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When Silence Falls
Shirlee McCoy


Life was busy and organized, just the way Lakeview music history professor Piper Sinclair liked it. Some recent family research even meant a new book to write. Until she witnessed an attempted kidnapping–and became a target herself. Someone wanted her out of the way permanently. Someone who seemed to know her all too well…His expertise as a former crime scene photographer left Cade Macalister with memories he couldn't shake. Encountering Piper at the crime scene brought a different set to mind–his friend's little sister had certainly grown up well, and she couldn't take on this mysterious assailant alone.Of course, convincing Piper of that would be the only way to solve this dangerous riddle…and keep her alive.









“Your front door is open.”


“What? It shouldn’t be. I locked it before I left this morning.” Piper’s pulse sped up as she watched as Cade pushed with one finger and the door creaked inward.

“Go get in the car.”

“But–”

“Go. If I’m not out in ten minutes, call for backup.” The hard tone of his voice had her hurrying back to her car, watching as Cade disappeared inside her house.

Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Should she call for help? Before she could decide, a figure rounded the corner of the house, and Piper’s heart lurched, then settled back into place as she recognized Cade.

“Did you see anyone?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t look like anything was touched, either. Want to come in and see?”

Cade was right. Everything looked just the way she’d left it. Nothing out of place, nothing missing.

“So what do you think?”

“It could be someone was here, but doesn’t want you to know it.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Things don’t always make sense, Piper.”




SHIRLEE MCCOY


has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of four, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Maryland and share their house with a dog and a guinea pig. You can visit her Web site at www.shirleemccoy.com.




When Silence Falls

Shirlee McCoy








My soul waits in silence for God only; from Him is my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken.

—Psalms 62:1–2


To Kitty, Melissa and Lynde McCoy.

Good friends are hard to come by.

I’m glad to count you among mine.

To every mother who has ever longed for a

few moments of precious silence—may you find

joy in the music of your children’s laughter and

pleasure in the symphony of their voices.

And to Caleb whose world is like mine—

filled with dragons, princesses, danger and

intrigue—and who is never afraid to be

the person God made him to be.


Dear Reader,

Life is noisy kids, spouses, friends, jobs, all vying for our attention. Add to that the roar of traffic, the lilting music from the radio, the dramatic overtones of the television, and the noise becomes almost deafening. With our modern lives so filled with demands, it’s easy to be swept along on the waves of sound, carried here and there in ever more frantic motion.

A few years ago, during one of the most hectic times in my life, I visited Smith Mountain Lake with my husband and kids. Early one morning, before the rest of my clan woke, I stepped outside. Water rippled against the shore and fish splashed in the lake, but other than that the world was silent. During those few moments of precious solitude I realized I’d been so busy, so caught up in the noisy demands of life, I’d forgotten how important it is to sit in silence and to listen.

Piper Sinclair is like that, so caught up in her busy life she’s forgotten that talking to God requires tuning in and waiting for the quiet stirring of the soul that says—“Yes, you’re on the right track” or “Come on, kid, get it together.” When Piper’s life is threatened and her busy world becomes chaotic and unpredictable, she must learn that taking the time to wait for God’s answer is as important as rushing to meet life’s demands.

Join Piper and photographer Cade Macalister as they work to stop a person bent on destruction, and when you’re finished, drop me a line. I can be reached by mail at 1121 Annapolis Road, PMB 244, Odenton, Maryland, 21113–1633. Or by e-mail at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

Blessings,









CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE




ONE


Piper Sinclair knew a bad thing when she saw it, and right now she was seeing it. A dozen ladies, all in various colors and styles of spandex, sat on bamboo mats staring with undisguised adoration at a woman whose banal smile set Piper’s teeth on edge. A whiteboard at the front of the room stated the purpose of the meeting—“Love Yourself to Weight Loss.” On either side of the whiteboard, long candle-laden tables sent up a steady stream of vanilla-scented air.

“Forget it. I’ve changed my mind.” Piper did a U-turn and tried to exit the room, but Gabriella Webber blocked her retreat, her sweet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly face set in mutinous lines.

“You can’t change your mind. You promised.”

“I wouldn’t have if you’d told me what this seminar was about.”

