Книга - Her Stolen Son

Her Stolen Son
Rita Herron


A little boy hired a brooding detective to bring his mother home…and then the child disappearedDetective Colt Mason's latest "client" was impossible to resist. Not only was he just five years old, his teary-eyed pleas to prove his mother was innocent of murder pulled at Colt's hard to reach heartstrings. But before he could investigate, the child disappeared without a trace. Now, with Serena Stover desperate to find her son and clear her name, Colt took one look at the beautiful widow and knew this little family would change his life forever. As the search intensified, Colt unearthed a far-reaching–and deadly–conspiracy, making him more determined than ever to solve this case and keep his promise that Serena's smile would return when she was reunited with her little boy.









“I know it’s hard, Serena, but try to stay positive. We will find Petey.”


Colt’s caring concern brought tears to her eyes, and she leaned against him, desperately needing his comforting voice and arms.

She slid her hands up his torso and rubbed slow circles across his chest. His breath hitched slightly, and he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against him.

“I just want my son back,” she whispered.

“I know, and we will get him back.” He pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead and the tears began to slip down her cheeks. But he didn’t push for more. Instead, he held her and let her vent her emotions until she finally sighed and wiped at her face.

Then she tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. He’d driven all night and looked tired, but compassion and concern and other emotions she didn’t understand registered on his face, as if fatigue never slowed him down. With one thumb, he swept her hair away from her forehead. His lips parted, the whisper of his breath brushed her face.

“Serena?”

“Please kiss me, Colt. Make the pain go away for a while.”




Her Stolen Son

Rita Herron







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Billie Jo Case: friend, reviewer, fan…




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


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




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Serena Stover —She thought losing her husband was bad, but now someone has framed her for murder and kidnapped her son. The only person who believes her is the handsome detective Colt Mason; but she can’t lose her heart again….

Detective Colt Mason —He is determined to save Serena’s son, and will do anything to track down the culprit, even if it means exposing her dead husband’s dirty little secrets.

Parker Stover —Serena’s husband was an undercover agent working on a drug bust. Was he dirty, or had he stumbled on a bigger case that got him killed?

Petey Stover —All Petey wants is to go home and have his family back. But his kidnapper is not out for ransom money—so what does he want with Petey?

Lyle Rice —Serena finally accepted a date with the man, but now she is accused of his murder. Is he really dead or is his murder an elaborate ruse to disguise his real motives?

James Ladden —The ex-con was one of Rice’s cellmates; did he abduct Petey?

Detective Geoff Harbison —Parker’s former partner left the force shortly after Parker’s murder. Was it coincidence or does Harbison have secrets of his own?

Dasha Miller —Serena believes this street girl had an affair with her husband. Does Dasha know the real truth behind her husband’s murder and who kidnapped her son?

Hogan Rouse —The hit man who killed Parker claims he murdered the man for money, and may hold the key to Petey’s abduction. But the tough, cold prisoner is not talking….




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen




Chapter One


“Mister, will you get my mommy out of jail?”

Colt Mason glanced up from his desk at Guardian Angel Investigations and stared at the dark-haired little boy, surprised at his request.

He was probably what, five or six years old?

“I don’t gots a lot of money,” the boy said, then hoisted the piggy bank he held in his arms onto Colt’s desk. The change inside clanged and rattled as he shoved it toward Colt. “But you can have it all if you’ll help me.”

Colt grimaced. The last thing he wanted was the boy’s savings.

Besides, the kid’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, and he was breathing hard as if he’d been running.

Where had he been running from?

“Why don’t you sit down, son, and let me get you some water. Then you can tell me who you are and what’s going on.”

The boy slid into a chair, his shoulders hunched. Colt stepped from his office into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, brought it back and handed it to him.

The kid’s big brown eyes studied Colt warily, but he took the water, unscrewed the lid then took a long drink. Finally he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. “My name is Petey Stover. My mommy said people here help kids. And she’s in trouble so I come here.” Petey pointed to the nameplate on Colt’s desk. “You gots the name of a gun.”

“Yeah, I do.” Colt fought a small smile. “Now, tell me what happened, Petey. How did your mother end up in jail?”

Worry tightened Petey’s bowlike mouth. “Last night my mommy had a date with this man named Mr. Lyle. But he pushed Mommy against the fireplace, and then he grabbed her neck.” Petey gulped and Colt noticed his hands shake. “I didn’t like him hurting her.”

Cole clenched his jaw. “I wouldn’t like that either. What happened next?”

“She stomped on his foot and kicked him in the…you know—” he pointed to his private parts “—where it hurts.”

Colt barely resisted a smile. “Yes, I know. Then what?”

“I tried to pull him away ’cause now Daddy’s gone I’m the man of the house.” Another deep breath and he squared his small shoulders as if to prove he was a man. “But he knocked me down on the floor.”

Anger made Colt grip the chair edge. “He hit you?”

Petey nodded. “Then my mommy got the fire poker and yelled at him to leave.”

Colt narrowed his eyes. “Did your mother hit him with the fire poker?”

“No.” Petey took another swig of water. “She acted like she would though ’cause she was scared. Then the man got mad and said she’d be sorry.”

Colt wouldn’t have blamed the woman if she had killed the bastard. “What did he do then?”

“He gives her a mean look but he left.” Petey sighed. “So Mommy and I wents to bed. But this morning when I was eatin’ cereal, the sheriff came and he said Mommy killed that mean Mr. Lyle, and they taked Mommy away. And this lady with big orange hair took me to kid jail.”

Colt’s head was reeling. “Kid jail?”

Petey pointed toward the door. “To that big spooky house down the street.”

Ah, Magnolia Manor, the orphanage. DFAC had obviously gotten involved.

“But I runned away when they went in for lunch, cause I don’t wanna stay in jail, and Mommy shouldn’t be there either.” He squared his little shoulders. “Jail is for bad people, and my mommy is good. She didn’t kill nobody.”

Colt took a moment to process the situation. “Where’s your father, Petey?”

Petey looked down at his hands where they clenched the water bottle. “He was a policeman, but he got shot and he died.”

Poor boy. And now his mother had been arrested.

Petey’s chin quivered as he looked back up at Colt. “Will you get her out, Mr. Colt?”

Colt stood. He didn’t know if the woman was innocent or guilty but he wanted more details on the matter. “Let me talk to her and we’ll see.”

Petey jumped off the chair. “Then let’s go.”

Colt knelt beside the boy. He wasn’t a babysitter. Hell, he didn’t know much about kids at all.

In fact, he’d screwed up bad when he’d been left in charge of his own brother….

But how could he refuse this little boy? “Petey, I’m sorry, bud, but the sheriff won’t allow children in the jail. One of my friends will stay with you here while I talk to your mom. All right?”

“You won’t send me back to kid jail?” Petey touched his arm, his voice pleading.

Colt winced. Petey’s hands were tiny, just like the rest of him. Yet he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He’d been fifteen when he’d lost his own dad and he’d felt that weight on his shoulders. A few months later, he’d failed and lost his brother, too.

