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Match Made in Court
Janice Kay Johnson


His surprise family… Matt will do anything for his precious niece. Hanna’s his only relative, and he knows he can help her through the tragic loss of her parents. Getting custody of her, however, means challenging her aunt, Linnea – a woman far more enticing than he remembers. When their attraction threatens Matt’s guardianship, court seems like his only option.Joint custody is not the outcome Matt was expecting. Yet it could be the best thing that’s happened to him. Because being with Linnea and Hanna together feels right and good…and they just might be the family he’s always wanted.












Matt hadn’t had such a good time in years.

Hadn’t laughed like that in years either, he realised as they started towards Linnea’s house.

“It was a fabulous idea,” Linnea said in a quiet voice, her gaze warm. “Hanna was happy. She hadn’t been since …” She swallowed. “I’d better get her some clean clothes and take a quick shower myself before I start lunch.”

“You need it.” His voice came out huskier than usual and he touched a mud streak on her cheek. His fingertips tingled, and it was all he could do to withdraw his hand. It curled into a fist at his side.

She went very still at the fleeting, soft touch. Her eyes darkened as she stared at him. Then, without a word, she turned and hurried from the room.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! What was he thinking?

Something about her drew him in a way he hadn’t experienced in years, maybe never. Her air of fragility, coupled with a spine of steel. Yeah, all that, and her slender, graceful body, her generous breasts, the tiny tendrils of pale hair that curled against her nape. The whole package. He couldn’t understand how he’d been so blind all these years.

Matt wished he was still blind. He and Linnea had been on opposite sides in the courtroom last week, and they’d keep being on opposite sides unless he gave up his claim to Hanna.

And that was one thing he couldn’t do.






Dear Reader,

Whenever I peruse newspaper articles about domestic violence cases that end in tragedy, I tend to think about the families. More is split asunder than a couple. What about the grandparents on both sides who have become friends and who love any children? Sisters and brothers, in-laws and cousins who have all swirled together to become one family, but who now must take their places on opposite sides of a courtroom?

Don’t we all believe that romantic love can transcend any obstacle? But as Shakespeare showed us in Romeo and Juliet, family opposition can be one of the most heartrending obstacles of all.

When in the course of a tempestuous argument Finn Sorensen kills his wife, Tess, their young daughter, Hanna, in essence loses both her parents. She’s lucky in one way—Tess’s brother Matt Laughlin wants her, and so does Finn’s sister Linnea. But Linnea’s family has never liked Matt, and he despises them. Facing off in a bitter custody battle is a rocky way to begin a romance …

I hope you’re as fascinated as I am by the emotional tangles wrought by our childhoods, by family and by our ability to always understand why our hearts lead us so powerfully to make choices that don’t seem sensible.

Enjoy!

Janice Kay Johnson








About the Author


The author of more than sixty books for children and adults, JANICE KAY JOHNSON writes novels about love and family—about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. Her 2007 novel Snowbound won a RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America for Best Contemporary Series Romance. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small rural town north of Seattle, Washington. She loves to read and is an active volunteer and board member for Purrfect Pals, a no-kill cat shelter.




MATCH MADE

IN COURT


JANICE KAY JOHNSON






















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




CHAPTER ONE


LINNEA SORENSEN HATED being interrupted by phone calls during dinnertime.

This was why she not only had caller ID, she had an answering machine instead of voice mail. She could not only tell who was calling, she could find out what that person wanted before she decided whether to answer.

This morning, she’d put chicken paprika to cook in her slow cooker. Thank goodness because she was starved. She’d worked a full day at the library, then on her way home had had to walk the Millers’ two Irish setters, rain or no rain. Having been bored all day, they were thrilled to go outside, which meant they bounded and dove into the neighbor’s shrubbery and got tangled with each other. Her shoulders ached from the dogs’ straining against their leashes. of course, she had to go back before bedtime, but this time she could stand on the stoop and let them out in the tiny yard for a last chance to pee.

Wet, tired and chilled as she was, Linnea showered the minute she got home. She reluctantly put on a sweatshirt and jeans instead of her pajamas, dried her hair and then gratefully dished up dinner. She was just inhaling the glorious aroma and picking up her fork when the damn phone rang.

Of course it was her parents’ number that appeared. She was not talking to her mother right this minute.

Except that the distraught voice she heard hardly sounded like her mother.

“Linnea? Are you home? Something terrible has happened. Finn just called and—” She made a ragged sound that might have been a sob. “He says Tess is dead. That—that she fell and hit her head and …”

Linnea dropped the fork and grabbed the phone. “Mom?”

“Oh, thank goodness! You are there!”

“Tess is dead?” Honestly, Linnea liked her sister-in-law, Tess, better than she did her own brother.

“Surely he’s wrong, but … he was dreadfully upset. He says the police are there, and he wanted me to come and get Hanna. Your father isn’t feeling well. Can you possibly take her home with you tonight, Linnea? Until we know what’s happening?”

“Well, of course I can. He’d already picked her up from after-school care?”

“He said she’s there. I pray he’s kept her in her room so she doesn’t know what’s going on. Will you go now?”

“I’m on my way. I’ll call you when I know something.” Hands shaking, Linnea dumped the food back in the slow cooker and put the lid on. She slipped her feet into rubber clogs, grabbed her coat and purse and went out the door again.

Although she and Finn both lived in Seattle, it might as well have been in different worlds. His four-thousand-square-foot faux-Tudor home, which boasted a media room and five bathrooms, was in upscale Laurelhurst; her own two-bedroom cottage was in a blue-collar neighborhood in West Seattle. With the dark night and wet streets, the drive to Finn’s took her over half an hour. The entire way, her anxiety kept her hands tight on the wheel and her thoughts bouncing off each other, never settling.

Could Tess really be dead? Just from stumbling and hitting her head? What had she hit it on? A corner of the kitchen counter? or their raised slate fireplace hearth? Mom had worried so about that hearth when Hanna was little. But people didn’t die that foolishly and … meaninglessly. Did they? And why were the police there? Did they always come when the death wasn’t something obvious and expected, like an eighty-year-old with coronary disease having a heart attack?

Poor Hanna! Linnea adored her six-year-old niece, who—she sometimes swore—took after her more than either her mother or father. Not that Hanna was timid, exactly, but she was quiet and thoughtful. She often daydreamed, which annoyed her father no end. Finn was brilliant and ambitious, impatient with woolgathering and anyone whom he deemed “dense.” Tess, a successful interior designer, was creative but also tempestuous. in her own way, she had as strong a personality as Finn did. Hanna, it often seemed to Linnea, was a bit of a changeling.

Linnea saw the flashing lights when she was still a couple of blocks away from her brother’s house. The street was blocked at the corner, although officers were removing the barricade to let a fire truck lumber out. As she hesitated, the lights atop an ambulance went off, and it, too, started up and followed the fire truck.

Her heart constricted. Was Tess in the ambulance? But it definitely wasn’t speeding toward a hospital, which must mean Finn had been right. By the time he got home, it must have been too late to save her. Linnea hated the idea that he and Hanna had walked in the door and found Tess on the floor. She had a heartrending image of the little girl crying, “Mommy!” and running to her mother’s still, prone body.

People gathered in clusters on the sidewalks, all staring as if hypnotized toward Finn’s house. Neighbors? They were weirdly lit, seemingly by strobe lights—red, blue, white. Blink, blink, blink.

Linnea stopped at the barricade and rolled down her window when the uniformed officer walked up to her car.

“Ma’am, do you live on this street?”

“No, I’m Linnea Sorensen. That’s my brother’s house? Finn? He called me … well, really he called my mother …” He doesn’t care. More strongly, she finished, “I’m here to pick up my six-year-old niece. She shouldn’t be here with … with whatever’s happened.”

“One moment, Ms. Sorensen.” He stepped away and murmured into a walkie-talkie. When he came back, he said, “I’m going to let you through.”

She gave a jerky nod and rolled up her window. When he pulled the barricade aside, she drove through the opening. People’s heads turned as her car inched forward until she stopped behind one of—oh, God—five police cars. Why would there be so many, just because Tess tripped and hit her head?

With trepidation Linnea got out and went toward the house. Almost immediately, another uniformed officer stopped her, then passed her forward. She was walking up the driveway when the front door opened and her brother appeared, police officers on each side and behind him. With shock she realized that he was handcuffed.

Finn Sorensen was a big, fit, handsome man, his dark blond hair sun-streaked. He had such charisma other people tended to disappear in his presence.

Linnea most of all.

Still wearing dark dress pants and a white shirt, he’d shed the tie and suitcoat, probably when he got home earlier. He was in a towering rage, she saw, storming down the front steps as if he were dragging the two officers behind. In comparison, they were stolid and uninteresting, their faces very nearly expressionless.

Finn was halfway to the street when he saw Linnea. He stopped, his angry gaze making her feel about two feet tall.

“As you can see,” he said in an icy voice, “these idiots have jumped to conclusions. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll call Nunley as soon as I get to the jail. They don’t need to worry about it. I’ll be out before morning and filing a lawsuit against these cretins before they start chowing down their noon fries and burgers.” His tone was scathing, dismissive. The two men listened with no apparent reaction.

“Is—is Tess really dead?” Linnea asked.

“Yes. She fell.” His lips drew back in a snarl. “As I keep trying to explain.”

“I’m so sorry, Finn.”