“I did tell you what it was about.”

“You said a weight-loss meeting. You didn’t say New Age mumbo jumbo.” The words were a quiet hiss, but from the look on Gabby’s face, Piper might as well have shouted.

“Shhhhh! Dr. Lillian will hear you.”

“I’m barely whispering.”

But the slim, smiling woman was hurrying across the room as if she had heard the exchange. “Welcome, ladies. I’m Dr. Sydney Lillian. Please, have a seat. We’ll be ready to begin in just a few minutes.”

Piper wanted to tell the doctor she wouldn’t be staying, but Gabby was staring at her with such hopeful pleading she didn’t have the heart to walk out.

“Thank you, Dr. Lillian. Come on, Gabby. Let’s find a seat.” Piper chose a mat close to the back of the room and sat down.

Gabby lowered herself onto a mat a few feet away, then leaned over and grabbed Piper’s arm, her dark eyes brimming with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this. If this class works as well as it’s supposed to, I’ll be slim and trim by Christmas. Just in time to find a New Year’s date.”

“Gabby…” But what could Piper say? That losing weight wouldn’t help Gabby find Mr. Right? That Mr. Right didn’t exist? That all Piper had ever found were a lot of Mr. Wrongs, all gussied up to look like what they weren’t? “You’ll have a New Year’s date whether you lose the weight or not. You always do.”

“I know. I just want this year to be different.”

Meaning Gabby wanted commitment, love, marriage. All the things women approaching thirty typically wanted. All the things Piper had decided she could do without. She smiled anyway, patting Gabby’s arm. “It will be.”

“I hope you’re right.” Gabby sighed and settled back onto her mat.

Piper’s bamboo mat was uncomfortable, and the strange affirmations the class was forced to say made her feel even more so. I love my belly. I love my hips. Since when did one need to affirm affection for each and every body part in order to lose weight? By the time the forty-minute session wound to an end, Piper was ready to ask for a refund on her money and her time.

“Are there any questions before we adjourn?” Dr. Lillian’s voice was like warm honey, but her eyes were cold.

Piper started to raise her hand and got an elbow to the ribs for her effort.

“Don’t you dare.” Gabby hissed the warning, her eyes shooting daggers.

Piper grinned, shrugged and let her hand drop.

Another woman—a plump blonde with a pretty face and striking blue eyes—raised her hand. “Dr. Lillian?”

“Yes, Piper?”

Despite her gut-level dislike of the woman, Piper felt a twinge of sympathy for Dr. Lillian as the blonde’s cheeks stained pink and a frown line appeared between her brows. “I’m not—”

She never had the chance to finish. One minute scented candles and soft music created an atmosphere of gentle serenity, the next, a dark blur raced into sight. A man. Medium height, wearing jeans, a faded T-shirt and a mask. Carrying a gun. A gun!

He grabbed the blonde who’d moments before been pink with embarrassment or anger. Now she was pale as paper, her eyes wide with fear.

Someone screamed. Others took up the chorus.

“Enough!” The gunman shouted the order, the silence that followed immediate and pulsing with terror.

“That’s better. Now everyone just stay put and you won’t get hurt.” He inched toward the door, his arm locked around the blonde’s neck, his pale yellow-green eyes staring out from behind the ski mask. Crocodile eyes. And like a crocodile, he had no intention of letting his prey escape alive.

The thoughts flashed through Piper’s mind, demanding action. She took a step toward the man. “Let her go.”

A mouse could have made more noise.

She tried again. “Let her go. Before you make more trouble for yourself.”

His reptilian gaze raked over Piper and dismissed her as no threat. Still, the gun he held never wavered. He kept it pointed toward the group as he took one step after another, slowly, inexorably pulling his victim to the door. Ten steps and he’d be there. Nine.

The long sleeve of his T-shirt hiked up around his forearm, revealing a snake tattoo that coiled around his wrist and up toward his elbow. The deep greens and reds of the serpent seemed to undulate, the gold eyes almost exactly matching the eyes of the gunman. Hard. Evil.

The other women must have sensed the same. Each was frozen in place, eyes fixed on the gun as if staring hard enough would keep it from firing.

