was, since he was the one who’d done all of the crying the past few nights. He must have just been sleeping soundly.

Like she wished she could sleep.

But unlike Connor, she wasn’t blissfully unaware of what had been discovered in their backyard earlier that day. A body.

Whose?

Who had been killed, and had that murder taken place right here? In Rae’s backyard? Or in her house?

She shivered at the thought.

Would Forrest come back? Would he want to bring his crime-scene techs into her home?

She’d left before they’d finished up in her backyard. But they’d been gone when she’d returned, leaving behind only that yellow tape that had cordoned off her backyard.

Not that she wanted to go out there ever again.

When she’d left, she’d locked up the house, so unless Forrest had found the key under the flowerpot, he wouldn’t have been able to get inside without breaking and entering. And she’d found no evidence of that.

Unlike the backyard, her house had seemed undisturbed—or at the least just as messy as it had been when she and Connor had left. Would she have even been able to tell if Forrest had searched it?

Of course he must have realized he would need a warrant before she would allow that. She’d made it clear to him that she knew her rights and had no intention of letting him violate them or anything else.

But he’d violated her sleep. Thoughts of him—as much as thoughts of that poor corpse—had kept her awake. Why did he irritate her so much?

What was it about him that bothered her in a way she couldn’t remember anyone else ever bothering her?

She turned to flip to her left side from her right, but the sheets twisted around her, prohibiting her from moving. A curse slipped out from between her lips.

And she tensed. Hopefully she hadn’t awakened Connor. But she heard something else—a strange creaking noise, like something or someone moving across the floorboards.

Then Connor did awake with a cry. But this wasn’t like the nights before, when colic had brought him out of an already fitful sleep. This sounded more like a cry of terror—but it might have held pain, as well.

Jerking at the tangled sheets, Rae fought her way out of the bed. Tripping and stumbling over the ends of the sheets, she picked herself up from the floor and ran from her bedroom into Connor’s. If she’d met anyone between her door and his, she would have plowed them over; she was so desperate to get to her son.

But nobody crossed her path. And nobody stood inside the nursery, but there was something, some lingering presence, some scent...

And she knew that Connor had not been alone the entire night. Somebody had been in his room. She scrambled toward the crib and peered over the railing.

Connor’s feet and arms flailed as he lay on his back, kicking and screaming. She reached down and picked him up, checking his tiny body for wounds or whatever was hurting him as she did.

He was stiff, but nothing felt wounded. She soothed him by rubbing her hand up and down his back, which was damp with perspiration from his exertion, and a few hairs stuck to her palm. Had he been thrashing so violently that he’d pulled out some hair?

Maybe she needed to call a doctor. Or take him to the emergency room.

She held him tightly against her and murmured soothing words as she continued to stroke his back and rock him. Her heart pounded frantically, and his smaller heart echoed that beat...until finally it slowed. And his terrified sobbing quieted to soft, shaky cries.

And with his crying no longer ringing in her ears, she could hear other things. Like that creak again...

But it wasn’t a floorboard this time. It was the creak of a door opening, then the distinctive click of it closing again. She shuddered. Somebody had been inside the house, inside the nursery...with Connor.

She needed to call the police.

She’d been so anxious to get to Connor that she’d left her cell in her bedroom. Had the intruder been in there? Had he taken her phone? Her purse?

She didn’t care if he’d taken everything she owned—as long as he didn’t harm her son. Or her.

She had to make sure he didn’t return. With Connor still clasped in her arms, she rushed out of his room and back to hers. Her fingers trembling, she flipped on the switch next to the door and illuminated the room with the ceiling light.

Her phone lay on the bedside table, connected to her charger, so she rushed over to it. But as she reached for it, she noticed something fluttering on her pillow in the breeze that blew in through the open window. A piece of paper.

But it wasn’t just paper.

When she picked it up, short strands of brown hair rained out of it, onto her tangled sheets. She touched the strands, which were baby soft, and panic gripped her heart.

It was Connor’s hair. She inspected his little head and found where the piece had been cut, just above his left ear. But it looked like only his hair had been cut, the ends left jagged.

No blood smeared his pink skin.

He hadn’t been hurt. But he could have been.

Or he could have been taken from her.

Someone had been inside her house. Inside the nursery and close enough to Connor to cut a lock of his hair.

She shivered with fear and revulsion.

Her poor baby...

Why? Why would someone have broken in to...?

What?

Remembering the note, she held it up to read the words crudely scrawled across the lined paper. Get rid of the cop, or you’ll lose your kid. For good.

Get rid of the cop?

Forrest?

Or all of the police who’d been working the crime scene in her backyard?

That wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t found the body. She hadn’t called them.

She glanced down at her phone. She couldn’t call now for help. Whoever had left that note, whoever had been inside her house, might be outside—waiting, watching...

Seeing if she would ignore his warning.

And what would happen if she did?

Would he break back into her house? Would he come inside and steal Connor?

Or kill him?

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