Petey was nowhere near that age. Still, he couldn’t lie to the child. He would have to call Magnolia Manor sooner or later. “Let me talk to your mom and then we’ll make a plan.”

Petey nodded, his trusting acceptance sending a streak of guilt through Colt. Still, he went to get Derrick. Derrick could phone Brianna at the manor and smooth things over. She must be frantic.

He hurried to Gage’s office, pausing at Derrick’s to ask him to join them.

“What’s going on?” Gage asked.

“This little boy just came into my office asking for my help. His name is Petey Stover.”

Gage switched on the TV in the corner. “His mother was arrested. It’s all over the news.”

Colt watched as the special news story aired.

“This morning, Serena Stover, wife of former police officer Parker Stover of the Raleigh Police Department, was arrested for the murder of a man named Lyle Rice. Rice was supposedly killed at his home, but police have yet to recover the body. However, evidence quickly led the sheriff to Serena Stover’s door.”

The camera zeroed in on Sheriff Gray handcuffing and escorting an attractive woman with long, curly, copper-colored hair from her home. She was arguing and protesting, trying to break free to reach her little boy.

Petey was crying and kicking and shouting, determined to wrestle away from the deputy who was hauling him toward another vehicle. A woman Colt assumed to be the social worker was trying to soothe the boy, to no avail.

The camera panned back to Serena as the sheriff pushed her into the back of his squad car. Tears streaked her big eyes as she turned and watched her son beating on the window, screaming her name.

Colt’s gut clenched.

“As you can see,” the reporter continued, “the arrest quickly became an emotional scene. However, the sheriff feels he has sufficient evidence and motive to move forward.”

The camera panned back inside to focus on the crime scene. Massive amounts of blood stained the bedroom floor, and the sheets were blood splattered, one corner dragging the floor. A crime scene tech lifted the corner to reveal more blood.

In fact, Serena’s name had been spelled in blood on the wood floor.

“Police believe that Rice scribbled his killer’s name in his own blood before he died,” the news reporter continued. “More on this story as it develops…”

“That’s not good,” Gage said.

“If Serena killed Rice and got rid of the body, why wouldn’t she have cleaned up?” Colt asked with a frown. “Besides, she sure as hell wouldn’t have left her name there for the police to finger her.”

“Maybe she was in a hurry and didn’t see it,” Gage suggested. “The name was covered by the sheet.”

Colt shrugged, questions nagging at him.

“Petey was taken to Magnolia Manor, Derrick,” Colt said. “Will you let Brianna know he’s here and safe?”

Derrick nodded. “She’s probably frantic. I’ll call her right now.” Derrick stepped from the office to make the call.

Gage drummed his fingers on the desk. “This isn’t our usual kind of case.”

“I know,” Colt said. But something about the poor kid and that emotional scene had gotten to him. “The boy is so upset, though. And his story made sense. I’d like to at least talk to the woman.”

Gage hesitated, then gave a nod. “All right. But be careful. And don’t make an enemy of the sheriff. So far, he’s cooperated with us on other cases. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Colt agreed and headed back to Petey. He’d be civil to Sheriff Gray, but if he thought the man was wrong about Serena, he wouldn’t hesitate to rattle some cages.

There was no way he’d sit by and let him railroad a single mother away from her child if she was innocent.



SERENA STARED at the ink on her fingertips, still stunned that she had been arrested, fingerprinted and was locked in a cell.

Not that it was the first time. But she’d thought her juvenile record was sealed.

She had to get out. The first chance she had, she’d make a break for it. Then she’d find Petey and get him and run.

What kind of life would that be for him, Serena? Hiding out, always making up new names, always afraid…

No, she couldn’t do that to her son.

Poor little Petey. He’d been through so much the last two years. His father’s murder. Their move to Sanctuary because she’d wanted a nice small town where they could both heal. And they both had started to heal.

Then her friend from work had encouraged her to start dating. A huge mistake.

Lyle Rice had been a charmer at first, then turned into a snake. When the arrogant animal had pushed Petey, she had wanted to kill him.

But she hadn’t, dammit.

And she couldn’t run either. She’d given up that life when she’d married Parker. She’d vowed to give Petey a more stable life than she’d had….

Footsteps pounded, the shadow of movement in the hall indicating the sheriff or his deputy had returned. She’d requested her phone call, but the truth was, she didn’t even know the name of a good lawyer to call.

Of course, the state would give her a public defender, but she’d had one of those before and that had ended with her in a juvenile facility.

Suddenly the sheriff appeared, along with a broad-shouldered man with hair as black as coal and eyes just as black. He looked powerful, lethal even, with a strong, square jaw and arms that were as big as her legs.

Definitely an alpha guy who was accustomed to being in control. And judging from his short haircut, muscular physique, that laser-intense look and the tattoo on his arm, he was former military.

Either that or a hardened criminal.

Her stomach pitched. Surely, the sheriff wasn’t going to lock him in the cell with her.

“Ms. Stover,” Sheriff Gray said. “You have a visitor.”

Serena crossed her arms, confused. Frightened. Wary.

Who was this man and what did he want with her?

Remembering her husband’s horror stories about how devious police interrogation tactics could be, she braced herself. She had to be careful.

He might be here to trap her into giving a confession.




Chapter Two


Serena adopted a brave face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Colt Mason. I’m a detective with GAI, Guardian Angel Investigations.”

Serena frowned, confused even more. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to talk to me?”

“It’s about your son, Petey,” Colt said gruffly.

Serena’s mouth went dry, the room swirled around her, and she reached for the bars to steady herself to keep from passing out. Today had been too much, and if something had happened to Petey…

The sound of the cell opening registered, the men murmuring something indiscernible in low voices. Colt gripped her arm and led her to the cot by the wall. Her legs buckled, and she sank onto it, then leaned over, the room spinning in a dizzying circle.

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath, Serena,” Colt said in a low voice. “Then another.”

His soothing tone brought a flood of tears. Angrily she brushed at them and inhaled, determined to regain control. She had to know what had happened to her son. But when she tried to speak, nausea rose to her throat.

The sheriff returned, then Colt pressed a cold cloth against the back of her neck.

Dammit. She needed to be strong. But she’d lost Parker. She couldn’t lose Petey. And that blasted woman had promised to take care of him.

Clawing for control, she jerked her head up, removed the cloth from her neck and tossed it aside. Colt Mason was staring at her with those intense black eyes again as if he was trying to see into her mind and soul. Maybe even her heart.

She wouldn’t let anyone there, not ever again.

Besides, he was probably trying to judge whether she was a killer.

“Where’s my son?” She clutched his shirt. “Is he hurt?”

“Petey is fine,” Colt said. “He’s at my office.”

“What? I thought that social worker took him to a foster home.”

Colt covered her hands with his and peeled her fingers loose. “She dropped him off at Magnolia Manor, but as soon as the children went inside for lunch, he bolted and ran down to GAI. Apparently you told him that some nice men there helped children.”