Eight steps. Seven. Soon he’d pull the woman out the door and into the parking lot. He’d disappear, the woman with him.

Six.

The smart thing to do would be to wait until the man walked outside and then call for help. It’s what Piper’s brother Jude would expect her to do. A New York City cop, he knew the best way to respond in a crisis, and he’d drilled her on everything from natural disasters to hostage situations.

Five. Four.

The blonde’s eyes were wide with terror, begging someone, anyone, to stop what was happening. Piper couldn’t ignore the plea. She stepped forward again, praying for wisdom and for help. “Hey, you’re holding her too tight. She can’t breathe. She’s turning blue!”

The hysteria in her voice was real, and the blonde did her part, moaning, dropping her weight against the arm that held her. The gunman glanced down and that was the chance Piper needed. She leaped forward, raising her leg in a roundhouse kick she’d been practicing for months. Hard. Fast. To the wrist. Just the way her other brother, Tristan, had taught her. The gun flew from the man’s hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor a few feet away. Piper dove for it, her fingers brushing against metal just as a hand hooked onto her arm and threw her sideways.

She slammed into a table, her head crashing against the wall, candles spilling onto the table and floor. Stars shot upward in hot, greedy fingers of light.

“Fire!” Gabby’s scream cut through Piper’s daze and she blinked, focusing on the gauzy curtains now being consumed by flames.

All around her the room echoed with noise—women calling to one another, feet pounding on the floor, an alarm screaming to life. Dr. Lillian stood amidst the chaos, calmly speaking on a cell phone.

“Piper! Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” Gabby grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.

“Where’s the guy with the gun? The woman?”

“Gone. He let go of her when you kicked the gun out of his hand. I think you might have broken his wrist.”

The thought made Piper light-headed. Or maybe it was the knock on the head she’d gotten. Whatever the case, she felt dizzy and sick. “I wasn’t trying to. I just wanted him to drop the gun.”

“Well, he did. But he picked it up again before he ran. Now stop talking and move faster.”

Outside, daylight had faded to blue-purple dusk, the hazy mid-July heat humid and cloying. People hugged the curb of the parking lot, staring at the smoke billowing from the three-level brownstone that housed Dr. Lillian’s practice. In the distance, sirens wailed and screamed, growing closer with each breath. Soon Lynchburg’s finest would arrive. If God was good, and Piper knew He was, Grayson wouldn’t be with them. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was her oldest brother’s raised eyebrow and overburdened sigh.

What she needed, what she wanted, was to walk away. To leave the burning building and the crying, gasping blonde and shell-shocked, spandex-clad women behind, go home and forget any of this had ever happened. But just as Jude had taught her to be cautious and Tristan had taught her to fight, Grayson had taught her responsibility. She was here for the duration. No matter how fervently she wished otherwise.

She sighed, moved into the crowd of people and waited for help to arrive.



Cade Macalister heard the sirens as he pulled out of Lynchburg Medical Center. He ignored them. Or tried.

“Well?” Sandy Morris didn’t need to say more. Cade knew exactly what she was thinking.

“No.”

“The sirens are close. It won’t take long to get the scoop and shoot a few pictures.” A reporter for the Lynchburg Gazette, Sandy was the wife of Cade’s best friend. She was also seven months pregnant.

“No.”

“Come on, Cade. What can it hurt?”

“It can hurt a lot if your husband finds out.”

“Jim won’t mind.”

Cade snorted and pulled over as an ambulance sped by.

“They’re heading toward the historic district. Something big’s going on. See those police cruisers? You know some of the guys on the force. They’d probably—”

“You need to be home in bed, resting. Jim will never forgive me if you go into preterm labor while he’s away.”

“I’m fine. The doctor just said so.”

“Three hours ago you thought you were in labor.”

“And I was wrong. This is my first, you know. Come on, Cade. You’ve got your camera, right? We’ll get the scoop. Then you can bring me home.”

“Sorry, but I’m on duty tonight. I was supposed to be in Lakeview an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I could have found someone else to hang out at the hospital with me.”

“I didn’t want you to have to find someone else. Besides, another officer is filling in for me until I get there.”