“You’ll take care of Hanna,” he snapped, as if her obedience was a given, and walked past her with the two men each gripping one of his elbows.

Oh, Lord! Had Hanna seen her father arrested on top of the awful discovery of her mother’s body? Linnea rushed up the steps, stopped inside by a plainclothes officer. He wore a rumpled brown suit, his badge clipped to his belt. She could see that he had a gun in a black holster at his side, too.

“Ms. Sorensen?”

“Yes. I’m here for Hanna.”

“Your niece is upstairs in her bedroom. A female officer is with her.”

Hanna must be terrified.

She bit her lip. “It’s true? My sister-in-law is dead?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said, with surprising gentleness.

“She hit her head?”

“In the course of an argument with your brother. Did they fight often, Ms.—I’m afraid I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Linnea,” she told him. “And it’s true that Finn and Tess had arguments, but that’s all they were. They yelled, then made up. Finn never hit her or anything like that.” At least, she thought privately, that she knew about.

“I’m afraid they won’t be making up this time.”

She went very still. “Is she—her body, um, has she been taken away yet?”

He shook his head, his eyes uncomfortably watchful. “No, but if you go straight upstairs, you won’t see her.”

A shuddery breath escaped her. “All right.” She hesitated. “Do you know … Did Hanna see her?”

“We don’t think so. She says that she heard Mommy and Daddy yelling and she doesn’t like to listen.”

Linnea actually shuddered at the image that conjured. How often had Hanna huddled in her room trying not to listen to her parents screaming at each other? At the same time, Linnea was hugely relieved to know that Hanna hadn’t seen any of the final, violent scene.

“Does she know?”

“That her mother’s dead? Yes, insofar as a child her age can understand.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes for a moment, girded herself, then started up the stairs.

At the top, she could see into the master suite at the end of the hall. She could make out a corner of the bed, smoothly made. It might be that neither Tess nor Finn had gotten this far; both were workaholics who rarely walked in the door before six or seven in the evening. They might have started arguing the minute they got home.

Hanna’s door was closed. Linnea rapped lightly, then opened it. A uniformed woman sat on the bed. The six-year-old was on the floor, back to the bed, her knees drawn up and her arms hugging her legs tightly.

“Pumpkin?”

Her niece leaped to her feet and flung herself at Linnea. “Aunt Linnie! They said Grandma was coming, but I wanted you!”

They hugged tightly, Hanna’s arms around Linnea’s waist. “I was so scared,” she mumbled.

“I know, honey. I know.”

It was several minutes before Hanna drew back, face wet. Linnea crouched to be at eye level.

Hanna sniffed. “Officer Bab—Bab—”

“Babayan,” the dark-haired young woman supplied.

“She says Mommy is dead.”

Grief clogged Linnea’s throat. She had to swallow twice before she could say, “That’s what they told me, too.”

“That means … she won’t ever come home again?”

Linnea hated having to be the one to make her beloved niece understand how final death was. “No. You remember when Confetti died.”

Hanna bit her lip and nodded. The family’s tortoise-shell cat had been twenty-one when she’d failed to wake up one morning.

“You saw her.”

Another nod.

“Whatever made her Confetti wasn’t there anymore. She’d left her body behind and …” Linnea hesitated only very briefly. She had doubts about what happened after death, but she wouldn’t share them with Hannah. “She’d gone to heaven. Well, your mom has gone now, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if Confetti was waiting there to get on her lap.”

“I want Mommy here!” Hanna wailed. “I don’t want her to be in heaven!”

Linnea pulled her into another embrace. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. Oh, honey, I love you.”

Eventually Hanna recovered enough to ask where her daddy was. Linnea explained that he was having to talk to the police about what happened. Hanna only nodded. Linnea had noticed before that she didn’t go to her father with the uncomplicated trust she ought to feel for a parent. Finn loved his daughter, Linnea didn’t doubt that, but he lacked the patience to be unfailingly gentle even for her sake.

“You’re going to spend the night with me,” she told Hanna. “Let’s pack your suitcase right now. Just in case, why don’t we take enough for you to stay for a couple of days?”

The police officer gave her a small nod of approval.

Hanna’s small suitcase, thank goodness, was on the top shelf in her closet. Linnea packed enough clothes for three or four days, while her niece gathered favorite toys and games. Then while Linnea collected her toothbrush from the bathroom, Hanna put on her shoes.

“I’m ready,” she said stoutly, looking very slight and terribly young. Her twin ponytails sagged, one lower than the other, strands of blond hair escaping to cling to her damp cheeks.

Ignoring the wrench at her heart, Linnea smiled at her. “Good. We’ll have fun.”

Officer Babayan followed them downstairs. Linnea steered Hanna straight for the front door, pausing only long enough to collect her pink coat from the closet in the entry. She noticed that the female police officer had very casually moved to block any view that Hanna might have of the great room where the Sorensens mainly lived.

Where Tess must have died.

Hanna almost gulped. Maybe she had hit her head on that sharp-edged hearth.

On the front porch, Hanna stopped in her tracks. “Why are there so many police cars here?”

“When they get a call saying someone is hurt, any officers who are near come rushing to find out if there’s anything they can do. I guess there must have been a bunch of them this time.”

Holding Hanna’s hand, carrying a duffel bag of toys while Hanna pulled the pink wheeled suitcase, Linnea hurried her down the rainy walk and past several of those squad cars to her small compact. She put everything in the trunk, helped her niece buckle in and started the engine. She didn’t like the fixed way Hanna stared toward those flashing lights and the open front door of her house with people going in and out.

As she backed out and drove up the block, Hanna’s head swiveled so she could keep looking back. Linnea hated that she saw the neighbors clustered, staring.

Then the same officer pulled a sawhorse away to let Linnea’s car through, and she was able to accelerate up the street until the flashing lights vanished from her rearview mirror.

MATTHEW LAUGHLIN HAD barely risen from bed and was padding barefoot and shirtless to the small kitchen in his rented Kuwait City house when his phone rang.

Damn it, there had to be a problem on the job site; the offices weren’t open yet, and it was currently late evening in the U.S.

He picked up the phone. “Laughlin.”

The hollow quality of the long silence told him this call was originating in the United States after all. He relaxed; Tess did sometimes call at this god-awful hour. She was a night owl, and knew when to catch him at home.

But it was a man’s voice he heard. “Mr. Laughlin? My name is Neal Delaney. I’m a detective with the Seattle Police Department.”

Matt groped behind him for a stool and sank onto it. His hand tightened on the phone until the plastic creaked. “Tess? Tell me my sister is all right. And Hanna.” God, Hanna. Had they been in a car accident?

Waiting out the silence stripped his nerves raw.

“I’m afraid I have bad news. Your sister is dead.”

“How?” he asked in a hard voice. “What about Hanna?”

“Hanna is fine. She’s with her aunt, uh, Linnea Sorensen.” This time the pause seemed not to be a consequence of international telecommunications, but rather a hesitation. Perhaps reluctance to tell him the bad news.

“Your sister died of a blow to her head. We have arrested your brother-in-law for her murder.”

Son of a bitch. Rage pummeled him, as dangerous as the Kuwaiti cloudbursts.

He had disliked Finn Sorensen from the first time Tess introduced them. Tried to talk his sister out of marrying Finn, hidden his unhappiness when he failed. God knew she’d always stood up for herself, or so Matt had tried to believe. Later he’d worried most about Hanna, a quiet, sensitive child who regularly saw her father throw things when he lost his temper. But murder … That was something else again. It ran deeper, hotter, than Finn Sorensen’s childish inability to withstand frustration.

Matt heard the detective talking, caught only the end.

“.other family?”

“No,” Matt said. “Our parents are dead. I’m Tess’s only family.” His decision was already made. “I’ll catch the first flight I can get on. Today, I hope. I’ll be in Seattle …” Hell. The complexity of time changes defeated him for the moment. “Give me your number. I’ll phone when I get into Sea-Tac.”

He wrote down Detective Delaney’s number, gave his blessing—if you could call it that—for the autopsy, then ended the call. Even as he left a message for George Hanson, the project supervisor for the port facility they were building at Shuwaikh, Matt was already going online to check for flights.

If he could pack and be out of here in half an hour or less, he could catch a direct flight to Washington, D.C., then, after a two-hour layover, another leg to Seattle. With a flick of his finger, he confirmed that he wanted to buy the ticket.

He didn’t have that much to pack, really just his clothes and toiletries, plus a few gifts he’d picked up for Tess and Hanna. Those gave him pause. His jaw muscles tightened, but he couldn’t let himself think. Not yet. He dropped the presents he’d planned to take home to Seattle for Christmas into his suitcase, then zipped it closed. Laptop in its case, passport and wallet in his back pocket, he walked out of the house where he’d lived for nearly a year now, knowing he wouldn’t be back.

Hanna needed him.

The airport was only fifteen kilometers south of the city. He left behind the wide boulevards, parks and towering skyscrapers of a city that had looked futuristic to him when he first arrived. He turned in his rental car at Avis, checked his bags at the airline counter and boarded the plane with minutes to spare.

Not until the plane had taxied down the runway and taken off, banking to allow him one last glimpse of the aqua-blue gulf, the surreal silhouette of the Kuwait Towers and the dry tan landscape of the Middle East, did he close his eyes and allow himself to feel the first stunning wave of grief for his little sister.

His face contorted and he turned his head toward the window so that no one could see.

Tess. God, no. Not Tess.

