You don’t have to believe in magic to find it...

Callie James never expected a handsome prince or a fairy-tale ending. She already knows that life is full of unhappy-ever-afters—like finding her boyfriend with another woman, and being forced to return to her hometown and deal with her troubled past. Fortunately, she’s pretty much safe from romantic entanglements. That is, until she discovers the chief of police is also her teenage crush, Tyler Garrett. Now she must find a way to face her wicked stepfamily, win over Prince Charming...and save herself in the process.

“I wanted to thank you for tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Callie said.

“Yes, you did.” Tyler swallowed. “I’ve been so wrapped up in family and work that I haven’t taken the time to go out and enjoy myself with other adults. So thank you for going along. I’m not sure I would have gone alone.”

“Really? You seemed anxious to go when Riva asked us.”

“That was for your sake. You needed a break.” He shrugged. “Turns out, so did I.”

The clouds uncovered the moon, illuminating her face. He leaned closer and touched his mouth to hers. He’d been wanting to do that all night. As soon as their mouths met, he knew it was a mistake.

This wasn’t the one chaste kiss they’d shared in high school.

This was the real thing.

Dear Reader,

When I originally conceived the plot of Prince Charming Wears a Badge, I had no idea it was a twist on Cinderella. But then I saw the live-action version of the movie Cinderella, where they go into much more detail about Cinderella’s life. When I saw how she was treated by her stepmother and stepsisters, I saw the similarity to my story.

The main difference, or the twist, is that my Cinderella, Callie James, doesn’t wait around for her prince to find her. She studied hard and got a full scholarship to college and never returned home. At least until she’s forced to. And that’s where she finds Tyler Garrett, a true prince of a man.

I hope you enjoy this twist on a favorite fairy tale. I’d love to hear from you at lisa@lisadyson.com. Check out my website, www.lisadyson.com, for upcoming releases.

Wishing you a happy ending,

Lisa Dyson

Prince Charming Wears a Badge

Lisa Dyson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LISA DYSON has been creating stories ever since getting an A on a fifth-grade writing assignment. She lives near Washington, DC, with her husband and their rescue dog with a blue tongue, aptly named Blue. She has three grown sons, a daughter-in-law and four adorable grandchildren. When not writing, reading or spending time with family, Lisa enjoys traveling, volunteering and rooting for her favorite sports teams.

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To my prince of a husband, Michael

Acknowledgments

A special thank-you to my friend attorney Benjamin W. Glass, III for answering my many questions about the legal system. Any mistakes are entirely my own.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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 NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

A FEW DAYS ago Callie James was planning a romantic surprise for her boyfriend.

Now she found herself in front of a judge who held Callie’s future in her hands.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that held back the bile churning wildly in her digestive tract. Her folded hands on the defense table were damp as she waited for the judge to speak.

Callie never got into trouble. Sure, she’d received a speeding ticket once and had the occasional library book fine, but that’s as far as it went. She’d never come close to the possibility of jail time.

The judge turned her attention from the papers in front of her to the scattered observers in the courtroom. She cleared her throat and looked over horn-rimmed reading glasses to focus on the prosecution side of the room. “The charge is malicious destruction of property?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Her now ex-boyfriend, Andrew, who happened to be a Maryland Assistant State’s Attorney, rose from his seat at the prosecution table and straightened his conservative navy-and-white diagonally striped tie, which he wore with his equally conservative navy suit.

“You’re prosecuting the case on your own behalf?” The female judge’s wizened eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“No, Your Honor,” he said quickly and looked down to his right.

A much younger but similarly dressed man seated next to him stood up. “ASA Ross, Your Honor.”

Was this guy even out of law school yet? He had the haircut of a six-year-old and the lanky build of a fourteen-year-old who was wearing his father’s suit.

When the judge smiled at ASA Ross, Callie figured this was it. They were all conspirators in her downfall. They were going to lock her up and throw away the key.

“Harvey Goodman for the defense, Your Honor.” Callie’s lawyer was her financial firm’s house counsel and the only person she could think of to call. Harvey was nearing retirement age and she just hoped he wasn’t out of his league. His expertise was in mergers and acquisitions—he probably hadn’t litigated since law school. Which was likely about the same time he’d bought his suit, whose buttons strained over his middle.

“Thank you, Mr. Goodman. I understand your client rejected the state’s plea agreement?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Andrew interjected, and Harvey nodded.

“Mr. Slater. If you’re not prosecuting the case,” the judge admonished, “then please allow Mr. Ross to speak.”

“Yes, Your Honor. I apologize.” Andrew played the admonished attorney well.

ASA Ross spoke. “The plea was rejected.”

The judge wrinkled her nose as she looked over the papers on her large, wood-paneled desk that placed her a few feet higher than everyone else in the courtroom. “Mr. Slater, you’re claiming Ms. James came into your apartment, lost her temper for no apparent reason, and then threw your Dresden vase—value forty-five hundred dollars—on the floor and left?”

“That’s correct.” Andrew’s tone was sharp but deferential.

“No apparent reason?” The whispered words were out of Callie’s mouth before she could stop them, earning her a stern look and a shush from Harvey.

“You’ll have your chance, Ms. James,” the judge told her then turned to Andrew. “How would you classify your relationship with Ms. James?”

Andrew glanced quickly at Callie before answering. “A romantic one.”

Callie coughed and immediately lowered her head when the judge glared at her.

“Keep quiet,” her lawyer whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“How long have the two of you been involved?” the judge asked Andrew.

Too long, Callie realized, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

“A few months” was Andrew’s answer.

Except that the incident had taken place on their six-month anniversary. The reason Callie had been taking Andrew a romantic dinner when he’d had to work late. Or so he’d said that’s what he was doing.

“Do you have anything else to add?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.” Andrew took his seat.

The judge turned to Harvey and Callie. “Ms. James, you’ve rejected the state’s plea agreement?”

Callie rose, displeased when her voice was shaky. “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

Sounding incredulous, the judge stared straight at Callie. “May I ask why? You do know that if you don’t accept the plea that consists of paying restitution, then you can be subject to not only reimbursement but also a fine of twenty-five hundred dollars and up to three years in prison if found guilty?”

Callie inhaled, straightening her spine. “I understand, Your Honor.” Her lawyer had explained in depth. “I didn’t lose my temper, and I can’t admit to causing damage when I’m not sure I did it. If I did break the vase, then it was accidental and happened because Mr. Slater—” She stared at Andrew, narrowed her gaze, and said calmly, “Because Mr. Slater is a lying ba—”

“Objection!” Andrew was on his feet so fast he nearly toppled over the table in front of him.

The judge banged her gavel at the sudden commotion in the gallery. “Order!” Bang, bang, bang. “Order!”

When everyone quieted, the judge first reprimanded Andrew in a no-nonsense manner. “Your objection is moot, Mr. Slater. This is an arraignment, not a trial. And I’ll remind you for the last time that you’re not the one prosecuting this case.” Her gaze went to ASA Ross.

“Of course, Your Honor.” Andrew had the decency to lower his head in deference before taking his seat.

Then the judge addressed Callie. “Ms. James, please keep your personal opinions to yourself and stick to the facts.”

Callie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

The judge straightened her back and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me your version of what happened and why you won’t accept the plea agreement?”

As Callie began to explain how she’d been going to surprise Andrew with dinner because he said he’d be working late, the anger rushed through her as if she were reliving it. She unclenched her fists, relaxed her shoulders and blew out a breath, techniques she’d always used successfully to diffuse the first signs of anger.

“So you brought him dinner. Then what?” The judge’s smirk said she didn’t want to hear about some lover’s spat.

“It was our six-month anniversary.” Callie glanced at Andrew. Her confidence got a boost when he colored with embarrassment. “I had a key to his apartment and I didn’t bother knocking since he’d told me he was still at work. I took the food directly to the kitchen and heard a noise in the bedroom.” Callie swallowed. There was that pesky bile again. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Thinking Andrew had gotten home earlier than expected, I went to surprise him.” She drew in a breath. “He was in bed with a...woman.” Callie had other names for Andrew’s former colleague but refused to lower herself to their level.

A choking sound from the back of the room had Callie and several others turning.

Heat suffused Callie’s face and spread through her body as she relived Andrew’s betrayal. There was the woman, standing at the back of the courtroom as if she belonged. So sure of herself that she’d come to observe Callie’s further humiliation. How long had their affair been going on? Was it serious or merely a one-night fling?

Callie didn’t care. Once a cheater, always a cheater. She’d never take Andrew back.

The judge gave her a little prod. “What happened next?”

Truthfully, Callie wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Everything had blurred as she’d run out of the apartment. The blood rushing in her ears had been so loud that if she had knocked over Andrew’s precious vase, she hadn’t heard or felt it.

“I ran out of the apartment and went home.” Callie shrugged her shoulders. “I have no recollection of knocking over his vase, accidentally or on purpose. I do know that I didn’t throw it.”

The next thing she remembered was waking to the ringing phone, her pillowcase wet from tears, thinking Andrew had wanted to apologize. Instead he’d wanted her to reimburse him for the stupid vase. The thing was ugly, with some kind of battle scene on it, but he’d bought it in Germany several years ago and claimed it was very expensive.

Callie had refused to pay him and a few choice words to describe her feelings about his betrayal had remained unspoken. In return, he’d offered her a few hours to think about her options. The only option she’d been interested in was the one where she’d never see him again.

She’d gone to work as usual the next day. When she hadn’t heard back from him, she’d assumed he’d come to his senses and realized it was unfair to make her pay for something she didn’t break.

The following morning she’d awoken to banging on her apartment door. Two officers were there to escort her to the Montgomery County Detention Center. She’d spent several hours in an interrogation room until her lawyer made arrangements for her arraignment. At least she hadn’t been subjected to a jail cell.

She’d sworn to herself right then and there that she would never, ever, get involved with an assistant state’s attorney again. Or a lawyer. Or anyone else who could put her in this kind of position.