“I wish you’d told me. Oh, wait, I get it. Jim talked you into babysitting me while he was out of town, didn’t he?” Her voice was sharp, a frown line between her brows.

“Jim didn’t have to talk me into anything. We’re friends, Sandy. What was I supposed to do? Tell you I had to work and leave you at the hospital alone?”

She shook her head, brown curls sliding against her cheeks. “Ignore me. I’ve been a bear lately. Go ahead and drop me off at home. I’ll miss the story of the century, but I can get the information tomorrow. Better late than never.”

Cade rolled his eyes. He knew the score. He’d been friends with Jim for most of his life and with Sandy for the eight years since she’d met and married his friend. The pout, the pretense of agreeing with Cade’s plan, they were both part of an act designed to get what she wanted. They worked every time. “You’re a pest, you know that?”

“Jim’s been telling me that for years.”

“Well, he’s been right.” But Cade turned left at the next light, following a police cruiser and the high-pitched whine of sirens.

“Look! Something’s burning!” Sandy’s excited cry filled the car, her finger barely missing Cade’s nose as she pointed toward thick black smoke that hung above the buildings a few blocks away. A fire truck screamed a warning and raced by Cade’s SUV. Before he could pull in behind it, an ambulance roared past. Sandy was right. Whatever was happening was big. Cade’s fingers itched to grab his camera, to shoot pictures of the emergency vehicles, the people standing in frozen silence in parking lots and on sidewalks. Fear. Excitement. Cade could read it all in their faces, and he knew he could capture it on film.

Adrenaline pounded through him, urging him to step on the gas and head into the fray. During his years as a crime-scene photographer for the military police, he would have done just that. Time and experience had tempered him. He glanced at Sandy, saw his own urge to move reflected in her face. Too bad. There was no way he was taking her with him.

He pulled into a convenience store parking lot, turned to his passenger. “If you step foot out of this car, I’ll burn any pictures I get at the scene. Stay put and the Gazette gets first dibs on them.”

“Wait a minute—”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it.” Sandy huffed back into her seat, a scowl pulling down the corners of her mouth.

Cade ignored the show, parked the car, grabbed his Nikon off the back seat and pushed open the door. The acrid scent of smoke burned his throat and nose as he made his way along the sidewalk. Up ahead, police cars blocked the road and two officers directed the rerouted traffic. Cade recognized one of them and strode toward him. “Matt! What’s up?”

Matt Jenkins turned and glanced at Cade’s camera. “You shooting pictures for one of the newspapers?”

“Lynchburg Gazette.”

“Thought maybe you were here as a cop.”

“I haven’t been a cop in a while.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“What do you hear?” Cade lifted his camera, took a shot of the cruisers blocking the road.

“I hear you’re back in uniform. Working in Lakeview.”

“Part-time. Just for the summer.”

“Part-time. Full-time. Doesn’t matter. A cop’s a cop.”

“Maybe so. You know what’s going on?”

“Attempted kidnapping. Fire started during the woman’s escape.”

“Did you get the perp?”

“Not yet. We’ve got witnesses, though, so who knows? You can go on through. Must be five news trucks there already.”

“Thanks.” Cade worked his way toward the scene, scanning the crowds that lined the street, shooting pictures as he went. Just a few would have captured the essence of the moment—the fear and excitement of the crowd, the smoke pouring from the building, ambulances and fire trucks with lights still flashing, news crews pressing toward the scene. Cade was more interested in capturing something else.

“You think he’s here?” The voice was familiar, and Cade turned to face Jake Reed, sheriff of Lakeview and Cade’s boss as of a week ago.

“Statistically, the chances are good.”

“True, but I’m not asking about statistics, I’m asking what you think. Is the perp hanging out in the crowd, or has he already flown?”

“He’s here.” Cade lifted the camera again, his attention on the people milling about.

“I’m thinking the same. Keep shooting while we walk.”

Cade did as he was asked, snapping a shot of Jake and the crowd behind him. “You’re a long way from home, sheriff. Did Lynchburg PD call you in?”

“A friend’s sister was on the evening news and he asked me to come check on her. What about you? I thought you were at the hospital.”

“A false alarm. It only took three hours to figure it out.”