THE PROBLEM OF WHERE he would stay didn’t hit Matt until he was tossing his suitcases into the trunk of the car he had rented at Sea-Tac Airport. He slammed the trunk closed, then stood there feeling stupid.

He guessed he must have dozed in the past twenty hours, off and on. But he hadn’t been able to get a first-class seat on either leg of the flight, and he was too big a man to ever feel comfortable in coach. He’d reached a point where his mind seemed to be slogging through heavy mud. It didn’t want to be diverted, didn’t want to think about anything new. Trudge, trudge. See Hanna, go home, drop onto a bed until he felt human again.

As human as he could feel, considering the man his sister had loved had murdered her.

God. He rubbed his face hard, scrubbing away the snarl that had drawn his lips back from his teeth.

The trouble was, home had been Tess’s house these past few years. Whenever he was in the States long enough, he’d stayed there. Had his own bedroom. It gave him a chance to spend time with her and stay close to Hanna.

Home was currently a crime scene.

Okay. Check in to a hotel, see Hanna. Tomorrow he’d look into renting a place, somewhere she would feel at home. He knew for the moment she was safe enough with Finn’s mousy sister, but by God Tess’s daughter wasn’t staying long term with anyone related to her killer.

He got in the car and took out his cell phone and the slip of paper where he’d written the cop’s phone number. He reached Delaney, who agreed to meet with him the next morning. Then he drove to Seattle, trying to recall any particular hotel from memory. He didn’t want to be downtown. Where did Finn’s sister live? Matt couldn’t remember and didn’t really care; she was a nonplayer as far as he was concerned. Oh, Hanna was fond of her; she often mentioned her aunt Linnie when they spoke on the phone and recently when she’d learned to write well enough to e-mail. The sister was probably the best of a bad lot. Matt didn’t like Finn’s mother, either. The father was too quiet to have made much impression on Matt.

He finally settled on the Silver Cloud Inn on Lake Union. Once in a room, he called directory assistance for Linnea Sorensen’s phone number. There were three L. Sorensens, he discovered. He took down all three numbers, then dialed until he recognized her voice on the message.

“You’ve reached Linnea and Safe at Home Petsitting. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Matthew Laughlin. I’m in Seattle. I’d like to see Hanna.” He gave his cell-phone number, then sat down heavily and stared blankly at the wall.

He finally stripped to his boxers, set his cell phone on the bedside table and crawled under the covers.

NOT SURE IF SHE WAS DOING the right thing, Linnea had decided to keep Hanna out of school the rest of the week. Fortunately, she had the two days after Tess’s death off from work, so she and Hanna went to the library, to the beach and playground at Lincoln Park and to the several petsitting jobs she currently had.

The Miller dogs had a little girl of their own, so they were thrilled to see Hanna. When their long pink tongues slopped over her face, Hanna actually giggled, the first sound of genuine happiness Linnea had heard from her since that awful night.

Mostly, she remained painfully subdued. She watched TV or played a game when Linnea suggested it, and she tried to pretend she cared what they had for dinner, but she only picked at the food. Linnea sat with her every night, gently rubbing her back, until she fell asleep.

Hanna didn’t once ask when her daddy was coming to get her or if she’d be able to go home. Linnea was glad, because, although Finn was out on bail, he hadn’t even called to find out how Hanna was doing. Linnea wouldn’t have known he was out of jail at all if her mother hadn’t told her.

Charges had not been dropped.

“They can’t possibly believe a man like Finn killed his wife,” Linnea’s mother had said incredulously during one of their phone conversations. “Why on earth would they pursue something so ridiculous and put all of us through this?”

What kind of man did her mother imagine Finn was like? Was she referring to his success?

Linnea wished she could share the belief there was no way on earth her brother had killed Tess. But, unlike her mother, she’d been aware of how much anger Finn harbored. Linnea had always been a little afraid of her brother. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was arrogant enough to believe that, as a prominent attorney at a major law firm, he was immune to police suspicion.

Well, he’d been wrong. He might not be convicted, of course; she could imagine a jury refusing to believe that a man that compelling, that handsome and charming and successful, would have committed such a crime.

“He says she fell and hit her head on the coffee table,” her mother reported with bewilderment. “I don’t know if they think he pushed her. But even that’s hardly murder!”

No, it wasn’t. But they had charged him with second-degree murder, not negligent homicide or battery or whatever they normally charged men whose wives died during an argument that had become physical with.

They clearly thought he’d done something much worse than push Tess.

What Linnea did know was that she was going to argue if he tried to reclaim Hanna too soon. There was no way he could give a child the reassurance and routine and gentle affection she needed right now. Especially when he was caught up in the fight against this charge. No, she would do more than argue, Linnea decided despite some inner quavering; she would simply refuse to let him take his daughter.

After coming home from walking the pair of Irish setters, she saw the red light on her answering machine blinking. People seeking a petsitter didn’t usually call so late in the evening. She sent Hanna to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, in case the message was from Finn or even from her mother, who didn’t always think to watch what she said in case her granddaughter was listening. Not until Linnea heard water running in the bathroom did she push the play button.

The voice was terse and hard. “Matthew Laughlin. I’m in Seattle. I’d like to see Hanna.” Except for the phone number he added on at the end, that was all he said.

Her heart sank. Wasn’t Tess’s brother supposed to be in Saudi Arabia or Dubai or Kuwait or somewhere far away? He was a civil engineer for a major international construction company that built everything from offshore structures to transit facilities and dams. She hadn’t met him more than half a dozen times in all the years since Finn married Tess because he was so rarely in Seattle. He had been present for a few holiday celebrations, but otherwise Finn hadn’t gone out of his way to include his parents and sister at dinner parties when Matthew was in town. Linnea suspected the two men didn’t like each other very well.

She hadn’t liked Matthew Laughlin.

No surprise. He was too much like Finn.

Not angry, necessarily. She sat looking at the phone number she’d written on a notepad, analyzing her reaction to him. No, she’d never heard him raise his voice or even make the kind of slashing gesture Finn used so powerfully to convey his impatience and disdain. Tess’s brother was much more … contained than Finn. Almost, she thought, more unnerving because of the lack of bluster. But, like her brother, when Matthew Laughlin spoke, he expected everyone to listen. She could imagine that he was used to giving orders and being obeyed. Tonight’s message was typical. He probably didn’t even want her to call; it was Hanna he expected to hear from.

And that, she admitted, was another of the reasons she didn’t like him. From the first time he’d set eyes on her, he’d dismissed her. She wasn’t worthy of his time. Linnea doubted they had exchanged ten words with each other. His gaze seemed to skate over her. And, okay, she knew she wasn’t beautiful. But she wasn’t nothing, either, of so little consequence his behavior was acceptable.

It bothered her how well she could picture him. He was nearly as tall as Finn and broader in the shoulders, more powerfully built, as though he did actual physical labor rather than computer-aided design. He wasn’t beautiful like his sister, or like Finn for that matter. Matthew Laughlin’s features were blunt, pure male. He kept his dark hair short, as if he didn’t want to be bothered with it, and his eyes were dark gray, rather like the steel girders on the projects he designed. Whenever she was around, she was painfully aware of him, almost—but not quite—as if she were afraid of him. She could have her back turned and know when he walked into a room. But she wasn’t afraid of him, and she didn’t understand why she reacted to him the way she did. And, no, that wasn’t his fault, but she didn’t have to be fair, did she?

Well, she wasn’t going to let Hanna call him until she knew better what he wanted. Hanna did like him, Linnea knew; his gentleness with her and even with Tess was his most appealing quality in her opinion. She’d seen the way Hanna’s face lit with delight after he murmured in her ear, and how he touched his sister’s arm after Finn had been carelessly cruel. Just a quick grip that turned Tess’s flash of anger into a rueful smile for her brother. Unlike Finn, who went at the world as if he were a bundle of dynamite with a lit fuse, Matthew was quite good at defusing. A couple of times, after seeing his smile or a light, perfectly timed touch, Linnea had had a sharp pang of something uncomfortably like envy even if she didn’t like him.

But she still wasn’t letting him talk to Hanna until she’d heard what he had to say first.

“Aunt Linnie!” her niece called. “I’m ready to be tucked in.”

“Hop into bed,” she called back. “I’ll be right there.”

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d given. It rang five times, then went to voice mail.

“Laughlin,” his voice said curtly. “Leave a message.”

“This is Linnea Sorensen returning your call. It’s—” her gaze sought the clock “—eight-ten. I’m tucking Hanna into bed right now, but if you call back in the next few minutes I’ll get her up to talk to you. Otherwise, we won’t be home tomorrow because I have to work. I’ll try you again tomorrow evening.” She hung up quickly, as if he might still pick up. She hoped he didn’t call back tonight, that at least she had a reprieve until tomorrow evening. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again, especially under the circumstances.

And she was wary of finding out what kind of relationship he imagined having with Hanna, who hardly knew him given the rarity of his visits. Probably he only wanted to see her a few times while he was in Seattle to bury his sister, after which he’d go back to … wherever it was he’d come from.

What scared Linnea was that … if he disliked Finn as much as she thought he did, and was convinced that Finn actually had killed Tess, how would he feel about Hanna being raised by her father? Linnea knew how she’d feel.

How she did feel.

If Matthew Laughlin was angry enough, would he try to take Hanna?

“Over my dead body,” she whispered, then went to sit at Hanna’s side until the little girl fell asleep.