For that matter, she was swearing off men altogether.

Period.

The judge drummed her fingers on her desk, appearing to want Callie to say more.

“Your Honor, if I did knock over Mr. Slater’s vase, then it was by accident.” Callie couldn’t help adding, “An accident caused directly by Mr. Slater’s own inexcusable actions.”

The judge’s brows rose but she kept her focus on Callie while raising a hand to quiet Andrew, who was halfway out of his chair.

He pinched his lips shut but not before glaring at Callie as he sat.

She guessed he didn’t expect his private “affair” would come out in public. He probably thought he’d scared her and she’d gladly pay for his precious vase now.

“Then you admit you broke the vase?” the judge asked.

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t remember bumping into it or breaking it, so I can’t say for sure that I broke it. We only have his version of events, and I’m not about to accept the opinion of a known liar.”

The judge nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to Andrew. “Mr. Slater, did you see Ms. James break the vase?”

“Well—”

The judge nodded, pursing her lips. “That’s what I thought. Do you perhaps have a witness who will come forward to verify that Ms. James broke the vase?”

Andrew looked to the back of the room where the witch was now seated, shaking her head vigorously.

Andrew turned back to the judge. “No, I don’t.”

“So it’s a ‘he said, she said’ case?”

Andrew looked at Callie, disgust on his face. “Unfortunately yes, Your Honor.”

“And you still think you can be successful at trial?” The judge wanted to know.

Again Andrew glanced to the back of the courtroom before answering. He straightened. “Yes, I do.”

The judge addressed Callie. “I know you don’t want to accept the plea agreement from the state, but I have an alternative so as to stop wasting the court’s time and the state’s money.”

Callie waited for the judge to continue, her knees knocking. Maybe she should have just given Andrew the money for his ridiculous vase.

Then again, why should she give him the satisfaction? He’d already gotten what he wanted. Callie glanced back at the woman she’d last seen straddling him.

Callie straightened her shoulders and raised her head high. She had nothing to be sorry for.

“Ms. James, I don’t know whether or not you broke Mr. Slater’s vase. And if you did, I don’t know if it was on purpose or by accident. So my solution to this is Solomonesque.” From the confused looks the judge was getting from around the courtroom, Callie wasn’t the only one who didn’t get her meaning. “King Solomon, people. You know, cut the baby in half and all that?”

Callie still didn’t understand.

“Okay, Ms. James, you will pay for half of the vase.” She looked at the papers in front of her. “That comes to two thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars.” She looked at Andrew. “That means, Mr. Slater, you will be responsible for the other half.”

Neither party spoke.

“Is that agreeable to both of you?” the judge asked.

“But—” Callie was about to say no. The whole thing was not fair.

The judge held up a hand. “Let me remind you, Ms. James. If you don’t accept this agreement, then bail will be set and a trial date chosen. Mr. Slater will likely have time to convince a particular witness to testify and back his version of events, leaving you to defend yourself in front of a jury of your peers, and you seem to have no witnesses to make your case.”

Callie couldn’t believe it. Andrew was going to win because, no matter what she did, she would have to pay.

She spoke through clenched teeth, fisting her hands so tight that her nails dug into her flesh. “I have no other options?” She was an expert at controlling her temper, had done it out of necessity, but she was a hair’s width away from losing it.

The judge watched her carefully. “No, you don’t. And I’m going to add something beneficial to your overall well-being. I don’t know if you broke Mr. Slater’s vase, but, frankly, you appear to be wound way too tight. I’d like you to get some anger management therapy.”

Callie’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Was the judge kidding? Callie held back the hysterical laughter choking her. “Why do I need therapy when he’s the one who lied and cheated?” She pointed at Andrew, quite pleased with himself. She snapped her mouth shut.

“You’re making my point, Ms. James,” the judge cautioned. “I’m beginning to think you may have broken the vase on purpose.” The judge made a note on her papers. “So I need to know if you accept the plea deal. Pay for half the vase, seek therapy, and I’m going to add one hundred hours of community service to the deal.”

“Community service?” Her lawyer finally spoke up. “That’s completely unfair, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Goodman, your client can gladly turn down the plea and go to trial. I won’t repeat what I said before about a possible fine and jail time. I think she understands.”

Callie went numb. Why was she being punished and Andrew came out the winner?

“May I have a moment with my client?” Harvey asked.

“A moment,” the judge said. “I have other cases pending.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Harvey turned to Callie and lowered his voice. “I’m recommending you take the deal.”

“What!” She whispered but several heads turned in her direction. “I can’t take the deal. I’m not guilty.”

“If you don’t, then you could end up in jail. You know he’s going to get the other woman to testify against you.”

“Will this go on my record if I accept the plea?” She’d made a name for herself in the financial world. This could ruin her career.

“I’ll ask for it to be expunged after you complete your therapy and community service,” Harvey said.

Community service. You’ve got to be kidding. She pictured herself in a reflective vest as she picked up trash along I-270 on a hot July day.

“I can probably get your community service limited to some pro bono tax returns for struggling businesses,” Harvey told her.

That didn’t sound so bad. And she could probably handle a few sessions with a shrink. Heaven knew she had enough childhood stuff to fill a few hours.

“Okay,” she finally said. “As long as it all gets expunged when I’m done.”

Harvey addressed the judge. “There are two conditions we’d like to attend to, Your Honor. The matter of expunging Ms. James’s record and some kind of proof of the value of the vase.”

Nice touch, Harvey. Paying for half wouldn’t be a financial burden for Callie, but the principal of paying for it definitely irked her.

The judge made notes. “Those conditions are acceptable.” Then she turned to Andrew. “Mr. Slater, can you provide the court with a proper document?”

“I’d be happy to do that, Your Honor.”

Callie was tempted to wipe that smirk off his face but instead breathed in and out, in and out.

The judge turned to the clerk. “Have both parties sign the appropriate documents.” She banged her gavel. “The court is in recess for fifteen minutes.”

Everyone stood until the judge exited the courtroom through her private door. Loath to speak to Andrew ever again, Callie whispered to Harvey, “Get me out of here.”

“Callie!” Andrew came up behind her as she hurried down the courthouse hallway.

She slowed her pace but didn’t stop completely. “What?”

Andrew hesitated a few seconds before blurting out, “I want my key back.”

Of course he did. She stopped, dug through her hobo bag and struggled to remove his key from her ring. Instead of throwing it at him like she wanted to, she very smoothly held it out to him.

He tossed it a few inches in the air and caught it, his pleasure at her expense almost more than she could bear. “You know I only want the best for you.”

She stared at him, curious why he felt the need to say anything to her.

“That’s why I suggested the judge add therapy to the plea.”

He’d suggested it? Then she was right about them all being in cahoots. She kept her tone neutral. “So you think I need to control my anger?”

He shook his head. “No, I think you need to start expressing your feelings.” He looked down the hall to where his bed partner waited and then back at Callie. “You’re a wonderful person, Callie, but you’re as emotionally reserved as a rock.”

* * *

SEVERAL WEEKS AND anger management therapy sessions later, Callie’s therapist harrumphed and scratched his head. Nearly halfway into today’s session and he was clearly frustrated. Callie suspected he was trying to bring out some anger in her, or at least some kind of emotion. In her defense, she’d spent years bottling up those emotions and she wasn’t sure she knew how to unleash them. Or wanted to.

Dr. Hammond seemed perfectly nice. He was a middle-aged man of average height, average weight and above-average intelligence as far as Callie could judge. Just not the person with whom she was comfortable sharing her innermost thoughts.

“Let’s get back to your mother,” Dr. Hammond said in his monotone voice. “She died when you were very young?”

“Yes.” A pink bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers constituted her faint memory of the woman who’d died when Callie was three. She didn’t even remember her face, forced to consult one of the few faded pictures she’d held on to.

“Were you upset when she died?”

“Of course I was upset,” she said evenly. “Who wouldn’t be? I was young and had no mother.” Callie’s pulse sped up, so she took control of her breathing. In and out. In and out. “But I couldn’t do anything about it and it wasn’t her fault that she was killed.”

“Are you still angry?”

Callie’s brow furrowed. Her mother had been gone twenty-six years. She missed her or, more specifically, she missed having a mother figure. She didn’t know what it was like to have a mother to turn to in tough times. Like when she’d caught Andrew cheating.

She spoke calmly. “Car jacking is a horrific act of violence, but I don’t dwell on it.”

“Are you close to your father?” Dr. Hammond shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other.

“No.”

“When was the last time you two spoke?”

Callie did the math in her head. “About eleven years ago.”

Dr. Hammond’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a long time.” When Callie didn’t comment further, he asked, “What was the circumstance that led to your loss of communication?”

Callie nearly smiled at Dr. Hammond’s formal turn of phrase rather than simply asking why she’d shut her father out of her life. “I left for college.”

“I see.”

No, he probably didn’t, but Callie couldn’t disclose her personal demons to this stranger, no matter how soothingly he spoke.

“Did you and your father have an altercation?”

“No.”

“Would you like to rekindle a relationship with him?”

She hadn’t even considered it. “That’s not an option.”

Dr. Hammond cocked his head and asked, “Did he molest you?”

Callie’s eyes widened and she straightened in her chair. “No, of course not. He’d never do that.” Her father was the sweetest man she’d ever known. Maybe too sweet, blinding him to the deceit surrounding him.

Dr. Hammond watched Callie through narrowed eyes and finally nodded as he made notes in his file. “Let’s move on to your stepmother,” Dr. Hammond suggested.

Let’s not. “What about her?” Breathe deeply. In and out.

“How old were you when she came into your life?”

Callie’s stomach churned. “She was my mother’s friend, her maid of honor when my parents married.”

Dr. Hammond made another note. “How would you characterize your relationship?”

Callie couldn’t do this. She couldn’t discuss her stepmother. “She’s my father’s wife.” She took a halting breath. “Can’t we talk about something else?”