“Glad to hear it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Me, too. And since it wasn’t, I’d be happy to report in tonight.” Desperate to report in was more apt, but Cade doubted Jake needed to know that.

“We could use another officer.” Jake gestured to a group of women standing near an ambulance. “Can you get a couple of pictures of those ladies?”

“Sure.”

“And the crowd behind them.”

Cade lifted the camera and took several pictures as he moved closer, the lens bringing the group into stark focus. A few women huddled together, soot and tears streaking their faces. Others stared hollow-eyed at the burning building. Shock. He’d seen it too many times not to know what it was. Only one of the women looked animated—a short blonde whose hands danced as she spoke to a uniformed police officer.

She glanced Cade’s way as he and Jake approached, her gray eyes wide and thickly lashed, the band of black around her irises giving her an otherworldly look. Cade knew those eyes. Memories flashed through his mind—Seth Sinclair and his three brothers, two of them with the same wide, gray eyes. Their sister—small, always talking, always moving. Always in trouble. Piper. An odd name for an odd kid. Only she wasn’t a kid anymore.

Dressed in faded sweatpants and a bright pink T-shirt, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked calm, despite the chaos around her. The police officer said something to her and she nodded, lifting thick, straight bangs away from her forehead and revealing a deep blue bruise. Then she gestured to the livid welts along her arm.

Piper Sinclair might not be a kid anymore, but apparently she hadn’t outgrown her penchant for finding trouble. Cade could only hope the Lynchburg police would have an easier time of protecting her than her brothers had had while she was growing up.




TWO


Piper was in the middle of explaining for the fifth time the roundhouse kick she’d used to disarm the kidnapper, when Jake Reed stepped up beside her. Sheriff of the small town where she lived, and a friend of Piper’s brother Grayson, he was here for one reason and one reason only—to check up on her. Obviously, Grayson had put him up to it.

She might have been annoyed if she hadn’t been so glad to see a familiar face.

“Everything okay here, Piper?” Jake’s voice was smooth and firm.

“Fine. I was just telling Lieutenant Bradley that it really is possible for a woman my size to disarm a man.”

“He’s having trouble believing you?” Jake speared Bradley with a look meant to intimidate. It might not have worked on Bradley, but Piper was tempted to take a step away.

Bradley just snapped the gum he was chewing and shrugged. “I’m just trying to get an accurate picture of how Miss Sinclair managed it.”

“I think I’ve already explained. I used a roundhouse kick. If you don’t know what that is, I can demonstrate.”

“Not necessary.”

“Then I’m free to go?”

“Let me check with Chief Russell. He might want to ask a few more questions before you leave.”

“But—”

Jake put a hand on Piper’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll go with him. See if I can speed things along a little.”

“I appreciate it.” And she did. Her head ached, her throat was parched and all she wanted was to catch a ride back to the college with Gabby, get in her car and go home.

“No problem. You might want to call Grayson while you wait. He’s been trying to reach you and he’s worried.”

“I would, but my cell phone battery died.”

“You can use mine.” The man standing beside Jake held out a phone. He was tall and rangy, his well-worn jeans and black T-shirt a perfect match for the shaggy, overgrown haircut he sported. A camera, cradled in his hand, seemed as much a part of who he was as his brown hair and green eyes.

Something about those eyes sparked a memory, but it flitted away too quickly for Piper to grasp. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He turned away, taking some shots of the women who were waiting to be questioned.

Jake left, too, following Lieutenant Bradley across the parking lot to a short, balding man.

Which meant it was time to call Grayson. Piper braced herself and dialed his number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Sinclair, here.”

“Gray. It’s me.”

“Piper! Are you all right? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then maybe you can tell me what’s going on. A friend of mine called to say you were on the seven o’clock news. Something about a kidnapping.”

“I was at a weight-loss meeting—”

“You don’t need to lose weight,” Gray cut in, the impatience in his voice obvious.

“Gabby—”

“Why am I not surprised? She’s been pulling you into her schemes for…”

“Grayson, can I get a word in, here?”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

Piper took a deep breath, forcing back frustration. “Gabby and I were at a weight-loss seminar and some maniac decided to kidnap one of the women. She escaped, but during the scuffle, candles fell into a curtain and set the place on fire.”