CHAPTER TWO


“YEAH, THEY FOUGHT,” Matt told Detective Delaney. “Finn is a son of a bitch. I tried to talk my sister out of marrying him. She didn’t listen.”

The two men sat in a small conference room at the police station. Matt reserved final judgment, but his first impression of the investigator was of competence and dispassion, both of which struck him as positives. He was pissed enough himself to keep the pressure on. He needed a smart cop investigating his sister’s death, not one who jumped to conclusions.

Neal Delaney had risen from his desk in the bullpen to meet Matt. He was a big guy, maybe fifty, with steady brown eyes, a firm grip and a tie he’d already tugged loose at ten in the morning.

Matt hadn’t objected when Delaney wanted to start by questioning him. He was happy to tell anyone who would listen what he had thought about his brother-in-law.

“I could never understand how he hid his temper at the law firm,” he admitted. He’d disliked the idea that Finn saved his nasty streak for the people who loved him most.

“I don’t think he did,” Delaney said, then looked sorry he’d opened his mouth.

Matt raised his brows.

After a moment, Delaney shrugged. “The partners are shocked. His secretary isn’t. An intern told me Mr. Sorensen flayed him alive when he made a mistake.”

Being fair stuck in his craw, but Matt finally said, “Not the same thing as killing someone.”

“No, but interesting.” The investigator cleared his throat. “Had he been physically abusive to your sister?”

Matt frowned. “If so, she wouldn’t admit to it. I had my suspicions. A couple of bruises she laughed off. A broken wrist she claimed she got by slipping on an icy sidewalk. Broken collarbone that was supposed to be a ski injury.”

Delaney scribbled in his notebook. “We’ll follow up. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her doctor yet.”

Matt braced himself and asked, “What does Hanna say?”

“A female patrol officer spoke to her while they waited for Ms. Sorensen to come get her. The little girl says Mommy and Daddy yelled a lot and sometimes things crashed. She apparently scuttled for her bedroom whenever they started to fight. She was pretty scared, and Officer Babayan didn’t push it. I’ll need to talk to Hanna myself, maybe with her aunt present so she feels comfortable.”

“Or heads off any honest answers.”

Delaney sat back in his chair, contemplating him. “That your impression of her?”

Matt was ashamed of how little impression he actually did have of Linnea Sorensen. “No,” he said finally. “But it stands to reason she’d want to defend her brother.”

“Maybe.” His eyebrows pulled together. “I saw her when she arrived at the house as Mr. Sorensen was being taken out in handcuffs. She didn’t exactly rush over to hug him, and he talked to her like she was the family maid. Not real warm and fuzzy.”

Matt thought back to those Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners when they’d all been in that ugly, ostentatious house that was Tess and Finn’s pride and joy. Offhand he couldn’t remember brother and sister ever talking; in fact, he’d seen her quietly slide from a room when Finn entered it.

Okay, maybe she didn’t like him, either. That would be a point in her favor.

“I don’t know how they feel about each other. His parents think he walks on water, I can tell you that.”

Another note.

“When did you last see your sister?”

“Thanksgiving a year ago. I was here for a week. Finn was midtrial and hardly home. Tess took the week off and she and Hanna and I did tourist things. Rode the ferry, went up the Space Needle. We’d intended to ski, but there wasn’t enough snow for even Crystal to open.”

Delaney nodded. The previous winter had been wet but warm, a disaster for winter sports businesses.

“Finn was cordial enough when I saw him. We both … tried. For Tess’s sake.” Finn, Matt sometimes thought, disliked him in part because he felt obligated to be on his best behavior when his brother-in-law was in residence. Tess told him he was imagining things.

“I’d like a few answers, too,” he said, voice implacable. “You say Tess hit her head on the coffee table. What makes you think she didn’t stumble and wham into it wrong?”

“The medical examiner says there was too much force applied. Her skull was shattered.”

God,Matt thought.I didn’t want to know that.

He frowned. Yeah, he did. He owed it to his sister to find out the worst. He hadn’t been able to protect her, but he could be sure justice was served.

“He’s going to bring in an expert to testify that if she was hurrying when she stumbled she could have flown forward and hit hard enough.”

“Uh-huh, but here’s the compelling part. If you fell, you’d hit the top edge.” Delaney ran his hand along the rim of the conference table. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed.

“Your sister didn’t. Tissue and hair embedded in the wood shows that the force of the blow was along the side and the sharp edge at the bottom of the tabletop rim. The only way that could happen is if she rose up from beneath the table and hit her head—”

“In which case there isn’t enough force.”

“Right. The alternative …”

“Is if somebody lifted the whole coffee table and swung it at her,” Matt finished softly.

Tissue and hair. Goddamn it.

“You got it.” The two men looked at each other, and Matt saw pure determination in Delaney’s eyes. He wasn’t going to let Finn walk.

Reassured, Matt held out his hand. “Thank you.”

One shoulder jerked. “Just doing my job.” But they shook, and Delaney walked him out. “Where can I reach you?”

“The Silver Cloud on Union Bay. I’m going to look at rentals today, though. I figure I’ll be staying in Seattle, at least through the trial. I intend to have Hanna with me.”

Those eyebrows rose again, but Delaney didn’t comment. “I’m going to ask you to stay away from Mr. Sorensen.”

“I have every intention of doing so.” Matt’s tone hardened. He’d been furious to find that Finn had walked out on bail within twenty-four hours of killing Tess. “Unless he tries to take Hanna home with him.”

Matt had been relieved by Linnea’s phone message, which made it clear that she still had the six-year-old. He was annoyed at himself for apparently sleeping through the ringing phone last night, but God knew he’d been exhausted. He’d see Hanna tonight. With a little luck, he’d have a house to move into within the week.

Normally if he’d planned to be in the area for a few months, he’d have gone for a condo. Why take on mowing and weeding? But a child should have a yard. A swing set, a playhouse, someplace to kick a ball. His ideas were vague. He didn’t actually remember seeing Hanna play outside in the yard in Laurelhurst. When he and she kicked around a soccer ball, they’d walked down to a nearby park.

His guess was that Hanna hadn’t had many opportunities to hang out during the day at home. Both her parents tended to work six days a week minimum and, except during the summer, probably picked her up from after-school care and got home after dark. She’d told him once that she was practically always the last kid picked up. She had sounded wistful, but when he tried to talk to Tess about it, she rolled her eyes and said, “Have you seen her day care? It’s an amazing facility with great teachers. Saturdays they go on field trips, and the rest of the time they do art and put on plays. She’s learning to speak Spanish and about architecture from walking tours and …”

She’d gone on and on, extolling the virtues of Rolls Royce of day-care centers. His guess was that a kid who’d been in school all day probably didn’t want to then go straight to language lessons or be organized to put on a play or do anything else supervised. That was not how he and Tess had grown up. They’d had a stay-at-home mom. Sometimes they’d been in organized activities—Little League for him and dance lessons for her. But mostly they’d been able to get off the school bus, have a snack then go to a friend’s house or read or watch TV. Their entire lives hadn’t been organized the way Hanna’s was.

But he also knew that Tess’s interior-design business had been her dream. It was important to her. What was she supposed to do? Close it down until Hanna was a teenager? She’d actually gone to part-time Hanna’s first year and had sounded restless the entire year, Matt remembered thinking. When he asked her once if she and Finn intended to have another baby, she’d shaken her head emphatically.

“We adore Hanna. How can we not? But look at us. We both love our jobs. We thrive on pressure, on being busy. Especially Finn. He was next to no help when she was little. And did I tell you how much I hated being pregnant?”

She had, although he’d forgotten.

“No.” Another shake of the head. “Hanna’s going to be an only child.”

He’d been dismayed, maybe because he remembered how important he and Tess had been to each other after their parents died in a car accident. He’d been in college and his sister a sophomore in high school, but he had managed to keep her with him. He hated to think how much more devastating the loss would have been if he hadn’t had her.

His jaw tightened at the realization that she was gone now. She’d been the one person in the world he knew loved him, always and forever. Until Finn Sorensen’s temper got the best of him.

Was the bastard even sorry? Did he wish he could call back the burst of rage that had him lifting the whole coffee table and slamming it into his wife’s skull?

Or was he self-serving enough to blame her because she’d provoked him? Or even to convince himself it had happened the way he was trying to tell police, that Tess was ultimately to blame because she’d somehow slammed her own head into the table?

Despite having been related to him by marriage for eight years now, Matt had no idea how Finn really thought. Despite Tess’s exasperation, they’d both resisted playing a round of golf together or even sitting down with a beer. Eventually, he’d thought, she’d become resigned to the fact that her husband and her brother would never be friends without really understanding how deep the chasm was.

Matt bought a Seattle Times in front of the station and took it to his car. He’d look at online classifieds later, when he got to his hotel, but he could start with what was in the newspaper.

Sitting in the parking garage, he worked his way through the rental section, making a few appointments to check out places.

By dinnertime, he’d seen a dozen, but nothing that struck him as perfect. He wished he had a better idea how important staying in the same school was to Hanna. Did she have good friends? He’d have to ask her tonight.

At five-fifteen, he called Linnea’s and a woman picked up. “Hello?”

“This is Matt Laughlin.” He’d pulled to the curb and set the emergency brake, even though he hadn’t expected her to be home quite yet.

“Oh,” she said softly. “You didn’t call back last night.”