Dr. Hammond was silent for several minutes. “Callie, I’m at a loss here. The court sent you to me, but I can’t help you if you insist on burying your emotions. You need to open up.”

Callie didn’t know what to say. She’d spent most of her life keeping her thoughts and emotions to herself. Any anger burning her insides remained unspoken. That’s what kept her out of trouble.

Until recently.

Most people would have screamed and yelled at Andrew and the woman on top of him, but Callie didn’t operate like that. She’d learned early on to curb her temper, no matter how unfair the circumstances. After that, only once had she ever lost complete control of her temper. It was a slipup as a teenager and she was lucky it hadn’t ruined the rest of her life.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Nothing in my past has anything to do with me finding my boyfriend in bed with another woman.” She fisted and relaxed her hands several times. “It didn’t make me lose my temper and break an expensive vase. Though I almost wish I had so at least I’d be paying for something I actually did.”

The more she’d thought about it since court, the more she was positive she couldn’t have broken Andrew’s vase. The ugly thing always sat on a shelf right outside his kitchen, so she never even would have come near it as she ran out of his apartment. The only way she might have been responsible is if it had fallen when she’d slammed his apartment door as she’d left—but she wouldn’t have slammed the door. That would have been a loss of control that was completely out of character for Callie.

“Our time is almost up for today.” Dr. Hammond leaned forward. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, but I want you to go spend time with your father and stepmother.” When Callie opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand to stop her. “I want you to voice, face-to-face, whatever your feelings have been about them. Even if in the end you haven’t settled things, at least you won’t be carrying your hurt inside where it’s obviously tearing you apart.”

This couldn’t be happening. “Can’t I just write letters to them, pour out my feelings, and then burn the letters or something?” She’d seen that on shows countless times and it always seemed to make the person feel better.

Not that she needed to feel better. She was just fine. Especially now that she was free of cheating Andrew and single again.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ve already made arrangements for you to continue your community service in Whittler’s Creek.”

“But—”

“Our time is up.” Dr. Hammond repeated as he stood. “We’ll continue therapy by phone while you’re away. You can email my receptionist with the best time for you once you know your community service hours.”

Callie stood up, her mind a foggy mess. “What about my job?” How would she explain needing time off? How long would it take? A few days? A week? Longer?

Breathe. In and out. Slower. In...out.

Dr. Hammond put a hand on her elbow to show her out. “I’m sure they’ll allow you to take a sabbatical once you explain.” He handed her another piece of paper. A formal letter on his personal stationery. “Use this if necessary.” He handed her another sheet of paper. “And here’s where you report for community service at 8:00 a.m. Monday.”

She glanced at the information. Office of the Chief of Police, Whittler’s Creek, Maryland. Great. What were the chances this small-town law enforcer was someone who didn’t know her or about her past?

CHAPTER TWO

LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON Callie reluctantly drove the hour and a half from her home just inside the Washington, DC, beltway to the town where she’d grown up in western Maryland. She’d spoken to her boss Friday afternoon and arranged to telework while she was away. Her boss hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d had no choice. She’d made the company a lot of money the past few years. They couldn’t afford to lose her, especially knowing there were several other financial firms that would gladly hire her immediately after this fiasco in Whittler’s Creek ended.

When she reached the sign welcoming her to Whittler’s Creek, her heart began to beat double-time. How had she gotten herself into this? Was it too late to give Andrew the entire amount for the stupid vase? Probably.

Callie’s plan for today was to arrive in town and immediately head to her father’s house to get their reunion over with. She loved her dad and missed having him in her life. But she couldn’t get past the feeling that he’d let her down all those years ago.

She drove through the “downtown” area of Whittler’s Creek that consisted of two blocks with a few small, family-run businesses, as well as a bank and the police station where Callie would report tomorrow morning. She continued on toward the outskirts of town and made a left turn on the winding uphill road that led to her childhood home.

When she reached the long driveway, she pulled over onto the gravel-and-dirt shoulder to gather her courage. She pressed the button to turn off the engine of her dark red sports car—the one she’d splurged on, buying it outright with her last bonus.

She could see the house farther up the hill. It didn’t appear much different than when she’d lived there all those years ago.

The house held painful secrets, but from the outside you’d never guess it was anything but run-down.

The white clapboard was dingy and one of the dark green shutters was missing, while several others hung slightly crooked. The landscaping needed work. The grass needed to be mowed and the evergreen bushes near the front door were overgrown. One of the large oak trees in the front yard was dead. The next big storm could knock the tree into the house if it wasn’t taken down soon.

Callie hadn’t called ahead to let her dad know she’d be coming. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know, it was more that she didn’t want to give her stepmother a heads-up. This visit would be difficult enough without giving the woman prep time.

Callie stayed in her car for quite a while, gathering her courage to face her past. There were only a few other houses down this quiet road. Not even one car passed by as she sat there.

Her stomach was in knots. She should have eaten lunch, but she’d figured an empty stomach was better than a full one that could reverse direction if her anxiety got out of control.

Which it was definitely threatening.

She uncapped the water bottle in the center console drink holder and took a long swig. The cool liquid somewhat soothed her dry mouth but offered no relief to her stomach. She replaced the cap and turned her attention back to her father’s house.

A car was visible in the detached garage, the door having been left open. She hoped that meant her father was home, but she’d been gone too long to know if it was her father’s car or her stepmother’s.

It was now or never. She would prefer never, but that wouldn’t make her therapist happy. Callie needed to get this over with and move on.

The engine turned over when she pressed the start button. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the gearshift and froze.

She reminded herself that she was an adult now. Not the eighteen-year-old who’d left home for college eleven years ago. She could stand up for herself, could leave whenever she wanted. No one could force her to do something against her will.

She wasn’t that scared little girl, so easily intimidated.

She put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the two-lane road riddled with potholes that still hadn’t been patched from last year’s harsh winter.

She carefully turned right into the long driveway leading to her childhood home and stopped abruptly.

Her head throbbed.

Before she could change her mind, she threw the car into reverse and backed out onto the street to face the direction from which she’d come.

A single bead of sweat ran down her temple. Not from the heat but from anxiety.

Without another glance at the house, she gunned the engine and headed back through the downtown area.

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she let it out as she passed the sign saying Thanks for Visiting Whittler’s Creek, Come Again.

She knew of a small hotel in a neighboring town that she could check in to for the night. After breakfast tomorrow, she’d look for a more semi-permanent housing solution, rather than pay daily hotel rates.

She’d also work on reinforcing her courage.

* * *

MONDAY MORNING TYLER GARRETT rubbed his face with both hands, barely able to control the urge to bang his head on his desk as he surveyed his crowded office.

He was Whittler’s Creek’s Chief of Police, not a financial guru. He had no way of deciphering the mountain of binders and documents that had been packed into boxes and were now taking up much of the walking space in his already cramped office.

He’d received an anonymous email late last week about discrepancies in the town’s financial records. With no ability to track down where the email had originated, he had immediately requested a court order before the records could be doctored. After Judge Parsons had signed off on it, Tyler had requested the records be brought to his office from a building down the street. He’d never imagined there would be so much paper involved.

What happened to going digital like the rest of the country?

Then he considered where he was living. A small town in western Maryland. Even though a few residents commuted to DC or Baltimore, the majority had lived here most of their lives and rarely ventured more than an hour or so away. They preferred to keep their lives simple.

His phone rang. “Chief Garrett.”

“Good morning, Chief Garrett. This is Dr. Jeffrey Hammond. I’m a psychologist in Bethesda and I have a court-ordered patient who will be coming to Whittler’s Creek to do her community service. I sent you an email over the weekend with the details.”

Great. Just what he needed. Another criminal coming to town. “I haven’t gotten to email yet this morning.” He glanced at the banker’s boxes surrounding his desk and shook his head.

“I understand.” Dr. Hammond went on to give Tyler a few details. “I’m not at liberty to explain too much about Ms. James’s current situation, but she grew up there and still has family in town. I trust that you will provide adequate supervision for her court-ordered community service?”

“Absolutely.” Ms. James? As in Callie James? If that’s who it was, he hadn’t seen her in years. Not since he’d witnessed her explosive temper the night he’d walked her home from a party. He’d had a huge crush on her, asking her out several times but getting the same negative response from her each time. The night of the party he thought he’d been the luckiest guy in Whittler’s Cove until her true personality revealed itself.

He fired up his dated desktop computer while Dr. Hammond continued talking.

“Thank you for understanding and for your discretion.” By the time Dr. Hammond disconnected, Tyler’s computer was finally opening the email program.

He needed to take a look at the town’s budget and see about new computers. How was he expected to do his job if he couldn’t even check email in a timely fashion?

He wiped sweat from the back of his neck. The air-conditioning was on the fritz again, too, and the outside temperature on this July morning was already in the low eighties.

The program finally opened and he found Dr. Hammond’s email. There it was. Callie James. Grew up in Whittler’s Creek and has family issues to deal with.

No kidding. Callie’s stepsister used to hang out with Tyler’s sister back in high school, and the stepsister had been a terrible influence on Isabelle. Thankfully, the two young women had gone their separate ways after high school.

Had Callie changed since high school? Obviously not, if she had community service hours to fulfill. According to his sister and what he’d witnessed, Callie could be as mean and nasty as an angry wasp.

What about physically? Had she let herself go as much as others he’d seen around town? She’d always kept her light blond hair long, allowing it to swing to and fro or weaving it into a thick braid. Was it still long? Did she still twist it around her fingers when she became nervous?

He remembered her cupid’s-bow lips, shiny with lip gloss. How he’d always wanted to taste her mouth, wondering if she used fruit-flavored gloss like some of the other girls their age. But he’d kept his distance because his sister had always insisted that Callie had an explosive temper. He hadn’t believed it until he’d seen it firsthand.

Was that what had forced her return to Whittler’s Creek? Had her temper done her in?

A loud knock on the frame of his office door had him opening his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. “Yes?” he said to the youngest of his three patrolmen on the Whittler’s Creek Police Force.