“Nice condensed version, sis. Now, why don’t you tell me the rest?”

“This isn’t my phone. I don’t want to run up a stranger’s bill.”

“I don’t mind.” How the stranger had heard her when he seemed completely engrossed in photographing the scene, Piper didn’t know.

She flashed a smile, then turned away, facing the back of the ambulance she’d been leaning against and lowering her voice. “Look, Gray, we’ll talk more later. I’ve got to go.”

“Is Jake there?”

“He’s talking to one of the officers.”

“Can you ask him to call me when he’s done?”

“Gray—”

“Piper, Mom and Dad are enjoying the first vacation they’ve had in years. I’d hate to ruin it by telling them you’re in some kind of trouble.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Whatever works.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him.” She hung up and thrust the phone back at its owner. “Here you go. Thanks again for letting me use it.”

He nodded, his gaze too knowing to be comfortable. “I guess Grayson hasn’t changed.”

“You know Gray?” No wonder his eyes had seemed familiar.

“Knew. But not as well as I knew Seth. He and I were too young to hang with Grayson and his buddies.”

He grinned and held out a hand. “Cade Macalister.”

“Cade? Cade who used to tie my shoelaces together and laugh when I tripped?” Piper squinted, trying to see the scrawny kid with glasses in the scruffily attractive man who stood before her.

“I guess you remember.”

“How could I forget? You and my brother spent hours coming up with ways to torture me.”

“Self-defense. You followed us around everywhere. It’s hard to look cool when you’ve got a little girl hanging out with you.”

Piper laughed, relaxing for the first time in what seemed like hours. “I guess that’s true.”

“It’s definitely true. How is Seth?”

“Good. He’s out of the country. We should hear from him early next month. Aren’t you a military guy, too?”

“I was. Dad had a stroke a year and a half ago, and I’m helping him out for a while.”

“I’d heard about his stroke. How’s he doing?”

“Better.” Cade’s grimace made a lie of the words.

“Ms. Sinclair?” A short, balding man hurried toward Piper, Jake close behind him, their arrival cutting off the questions she wanted to ask.

“Yes?” She turned toward them, her tension suddenly back.

“I’m Chief Russell. Lieutenant Bradley said you gave him your statement. We’ll need you to come by the station tomorrow morning and sign it. Other than that, we’re all set. You can stop by at your convenience.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded, gave her a brief smile and moved away.

“I guess I’m free to go. Thanks, Jake. Nice seeing you again, Cade.”

“You, too.”

She hurried away, feeling the weight of both men’s stares as she slid into Gabby’s car.

“Finally! I thought they’d never let you go.” Gabby’s eyes were dark and filled with worry as she put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t decided yet. How about you?”

“Still shaking.”

“Me, too.”

“I can’t believe I talked you into coming tonight. We both could have been killed.”

“But we weren’t.”

“Thanks to you.” Gabby turned into the university’s parking lot and pulled up next to Piper’s GTO. Then turned to face her. “You’re a hero. You know that, don’t you?”

Piper laughed and pushed the door open. “The only twenty-nine-year-old hero whose brother sends the cavalry to save her.”

“Is that what Sheriff Reed was doing there?”

“Yep.”

“And the guy that was with him? The cute one with the camera?”

“Cute? Cade Macalister is not cute. He’s a menace. Or at least he was when we were kids.”

“He’s cute.”

“To each her own.” But even as she said it, Piper silently agreed with Gabby’s assessment. “Have a safe trip tomorrow, and have fun in Florida.” Piper leaned over and hugged her friend.

“Me and my parents are sharing a two-bedroom condo. I don’t think fun is going to be possible.”

“At least you won’t be teaching. That’s got to be worth something.” Piper stepped out of the car, hitched her purse up on her shoulder. “See you in a month.”

She waved as Gabby drove away, then slid into her own car and started the engine. Usually she enjoyed the forty-minute drive to Lakeview, but tonight she felt anxious and worried, each shadow by the side of the road, every car swooping up from behind, a sinister reminder of the attempted kidnapping.