“I’d had a long flight. I conked out and didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Matt, I’m so sorry about Tess.”

He forced out a thank-you. “How is Hanna handling this?”

There was a small silence. He wished he could see her face. “I’m not sure. She’s so quiet. I’ve been trying to keep her busy, even though I don’t know whether that’s the best thing to do or not. Maybe I should be encouraging her to grieve. I just don’t know,” she said again.

“Busy sounds smart to me.”

“Do you think so?”

For God’s sake, wasn’t that what he’d just said? He reached up and kneaded the back of his neck, where tension had gathered. “Yeah. I do.” He paused. “I’d like to see her.”

“I assumed you would.” He could all but feel her gathering herself. “I’m going to ask you not to … to say anything negative about her father. Not right now. I … haven’t even told her he’s been arrested.”

“How the hell are you explaining his absence, then?” Oh, shit. “She isn’t seeing him, is she?”

“No.” The single word was firm enough that he momentarily pulled the phone away from his ear and gazed at it in surprise. Interesting. Maybe Delaney was right that she didn’t much like her big brother. “Finn hasn’t even called,” she said. “Mom tells me he’s out on bail. He must know he isn’t in any state right now to be comforting Hanna.”

Uh-huh. What father wouldn’t want to be the one to explain to his small daughter what happened to Mommy? To hold her and dry her tears and do his damnedest to make her world feel safe again? Matt couldn’t imagine that not being his first priority.

“Maybe,” he suggested, every word dropping with a distinct clunk, “the bastard has enough conscience that he can’t look Hanna in the eye.”

Crap, he thought immediately. That wasn’t the way to assure Linnea’s cooperation.

But after a very long silence, she said only, “I doubt he’s figured out what to say to her.”

Huh. Did that mean she believed her brother was guilty?

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked. “Can I take you and Hanna out?”

The offer was an impulse; he wanted to spend time with Hanna, not Linnea. But it made sense. His niece hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Despite their e-mails and phone calls, they always had to ease into their friendship. Besides … he found himself more curious than he’d expected to be about this sister he’d scarcely noticed in the past. What was the saying? Still waters run deep. Did hers, or was she the mouse he’d guessed her to be?

After another discernible pause, she said stiffly, “Yes, if you mean it. I haven’t started dinner yet, and I know Hanna would love to see you.”

“Have you told her I called last night?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”

Tone silky, Matt said, “To make sure I wouldn’t rant about her daddy.”

“Um … something like that.” She sounded embarrassed, but had enough spine to add, “I don’t really know you.”

“No. We never bothered, did we?”

“You didn’t seem very interested.”

So. She had teeth. Maybe saying we never bothered wasn’t quite accurate. He’d automatically extended his dislike of Finn to Finn’s family. So no—he hadn’t bothered.

“You may have guessed that your brother and I didn’t much care for each other.”

She didn’t comment.

After a moment, Matt said, “Is this too early? Can I come by now?”

“Now is fine. We eat early. Um … do you need directions?”

“I got them off the Internet last night.” He couldn’t even remember why he’d had her address. Presumably Tess had given it to him, God knew why.

“All right,” Linnea said. “We’ll be ready.”

The drive took him longer than he expected. It was interesting, he thought, that she’d chosen to live so far from either her brother or parents, without having actually left Seattle. Maybe deliberate, maybe a job had determined where she rented or bought. He knew from what Tess had said that she worked at a library. Obviously, from her phone message, she had some kind of petsitting service, too.

Her house turned out to be a tiny, midcentury bungalow in a blue-collar neighborhood in West Seattle. It was on a fairly steep side street, the single-car garage essentially in the basement beneath the house. He pulled to the curb, cranked the wheels and set the emergency brake before turning off the engine. He got out and surveyed Linnea Sorensen’s tidy home. Rented, he presumed, but she did maintain it. Leaves on the Japanese maple in front had mostly fallen and been raked up. Grass was sodden but carefully mowed. The house had been painted a warm chestnut-brown and trimmed with deep rose, a surprisingly warm and cheerful combination. The front door was seafoam-green.

No doorbell, he discovered, but a shiny brass knocker made a deep thudding sound when he lifted and dropped it.

The door opened immediately and he had a moment of sharp surprise. His first sight of the woman who’d answered the door disconcerted and unsettled him; funny, she didn’t look like he remembered. It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her.

On the heels of his surprise came disappointment because Hanna was hovering shyly behind her aunt, peeking out at him as if he were a stranger.

He smiled at her. “Hanna Banana.”

She whispered, “Uncle Matt? I thought … Mom said …” That made her look stricken. “You were coming for Christmas.”

Keeping his gaze on her small, distressed face, he said gently, “When I heard about your mom, I came right away. You and she are my only family, you know.”

Not are—were. Now he had only Hanna. He wanted to hug her. To lift her up into his arms and take her away.

“Oh,” she breathed, sounding alarmed, and buried her face in her aunt’s leg.

Ease into her life, he reminded himself, tamping down his frustration.

He lifted his gaze to Finn’s sister, ready to figure out why he’d felt that odd shift inside at first sight. Damn it, he’d remembered her as colorless, washed-out, her hair and skin pale, her eyes—who knew?—her body so slight she could fade into the woodwork.

Either she’d changed, or he hadn’t looked at her before. Or, hell, she had been cast into shadow by her brother and his sister, both vivid personalities, both larger than life and impossible to ignore. Even so, he liked to think of himself as observant, which meant there was no way he should have failed to see that Finn’s sister was beautiful.

Because what he saw now was a lovely woman. Slight, yes, but in a leggy, slim-hipped way. She could have been a dancer or a runner. Although her breasts, he was jolted to realize, were generous enough to have been a nuisance for either. How had he escaped noticing breasts so lush and perfectly sized to fit a man’s hands?

Her hair was a pale, ash blond—moonlight where her brother had rich gold hair. Straight instead of wavy like his. His eyes were bright blue, hers a softer blue-gray. Her features were fine, even delicate, as was her bone structure in general. The hand that squeezed her niece’s shoulder was long-fingered and slender. With deft use of makeup and the right clothes, she could be stunning.

Feeling stupefied, he was also angry at himself. What was he doing, evaluating her as a woman? She was Finn’s sister. Enough said.

Frowning slightly, he realized that she was assessing him in turn. Had she ever really looked at him before, either? He couldn’t help wondering. Or, in her case, was this more of a review?

“Ready for dinner?” he said. “You’ll have to suggest a place. Anything from pizza to gourmet French is fine by me. Except—” he smiled at his niece again “—I seem to remember that Hanna Banana was a little bit picky the last time I saw her.”

She squeezed tighter onto Linnea’s leg. Linnea laughed. “Well … definitely nothing gourmet. All six-year-olds are picky.”

Finn, of course, had been irritated by her refusal to eat mushrooms, broccoli, anything new, anything too mixed together to separate into components. Tess had laughed and said pretty much the same thing Linnea had.

“Then how about that pizza?”

Now Linnea smiled at him, lighting her face. “I take it somebody wants pizza.”

A soft, sympathetic smile didn’t change anything. Except—damn, he was pretty sure he’d never seen her smile before.

He heard himself admitting, “Yeah, it’s the one food I miss when I’m abroad. I can find it, but it’s never quite the same.”

“Then pizza it is. Let me grab my purse.” She gently disentangled herself from Hanna, who froze in place, her gaze darting to his face before she ducked her head.

“Thank you for e-mailing me,” he said quietly. “I liked hearing from you.”

She whispered something. He hoped she’d liked getting e-mails from him, too, and, even though she’d needed Tess’s help with spelling, hadn’t been sending them under her mother’s orders.

A sharp stab of pain reminded him of Tess. The truth that she was gone hadn’t really hit him yet. Mostly he still felt anger. But because he saw her only intermittently, for a week here or there, her absence didn’t yet seem real. For Hanna, though, it must be very real.

Or was it? he wondered, troubled. She hadn’t seen her mother’s body, hadn’t talked to her dad. She had probably, in the past, stayed with her aunt Linnie for a few days. Did she really grasp the fact that her mom was gone for good?

Fortunately Linnea returned immediately. She locked the front door, took Hanna’s hand, and walked ahead of Matt down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. He asked about her booster seat, but Linnea said that she hadn’t thought to get it from Hanna’s house, and anyway she was getting almost tall enough to do without. His niece looked tiny to him, but he didn’t know that many children and it made sense that she was taking after her parents, both tall.

Linnea sat beside him in front, her purse clutched on her lap. Although she leaned back, her spine seemed very straight. She stayed quiet unless he asked her a direct question or she was telling him where to turn. He was a lot more conscious of her than he liked being, maybe because he kept catching an elusive scent that made him think of baking. Vanilla, maybe?

The pizza place was nearly empty, this being a weeknight. They ordered: half cheese to accommodate Hanna’s preference, sausage and veggies for the two adults. Pop all around, although he would have liked a beer. He was dragging some, but feeling more fatigue and disorientation than drowsiness. From experience, Matt knew that adjusting to the time change would take him days if not weeks. He was going to have trouble falling asleep tonight.

Once they were settled in a booth, he on the opposite side from Hanna and Linnea, he said, “So, Banana, what did you do today while your aunt Linnea worked?”

“I went to Grandma and Granddad’s,” she said in a soft voice.

He felt a spurt of anger, and his eyes met Linnea’s. Why, in her message last night, hadn’t she told him where Hanna would be? He could have gone to see her earlier today.