“You have a visitor, Chief.” Pete Meyers ran a hand over his bald head. He was only a few years older than Tyler’s thirty, but between losing his hair and being overweight by a good forty pounds, Pete looked older than his years. “Callie something.”

“Callie James.” She’d come up to the doorway behind Pete.

Tyler would have recognized her voice without even seeing her.

Physically, she was everything he remembered and more. She wore a navy suit jacket and matching pencil skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees. Her filmy white blouse had several of the top buttons open to reveal multiple strands of large gold chains around her neck. Her neutral-tan pumps added about four inches to her average height.

She still had the ability to heat his blood, but he was an adult now and knew better than to get too close to a smoldering fire.

“Thanks, Pete.” He waved Callie in and rose from his chair. Her deep blue eyes with long lashes gave her an innocent quality. “Have a seat.” He pointed to one of the two beat-up chairs on the other side of his desk. He sat when she did. “I apologize for the heat. The AC repairman was here three times last week, but the system needs to be replaced.” He swallowed, feeling like he was babbling. “I haven’t seen you since high school, Callie. How have you been?”

She crossed one bare leg over the other. “Pretty good, until I had to come back here.”

He nodded, forcing his eyes from her legs to her face.

“What about you? I didn’t realize you were the one I’d be reporting to.” She looked around his cramped office. “What are you doing back here? Weren’t you going to West Point? Planning to make the Army a career?”

“I left the Army. Plans change.” He didn’t want to get into the details of his own life. That wasn’t why she sat across from him.

“So you’re the Chief of Police now?”

“That’s right. For about a year now.” He checked the email again from Dr. Hammond. “It says here you need to perform community service hours. You couldn’t do them where you’re living?”

“I was going to, but Dr. Hammond thought I should come back here to see my family.”

“How long has it been?”

She twisted a lock of her still-long hair. “Eleven years. I guess he figured it would take more than a day trip for me to resolve things to his satisfaction.”

“Eleven years is a long time to not see your family.” He couldn’t imagine how painful it would be if either of his young daughters someday decided to stay away from him for that long.

She shrugged. “If I’d been given a choice, I would never have come back.”

* * *

WHEN TYLER DIDN’T COMMENT, Callie turned the focus on him. “What about your dad? Is he still living in town?”

Tyler hesitated and cleared his throat. “He died almost a year and a half ago.”

Callie leaned forward. “I’m so sorry. He was a great guy.” Tyler’s dad had been very active in youth sports when they were growing up. As the owner of Garrett’s Hardware Store, he’d had flexible hours, allowing him to be on the practice fields after school. He was also very generous when it came to sponsoring teams. Callie’s softball shirt with Garrett’s across the back came to mind. “What about the store? Is someone still running it?”

Tyler shook his head. “Dad closed it when he got sick. He sold the inventory and gave up the lease. The furniture store that was next door—Pratt’s—expanded into the space.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It was for the best. Dad had an inoperable brain tumor and it was either close the store then or my sister and I would have had to do it after he passed away.”

“Neither of you wanted to continue running it?”

“Isabelle definitely had no interest. And, at the time, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”

Isabelle’s best friend had been Callie’s stepsister, Wendy, who’d had a major crush on Tyler. Had the two of them ever gotten together? Pushing the question to the back of her mind, Callie opened her mouth to ask why he’d left the Army—she had a hunch there was a story to that—but he changed the subject before she could bring it up.

“Now, about your community service...” He consulted his computer while she took in his broad shoulders. He’d gone from slim teenager to well-built adult. “You’re only the second person I’ve had report to me to fulfill their hours. I’ll have to see what I can find.” He clicked a few keys.

“What did that other person do for their service hours?”

He looked at her with his deep-set, dark brown eyes. As a teenager she’d thought of them as puppy-dog eyes, but on a grown man they were downright sexy. “He loaded and unloaded mulch into a truck and spread it at the elementary school. He did some other landscaping, too.” Tyler glanced at her and took in her outfit from head to toe. “I’m not sure landscaping is right for you. Besides, you’re not dressed for work like that.”

She heated at his perusal. “I have clothes to change into.” In truth, she’d worn her office clothes, hoping the Chief of Police would see her as a professional and not someone ready to do hard labor. Not that she wasn’t strong, but if she had to do community service, she might as well do something that would benefit the community. It never crossed her mind that Tyler would be the person holding authority over her. She doubted he’d give her any kind of break, though, no matter how she’d dressed.

“That’s good.” He clicked keys on his computer again and the printer in the corner, partially hidden by banker’s boxes, came alive.

Tyler stood to retrieve what he’d printed. He glanced at the page and then handed it to Callie. “You can report to this address tomorrow morning at eight. There’s a volunteer group, mostly seniors, who have planned a clean-up of the city streets.”

“Are you talking about picking up trash?”

His dark, well-groomed eyebrows rose. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Her hands clenched and unclenched automatically. “Of course not.” She rose. “I’ll be sure to be on time.”

She was outside his office when she heard him add, “You might want to wear gloves and shoes you don’t care about. Oh, and long pants. You never know when you’ll run into poison ivy or the occasional snake.”

She shivered at the thought. “Great,” she muttered to herself. She should have guessed that he’d give her a nasty job rather than one she was actually suited to. He hadn’t even asked about her skills.

For that matter, he hadn’t asked her anything about herself. Was he still holding that outburst against her? The one she hadn’t held back that last night before leaving for college? She’d thought letting him walk her home from that party would be nice. She’d planned to leave for college the next day and he’d made it clear all summer that he was interested in her.

But even if she could go back and do everything differently, there was no way to a happy ending. One of two things would have happened regardless. Either her stepsister would find a way to hurt her physically or emotionally because she wanted Tyler for herself, or, sooner or later, Tyler would have discovered how dysfunctional her family really was. What he’d witnessed that night was a mere hint of the reality.

Fine. His disinterest didn’t bother her. She had things to do and she’d get them done and get out of town.

She should have thought to bring old shoes with her, not that she really owned any. She tended to clean out her closet every spring and donate to the local women’s shelter. They were always looking for gently-worn work clothes, shoes and purses so disadvantaged women could go on job interviews and hopefully make new lives for themselves and their children. Callie was happy to help them out.

She got into her car and turned the air-conditioning up to maximum. She twisted her long hair into a bun and secured it with a few bobby pins from her purse. The heat in Tyler’s office had been stifling. The town was obviously in a financial bind if it couldn’t replace the AC or even Tyler’s ancient computer.

She pulled out of the small visitors’ parking lot next to the police station and headed to her appointment to see about a room for rent. It was the only option she’d found on Craigslist within a twenty-mile radius.

Callie could have lived out of a hotel, but she preferred to not waste her hard-earned money. And she’d save a lot if things worked out with Mrs. Thompson.

The house was a few blocks from the police station. When Callie had lived in Whittler’s Creek, this home had been occupied by Mrs. Thompson, her husband and their four children. The children must be grown by now since the youngest was only a year older than Callie. Mrs. Thompson had been the one who’d listed the rental.

The large Victorian home with its wrap-around porch sat on an oversize corner lot. It was probably a hundred years old, but from the outside it looked pristine. Especially compared to her father’s house that was only about half as old.

The pale blue painted clapboard and white gingerbread trim appeared fresh. The lawn was mowed and there were flowers blooming everywhere Callie looked. Definitely a pleasant place to come home to after picking up trash all day.

When she’d communicated by email with Mrs. Thompson yesterday, Callie had discovered that the woman had turned her home into a boardinghouse after her husband died. Callie assumed it was for financial reasons. One of her daughters had been living with her but had recently moved out, leaving an empty room to rent.

Parking beside the curb, Callie straightened her clothes and walked to the front door. Even close up, she could see how well-kept the property was.

Mrs. Thompson answered the door almost immediately after Callie rang the bell. “Come in! Come in!” She stepped out of the way for Callie to enter. If Callie hadn’t known Mrs. Thompson was in her late fifties, she would have guessed her as being closer to fifty. The petite woman with auburn hair and not a single gray had a welcoming smile and an energetic attitude to go with it.

She drew Callie in for a hug, catching her off guard. “It’s so good to see you after all these years,” Mrs. Thompson said.

Callie hadn’t known Mrs. Thompson very well, but the woman obviously remembered her. Mrs. Thompson had been the team mom on Callie’s softball team and she had also been the room mother in her third-grade classroom.

Mrs. Thompson kept an arm at Callie’s waist as she ushered her from the entryway, down a short hallway and into the kitchen with its white cabinets, yellow walls and royal blue accents. “Come, we’ll have something to drink and you can tell me what you’ve been doing.” She named both hot and cold drinks.

Callie swallowed, still in shock by the warm reception. “Coffee sounds good.” Unlike the police department, the AC in Mrs. Thompson’s house was in good working condition.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to, Callie,” Mrs. Thompson said as she busied herself getting the coffee.

“Well, since grad school, I’ve been living in Silver Spring. I’m a financial analyst at a large firm in Bethesda.”

“How wonderful! I’m sure you’re great at what you do.”

Again, Callie didn’t know how to react to Mrs. Thompson’s enthusiasm. She hadn’t gotten even close to that reaction from Tyler. He’d appeared guarded. Did he really hold what happened all those years ago against her? Couldn’t he at least be friendly?

She’d been nervous as hell when she’d first seen him today. He was a mature version of the handsome teenage boy she’d crushed on in her past life, but her teenage reaction to him hadn’t changed. Her mouth had gone dry, her heart beat double-time and words had been hard to find.

“I’m doing something I love,” she told Mrs. Thompson, “so I think that helps to make me good at it.” Callie didn’t know why else she was so successful at choosing the right investments to make others a lot of money, but it had certainly been financially rewarding for her personally, as well.

Mrs. Thompson set a cup of coffee in front of Callie, who’d taken a seat at the counter. “What do you like in it?”