Relief mushroomed inside Serena, and she found herself hanging on to his hands. Caution told her not to trust him, but the fact that she had used those exact words with Petey made her relax slightly.

“You have fifteen minutes,” Sheriff Gray interjected.

Colt nodded to the sheriff, and he strode back to the front of the jail.

“He must be so scared,” she whispered. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“I’m certain.” Colt hesitated, an awkward second passing as he released her hands. “Do you feel better now?”

She nodded, searching his strong face for the truth. This man looked hard, cold, forceful, as if he’d seen the worst in humans and was trying to figure out where she stood on the pendulum, if he should be protecting her son from her. That suspicious look cut through her like a knife. “You scared me to death. When you said GAI, I thought…”

“That he’d been kidnapped,” Colt said darkly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Petey is in my office. One of the other agents, Derrick McKinney, is staying with him. His wife, Brianna, works at Magnolia Manor where the social worker took Petey.”

“So you’ll send him back there?”

“We have to follow the law, but Brianna is a great lady,” Colt said. “She has a son of her own, and loves those kids. Trust me, she’ll be like a second mother to him.”

He obviously meant to make her feel better, but rage churned through Serena at the thought of anyone else taking care of her son.

“Petey should be with me.” She scanned her bleak surroundings. Concrete floor, dingy concrete wall covered in graffiti. Scratchy, faded wool blanket on top of a cot with a mattress so thin the springs bore into her. “And I shouldn’t be here. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Colt’s gaze scrutinized her. “Petey told me a little bit about what happened,” Colt said. “But I’d like to hear your version.”

Serena hesitated, doubts creeping in. “Do you have some ID?”

His eyebrow shot up in question, but he removed his wallet and flashed his GAI badge. So he was really a private investigator. “If you’re worried that I’m working for the sheriff, I’m not. Your son hired me.”

Her gaze latched with his. “Petey hired you?”

A smile quirked at his mouth. “Yes, he offered me all the money in his piggy bank.”

Fresh pain and love squeezed her heart. “I’ll pay you,” she said firmly. “You’re not taking Petey’s money.”

His jaw hardened. “I never said I’d accept it.”

She frowned at his curt tone. He almost sounded offended. “It’s just that…I feel bad for my son. Ever since my husband died, Petey thinks he has to be man of the house.”

A pained look crossed Colt’s face. “A big job for a little guy.”

“Exactly.” Her voice cracked. “He doesn’t deserve this right now. He’s been through so much already….”

Colt cleared his throat. “Then let’s see if we can clear up this matter, and get you home with him. Now, tell me what happened last night.”

Serena chewed on her bottom lip. Lord help her. She hated Parker for dying. And she hated feeling helpless, as if she was failing her son.

Even worse, she hated to give her trust to a stranger. After all, Parker’s murder had taught her not to trust anyone.



COLT STUDIED Serena Stover, his nerves on edge. He understood her wariness to trust. If little Petey was telling the truth, it sounded as if Lyle Rice was a bastard and had probably deserved his fate.

But kids lied to protect their mothers all the time. What if she had used that fire poker on the man? Or what if he’d come back after Petey went to bed, and they’d fought? She could argue self-defense.

Unless she had gone after the man with the intent to kill him…

But everything about this woman, from her delicate bone structure to her wild curly hair to those mesmerizing terror-stricken eyes, screamed that she was a victim.

“Serena?” he asked.

She worried her bottom lip for another moment, then inhaled a deep breath. “Like I said before, Petey’s father died a couple of years ago. He was a cop, shot in the line of duty.”

He didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but simply nodded, silently urging her to continue.

“I…haven’t dated since he died.” She picked at a loose thread on that scraggly blanket. “I didn’t want to. I was grieving.”

“But you decided to go out with this man Lyle?”

She nodded, regret wrenching her face. “The worst mistake of my life.”

He let that comment simmer for a moment. “Go on.”

She lifted her gaze to his, tears swimming in the crystal orbs.

God, that hurt look sucker punched him and made him want to yank her in his arms and comfort her. Made him want to promise her he’d make everything right.

But that wasn’t a promise he was sure he could keep.

“Serena, I’m not judging you for dating. That’s human, normal.”

She sighed, then glanced away, and he realized she had judged herself. That she felt guilty, as if she was cheating on her husband when he was dead and never coming back. She must have loved him deeply.

“Anyway, Lyle and I only went out a couple of times,” she said softly. “First coffee. Then a movie. But last night we had dinner, and I sensed something was different, that he was ready to take things to the next level.”

“You mean sex?”

A blush crept onto her cheeks, then a sliver of fear darkened her eyes. “Yes.”

“But you weren’t ready?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She swallowed, then licked her lips, making him uncomfortably aware that she was sensuous and fragile and a woman.

“Anyway, when he brought me home, he came in for a drink, which I never should have allowed,” she added beneath her breath. “Then he came on to me. I told him right away that it wasn’t going to work between us and asked him to leave.”

Colt didn’t like the images forming in his mind. “But he didn’t?”

She twisted that ratty blanket in her hands, fidgeting. “No, he got angry, then pushy. I asked him to leave again, but he refused to accept my rejection, and he pushed me against the fireplace.”

She paused, her breath coming faster. “Then Petey came in, and…” Emotion thickened her voice. “Petey tried to pull him away from me, but he threw him to the floor.”

Her hands knotted into fists around the blanket. “So I grabbed the fire poker and ordered him to get out.”

“Then he left without a fight? You two didn’t struggle?”

“No, but I did knee him in the groin. Then he did leave.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But he was seething and before he went out the door, he warned me I’d be sorry, that I had no idea who I was messing with.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “God, I am sorry, but not that I told him to leave. I’m sorry I ever met the man.”

So far her story matched Petey’s.

Colt gripped the cot edge to keep from drawing her up against him. Her fragile body was trembling, her lip turning blue where she kept worrying it with her teeth.

“What happened after he left?”

She shifted restlessly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. “Petey was upset, so I cuddled him for a while and lay down with him until he fell asleep. This morning we were having breakfast when the sheriff knocked on the door.” She waved her hand. “Then they tore Petey away from me and arrested me….”

“Lyle didn’t come back during the night? Maybe he broke in and attacked you—”

“No,” Serena said firmly. “He didn’t come back, I didn’t fight with him, and I didn’t go to his place. In fact, I’ve never been to his house.” Her voice grew stronger. “And I would never leave Petey alone. Never.”

Colt frowned. “Do you have proof, someone who can alibi you?”

“Petey, but he was asleep.”

“Did you make or receive any phone calls during the night? Were you on the computer?”

“No, I fell asleep beside Petey, then woke up around four and went to my bed.”

Damn. A typical single mother routine, but not much for an alibi.

Colt tapped his foot, thinking. “Did the sheriff mention the evidence he has against you? How he knew you were involved with Rice?”

Serena’s forehead puckered. “No.”

“How about the cause or time of death?”

She shook her head. “No, he hasn’t told me anything.”

A situation he would rectify.

“Tell me more about Rice. What did he do for a living? How did you two meet?”