Her chin rose and she stared at him, making it obvious that withholding Hanna’s whereabouts today had been deliberate.

“I’ve been looking forward all day to seeing you,” he said to Hanna, while still watching her aunt.

Hanna drummed her heels and played with the straw in her drink. After a minute, Linnea said, “My mother is … not entirely rational right now.”

He unclenched his teeth. “Exactly what does that mean?”

She slid a meaningful glance sideways at the six-year-old.

Matt leaned back in the booth. After a minute, he asked, “Did you do anything fun?”

Hanna shook her head hard and kept twirling the straw.

“She did help me walk the Millers’ two Irish setters this morning,” Linnea said lightly. “We’ll go back tonight. I do petsitting,” she added. “These two dogs love kids and are really excited when Hanna comes.”

“Do you like dogs?” he asked her.

She nodded vigorously, still not looking up. Matt knew that she’d wanted a pet, but Tess and Finn hadn’t let her have one because they were away from home so much.

“Does your aunt Linnea have a dog?” he asked.

She shook her head, her blond hair—damn near the color of Linnea’s, he noticed for the first time—flying back and forth.

“I have a cat,” Finn’s sister told him. “A fat, elderly, black cat named Spooky who particularly hates dogs. And cats. Um … and children.”

A tiny giggle escaped Hanna.

“Except Hanna. Spooky makes an exception for Hanna.”

“Because I’m quiet!” his niece burst out.

The cat, Linnea said, had just appeared on her doorstep some years back and bellowed to be let in. Her face relaxed as she talked, and he realized how much prettier she was when she felt confident or was happy. She had a quiet glow when she smiled at Hanna, who was listening even though she must have heard about Spooky’s late-night arrival on Aunt Linnie’s doorstep before.

“At my veterinarian’s best guess,” she said, “Spooky is fifteen or sixteen now and therefore entitled to be set in her ways.”

“Is that your mother’s excuse, too?” he murmured, then was sorry when her expression closed and that glow vanished. “Sorry,” he tried to say, but she ignored him. Their number had been called, and she took Hanna with her to get the pizza and plates for all of them.

Eventually, after stealing a glance at Hanna, who had retreated behind her hair, Linnea did ask politely where he was staying, and whether his flight had gone smoothly, but all signs of any real personality were gone, thanks to his stupid dig. It wasn’t that he regretted hurting her; she’d deliberately kept Hanna away from him today. But, like it or not, he needed her cooperation right now. Hoping to regain lost ground, he told her a little about the project he’d been working on in Kuwait City and a few impressions of the country. He’d e-mailed photos to Hanna, who had e-mailed back with a six-year-old’s phonetic spelling to say that Mommy said the Kuwait Towers looked like spaceships. Not rocket ships, she’d added. They looked like the spaceship in the movie E.T.

But the conversation was between the two adults. Hanna sometimes whispered a one-or two-word answer when he asked her a question. She stole looks at him, and otherwise hid behind her hair. She ate one piece of pizza, then shook her head when Linnea asked if she’d like more. He had no idea if that was a normal amount for a kid her age to eat.

By the time they left the pizza parlor, Matt was feeling edgy and unhappy to have to concede that maybe it was just as well that Hanna was able to stay with her aunt Linnea for a few days or a week. Despite their e-mails, she’d have been scared to death if she’d had to go with him right now. And, while he was being honest with himself, he also had to admit that he would have a hell of a lot to learn about parenting.

He offered to drive them to their dog-walking gig. Linnea politely declined. Apparently the dogs had to be taken out closer to bedtime. Nor did she invite him in when they got home.

He insisted on escorting them to the door. Hanna did say, “Goodbye, Uncle Matt,” to his good-night, then turned a trusting face to her aunt. “Aunt Linnie, can I watch TV?”

Linnea looked briefly troubled but nodded. “Sure, honey. Let me talk to your uncle Matt for a minute and then I’ll be in.”

Both remained silent until they heard the TV come on. Linnea stayed on the doorstep facing him. He was aware of how slender she was, how he dwarfed her. He wondered if she felt as fragile to the touch as she looked, then cursed himself for even thinking about something like that.

When she spoke, it wasn’t to share her worries about Hanna but instead to say, “You can’t go to my parents’ house.”

The anger burned in his chest like an ulcer. “Why?”

“Mom’s upset. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“She’s upset?” he said incredulously. “My sister is the one who is dead.”

“She doesn’t believe the charges. She thinks …” Her teeth worried her lip. “I don’t know. That Tess fell, and this is all trumped up to get Finn in trouble. She thinks it must be political, either somebody in his firm who doesn’t want him making partner, or because he was being talked about as a candidate for the house. She just.” Linnea struggled for words, then gave up. “I think it would be better if you’d stay away from her for now.”

He swore, then reluctantly nodded. “All right. But I want to spend time with Hanna.”

“I’ve promised her to Mom tomorrow, but if you want, the next day we can try to plan something.”

“Try?” he echoed.

“You can take her for the day, if you want. I’ll be home, so you can make the visit as short as you want or have her all day.”

After a minute, he nodded. “All right. If you don’t have to leave for work, shall we say.nine?”

They left it at that. He walked to his car feeling irritated and dissatisfied, but not sure if he was justified or was being churlish. He’d wanted Hanna to fly into his arms in delight, to chatter to him, to remember their good times together. He’d wanted to talk to her about her mother.

Instead, he’d been painfully aware that Hanna saw him as a stranger. So he’d spent his evening engaging in stilted conversation with Finn’s sister, whom Hanna clearly did trust.

And, yeah, he was petty enough to resent that. He also had a suspicious enough nature to wonder if Linnea would use the advantage she’d gained by proximity to keep Hanna from turning to him.

It was a minute before he started his car.One step at a time,Matt told himself.Find a house. Spend time with Hanna. Be patient.

His jaw flexed and he put his car in gear.

Do not, for a minute, think about Finn Sorensen’s sister as an ally. She’s not one.




CHAPTER THREE


TODAY WAS HANNA’S FIRST solo outing with her uncle Matt, and it hadn’t started auspiciously. She’d ducked her head when he said hello, and turned huge, pleading eyes on Linnea as he led her out the front door with his big hand on her shoulder.

Practically from the moment she had closed the front door behind them, Linnea had felt guilty. Why hadn’t she said, “Stop. Hanna needs to get to know you again before you take her on your own.”

Dumb question. She was so unaccustomed to being confrontational, it always took her half an hour to figure out what she should have done or said. Anyway—Hanna did need to spend time with him, if they were to build a relationship. And Linnea was so awfully uncomfortable with him, she didn’t want to keep putting herself in the middle.

Now she had something else to regret. Why, oh why, had she felt compelled to answer the phone when she could see that it was her mother calling? And why had she chosen now to tell Mom that Tess’s brother was in town, and she was allowing him to see Hanna?

“You had dinner with that awful man?” Mary Sorensen sounded aghast. “What were you thinking, Linnea? Or were you?”

Linnea gritted her teeth. How many times in her life had she heard that from her mother? Don’t you ever think? Had she ever once said it to Finn?

“He’s Hanna’s uncle. He has a right—”

“He was always just shy of rude,” her mother continued. “Poor Finn, having to put up with him! That was one of the things he and Tess disagreed about, you know. Finn didn’t like Matt’s influence on Hanna. So the least we can do now …”

Poor, misunderstood Finn, who couldn’t possibly have argued violently enough with his wife for her to die? Outrage strengthened Linnea’s determination.

“He has the right to see her,” she repeated stubbornly.

The small, chilly silence was enough to make her brace herself. “Not,” her mother snapped, “if Finn has anything to do with it. Didn’t it occur to you to consult your brother before you made any decisions on your own? He is Hanna’s father, after all. What’s more, I feel quite sure he knows how to ensure that man has no contact whatsoever with our precious Hanna.”

That man, said with such disdain, made it sound as if Matt was the accused criminal, not Finn. But why, Linnea thought in frustration, was she surprised? Her mother had always worn blinders where Finn was concerned.

“I don’t think Finn is in a very good position right now to try to shut Tess’s brother out of Hanna’s life.”

“As her father, he has every right—”

Linnea never interrupted her mother. Now she did, struggling to keep her voice level. “The police think he killed Tess. He’s in trouble, Mom.”

“Do you know what Finn told me today? They’ve decided Tess hit the coffee table too hard to have simply fallen. As if they can tell any such thing. They certainly haven’t produced any kind of weapon. And even they don’t deny that Finn called 911 the minute she fell. He was scared to death!”

That was it? The force of the blow to her head? So little to justify charging Finn with murder. And the police had arrested him on the spot, handcuffing him and hauling him away to jail like any common criminal. Linnea was shaking her head almost before her mother quit speaking. She didn’t believe that was the only reason Finn had been arrested. She’d read enough mysteries to know that the police couldn’t have determined how much force was applied simply by looking at Tess lying there on the floor. They would have waited for the pathologist’s report to come to any such conclusion. Especially given who Finn was. They’d have been wary about charging a high-powered attorney with murder. No, there must have been something else. Something Finn wasn’t telling Mom.