“A splash of something white,” Callie said with a smile. “Skim, whole milk, cream, half-and-half. I’m not choosy. I think needing to add it is psychological because I’ve told myself I don’t like black coffee.”

The two women chuckled while Mrs. Thompson retrieved some cream from the fridge. They spoke for a few minutes about things going on in town while they drank their coffee.

“I never asked you why you’re back,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I’m guessing it’s family related.”

“Something like that.” Callie wasn’t ready to divulge too much yet, especially before her family knew she was in town.

“I get it. You need a place to escape instead of staying at your parents’. Sometimes family can be overwhelming.” Mrs. Thompson took the last swallow of her coffee.

Callie merely nodded and then changed the subject. “So you’ve been renting out rooms for several years?”

“Since right after my Jeffrey died. It’s been almost five years now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thompson.”

She nodded. “Thank you. And, please, none of this Mrs. Thompson nonsense. I’m Poppy to everyone.”

“Poppy.” Callie still felt like the young girl who used to live in Whittler’s Creek, not an adult on the same level as others in town.

Poppy put their cups in the dishwasher. “I think I told you the rent is one fifty a week and that includes breakfast and dinner. We do family style for whoever is here at six o’clock. If you miss it, there are always leftovers for you to heat up later.”

Callie nodded. The rent on her condo was four times that and no meals were included. She’d often thought about buying a condo or house instead of throwing away so much money on rent, but with the unstable real estate market, it was too big a risk. And she’d probably never buy a house. A bigger place to take care of wasn’t practical since she had little spare time as it was.

“I’ll show you around and you can decide if this is the right place for you,” Poppy said as she led the way through the dining room and into the living room. “Feel free to use any of the rooms down here. I like my guests to feel as if this is their home, too.”

Callie knew before going upstairs to see her bedroom that she would accept Poppy’s invitation to stay here. She’d never lived anywhere that was this welcoming. Her current home was just a place to return to when not working. She had no one to greet her or to miss her. No pleasant family dinners—not that she’d grown up with them.

“Here’s where you would be staying.” Poppy gestured to the doorway at the top of the open staircase.

Callie stepped into a large room that held a queen-size bed with brass headboard and footboard, a full-length mirror on a brass stand and a small love seat positioned in a bay window that let in lots of light.

Poppy opened a door to show her a small closet and then crossed the room to open another door. “This is the only room on this floor with a private bathroom.”

“This is a wonderful room,” she told Poppy. “I’d love to stay here.”

Poppy smiled. “I’m so glad to hear that. My daughter, Molly, really loved this room.”

Another question popped into Callie’s head. “So who else is living here right now?”

Poppy pointed to the next doorway down the hall. “This room is being rented by a young man going through a divorce, but he told me just last night that he’d be moving out at the end of the week. So I’ll need to put another ad on Craigslist.”

Callie was wondering if she’d like his room even better when Poppy said, “His is the smallest and has no private bathroom.”

“What about those two rooms?” Callie pointed down the hall. “Is one of them yours?”

“Oh, no. I’ve got my own suite in the attic. Those rooms are rented by my nephew and his two young daughters. I hope that doesn’t make you change your mind. I forgot to mention that there would be children in the house. Although they’re very well behaved.”

Callie smiled. “That’s not a problem at all.” She wasn’t used to being around kids, but how difficult could it be for what she hoped would be a short time before she went back to her old life? And then she remembered who Mrs. Thompson’s nephew was.

“Oh, you might even know my nephew. I think you’re about the same age and he grew up here, too. It’s Tyler Garrett. His sweet little girls are Alexis and Madison.”

CHAPTER THREE

LATER THAT MORNING Callie was finally settling into her room. Poppy was Tyler’s aunt. Amazing how much she’d blocked out when she’d moved away.

She’d been surprised to hear that he and his daughters lived with Poppy. She would have expected Tyler had a place of his own. Especially with two children.

Poppy hadn’t mentioned Tyler’s wife. Had Poppy not mentioned her because she wasn’t someone from town whom Callie would remember? Or was Tyler a single dad with custody of his children? He might even be a widower for all she knew.

She’d hung up what she could in the small closet and used the large oak dresser with a beveled mirror for the rest of her things. Then she checked her email on her laptop and didn’t want to think about what she was missing back at work.

Close to lunchtime she decided to take a walk to see how much things had changed in town. She’d really like to go for a run to rid herself of her pent-up energy and frustration, but it was too hot and humid for that. Early morning or dusk would be a better time.

She’d changed into shorts, a tank top and her running shoes earlier, so she closed the door to her bedroom as she left and exited the house through the front door. There were no outside locks on the bedrooms, only a lock when you were inside the room. Obviously the crime level was pretty low and locks weren’t a necessity. Just one more thing she’d have to get used to again while being back in a small town.

She headed the few blocks toward the downtown area, such as it was. Just as Tyler told her, Pratt’s Furniture Store had expanded into the space where Garrett’s Hardware used to be. Next to Pratt’s was a bakery that hadn’t been there before. A gift store was next to it, also new since she’d lived here.

On the other side of the street was the First National Bank, looking exactly as she remembered with its tan-brick façade. She crossed the street when she saw that the little drugstore next to the bank was still there.

This was where she’d hung out after school when she was able. She wondered if they still had the counter and a few booths where they served juicy burgers and shakes so thick you needed a spoon to eat them.

She opened the glass-and-metal door and stepped inside, feeling like a teenager again. Nothing had changed. The counter and booths were still there, the Formica chipping on the tabletops as was the wood laminate on the benches. The stools at the counter, circa 1950s, were metal circles with red-vinyl inserts that had seen better days.

“Callie?” The woman behind the counter was staring at her, eyes wide.

Callie smiled. “June!” She came up to the counter where the woman stood on the other side. “You’re still working here!” She sat on the empty stool in front of June. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” June told her. “And you look like life is treating you okay, too.”

“Thanks. I’m surviving down inside the beltway.” These days she could add “barely” to surviving and still not be accurate enough.

June was probably in her early forties by now. She’d been a young mother working at the drugstore when Callie was in high school. Her husband had gone on disability after he was in a tractor accident at their farm a few miles from Whittler’s Creek and June had taken the job to make ends meet.

Callie ordered a burger and shake, figuring she’d run off the excess calories later. After June sent the order to the short-order cook, she turned back to Callie and asked, “So what brings you to town? I haven’t seen you in what? A decade, at least.”

Callie should come up with an answer for the question that would be asked every time she ran into someone she knew.

“I’ve got some things to take care of in town,” she said vaguely, hoping June didn’t have a follow-up question.

“Well, it’s great to see you.” She had another customer to take care of and she stepped away.

Callie spun her stool a hundred and eighty degrees and looked around again while waiting for her food. A feeling of déjà vu came over her, or at least a step back in time.

It wasn’t long before June delivered her food. Callie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled the burger in front of her. “Thanks, June.” She put a blob of ketchup on her plate for her fries. “So what have you been up to? How are your kids?”

The two caught up while Callie ate, interrupted occasionally by other customers. So far, no one else had come in that Callie recognized.

She was wiping her mouth after her last bite of burger when the bell over the door rang, signaling that someone was entering the store. Callie turned in that direction. It was her stepsister, Wendy Carter. Their gazes collided. Wendy looked away first, as if uncomfortable. Interesting. Not the same cocky teenager Callie remembered.

She couldn’t help but notice Wendy’s appearance. Her jeans and plaid shirt looked like they’d been washed a hundred times or more. Her hair needed something—a cut, deep conditioning—Callie couldn’t say. And her complexion... Callie had never seen anyone with such a sickly appearance. She was pale, with tinges of green and yellow on one cheekbone. As if she’d been bruised a week or so ago.

“Hello, Callie,” Wendy said stiffly when she came up to the counter. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I got here yesterday,” Callie said just as stiffly.

“What can I get you, hon?” Thankfully, June interrupted their awkward exchange to take Wendy’s order.

Callie had nothing more to say to the stepsister who had mentally and sometimes physically tortured her when they were growing up in the same house.

While Wendy placed a take-out order, Callie pulled out the money she’d stuck in her pocket to pay the bill June had left when she’d delivered Callie’s food. Even the handwritten green checks that had to be added manually were the same as when she was a kid. She didn’t bother asking if they now took credit cards. She’d planned ahead and taken out cash from an ATM before she’d arrived in Whittler’s Creek. Callie laid enough money on the counter to cover the bill, as well as a healthy tip.

“Have you been to see my mom and Bart?” Wendy’s question caught Callie by surprise.

“Not yet.” Not until she gathered her courage.

Wendy didn’t comment, merely nodded and then concentrated on a fingernail.

After waving goodbye to June, Callie was almost out the door when Wendy said just loud enough for Callie to hear, “You don’t belong here.”

Callie turned to Wendy, wondering if she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

Wendy sneered. “You heard me. Go home. No one wants you here.”

Callie remembered to breathe, in and out, in and out.

When her stepsister turned away, Callie assumed Wendy had nothing more to say.

So she continued out the door to the sidewalk and relaxed her hands when she realized her nails were digging into her palms.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN a long afternoon of frustration.

Tyler’s job had been straightforward until that email about financial fraud showed up in his in-box. He’d spent the afternoon trying to find someone to audit the town’s finances, but no one could do it for at least another month.

Thirty days was way too long to wait. It would give whoever was responsible the time to find out that an investigation was under way.

He’d appropriated a storage locker for all the records and they’d finally been moved, so at least they weren’t cluttering up his office anymore.

He closed his computer and straightened his desk before letting the receptionist know he was leaving for the day. “I’ll have my cell if anyone needs me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donna mumbled. “You say that every day. When was the last time anything happened in this town?”

Tyler had to think a minute. “When Mr. Rawlins got drunk and was waving a shotgun around.”

Donna’s eyebrows rose. “You know that was last month, right?”

“Seems like last week,” he quipped. “And how quickly you’ve forgotten the standoff at the bank that secured this job for me in the first place.” She did have a point, though. His job was mainly administrative.