Serena heaved a breath. “He told me he was an entrepreneur, that he had investments in small companies. I run a bookkeeping business out of my home, and one of my clients gave him my name as a reference in case he needed my services.”

He definitely needed more background information on Rice. “Have you phoned a lawyer yet?”

A sense of despair seemed to wash over her. “No. I haven’t had a chance to call.” Her voice cracked again. “Besides, I don’t know who to call. I’ve never needed a criminal attorney before.” She swung her gaze toward the cell door. “I can’t believe I need one now.”

Colt gave up the battle to keep his distance, and tugged her hands into his. “Listen to me, Serena. I know a good lawyer. I’ll put in a call to her.”

The sheriff’s footsteps echoed down the hall, and Colt stood. “Hang in there. I’ll call my friend about arranging your bail. And I’m going to question the sheriff and find out more about Rice’s murder.”

Sheriff Gray appeared at the door, keys jangling as he motioned to Colt.

Serena rose and gripped his arm. “Please, Colt. Tell Petey I love him. And don’t let him end up in the system. I grew up there myself. It’s not pretty.”

He’d been a cop long enough to know what could happen, too. But the law was the law, and his hands were tied.

Petey was going back to Magnolia Manor.



SERENA PACED the jail cell, the tiny space closing around her. The nauseating scent of old sweat, urine and dirt wafted around her, nearly suffocating her.

She felt trapped. Panicky. And worried sick about her son.

Colt Mason’s face flashed into her mind, and a sliver of something frightening stirred in her belly. He had a strong, prominent jaw that seemed permanently set in anger. That crooked nose, the scar on his forehead and his black, intense eyes gave him a menacing look.

But she’d heard a tenderness in his voice when he’d mentioned Petey. And if he worked with GAI—and she had seen his badge as proof—then he had to answer to his boss and the other agents, meaning he had to be legitimate.

His questions about Lyle also roused her own questions. What would the sheriff tell him about her case? Sheriff Gray had to have some kind of evidence to hold her. But what kind of evidence could he possibly have against her?

Her shoulders and body ached with fatigue and tension, and she collapsed onto the cot, sick at the thought of having to spend the night in the cell.

At the thought of Petey sleeping in a foster home or orphanage where God knew what could happen to him.

He was so little, so young. He wouldn’t know how to protect himself against the bullies or the street-savvy kids. And he didn’t have enough strength to protect himself if one of the caretakers assaulted him.

Memories of one foster father in particular taunted her, and she automatically rubbed at the scar below her breastbone.

His wife…she’d been just as bad. A religious fanatic who’d sacrificed Serena to her husband in order to save herself from his vile touches. God’s will, the woman had said.

But God never meant for a man to do the things that man had done to her. God never meant for people to hurt children.

Tears threatened again, but she willed them away and let her mind go to that safe place where she’d retreated as a child. Where nothing could hurt her. Not the evil touches of those who pretended to care for children, not their hateful words or degrading comments or their beatings.

She was not that little girl anymore. She was strong. She had found love once. She had a son, and she would die protecting him.

Suddenly exhausted, she lay back on the cot and closed her eyes. But just as she was about to fall asleep, the image of Lyle Rice’s face materialized. Then her foster father.

Except this time he and Lyle were teaming up, and they were both chasing Petey…

She jerked up, shaking all over, a chill skating up her spine.

Please, Colt, help me. And please hurry…



PETEY ROCKED back and forth in the big chair, his legs dangling. Mr. Colt had been gone a long time.

He kept staring at the door, hoping he’d come in any minute.

Hoping his mommy would be with him and she’d take him home. And this horrible day would be over.

Mr. Colt’s friend Mr. Derrick set a drawing pad and some crayons on the coffee table. “Wanna draw while we wait on Colt to get back?”

He stared at the crayons and paper for a minute. He was a pretty good drawer. But he didn’t feel like drawing. His stomach was growling and jumping up and down, he was so hungry.

Maybe he should have broken out of jail after that mac and cheese.

Petey shook his head. “No. I wanna go home.”

Mr. Derrick nodded. “I know. Maybe when Colt returns, he can tell us when you and your mother can go home.”

Footsteps squeaked on the floor. His heart pounded. He sat up straighter. His mommy was coming back now. She’d hug him hard, and then they’d get lunch and ice cream and forget about this awful day.

But Ms. Brianna walked in the door instead.

Petey went stone-cold still.

Mr. Colt hadn’t helped him at all. He’d lied to him.

Tears clogged his throat. He’d trusted him ’cause his name was the name of the gun his daddy had told him about.

But Mr. Colt had called the kid jail to come and get him.

Would they put those metal things on his hands this time like they had his mommy to keep him from running away again?




Chapter Three


Serena’s comment about being in the system disturbed Colt. What had happened to her while she was in foster care? Had someone hurt her?

Knowing that was very possible, he hated even more that her son would be forced to stay in the orphanage or with a foster family until this mess was sorted out and she was cleared.

Granted she was cleared.

God knew he’d seen enough cases go awry not to completely trust the court system.

Colt stepped into the front office and phoned Kay Krantz, an attorney he’d met when he was on the force. She was kind, compassionate and a pit bull in court. As soon as he explained that Serena was a single mother whose husband had been killed on the force, she agreed to rush over.

Next he phoned Ben Camp at GAI. Ben was their go-to technical guy. If he couldn’t hack into it or trace it, it couldn’t be done. “Ben, it’s Colt. Did you talk to Derrick?”

“Yeah, he filled Gage and all the agents in on your case. Where are you?”

“The sheriff’s department. I just met with the little boy’s mother, and I believe her story.” He explained about Lyle Rice’s advances, Serena’s rejection and that the man had hurt the boy.

“How was he killed?”

“I don’t know any details yet, but I’m going to talk to the sheriff now. I also phoned Kay Krantz, and she agreed to represent Serena. She’s on the way.”

“So you believe this Stover woman is innocent?”

Colt hesitated. He’d been fooled by women before. But not for a long time. One plus of working undercover was that he’d become a good judge of character, both good and bad. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I’ll see what I can dig up on Rice. If the man has skeletons, they’re coming out of the closet.”

“Thanks, Camp. I’ll update you once I talk to Sheriff Gray.”

Colt strode to the sheriff’s office and knocked on the door. The sheriff glanced up from the file on his desk and gestured for him to come in.

“I didn’t expect to have GAI in on this investigation,” Sheriff Gray said without preamble.

Colt shrugged. “Her kid made a good case.”

Gray nodded, his expression troubled. “I haven’t interrogated Ms. Stover yet. She was too upset when we first brought her in.”

So the sheriff had a touch of compassion. If he’d really believed the woman was a cold-blooded killer, he would have gone for the jugular before she’d had time to concoct a phony story.

Colt crossed his arms. “So, what evidence do you have against Serena Stover to warrant an arrest?”

Sheriff Gray leaned back in his seat, and propped his feet on his desk. “You know I don’t have to tell you that.”

“True. But I have a feeling you will.”

“Does Ms. Stover have a lawyer?”