But arguing with her mother never got Linnea anywhere, so she … didn’t. In her rare moments of defiance, she quietly did what she wanted without telling her mother. This time, though, was different. For one thing, when Hanna was with her grandparents she would be likely to mention her uncle Matt. And for another, Linnea was determined to keep Hanna with her. Finn might be her father, but he wasn’t a good one. If the courts determined that he hadn’t killed Tess, Linnea might not be able to do anything about him reclaiming his daughter. But if he really had killed Tess, he didn’t deserve to have Hanna. She wouldn’t be safe with him.

Linnea hadn’t quite figured out how she would defy her brother if he showed up at the door to reclaim Hanna, but somehow she would have to. One reason she was encouraging Matt, selfishly, was that he would back her. He wouldn’t want Hanna having any contact at all with her father.

Linnea said, “Hanna is with Matt right now, Mom. They went to the zoo.”

Her mother’s voice rose. “You let him take her, without any supervision? What makes you think he’ll bring her back? What if he gets on a plane with her and takes her to … to Egypt or Libya or wherever it is he lives these days? We’ll never see her again!”

Linnea rolled her eyes at the histrionics. “Mom, Hanna doesn’t have a passport. And Matt isn’t going anywhere until after Tess’s funeral for sure, and probably not until after the trial, if there is one. Anyway, he works for an American company. He’s only there temporarily. And it’s Kuwait, not Libya.”

“What difference does it make? Linnea, I’m calling Finn this minute. If you can’t use any common sense, perhaps Hanna would be better off with him, whether he’s preoccupied with this ridiculous case or not. Now, you call me the minute Hanna’s home again, and I’ll—”

Heart pounding, Linnea hung up. On her mother. Oh, Lord. She’d never done that before. Sometimes she … well, tuned out. But Mom never knew she wasn’t really listening. This act would enrage her mother.

I don’t care! she thought defiantly. If Mom was really calling Finn, Linnea had to think what to do. She wanted to believe she could stand up to her brother, but the quavering she felt inside made her horribly afraid she wouldn’t be able to when the moment came. And she hated the idea of an ugly scene in front of Hanna, no matter the outcome.

But Hanna couldn’t go home with Finn. It made Linnea shudder to imagine Hanna hiding up in her bedroom, afraid to see where her mother’s body had lain, afraid to make her daddy mad, scared and lonely.

Linnea’s parents weren’t an alternative; Dad had battled multiple sclerosis for years, and stress made it worse. He was in remission right now, but still had up days and down days.

No. Linnea’s fingernails bit into her palms. Somehow, even if she had to run away with Hanna, she’d keep her from Finn.

Hanna and her uncle had been gone for barely two hours. A new worry seized Linnea. What if Mom had called Finn, and he showed up just as Matt was returning with Hanna? Linnea had seen his cold rage. As volatile as Finn was, the idea of the two men confronting each other horrified her.

Her legs felt shaky when she went to the front window to look out, hoping—even though it was way too soon—that they would be back. The weather wasn’t great for going to the zoo. If Hanna got cold, would Matt have made alternate plans?

Linnea couldn’t make herself concentrate enough to read or settle to doing needlework or even stick to housecleaning. Her heart bumped every time she heard a car outside, and in the next thirty minutes she hurried to the front window half a dozen times. She always stood to one side of it and barely peeked around the edge of the drape. If Finn showed up, she didn’t want him to see her. She wouldn’t answer the door. He could knock all he wanted, but eventually he would go away.

If Finn did come, Linnea decided, she would Matt’s cell phone and tell him not to bring Hanna home until she called again. She would head off a confrontation. He was reasonable enough to do as she asked, even if he was angry. At least, she thought he was.

An hour had passed before a car did pull up in front, and it was Matt’s rental, not Finn’s Lexus. Linnea hurried to open the front door, anxiously watching the street as Matt and Hanna got out. Hanna spotted her and raced up to the porch, flinging her arms around Linnea’s legs.

“I missed you!” When she looked up, her face was pinched.

Linnea lifted her onto her hip and kissed the top of her head. “Didn’t you have fun?”

Matt, arriving on the doorstep, looked grim. “No,” he said. “I don’t think she had fun.”

“Why not?” she asked, then backed up. “Come in.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he said, handing over Hanna’s pink parka.

“Please. I’d like to talk to you.”

His mouth tightened, but after a moment he gave a curt nod and stepped inside. Linnea hurriedly closed and locked the door.

“Did you have lunch?”

He shook his head. “Hanna said she wasn’t hungry.”

Linnea looked down at her niece. “Not even a little bit? It’s noon, and you hardly nibbled at breakfast. What if I make you a peanut butter and honey sandwich? Or … Oh! What about grilled cheese?”

The little girl snuffled and rubbed her face on Linnea’s sweatshirt. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll heat soup and make sandwiches,” Linnea decided, leading the way to the kitchen.

He followed, to her relief. When she asked, he poured milk for Hanna and her and juice for himself while she dumped tomato soup in a pot and started slicing cheddar cheese. Hanna stuck close to her, a silent, ghostlike presence, while her uncle Matt sat at the kitchen table and watched her with a brooding gaze. The atmosphere reminded Linnea unpleasantly of home, when Finn would sulk about something and she tried to avoid drawing his attention and her mother insisted that obviously he’d been wronged and shouldn’t she go into the school and talk to the principal? Dad, of course, slipped away to his den.

Naturally, Linnea felt compelled to chatter. “I think my favorite animals are the otters. Do you remember that time we saw one playing in the stream at the zoo?” she asked her niece, who didn’t answer. To Matt, she said, “He kept sliding down, then going back up and doing it again. It was so cute. But I like the giraffes, too, and the lions. And, oh, when there’s a baby gorilla!” Flipping the sandwiches, she stroked Hanna’s hair with one hand. “Did you see the gorillas today?”

Hanna shook her head.

“We didn’t get that far,” Matt said. “She didn’t even really look at the animals we did get to.”

Oh, dear. “I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” she said softly to her niece. “Oops! The soup is boiling.”

She dished up three bowls and had Hanna carry saltine crackers to the table. Then she brought the grilled cheese sandwiches on plates, lifted Hanna into her seat and sat herself.

It felt … strange having a man here. Except for her dad, no man had ever eaten here in her kitchen with her. Tess dropped by casually once in a while, but never Finn.

Anyway, Linnea suspected her brother hardly ever ate lunch unless he was entertaining a client or talking on his cell phone or texting at the same time.

Matt seemed to fill the space in a way Linnea knew she didn’t. It was partly physical; he was a large, solidly built man with broad shoulders. But it was also a matter of temperament. She could feel his tension, as if the very air crackled with it. Those gray eyes were both impassive and dark with what she felt sure was an incipient storm.

Of course, his tension wound Linnea tighter than a rubber band ready to snap, which, coupled with Hanna’s withdrawal, didn’t make this lunch an undiluted pleasure.

Hanna ate half a sandwich and a few spoonfuls of soup, then, to Linnea’s relief, asked to be excused. “Can I watch TV?” she asked, after a wary glance at her uncle.

“Why don’t you take a book and lie down instead?” Linnea suggested. “You look tired, kiddo.”

She’d been letting Hanna watch entirely too much television. She always curled up at one end of the sofa, clutching a throw pillow as though her stomach hurt, and stared at the screen as if mesmerized. Mesmerized, or not seeing it at all, Linnea wasn’t sure which. It had become Hanna’s refuge, which didn’t strike Linnea as entirely healthy.

She could tell now that her niece wanted to argue, but after a moment she gave a reluctant nod and trudged from the kitchen. Matt didn’t say anything, but he watched her go with that same brooding expression. When Hanna didn’t even look back, a muscle twitched in his cheek, and Linnea wondered if his feelings were hurt.

From her seat she could see the hall. She waited to say anything until Hanna went in her bedroom and shut the door. Then she looked at Matt.

“Was she just shy?”

“She wouldn’t talk to me. Is that shy?”

“Well, of course it is,” Linnea said in bewilderment. “What did you think?”

Very coolly, he said, “I wondered if someone had been talking to her about me. She almost acts as if she’s afraid of me.”

“Someone?” Then she got it, and her mouth dropped open. “You mean me? Why would you think …?”

“Perhaps your brother.”

“I really doubt that Finn—” She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t think Finn actually talked to his daughter that often.

He raised an eyebrow, giving his face a saturnine cast that made her wonder if he’d read her mind. “Finn?”

“I doubt he gives that much thought to you.”

“Then what’s going on? Hanna and I have always been good friends.”

“You haven’t seen her in a year. That’s forever for a child.” She hesitated. “And things have been hard for her at home. I suspect Tess and Finn were fighting a lot. Hanna hasn’t seemed very happy to me lately. She’d already … withdrawn. Become clingy when she was with me.”

Matt frowned. “Tess hasn’t said anything.”

“Would she have?” Linnea weighed how much to say, then thought, What does it matter now? “Hanna wasn’t like them,” she explained. “She’s quiet, and sensitive, and she shrivels when voices get raised. I’m not sure even Tess understood that she didn’t react the way either of them would have to … anything.”

His mouth flattened. “Then suddenly she’s being told that her mom is dead.”

“There were police in the house, and then I took her and she hasn’t even talked to her dad since.”

To his credit, he was listening. “Your parents?”

“They adore her.”

He waited.

“Dad is always gentle with Hanna. But it wouldn’t surprise me if Mom is saying more than she should to a child Hanna’s age. She’s pretty worked up on Finn’s behalf. She and I—”

Gaze suddenly intense, he prodded her again. “You what?”

“We had an argument today. She’s not happy that Hanna is spending time with you. Mom always defends Finn, you see. It won’t surprise me if she calls to tell him.”