Not that he expected to stay in this position until retirement, but he couldn’t complain when the job and this town gave his daughters the stability they needed.

A little while later, he arrived at Aunt Poppy’s, his family’s temporary home, to hear giggles and commotion coming from the kitchen. He headed there to greet his daughters and see what they were up to.

Aunt Poppy watched the girls while he worked, and staying with her just made sense while their house was under construction. This week they were attending a day camp to give his aunt a break.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” The words were barely out of his mouth when Alexis and Madison came running into his arms. He picked them both up and squeezed, making them giggle even more.

“Hi, Daddy.” Alexis, the older of the two, kissed his cheek loudly. Madison, two years younger at four, did the same to his other cheek.

He was about to ask about their day when he noticed Callie across the room. She was hard to miss in those formfitting shorts and tank top.

He put his libido in check and got down to reality. What was she doing here? For that matter, what was she doing in the same room with his daughters?

“Where’s Aunt Poppy?” he asked instead when he didn’t see her anywhere nearby.

“She ran an errand,” Callie explained. “I said I’d be here with the girls until she got back. I’m renting a room from her while I’m in town.”

She was staying here? He was silent, wondering how to tell her to stay away from Alexis and Madison without causing an incident.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Callie’s puzzled look told him she didn’t know why it would be a bad idea for her to be around his children. “I don’t have much experience around kids, but yours have been great. And Poppy only expected to be gone twenty or thirty minutes. She needed something for dinner that she forgot to buy earlier. I offered to go, but she said it would be faster for her to go since I wasn’t familiar with the store.”

“Um, no. It’s fine.” He put the girls down, purposely not looking at Callie when he answered. He’d speak to his aunt privately about his concerns.

“Ms. Callie was telling us about when she used to go to the same camp as us.” Alexis was bouncing as she spoke.

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh. And she even took a bus like we do.”

He glanced at Callie and then back at his daughters. “You know I went there, too.”

“You already told us that, Daddy.” Madison was very serious. “But you don’t remember singing the same songs as us. Ms. Callie has been singing them with us. She knows all the words.”

“Well, let’s not wear her out. Who wants to go on a short bike ride before dinner?”

Both girls raised their hands and began dancing around the kitchen. “Can Ms. Callie come, too, Daddy?” Madison had stopped moving to ask the question.

He glanced at Callie then back at Madison. “Well—”

“I don’t have a bike to ride,” Callie told Madison. “So you’ll have to go without me.”

Tyler didn’t know if she was giving him an out or if she really didn’t want to go, but he was grateful for her answer.

“Go put on sneakers and I’ll meet you at the garage after I change clothes.”

When the girls were out of earshot, Callie said, “I’m sorry they put you on the spot. Don’t feel obligated to include me just because I’m staying here now.”

He decided to be honest with her. “I won’t. In fact, it would be best if you avoided being around my daughters.”

* * *

SHE AWOKE THE next day with a feeling of dread. Picking up trash along the side of a road was not her idea of a productive day. Remembering Tyler’s advice, she donned jeans and a T-shirt. Then she put on the pair of shoes she’d picked up last night at the big-box store that had opened outside of town since she’d been gone. For ten bucks, she could afford to ruin them. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured a baseball cap—another new purchase—around it. She applied a slathering of sunblock to her exposed skin and put the bottle into her small backpack, along with the water bottle and energy bars already there. Then she headed downstairs to grab breakfast and the prepackaged Greek salad she’d bought for lunch.

Driving to the community center, she thought back to her reaction the previous evening when Tyler had announced that he’d prefer she avoid being around his daughters. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. His comment had confused her, but she’d been too shocked to question him about it. Instead she’d gone for a long run to blow off steam.

Callie arrived early at the designated meeting place. A few people were at the community center already and she introduced herself, leaving out the real reason she was there. Tyler had told her that everyone else was there voluntarily, so no one should think twice about her participating.

“We’re so glad to have you join us,” a tall gentleman, probably somewhere around seventy, told her. “I’m Gary, and this is my wife, Liz.” He gestured to a petite woman about the same age with neatly styled, short blond hair.

Callie smiled and shook hands with both of them. “I’m Callie James. Nice to meet you.”

“Are you new in town?” Liz asked.

“Actually, I grew up here. I’m back for a visit.” That was pretty close to the truth.

“James?” Gary scratched his head. “Are you related to Bart?”

Callie shouldn’t have added her last name during the introduction. “He’s my father.” She’d be more careful from here on out because she didn’t want her dad hearing that she was in town before she could contact him herself. It was bad enough that Wendy knew she was in Whittler’s Creek.

“Great guy,” Gary said before they were interrupted by others coming into the building to join the group.

When Poppy arrived, her eyes widened at seeing Callie. “I didn’t know you were participating in this. We could have driven together.”

“Oh, well.” Callie was surprised to see Poppy, too, and didn’t know how else to respond. She wondered if Tyler had told her the real reason Callie was there. If he had confided in her, then Poppy was very good at pretending ignorance.

At least Poppy would be able to vouch for Callie being where she was supposed to be today. Otherwise, Tyler was relying on her honesty about fulfilling her service hours. Based on last night’s comment to Callie about not wanting her around his girls, why would he take her on her word?

Callie was quiet as conversations continued around her. Poppy suddenly grabbed her arm and said, “I want to introduce the two of you.” She guided Callie over to a handsome man, close to Poppy’s age, with a healthy tan and thick salt-and-pepper hair. “This is Gino Borelli. He’s moving in next weekend.” Poppy and Gino made eye contact and Callie could have sworn there was a spark between them. “And this is Callie James,” Poppy told Gino. “She moved in yesterday.”

“Hello there, neighbor,” Gino said as he and Callie shook hands.

“Are you new in town?” Callie asked before he could ask her anything.

He shrugged. “Not new. I lived here a long time ago. Now my business has brought me back and I can once again be in the company of this lovely lady.” He gestured to Poppy. His words would have sounded silly if not for his faint Italian accent.

Poppy must have thought so, too, because she was blushing like an adolescent.

“Let’s get going,” someone finally said, and the gathering moved out of the building and onto the sidewalk. Back at the community center, they’d been given reflective vests to wear. There was nowhere to hide when you were wearing bright orange.

In all the discussion going on, Callie didn’t hear where they were going to do this cleanup. So she just followed along with the group of about a dozen people.

They walked quite a ways before stopping. “This is our street,” a woman announced. Callie couldn’t remember her name, but did recall the woman seemed overly excited to be doing this task. “Let’s divide into two groups and each take one side of the road. I have extra garbage bags when you need them.” Along with the reflective vests, they’d been given two orange trash bags each. “When a bag is full, tie it carefully and leave it on the shoulder. A county trash truck will pick them up later.”

That was a relief. At least they didn’t have to haul other people’s garbage back to where they’d started.

As the group divided into two, Callie found herself with Poppy and Gino, as well as three others. Callie donned her rubber gloves and noticed she wasn’t the only one who’d brought them. Then they fanned out on their side of the street and began the arduous task of picking up garbage.

Callie was amazed at the stuff she found. She had a difficult time deciding what was worse—the used condoms that she’d covered with dead leaves before picking them up, or the used diapers that had been neatly balled up and tossed on the side of the road.

On second thought, that clear plastic container with a half-eaten sandwich covered with maggots was definitely the worst thing she’d had to deal with.

She could only imagine what Tyler had in store for her tomorrow since, after today, she would still have ninety-two of her one hundred service hours to complete.

* * *

WHEN SHE RETURNED to Poppy’s, the first thing Callie did was strip down and shower until she felt clean again. Between the heat and the disgusting trash, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to wash it all off.

Before leaving the community center, Callie had told Poppy that she wouldn’t be around for dinner. She was sure Poppy wondered what was going on with her, but she only said there would be leftovers in the fridge if Callie changed her mind.

In truth, when Callie smelled dinner cooking after she’d showered, she realized she was starving. Maybe she could bring her dinner up to her room. That would satisfy her hunger and Tyler wouldn’t be upset about her being around his daughters.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She’d been reclining on the love seat by the window when Tyler opened her door and entered. She immediately sat up, her feet touching the floor.

“Hi.” He stood right inside her doorway, his hand on the doorknob. He wore his work uniform that somehow still looked fresh. It was black pants and a short-sleeved white shirt with epaulets, a gold badge on his breast pocket and an embroidered patch on one sleeve. His tan made him look even better in that short-sleeved, white dress shirt. Although not a look you’d find in GQ.

“Hi.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, not wanting to reveal how she felt about him not wanting her around his girls. Although, maybe he’d changed his mind and that was why he was here.

“I wanted to let you know that, for the next two days, your service hours will be at the community center. Poppy said everyone enjoyed having you today and they are spending the next two days doing a deep clean on the building.”

Great.

When she just looked at him, not saying a word, he continued. “Then on Friday, they open the center to serve dinner to those in need. So you’ll be cooking or doing whatever they need you to do.”

She still didn’t speak.

“Any questions?”

She shook her head.

“Is there something wrong?”

Should she ask him the question burning in her gut? She spoke before thinking it through. “Why don’t want me around your girls? What are you afraid of?”

He stepped farther into her room and turned away to shut the door for privacy. When he turned back to face her, his expression was serious.

“My girls have been through a lot before we came back to Whittler’s Creek. I don’t know the details of your arrest, but I know it had to do with malicious destruction of property.”

“That’s the charge, but I didn’t do it. I just have no way to prove my innocence.”

“That might be true,” he said, “but I can’t forget that you had quite a reputation for being a hothead when you were growing up here.”

Callie straightened. “A hothead?” What was he talking about? Her hands clenched so tight that her short nails dug into her palms. As a young child, she’d vented her frustration, but she’d soon learned that behavior only made matters worse. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, I saw your temper for myself.”

“Are you talking about the night before I left for college?” Was he kidding?

“Yes. The night I walked you home after that party and you yelled at your stepmother.”

He was basing his opinion of her on that one night?