Colt folded his arms. “She’s on her way.”

Sheriff Gray nodded as if he’d expected as much. “Then we might as well discuss it all at once.”

Colt wanted answers now. “The news reporter said you didn’t find a body. Have you recovered it yet?”

Sheriff Gray fiddled with the pen on his desk. “No.”

Colt frowned. “Then how can you be certain there was a murder?”

“There is other convincing evidence,” the sheriff said in a tone indicating he didn’t intend to argue—or reveal all the information he had at the moment.

“How about cause of death?”

Gray’s expression shut down. “I told you we’d discuss this with Ms. Stover and her attorney. Now, I need to make a call.”

Colt hesitated. He wanted to push for more, but Sheriff Gray gestured toward the door, and he remembered Gage’s warning about staying on Gray’s good side.

Anxious for the attorney to arrive, he stepped outside to wait for Kay. But questions nagged at him. What the hell did Gray have on Serena?

Whatever it was, it had to be pretty damn convincing.

A red convertible zoomed down the street, then whirled into a parking spot in front of the sheriff’s office. Kay Krantz. A second later, she climbed out, looking all-business in a tailored blue suit. She was a beauty, but it was the ferocious attorney at work that he admired.

Still, there had never been anything between them except friendship and a healthy respect for each other’s jobs. Like Serena, she was still grieving over the loss of her husband. Maybe one day she’d move past it and some lucky bastard would snag her.

Right now, he just wanted her to help Serena Stover and her little boy.

“You talked to the sheriff?” she asked, slinging a black leather briefcase over one shoulder.

“He’s waiting for you.” He opened the door to the sheriff’s office, and she sashayed inside. “By the way, he hasn’t questioned Serena yet. She was too upset when he arrested her.”

Her eyebrow quirked at that, but she flipped a strand of her long black hair over her shoulder and forged on. The moment she entered the office, the sheriff’s eyes lit up.

“Kay Krantz,” she said, then extended her hand.

Sheriff Gray stood and shook her hand. “You’re representing Serena Stover?”

“That’s right.” Her fingers tightened around the strap of her shoulder bag. “I’d like to see a copy of the arrest warrant.”

Frowning, the sheriff snagged it from his desk and pushed it into her hands. “I can assure you it’s in order.”

She studied it for a moment, then dropped it on to the desk. “Okay, let me see my client now.”

“Fine,” Sheriff Gray said. “I’ll move her to the interrogation room and we’ll all convene there.” He glanced at Colt. “You can wait here.”

“He’s with me,” Kay said, then smiled when Gray narrowed his eyes. “My assistant.”

“Yeah, right,” Gray muttered, then jangled his keys as he went to retrieve Serena.

Five minutes later, they were all seated in the interrogation room. Serena and Kay sat on one side of the table across from the sheriff. Colt parked himself at the end. Gray had already given him orders to keep his mouth shut.

He hoped he could comply, but he wasn’t promising anything.

Still, he adopted his poker face, the one he used when he was undercover. Sometimes a person’s mannerisms said more than their words. He just hoped that Serena told the truth.

And that she didn’t have any ghosts in her past the sheriff could use against her.



SERENA GRIPPED her clammy hands together, bracing herself to be ripped apart by the sheriff’s questions.

Kay Krantz squeezed her hand, and she took a deep breath. When the lawyer had introduced herself, Serena remembered the attorney’s name from a big case in Raleigh.

Kay Krantz had won.

Hopefully, she was as talented as the article had claimed.

“All right, Sheriff,” Kay said. “Show us what you have.”

Sheriff Gray’s face remained solemn as he opened a folder and spread photos of a ransacked bedroom in front of them. The light was dim, the furniture old and outdated, but it was the mess that caught Serena’s eyes. Clothes were scattered in disarray, a lamp was overturned, a wineglass broken on the faded carpet.

Then her gaze fell to the bed, and her stomach pitched. The white bed linens were tangled and drenched in blood.

“We believe Mr. Rice was killed here in his bedroom.” Sheriff Gray gestured toward the crimson stains on the sheets and floor. “As you see from the amount of blood loss, he was apparently stabbed several times and bled out.”

Serena couldn’t take her eyes off the blood. No one could have survived that much blood loss.

Kay gestured toward the other photos of the crime scene. “Then where is Rice’s body?”

The sheriff twisted toward Serena, his suspicious look sending a chill up her spine. “We were hoping Ms. Stover could tell us that.”

“I have no idea,” Serena blurted. “I—”

“Shh, don’t say anything right now.” Kay placed her hand over Serena’s to calm her.

“What about the murder weapon?” Kay asked.

The sheriff pointed to a serrated kitchen knife on the floor beside the tangled bedding, and cold fear clawed at Serena. Dear God…that knife looked exactly like one from the set Parker’s parents had given them as a wedding gift.

“Blood matches Rice’s. And we found Ms. Stover’s prints on the knife, and the wineglass.”

Serena gasped. “But I’ve never been to the man’s house.”

Sheriff Gray leaned forward, hands gripping the file edge. He slid another photograph from the bottom of the stack and cocked one brow.

“Then how did your underwear and prints get in his bedroom, Ms. Stover?”

Serena stared at a pair of her black lace underwear in shock. “I have no idea, I told you I’ve never been in his house…”

The sheriff’s look hardened. “Just like you weren’t guilty of assault when you were a teenager?”

Serena gasped. “I wasn’t. Besides, those records were supposed to be sealed.”

Again Kay covered her hand to silence her. “Serena, please. Let me handle this.”

Serena gave Colt an imploring look, hoping for support, but his face was a granite mask revealing nothing.

They had to believe her. She hadn’t been at Lyle’s house.

Of course, she hadn’t attacked that guy when she was fifteen either. She had been defending herself. But the boy who’d accosted her came from a rich family who’d paid a high-priced attorney to drag her through the mud, and she’d ended up in the juvenile detention center.

So how had her underwear and knife and her fingerprints gotten in Lyle’s place?

Sheriff Gray laid another photograph in front of them. “These are from Rice’s computer.” He spread several printouts of emails in front of her, then used a pencil to point to them. “Please read these emails, Ms. Stover.”

Trembling inside, Serena leaned forward to study the screen and Kay did the same.



I love you, Lyle. I won’t let you leave me. I’ll kill you before I let you go.

You’re mine forever.

Serena



Nausea settled over her as she scanned a dozen more. Each note poured out her love, begged the man to not leave her, the latter ones becoming increasingly threatening.

But she hadn’t sent them.

“Judging by these emails, it appears you were obsessed with Lyle Rice.” The sheriff’s chair squeaked as he leaned back, studying her. “Rice wasn’t upset because you rejected him, Ms. Stover. It was the other way around. You were stalking him.”

“No…that’s not true—”

“Be quiet, Serena.” Kay’s fingers tightened over Serena’s. “Sheriff, how do you know those emails came from my client? Did you have a warrant to search her computer?”

Sheriff Gray smiled. “I’m not some dumb local like you think, Ms. Krantz.” He lifted a manila envelope from a file box and dropped it on the desk, then removed Serena’s cell phone, which was sealed in a plastic bag.