“It doesn’t sound like he gives a good goddamn.”

“No, he does love Hanna. In his own way. And also—” She stopped, wondering why so many private thoughts were attempting to spill out today.

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “She’s his. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it?”

After a moment, she nodded.

He surged to his feet. His chair clattered back, rocked and almost fell over. “Not anymore, she isn’t. I intend to get custody.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?” she asked faintly.

“You heard me.” His voice was as flinty as his gray eyes. “I’ve already retained an attorney. Finn murdered my sister. When he did that, he forfeited all rights to Hanna.”

“Just because he’s been charged—” Oh, how weak that sounded. And why was she defending the brother who had actively made her childhood miserable?

“Charged?” Matt snorted. “What’s he claiming?

That she crawled under the coffee table and banged her head on it?”

“Under?” Her confusion must have been plain, because after a minute he straightened the chair and sat.

“You haven’t heard the whole story?”

“No.”

“Her skull was shattered. The hair and tissue weren’t on the top edge of the table, where they would have been if she’d fallen. They were on the lower edge.” He slid a hand along the table in demonstration. “The bastard picked it up and slammed it into her head.”

“Oh, God,” Linnea whispered. “Mom doesn’t know that.”

His expression hardened. “Or does and won’t admit it.”

“He’s her son …” No more convincing than her own defense of Finn. And the very words made her ache. I’m her daughter, too. Why do I matter so much less?

Matt rose to his feet again, looking down at her. “Frankly, I don’t want Hanna to have any contact with your parents. That’s one reason I don’t want her staying with you.”

“But—she’s happy with me.” Linnea stood, too, although being on her feet didn’t help much with him towering over her.

His tone softened slightly as he made the grudging admission, “You seem like a nice woman. You’re obviously well-intentioned, and Hanna is fond of you. But I can’t imagine you defying either your parents or your brother. No.” He shook his head. “I won’t risk it. I’m asking for custody.”

She felt sick as she stared at him, hating the way he’d dismissed her in a few words. You’re a weakling. Maybe she was, but in defense of Hanna she’d do anything.

“She’s scared of you.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Did you ever stop to think it might be yours?” she cried. “How is a child supposed to feel attachment to someone who’s no more than an occasional visitor in her life?”

She thought her accusation had struck home from the way his eyes darkened. But then he shook her words—her—off with a flat, “We’ll be changing that. I rented a house yesterday. I’m moving in this weekend. We’ll start with a few overnights.”

Linnea took a deep breath, clutched for all her courage and said, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, given your hostility to me and to her grandparents, to the family Hanna knows and loves, no. I don’t have to let her go with you. I don’t have to let her see you.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“I’m saying no. That’s all.” She swallowed. “Go to court. Until a judge orders me to let her see you again, I’m going to keep saying no.”

He leaned forward, menace in every line of his body. “Why, you little …”

She was shaking, but stood her ground. “Please leave now.”

“For God’s sake …”

“Now. Don’t make me call the police.”

Along with the anger, his face held shock and disbelief. He swore, swung on his heel, and stalked out. An instant later, the front door opened and slammed shut.

Linnea’s knees gave out and she collapsed in her chair at the kitchen table. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

But she knew: she’d whipped out a red cape and waved it in front of an angry, wounded bull. Encouraged him to attack. Not so smart, given that she had no sword.

Gazing at her hands, laid flat on the table and still visibly trembling, she thought, He drove me to it. It was almost as if he wanted to dislike her. Or as if she was nothing, merely an obstacle to what he wanted.

Linnea had discovered in the past week how very tired she was of being dismissed. She’d never been willing to fight back for her own sake, but for Hanna … Oh, that was different.

Still, she quailed at the idea of what he’d do now. She hoped and prayed that, in making an enemy, she hadn’t been very foolish.

PACING HIS HOTEL ROOM, Matt muttered an obscenity. Stupid, he thought. He’d lost his temper. He never did that.

He’d needed Linnea’s cooperation, and now he’d blown it.

How long would it take to force a family-court hearing? Days? Weeks? He could have been building a relationship with Hanna in the meantime. Instead, he would become an ogre in her mind. She’d probably heard the raised voices in the kitchen and quailed, remembering Mommy and Daddy’s fights and the terrible outcome of them.

God. He stopped, flattened his hands on the desk and bowed his head. He was breathing as if he’d come in from a run.

Had he misjudged Linnea entirely? Was Finn’s quiet sister very capable of defending Hanna from anyone and anything? She’d become a lioness today. She hadn’t relented at all, even though he’d been able to tell she was afraid of him.

And, damn, he hated knowing that. He could be a hard-ass at work, but women didn’t quake at the sight of him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling the blinding anger he had since the early-morning phone call that had him on the plane for the U.S. within hours.

Rocked by a tsunami of grief, he thought, Tess. For a moment, he saw her face. She was … what? Eighteen, twenty? In college, for sure. He couldn’t remember what he’d said or done, but she was laughing at him. She was going through a stage with her hair short, spiked and dyed hot pink. He remembered thinking it suited her. She was five foot ten inches tall, slim but strong, a star basketball player in high school and college both. His baby sister, Tess, was also beautiful, with spectacular cheekbones, eyes a deep, navy blue, her mouth wide and sensuous and always flapping. As a kid, he swore she never shut up. The loss of their parents had tempered her, made her more thoughtful, given her a layer of sadness beneath the joie de vivre. He carried the memory of that laugh, of all the other laughs, of the way her eyes sparkled, the way she would fly into his arms and hug him as hard as he hugged her, even in front of her college friends. She was never too cool for her brother, Matt.

And now she was gone.

He was stunned to realize tears poured down his face and dripped onto his hands. He was paralyzed by this grief that ran like acid through his veins, damaging his heart as it went.

“Tess,” he whispered. “Tess, no. No.”

It had to be fifteen minutes before the tears spent themselves; the pain washed away and left him nearly numb. Matt staggered into the bathroom and turned on the taps, bending to splash first hot and then cold water over his face. He toweled his head dry, then went to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his elbows on his knees.

Now what? Would apologizing to Linnea get him anywhere?

He couldn’t imagine. He’d been a son of a bitch; she’d threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave that minute.

He hated remembering the expression on her face. Damn it, she’d been decent to him. More than decent. Encouraged him to spend time with Hanna, worked to include them both in conversation. Pretty clearly, that argument with her mother had been about him, and they wouldn’t have fought at all if Linnea hadn’t been defending him and his right to see Hanna.

And from the moment she’d opened her front door to him, he’d seen that she wasn’t mousy as he’d always believed. Instead, she was … shy. Private. Gentle. Not a good fit in her family.

Maybe her gentle nature was exactly what Hanna needed right now, he thought, staring blankly at the far wall of the hotel room.

Maybe.

He wouldn’t be opposed to her continuing to see her niece. Hanna did love her, and he even understood why. To his surprise, he’d liked Linnea. Even … No. He hadn’t named whatever he’d felt as sexual attraction, and he wasn’t going to. They had officially become enemies today. And even if they weren’t … Good God. Imagine the complications.

No, pretty Linnea Sorensen wasn’t speaking to him anymore. She would be unlikely to even answer his calls should he try to apologize. He regretted coming on so strong today. She hadn’t deserved it. But he had to concentrate on Hanna. On keeping her away from her bastard of a father.

He reached for his cell phone. The attorney would want to know that Hanna’s aunt was now refusing him contact with his niece. This new circumstance was reason enough to push for a hearing as soon as possible.

He didn’t know how he’d survive until then, unable to see his only family in the world, unable to talk to the one person who had seemed to understand what he felt.

Now his enemy.

My fault.




CHAPTER FOUR


INEVITABLY, LINNEA SAW Matthew at Tess’s funeral.

The police had finally released her body. Matthew had made the arrangements, although he did call Linnea’s mother several times to consult her. Instead of being grateful for his courtesy, she was furious that he’d had any voice at all in his sister’s disposition.

He must have known Finn would attend the funeral, if only as a public-relations ploy. Linnea immediately felt bad, thinking that; neither Finn nor Tess had ever given any indication that their marriage was anything but happy, despite their heated arguments. Linnea had assumed that was their way of communicating. One she would hate, but that both of them seemed to find stimulating. Finn’s grief had to be genuine.

The police detective attended both the church service and the graveside ceremony. He stayed at Matt’s elbow through both, she noticed. Maybe she wasn’t the only one afraid of a horrible confrontation. If fists flew at graveside, it might not look good for Finn. Or would he be seen as a victim?

Thank goodness, nothing happened. The two men stayed well away from each other, although several times she turned her head to see Matt staring with burning hatred at her brother. Once, Detective Delaney spoke in a low voice to him and he abruptly turned away.

She, of course, stood at her brother’s side, holding Hanna’s hand, their parents on his other side. This was the first time Hanna had seen her father since Tess’s death. He made a show of keeping a hand on her shoulder throughout, the concerned father to any observers. Hanna moved robotically, as though she was present in body only, and not in spirit. She stared blankly at her mother’s coffin. The service had been closed casket, for which Linnea was grateful in one way. But could a child Hanna’s age believe her mother really was in that shiny box? And if she did believe it, would she picture her scrabbling to get out? The only death Hanna had ever seen was Confetti’s, and whether she had the capacity to imagine her mother so still and stiff and cold, Linnea didn’t know.




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