She spoke as calmly and deliberately as she was able. “First of all, that was eleven years ago. Second, I finally yelled back at my stepmother because I’d had enough over the years and I knew I was leaving the next morning.”

“What about the chair you threw?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What chair?”

“I stood outside your house to make sure you were okay when I heard all the commotion. That’s how I heard the argument between you and your stepmother. At one point, I heard a crash.”

“Why would you think I threw a chair?”

“After the crash, I heard your stepmother yell that you would have to pay for the chair you broke.”

“But you didn’t see me break it, did you?” She reminded herself to breathe, in and out, in and out.

“No, but you can’t deny what I heard.”

“That’s true. Those were my stepmother’s exact words.” Callie swallowed before admitting more to Tyler than she had to even her therapist. Like how her stepmother had blamed Callie for the broken chair because she’d claimed Callie had made her angry enough to throw it.

Luckily for Callie, she’d learned as a young child how to duck from flying objects when her stepmother became enraged.

CHAPTER FOUR

“FROM YOUR RESPONSE, there’s obviously more to the story,” Tyler said to Callie. “Why don’t you tell me what actually took place?”

“You believe your version of events that night, so hearing mine won’t change your mind.” Callie spoke without emotion.

“I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us.” She rose from the love seat. “I’d really rather not talk about this. You can believe what you want. Just know that I’d never do anything to upset or hurt your daughters.”

He nodded, deciding to drop the subject for now. Someday soon he’d love to circle back to it, wondering how she would reconcile what his sister, Isabelle, had told him about Callie’s hot temper. Or maybe he needed to speak to his sister about it next time they talked. Had she exaggerated Callie’s disposition? If so, why?

He checked his watch. “I need to make sure the girls get their dinner. Please don’t skip coming to dinner because of what I said yesterday.”

He left her room then, confused by their conversation. He still wasn’t ready to have her be around his girls when he wasn’t there, but their brief interaction had brought up more questions about her.

He went down the hallway to speak to his daughters, but they weren’t in their room. He entered his own room and quickly changed from his work clothes into shorts and a T-shirt. Then he headed downstairs in search of his daughters.

“Hey, girls, wash up for dinner.” He arrived in the kitchen to see both Alexis and Madison sitting patiently at the table.

“We already did, Daddy,” Madison told him, raising her hands, palms outward, to show him.

“Yeah,” Alexis added. “We’ve been helping Aunt Poppy with dinner and we always need to wash our hands before we do anything in the kitchen.”

“Good rule.” Tyler grinned. “So you two cooked dinner?”

The girls giggled. “No, Aunt Poppy cooked,” Madison said. “We just set the table and got ice for the glasses.”

“The water pitcher was too heavy for us to pour it.” Alexis was very serious as she explained.

“I’m glad you’re helping Aunt Poppy.” He glanced at his aunt taking a tray of roasted asparagus from the oven. “Just don’t get in her way.”

“Oh, they’re not,” Poppy told him over her shoulder. “They’re good helpers.”

“Glad to hear it.” He turned to the girls again. “Tonight is our appointment with Dr. Patty.”

“Yay! I love going there!” Madison was bouncing in her seat. “She has fun toys.”

“Okay, then don’t fool around during dinner so we’re not late for our appointment.”

“Appointment?”

He spun around to see Callie had entered the kitchen.

“The girls and I have a weekly appointment on Tuesday evenings.” Just like she didn’t want to talk about the past, he wasn’t ready to confide the reason his girls needed to see a therapist once a week.

“We like Dr. Patty,” Alexis told Callie. “And if we don’t want to talk about our mommy, then we don’t have to.”

Callie opened her mouth as if about to say something.

“Did you change your mind about joining us for dinner?” Aunt Poppy chose the exact right moment to change the subject.

“Yes. If that’s okay,” Callie told her while looking at Tyler.

He nodded and said to his daughters, “Let’s add a place for Ms. Callie.” The girls jumped out of their seats to get her silverware and a napkin, while he got a plate and a glass down from the cabinet. The girls then put ice in her glass and he poured the water from the pitcher.

“Thank you,” Callie said. “I didn’t mean for you all to make such a fuss.” She seemed overwhelmed by the rush to make a place for her at the table.

“We’re glad you’re joining us,” Aunt Poppy told her as she brought the dish of asparagus to the table to join the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

“Everything smells and looks delicious,” Callie said. “I really worked up an appetite today.”

“Me, too,” Aunt Poppy agreed as she took her place at the table. “I don’t usually make such a heavy meal this time of year, with the heat and all.”

“I’m glad you did,” Tyler told her. “Your meatloaf is the best I’ve ever eaten.”

As the conversation switched from what the girls did at day camp to the threat of thunderstorms overnight, Tyler checked the time. “We need to get going, girls. Take your plates to the sink so we can get into the car.”

He’d been lucky to find Dr. Patty Schmidt and even luckier that she allowed them to have a seven o’clock time slot on a Tuesday evening so he didn’t have to leave work to bring the girls.

In the nearly a year that they’d been seeing the therapist, he’d noticed a positive change in both his daughters. When they’d first returned to Whittler’s Creek to take care of his dad when he got sick, they were very quiet and withdrawn. Nothing he said or did could bring them out of it. Now, thanks to working with Dr. Patty, they were blossoming into chatty little girls who seemed happy and confident.

He could only hope that what they’d been through while he’d been deployed to Afghanistan would someday be a very distant memory.

* * *

THINKING THE DAY spent picking up trash was the worst, Callie changed her mind at the end of the next day after cleaning the community center. She’d been put in charge of the kitchen and had spent the entire day cleaning off the grease and grime built up on surfaces she could barely reach—the small ledge over the commercial stove, the top of the double-wide refrigerator. If it had a surface, then it needed to be cleaned. At least she knew how to make it sparkle.

Maybe she should thank her stepmother for that. Callie was always assigned kitchen cleanup and was constantly told that she hadn’t done it correctly, no matter how long she’d worked at it.

By the time Callie returned to her temporary home at Poppy’s, she was tired and filthy. She stood under the hot shower in her bathroom for too long before finally drying off and putting on fresh clothes. She really wanted to slip into bed, but she’d gotten an email from her therapist that afternoon. He wanted to set up an appointment to video chat at seven o’clock that evening.

When she checked her bedside clock, she saw it was close to six-thirty already. She might have missed dinner because of her long shower.

She hurried downstairs, determined to get something in her complaining stomach and saw that everyone was still at the table.

“Sorry I’m late.” She shoved her still-wet hair back from her face. She should have put it into a ponytail, but it would take longer to dry that way. “I really needed a shower.”

“We’re having chicken casserole,” Alexis told her. “It has carrots and peas and potatoes in it.”

“Sounds delicious,” Callie said.

“It is.” Madison put a bite of chicken on her fork and stuck it in her mouth to demonstrate.

Callie smiled and said to Poppy, “I have a seven o’clock call, so I’ll apologize now for eating and running.”

Poppy pointed to Callie’s place at the table, already set. “You do what you need to. The girls knocked on your door, but when you didn’t answer, we went ahead and started.”

“That’s good. I must have been in the shower when they knocked.” She noticed Tyler was missing from the table. “Where’s Tyler tonight?”

“He’s got some police training he does Wednesday nights, even though this town doesn’t see much criminal activity. Tyler likes his officers to be ready, so he instituted regular training sessions.”

Callie nodded and took her seat. She scooped out some of the casserole onto her plate and took a slice of the warm bread Alexis passed to her.

Callie took her first bite and whatever spices Poppy had added to the food danced on her palate. “You were right, girls, this is delicious.”

Both girls spoke at once and kept up the conversation while Callie gulped down her dinner. She looked at the bright blue clock on the wall near the table and wiped her mouth. She had about three minutes before her therapist called. “Sorry.” She jumped up from her seat and took her plate to the sink to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. “I need to run.”

“That’s okay,” Poppy said. “We understand. Go do what you need to.”

The last thing she wanted to do was spend an hour with her anger management therapist, but she had no choice.

Her therapist called right on the dot.

“Hello, Dr. Hammond,” she said when his face appeared on her laptop screen.

“How’s it going, Callie?”

She filled him in on what she’d done since arriving in town.

“Have you seen your family yet?”

This was where she could have told him about chickening out in front of her father’s house, but she didn’t. Instead she decided to give him a tidbit that would hopefully satisfy him. “I ran into my stepsister on Monday.”

“Your stepsister?”

He looked down and Callie heard the rustling of papers.

“You’ve never mentioned a stepsister.”

“You never asked.”

Pause. “I’m asking now.” His tone was stern and slightly irritated.

Callie swallowed. “I have a stepsister and I ran into her on Monday.”

“How old is this stepsister and what’s her name?”

“Wendy is a year younger than me, so she’s twenty-eight now.”

“And the two of you lived in the same house from the time your dad remarried?”

“Yes.”

The doctor was silent for an overly long time. “Why haven’t you mentioned her before?”

Callie shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about her.”

“Do the two of you get along?”

“No.” Callie’s answer was immediate and came out harsher than she’d intended.

“Tell me about it.”

She didn’t want to talk about Wendy. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” That was a lie. She knew exactly what he wanted her to say.

“Why didn’t you two get along?”

“I don’t know. She hated me the minute she walked in the front door of my house.”

Dr. Hammond wrote something down. “Did she bully you?”

Callie hesitated. “Yes. You could call what she did bullying.” With all the cyber bullying going on these days, Callie could only imagine how much worse Wendy’s treatment of her might have been if they’d had social media growing up. Texts and emails were bad enough in those days.

“What kind of things did she do?”

“Can’t we talk about something else?” Callie really didn’t want to relive her childhood with him.

“I think we’re finally making progress,” he said. “Tell me what Wendy did to you.”

Callie inhaled slowly. Her hands were at her sides, off camera, while she sat on her bedroom love seat for their session. He couldn’t see her hands fist and relax.