“When we booked Ms. Stover, we collected her personal items. The emails came from this phone.”

Serena’s heart pounded. “That’s impossible.”

“Someone else could have used that phone to plant those emails,” Kay pointed out calmly.

Sheriff Gray shrugged, then angled his head toward Serena. “But you sent them, didn’t you, Ms. Stover? You were desperate for attention after your husband’s death, so you fell for the first man who came along. Then you couldn’t stand it when Rice broke it off with you, so you stalked him, then went to his house and stabbed him.” Sheriff Gray’s voice hardened. “Now tell us where you dumped the body, and maybe we can talk a plea.”

“There’s no need to discuss a plea. My client is innocent.” Kay glared at the sheriff in challenge. “Sheriff, look at Ms. Stover. She can’t weigh more than one hundred and ten pounds. Rice was much larger and stronger, right?” She glanced at Serena. “How much did he weigh? One-eighty, two-hundred pounds?”

Serena nodded.

“First of all, it would be highly unlikely that Serena could overcome a man that size and stab him. Secondly, if she did, he would have put up a fight and she would have major defensive wounds.” Kay ticked her points off on her fingers. “And thirdly, even if she overcame those obvious obstacles and managed to kill him, how could she have possibly gotten rid of the body by herself?”

Sheriff Gray punched the first photograph of the crime scene. “See those marks on the floor? There used to be a rug in that spot. She used it to roll up the man’s body.” He slanted Serena a condemning look. “Then you dragged him outside, put him in your van and dumped him somewhere. Where? A ravine maybe? The river?”

Kay rolled her eyes. “There is no way my client could have lifted Rice into her van by herself.”

Sheriff Gray tilted his head sideways. “You’d be surprised at how strong an adrenaline rush can make a person.”

Kay shot up from her seat, her tone sarcastic. “Sheriff, this is ridiculous. The next thing you’re going to accuse her of is having an accomplice. Maybe her six-year-old son helped her dump the body.”

“Why don’t you let your client tell us how she disposed of Rice’s body?” Sheriff Gray suggested.

Serena glared at him, biting back an argument. At this point, shouting and arguing would only make her look guilty. As if his evidence hadn’t already done that.

“As I said, my client is innocent, Sheriff.” Kay reached for her briefcase. “Now this interrogation is over. I demand you release Ms. Stover.”

“We’ll let the judge decide that in the morning,” Sheriff Gray said.

“But you have no case.” Kay glared at him. “You don’t have a body so you have no definitive proof of a crime, especially a murder. And all your evidence is circumstantial.”

“It may be circumstantial,” Sheriff Gray said. “But it is enough to hold your client, and enough to convict her. And for your information, I have a warrant to confiscate Ms. Stover’s vehicle and have it searched and processed for evidence.” He checked his watch. “In fact, it’s probably being confiscated as we speak.”

Pure panic seized Serena. She wanted to deny that he would find anything incriminating in her van. But already he had evidence that boggled her mind. Evidence that had to have been planted.

But who would frame her for murder?

Dear God. If she was convicted, Petey would definitely go to foster care. She couldn’t lose him or spend the rest of her life in jail for a crime she hadn’t committed.

“Ms. Stover, do you have anything to say?” the sheriff asked.

Serena glanced at Colt. He was watching her with hooded eyes. Judging her. Trying to decide whether or not he believed her.

For some reason, that hurt more than the sheriff’s blatant accusations.

She straightened, injecting sincerity into her voice. “Just that I am innocent. I did not kill Lyle Rice, I swear it.”

The sheriff stood then as if dismissing them. “Ms. Krantz, your client’s bail hearing is set for ten in the morning. We’ll see you then.”

Kay’s eyes darkened with anger, but she nodded, then turned to Serena. “Hang in there, Serena. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“But what about my son?” Serena clenched her hands into fists. Maybe she should have stolen those keys, snagged Petey and run. “Petey’s scared. He needs me.”

“You should have thought about that before you killed Rice,” Sheriff Gray mumbled.

“That’s enough, Sheriff.” Colt stepped toward the sheriff. “While you’re wasting time bullying an innocent single mother, the real killer, if there was indeed a murder, is free and escaping right now.”

Sheriff Gray glared at him then clutched Serena’s arm and hauled her toward the door.



COLT HATED like hell to leave Serena in jail for the night. Gray was being a hardass. Dammit, Serena’s juvenile record didn’t help.

He had to find out the story behind that arrest.

Still, he hoped Gray didn’t toss another prisoner in the cell with Serena, especially one who might be violent.

Petey’s face flashed in his mind. Her son would have to spend the night at Magnolia Manor.

He didn’t like it, but his hands were tied. And finding Rice’s killer—or his body if he was still alive—was the best way he could clear Serena and reunite her with her son.

Circumstantial or not, the evidence Gray had was pretty damn convincing.

You have been fooled before, he reminded himself. And nearly died for it.

Only this time he would be smarter. This time he wouldn’t become personally involved. Wouldn’t get close to Serena or her son.

But he would finish the case. The fact that the evidence was circumstantial and there was no body threw up red flags. He didn’t peg Serena for the stalker type either.

Of course, there was her prior record….

That was years ago, though, and she’d said she’d grown up in the system. He needed to hear the whole story before he gave credence to that arrest.

For now, he’d talk with some of her employers, friends and neighbors and find out what the adult Serena was like. He didn’t believe for a minute that Serena had left her son alone, driven to Rice’s house, murdered him, dragged him to her van and dumped his body.

Not that little bitty woman who adored her son and was sick over the idea of him being in foster care.

Trying to deflect images of her alone in that ugly cell sleeping on that nasty cot—or not sleeping, most likely—he climbed in his Range Rover and drove back to GAI. He had to update the team, see what Ben had found, and start questioning everyone who knew Serena to establish her character references.

They also needed to canvas Rice’s neighborhood for witnesses. Maybe someone spotted another vehicle the night before or heard an altercation that might lead them to the truth.

Late afternoon shadows obliterated the sun as it slipped behind the horizon, and his gut tightened. It would be a long night for Serena.

And for Petey.

Steeling himself as he parked, he strode inside. He paused at his office, but it was empty so he strode to Derrick’s. Brianna’s voice echoed from inside, then he heard baby Ryan babbling.

As he turned the corner, he spotted Petey slumped on the couch watching the baby, his little face riddled with worry. Derrick glanced up as he entered, and so did Petey.

Petey’s face fell. “I thought you was bringing my mommy back.”

Colt swallowed against the knot in his throat, then stooped in front of Petey. “I just came from seeing her, bud, and she’s okay. But it’ll be tomorrow before she’s released.”

“No!” Petey jumped up and bunched his hands into fists. “No, she gots to come get me so we can go home and make hot dogs and read stories and play with my action figures.” He heaved for a breath, a sob escaping at the end.

“I’m sorry, Petey,” Colt said. “I did everything I could. But the judge won’t see us until morning. Then we’ll post bail and your mommy can come home.”

“But I wants her tonight,” Petey wailed.

“Petey,” Brianna said softly. “Remember what I told you about Magnolia Manor? It’s not a bad place. The kids are nice, and they’ll play with you, and Ms. Rosalie will read you stories.”

Petey slammed his fist into Colt’s chest. “No, you lied. You’re sending me back to kid jail. I don’t wanna go to jail!”

Colt’s gut clenched, but he let the little boy purge his anger, accepting his blows until Petey finally collapsed against him in a sobbing fit.

Brianna and Derrick both watched with sympathetic looks. Baby Ryan even stopped playing to look up at Petey, his lip quivering as if he might burst into tears, as well.

“Colt,” Derrick said. “Instead of sending Petey back to the manor, Bri and I will take him home for the night.”

Brianna rubbed Petey’s back where he lay against Colt’s chest, exhausted and spent. “That’s a great idea. Petey, you can spend the night with Ryan.”

Colt gave them a grateful look. Brianna was experienced with kids, and much better equipped to deal with an angry, frightened child than he was. “Thanks. I’m sure his mother would appreciate that.”

Besides, he couldn’t babysit Serena’s little boy and investigate her case at the same time. Yet holding Petey stirred some kind of primal instincts that he didn’t even know he possessed.

“Petey,” he murmured. “You’re not going back to the manor right now. Mr. Derrick and Ms. Brianna want you to spend the night with them and baby Ryan.”

Petey hiccupped on another sob but didn’t respond.

Colt carried him out to Derrick’s car, and Petey slumped into the seat, eyes red and swollen. He glared up at Colt as if he hated him.

“I know you’re mad at me.” Guilt stabbed Colt at Petey’s accusatory look. “But you asked me to get your mommy out of jail, and I’m going to do that, Petey. I promise.” He leaned forward. “But I need your help. Your job is to be nice to Ms. Brianna and Ryan. Then Ryan’s daddy can help me clear your mom.”

Petey’s lower lip trembled. “If my daddy was here, he wouldn’t have let them take mommy or me away.”

Colt gritted his teeth. That might be true. But his dad was gone.

And right now, he was all Petey and Serena had.

Colt reached inside his pocket and withdrew a small shiny whistle. He’d never forgotten the day his father had given it to him. It was the day a police officer had come to school to talk to the children about strangers.

He handed it to Petey. “My father gave this to me when I was about your age. He told me to blow it if I ever needed help. I want you to take it. But remember, only use it if you need it.”

Petey’s hand trembled as he wrapped his fingers around the whistle.

Then Colt watched Derrick drive away, Petey’s face haunting him.



COLT SPENT THE EVENING canvassing the homes near Rice’s, but no one seemed to know anything. According to an elderly woman two units down, the man had moved in a month before and kept to himself. Others claimed they’d only seen him coming and going. None had really talked to him.

And no one had heard anything the night before. No cars. No arguments. No screams.

On a positive note, not one of them had seen Serena Stover or her minivan anywhere near the man’s house.

So what the hell had happened to Rice?

And who was framing Serena?

A dozen more questions bombarded him as he wolfed down a pizza. He spent a couple of hours online himself researching Rice, but found very little about the man in cyberspace.

Which raised more questions. An entrepreneur involved in several small businesses should have more of a presence on the internet.

He typed in the link to Serena’s business and accessed her records, then phoned two of her clients. Both gave her raving character descriptions, claiming she was nice, professional and adored her son. All seemed shocked at her arrest.

He tried a different tactic for Rice, searching for more on his background, and was still digging around for information at 2:00 a.m. when the phone trilled.

Colt frowned and grabbed the handset.

“Colt, it’s Derrick.” His voice sounded choppy, strained, upset.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Petey. He finally fell asleep around midnight, and then we went to bed, too. But I heard a noise a few minutes ago and got up, and…dammit, Colt.”

Colt’s heart raced. “What?”

“Petey’s gone.”




Chapter Four


“Petey’s gone?” Colt’s heart hammered.

“Yes,” Derrick said, his voice strained. “We’ve searched the house and outside, but we can’t find him anywhere.”

“Dammit, he could have run away again.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m going to take the car and comb the neighborhood.” Derrick released an explosive breath. “Bri has already called Rosalie at the manor, but I don’t think Petey would go back there.”

“Me neither.” So where would the kid go? “He was furious at me,” Colt said. “Maybe he was coming here.”

“How would he know where you live, man?”

Colt scrubbed his hand over his face. “Right. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe he’s running toward the jail,” Derrick suggested.

Colt contemplated that possibility. “Maybe, but we told him that they won’t allow children there.” He tried to put himself in the head of a six-year-old. “He’d probably go someplace safe.”

“Someplace he felt close to his mother,” Derrick murmured.

“His home.” Colt grabbed his keys and headed toward the door. “I’ll go to Serena’s. You check outside and the neighborhood, and I’ll call the sheriff and tell him Petey is missing in case he does turn up at the jail.”

“Are you going to have him tell Serena?” Derrick asked.

Colt jumped in his Range Rover and started the engine. “No, not yet. She’ll be terrified. Let’s see if we can find him first before we have to put her through that worry.”

Colt disconnected the call, then punched in the sheriff’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Sheriff Gray, this is Colt Mason. We have a problem.”

“Do you know what time it is?” the sheriff barked.

“Petey Stover is missing.”

A tense heartbeat passed. “What the hell happened?”

“He was upset when I didn’t bring his mother back. So Derrick McKinney and his wife took him to their house.”

“I thought he was in foster care.”

“Brianna works for Magnolia Manor. She—we—thought he’d be better off tonight with them. But Derrick just phoned and said the boy is gone. He’s searching the neighborhood, but I thought you should check the jail in case he goes there to be with his mother.”

Sheriff Gray muttered a sound of frustration. “Deputy Alexander is at the jail now. I’ll call him, issue an amber alert and cruise the town.”

Colt sighed. “Thanks. I’m going to Serena’s in case he goes home.”

The men disconnected, and Colt headed toward the Stover house. He just prayed that Petey was there and not out wandering the streets all alone.



SERENA HAD FINALLY fallen asleep, but nightmares haunted her—she was locked away in a hellhole with hardened criminals, with women who called her names and beat her, and guards who used her for their own pleasures.

Jerking awake, she shivered in the cold darkness, the putrid scents of urine and sweat lingering from past prisoners wafting around her as a reminder of the scum who landed in jail.

That she might be one of them if Kay Krantz and Colt Mason didn’t find out who had killed Lyle. That her juvenile record might cost her dearly.

“I’m so sorry, Parker,” she whispered. She’d promised to take care of their son but she’d failed miserably, all because of her own selfish needs. She’d been lonely and had invited Rice into their lives.

She would never put her own needs ahead of her son’s again.

The image of Petey’s terror-stricken, tear-stained face pressed against the window as he was torn away from her taunted her. Who was taking care of her son tonight? Had someone read him a story? Made sure he brushed his teeth?

Who had tucked him in bed and tickled his belly and kissed him good-night?