“What didn’t she do? She called me names, she played mean tricks on me, she spread lies about me. She even spit on me.” She’d done even worse things, but Callie didn’t want to delve into them.

“That must have been very upsetting,” the doctor said in his calm voice.

“No kidding.” She couldn’t help her sarcastic tone.

“Did you do anything to retaliate?” he asked.

“I didn’t dare. If I’d tried, she would have worked twice as hard to hurt me back.”

“What about telling your father and stepmother? Didn’t they step in to discipline her?”

That was a joke. “No, they didn’t do anything to stop her.”

Dr. Hammond’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You told them what was going on and they didn’t handle it?”

Callie shook her head. She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. “I told my stepmother about what Wendy did once and she told me to stop being a baby and if I told my father I’d be punished.” Her stepmother’s form of punishment. Something else Callie didn’t want to recall.

“So your father didn’t know about your stepsister’s treatment of you?”

“I went to him once, and he said he’d take care of it, but Wendy continued to harass me.” Her dad had talked to Wendy but she’d gone immediately to her mother, who’d then punished Callie for telling her dad. Her stomach tightened. That was the first and last time Callie had gone to her father for help.

“You didn’t go back again to tell him it hadn’t stopped?”

“Isn’t our time almost up?” she asked instead.

His gaze went to where he kept a clock across from his desk. “We have five minutes left.”

She needed to change the subject away from her family.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he persisted.

“What did you ask?” She knew very well what he’d asked, but her mind had gone blank when it came to changing the subject.

“Why didn’t you tell your father that your stepsister was still bothering you?”

Bothering her? That was definitely whitewashing the situation, but she didn’t correct Dr. Hammond. At least not today with five minutes—or less—left in their session.

She sucked in a breath. “Because I got punished for telling on Wendy.” Her hands fisted at her sides.

Dr. Hammond made a notation and looked up as he asked, “What kind of punishment?”

Before she readied herself to answer, his phone rang. He held up one finger. “I’m sorry. I usually have my phone turned off. This must be an emergency.” He picked up his cell phone to look at it. “Yes, I’ll have to call this person back right away.” He pressed something on the phone and the ringing ended. “Let’s stop here for now and we’ll pick it up next week at the same time. Does that work for you?”

She nodded, hoping her words came out clear as she said, “Yes, that’s fine.”

By the time she closed her laptop, she felt wrung out emotionally and didn’t know if she could continue to do this week after week.

And all she’d told Dr. Hammond so far was that she’d seen her stepsister, who’d bullied Callie their entire childhood. She’d barely scratched the surface.

* * *

THE SUN HAD long set and a partial moon was barely visible in the cloudy sky when Tyler parked on the street in front of Aunt Poppy’s. Training had gone well that evening and he was pleased to see the improvement in his officers since he’d taken over as Chief of Police.

He walked up to the porch, lit only by matching globes on either side of the front door. His foot was on the bottom step when he realized someone was in the shadows, seated on the far side of the porch glider.

“Callie?”

“Hi.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her.

“Is everything all right?”

She didn’t say anything at first. “I’m fine.” Her legs were tucked under her body and her arms were crossed over her chest.

He wanted to disagree, considering her body language and quiet tone of voice, but he didn’t. “I’m going to get myself a beer. Would you like one?” He didn’t know why he was pursuing a conversation with her. He should just leave her alone.

He couldn’t see her reaction, except for a slight turn of her head in his direction.

“Sure,” she finally answered, not moving from her curled-up position.

“Let me check on the girls and I’ll be back with a couple of cold ones in a few.”

His eyes had adjusted to the dimness enough to see her nod, so he went into the house.

The girls were already in bed and asleep, their night-light allowing him to make his way between their twin beds. He gently kissed them good-night on their foreheads and covered up Alexis, who tended to kick and squirm all night. He quietly exited their bedroom, closing their door as he left.

In his own room, he changed from his uniform into shorts and a T-shirt. Then he slipped his bare feet into a pair of canvas shoes to go down to the basement fridge where he kept the beer. He jogged back up the stairs with two beers and went out the front door to the porch. “I should have asked if you wanted a glass.” He held out a bottle to Callie. He’d already popped the top with the opener he kept on top of the basement fridge. “I can get one for you.”

“This is fine.” She uncurled her legs and reached for the bottle. “Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his momentarily. She took a long swallow and he wondered why he’d even noticed when their hands touched.

Instead of sitting next to her on the glider, he pulled a rocker closer and sat before taking a long swallow of ice-cold beer. “Mmm, that’s exactly what I needed.”

When Callie remained silent, he grasped for something to say in the uncomfortable silence. “Bad day?”

She set her beer on the small, white-wicker end table next to the glider and folded her hands on her lap. “Let’s just say that days in Whittler’s Creek are nothing like what I’m used to.”

“How’s the cleaning going at the community center?”

“We made a huge dent today, but there’s still a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Must be exhausting work. You have an office job, right?”

“I do.” She picked up her beer and took a sip. “It’s not so much the physical toll. I work out several mornings a week.” She set the beer back on the table. “It’s the filth. I swear this must be the first time in a dozen years that some of that stuff has been touched with a cleaning rag.”

“You’re probably right. Do you think you’ll be done after tomorrow?”

She hesitated, as if considering his question. “If we get the same amount of people to help out as we did today, I think we have a good chance of finishing.”

“Great.” But he’d said it jokingly. “That means I’ll have to find something new for you to do after Friday’s soup kitchen.”

“I’d prefer more work like at the soup kitchen, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something disgusting like picking up trash and cleaning out grease traps.” She sounded resigned to the fact.

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She tucked her bare feet under her. “How was training? I think that’s what Poppy said you were doing tonight.”

He nodded. “It went well. I inherited my three officers and decided they could use regular training. So we work on something different every week. Tonight we did target practice at the gun range over in Lewisburg.”

“Seems more like playing than working.” She sounded as if she could use something like that.

“That’s how I’ve tried to structure the training so everyone wants to participate. How was your evening?” he asked. “I hope my girls haven’t been too annoying.”

“They’ve been fine. I didn’t really see them much after dinner.”

“Were they playing outside or did Aunt Poppy take them out somewhere?”

“I don’t know. I was in my room.” She paused. “I now have a standing appointment with my therapist on Wednesday evenings.”

He was surprised at her admission, although he already knew from her therapist that she had court-ordered sessions. He didn’t know why and didn’t feel he should ask. Instead he said, “My daughters have been seeing their therapist for over a year now and they’ve gotten a lot out of it. I hope you get a similar result.”

Callie didn’t say anything while she took a long drink of her beer and then set it back down. “I’m not sure what kind of results I’ll get since seeing the psychologist wasn’t my idea.”

“You’re not happy about having to talk to him?”

Her head shot in his direction. “How did you know my therapist was a man and not a woman?”

His beer was halfway to his mouth when his arm froze. “Because Dr. Hammond is the one who contacted me about your community service hours.”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot that he would have been the one to speak to you.”

He took a long swallow of beer. “He seems like a nice guy. Although I only spoke to him that one time.”

“He’s okay I guess. He just wants me to talk about stuff that I’d rather not relive.”

He got the distinct feeling there was a lot more to Callie’s past than he knew. “I can’t say enough good things about the girls’ therapist. Believe it or not, when we first came back to Whittler’s Creek, Madison barely spoke.” His youngest daughter was making up for it now with her constant chatter.

“I’m glad it worked out for them, but I was doing just fine without bringing up the past.”

“And that had nothing to do with why you’re doing community service and forced to talk to a psychologist?” The words were out of his mouth before he thought them through. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be argumentative.”

She took a long swallow of her beer, her head back and her neck elongated. “You’re right.” She uncurled her legs and stood. “If I hadn’t confided in a certain jackass, who then used my past against me, then I wouldn’t have been forced to do any of this.” She walked by him to the front door.

He reached out to grab her arm to stop her. The look she gave him made him release her immediately.

She continued to the front door, paused with one hand on the screen door and stared at him. “Thanks for the beer.” She lifted the beer bottle in a toast. “Good night.”

With that, she disappeared into the house, leaving him to go over their conversation and where he’d gone wrong. Not a difficult thing to figure out. Note to self: avoid talking about what she did that caused her to come back to Whittler’s Creek against her will.

Suddenly the front screen door came open and Callie appeared out of breath. “Quick. Your daughter needs you. She’s screaming her head off. Sounds like she’s having a nightmare.”

Tyler jumped up and took off up the stairs to the girls’ bedroom. Just when he was comfortable enough to brag about how well adjusted the girls were, one of them was having a nightmare.

He recognized Madison’s screams before he opened the bedroom door. He rushed to her bed and gathered her in his arms until she quieted. “Hush,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s okay. Daddy’s here. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re okay now.”

Madison’s heart pounded rapidly against his chest and her breathing was quick and shallow, even after she finally stopped screaming.

When she seemed calm again, he laid her back on her pillow. Her eyes never opened and she probably wouldn’t remember the episode when she woke in the morning. Thankfully, she rarely did.

If only she could forget the reason for those nightmares in the first place.

* * *

CALLIE HAD FOLLOWED Tyler up the stairs, ducking into her own room while he headed straight to his distraught daughter down the hall.

To make sure everything was okay, Callie stood right inside her doorway to listen. Her entire body was shaking. Hearing one of the little girls crying out in fear had affected her more than she ever would have expected.

Did the girls often have nightmares? What had they been through? Tyler hadn’t shared any details. But obviously something traumatic had occurred if they’d been seeing a therapist regularly.

Tyler’s soothing whispers could be heard as the child quieted to a whimper and then there was silence. Callie found herself comforted by his tone, as well. Her breathing slowed as she began to feel normal again.

After a few more minutes she heard him leave his daughters’ room. She quickly closed her bedroom door as quietly as possible. She didn’t want him to know she’d been listening.

She got ready for bed, hoping to have a dreamless sleep. Like every night of her life, she left the light in the bathroom on so she wouldn’t be in complete darkness while she slept.

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