Shaking with renewed anger, she shoved the ratty blanket away, unable to stand the vile smell any longer.

But she was too tired to sit up or do anything but stare at the nasty words carved on the walls.

A spider wove a tangled web in the corner of the cell, and she watched it work, thinking how elaborately the spider planned its trap.

She was the fly caught in the web now.

Because someone had orchestrated an elaborate plan to frame her for Lyle’s murder.

Her head hurt from trying to figure out the puzzle. Who had killed Lyle? And why frame her?

How could she prove that the evidence the sheriff had against her had been planted?



AS COLT DROVE TOWARD Serena’s, he scanned the streets and alleys, hoping to spot Petey. But the darkness made it almost impossible to see, and intensified his worries. The mountains were massive, filled with dangers and places to hide.

Would Petey even know how to find his way from Derrick’s house to his own?

What if he was lost? Or what if some driver couldn’t see him and accidentally hit the poor kid?

He never should have put Petey in that car. He should have brought him home with him.

He was the one Petey had asked for help, and he had betrayed the boy by allowing the social worker to cart him away, and then by sending him to Derrick’s. But he’d honestly thought Petey would feel comfortable with Brianna.

The streets were quiet, and except for an occasional car, traffic was virtually nonexistent. He veered onto Sycamore, keeping his eyes peeled for Petey, but all he spotted was a stray dog wandering through one of the yards. A catfight broke out somewhere behind one of the houses, the shrill screeching unnerving in the night.

A lone light glowed in a room in a neighbor’s house, but most of the houses were dark, attesting to the fact that everyone was in bed.

Where Petey belonged.

He eased into Serena’s driveway, scanning the property. A nice white little bungalow with a fenced backyard. A porch swing on the front porch and the scooter and football in the yard gave the place a homey feel, another reminder that this house belonged to a single mother and her son.

Ones who’d had their lives uprooted today. The question was, why?

He cut the engine, then moved quietly toward the front door, checking windows and locks. All shut down. The house was shrouded in darkness, as well.

If Petey had come home, would he hide out in the dark like this?

He circled around the side to the back again, checking windows, but they were all locked, and so was the back door. He wanted inside.

But he hated to break a window or lock. Rational thought kicked in, and he pivoted, searching the back patio for a place Serena might have hidden a backup key.

A fort for Petey had been erected in the backyard, a bicycle lay on its side, and flowerpots filled with geraniums and impatiens flanked both sides of the patio.

He stooped and dug beneath the first one but found nothing. Three more pots and his hand closed around the key. Using it to let himself in, he paused to listen for sounds. Any indication that Petey was inside.

The ticktock of a clock somewhere in the house echoed in the silence along with the low hum of the refrigerator and air conditioner.

“Petey, it’s Colt.”

Not wanting to frighten the kid if he was here, he inched his way inside, then moved slowly across the room and flipped on a light. “Petey, if you’re here, please come out. I promise I’m not going to take you back to the manor.”

Nothing.

He crept into the den and switched on a lamp, blinking at the sudden brightness. The room was painted a pale yellow with a dark green couch and comfy chairs situated around a fireplace. Children’s books and toys occupied one corner. Family photographs decorated a far wall. He paused to study one of Petey and his dad, and his gut tightened. Serena had said her husband was killed in the line of duty.

Old instincts kicked in. Police work was dangerous. Had her husband’s killer been arrested? Had his killer decided to come after Serena and Petey for some reason?

If so, could it be related to Rice’s murder, and the fact that Serena had been conveniently framed?

He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he was making a wild jump, but it might be worth looking into.

He glanced at the room that opened to the right and realized it was Serena’s office. A neat desk, filing cabinet, computer.

But no Petey.

Across the other side a small hallway led to two bedrooms. He flipped on a hall light and veered into the first one. The room was painted a warm red with a white comforter and red-and-white striped curtains. Obviously Serena’s room. “Petey, are you here, bud? If you are, please come out and talk to me. I want to help you.”

The floor squeaked as he knelt and checked under the bed, then he searched the closet and bathroom. All empty.

Damn. One more room.

Petey’s. Maybe the kid was hiding in there. He entered it, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Bunk bed with a superhero bedspread, toy chest, action figures, a soccer ball.

“Petey?”

But he knew instinctively Petey was not there. Still, he threw open the closet door. Toys and clothes overflowed the shelves and a red fire engine sat on the floor.

He closed the door, but as he started to leave the room, another picture of Petey and his dad caught his eye. Petey’s father was tall with brown hair and had his arm slung around the boy, but in this photo he wasn’t as clean-cut. His hair looked scraggly and long, and he sported a beard. Something about the look in the man’s eyes and his appearance seemed familiar.

Like an undercover cop.

He should know. He’d let his hair grow long and used beards, mustaches, tattoos, anything necessary to fit in with the scum he was supposed to be part of.

Curious about Parker Stover, he hurried into Serena’s office to look for more information on him, then dug through her file cabinet, but everything inside pertained to her business.

Had she thrown her husband’s things away?

He had noticed a door in the hallway and wondered where it led. Maybe an attic.

A great hiding place for a little boy.

Spurned by adrenaline now, he flipped on the light and climbed the stairs. A few old pieces of furniture were stored in a corner, an antique chair, another bed, boxes of clothes and toys Petey had probably outgrown were crammed against another wall.

On the opposite side beneath the window sat an old trunk. Just big enough for Petey to crawl inside.

He crossed the room and opened it, hoping Petey was inside. Two worn blankets covered the top, then a lump.

“Petey?”

He felt beneath it, but his hand connected with a duffel bag instead of a child.

Frowning, he yanked it out with a curse and unzipped it. The damn bag was filled with cash.

All in hundred dollar packs.

His stomach knotted. Why in the hell did Stover have this much money hidden in his attic? Did Serena know about it?

And where had the money come from?

He counted the first stack, and worry crawled up his spine as cop instincts filled in the blanks.

A large sum of cash like this suggested that Stover had been dirty.



UNABLE TO SLEEP, Serena’s anger festered. She had been a cop’s wife. She’d heard Parker talk about cases, had seen his methodical mind working to figure out the puzzles of a crime.

She had to help herself and do the same.

She called the deputy’s name, and a moment later he surfaced. “You oughta get some sleep,” he grunted.

Serena gripped the bars. “I can’t. Would you mind giving me a pen and a piece of paper?”

His eyes narrowed. “What you gonna do? Try to break out with a pen?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t overpower you if I tried.” She forced a feminine smile. “But I would like to figure out who framed me. I thought I’d make a list of everyone who’s been in my house the last few weeks and see if anything suspicious jumps out at me.”

He studied her for a long moment. “I guess that’d be all right.” He strode back to the front office and returned a minute later with a small yellow legal pad and a pen.

“Thanks.”

He gave her a clipped nod, although she also felt his gaze sliding over her as if he was judging her himself. A sense of how alone they were bolted through her, and perspiration broke out on her neck. The damn man might be handsome, but she would never use sex to obtain what she wanted.





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