The outcome could have been so much worse. The gun could have discharged as it fell. Someone could have been hurt in the fire. Or killed. The thought brought a wave of nausea, and a cold, clammy sweat to Piper’s brow. Gabby had called her a hero, but there was a fine line between heroism and foolishness. Piper had yet to decide if she’d crossed it.

She swiped a shaky hand across her forehead and forced tense muscles to relax. By God’s grace no one had been hurt. Piper wouldn’t have to live with regrets or recriminations. She needed to be thankful for that, and move on.

Mozart’s Fantasy in D Minor was playing on the radio and she cranked up the volume, trying to lose herself in the music, but the images of the kidnapper and his intended victim were etched deep in her mind and she couldn’t shake them, no matter how loud the music or moving the score.

By the time she pulled into her driveway, Piper’s nerves were on edge, her hands in a death grip around the steering wheel. She sat in the car, eyes fixed on the front door and the golden glow of the porch light.

A tiny bungalow at the end of a dead-end street, the house had once been her great-uncle Marcus’s music studio. Now it was Piper’s home. In the three months since she’d moved in, she’d never felt anything but comfortable. Now she felt nervous, afraid to leave the safety of the car and step across the shadowy yard.

She scanned the area, looking for a reason for her unease. The house was the same as it had always been—the wide stoop and steeply slanted roof, the portico and bowed windows. But, to the right, thick woods created a sinister blackness. To the left, Mr. Thomas’s hulking Victorian spread its excess across a huge, unkempt yard, its hedges and trees overgrown and wild. So many places for someone to hide.

Unfortunately, Piper couldn’t sit in the car all night. She shivered, grabbed her purse and stepped out of the GTO, hurrying across the dark yard and up the steps, her heart thundering in her chest.

The living room was to her left as she entered the house. She walked through it into the dining room, setting her purse on the pine table; listening to the silence, feeling the stillness. Everything was as it should be—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the small pile of mail that sat on the table. Yet Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. She turned on her heels, eyeing the room again and still finding nothing out of place.

Leftover nerves from the day’s events. That had to be the reason for her unease. Piper walked through the house anyway, checking the morning room that housed the Chickering piano she’d inherited. Then the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and office. Everything was as she’d left it, and the too-fast tempo of her heart finally eased as she put on a Bach CD and settled in front of her computer. She had term papers to correct for the music theory class she was teaching at Lynchburg University, music scores to choose for her piano students. Both were tasks she usually enjoyed, though tonight neither appealed to her. Instead, her mind returned again and again to the gunman, the pale face of the woman he’d tried to kidnap, the hysterical screams of the other women, the fire.

The shrill ring of the phone offered a welcome distraction from her thoughts, and Piper grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Piper? It’s Wayne.”

“Hey. What’s up?” Surprised, Piper fiddled with a pencil, wondering what had prompted the call. Though Wayne Marshall was a cousin of sorts, they’d been closest during Uncle Marcus’s battle with ALS. Since Marcus’s death, Wayne had reverted to the more solitary ways he’d exhibited since his mother had married Marcus fifteen years ago.

“I heard the news. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How’d you hear?”

“Channel Seven ran a clip about the kidnapping and fire. I saw you standing near an ambulance.”

“How did I look?”

“Good, all things considered. Now can we be serious? You could have been killed.”

Piper rolled her eyes. After so many years of knowing one another, Wayne still didn’t understand her need to make light of difficult situations. “I know, but I’m fine. And so is everyone else who was there.”

“And some guy with a gun is on the loose.”

“Hopefully not for long.”

“‘Hopefully’ doesn’t do a whole lot for me. What are the police saying?”

“They’re investigating. As soon as they know something, I will, too.”

“I guess that will have to be good enough. We still on for Saturday?”

“Yes. Mrs. James is expecting us at eleven. It sounds like her husband compiled quite a bit of information about Music Makers. She wants me to use whatever I can.” Which was good, as Piper planned to make the book she was writing about her uncle’s charitable organization the best it could be.

“It’s a shame the guy never got to use it himself.”

“It is. Mrs. James is devastated by his death. She broke down twice while we were on the phone.”

“It’s never easy when someone we love dies.”

Wayne’s words hung between them, the reminder of the loss they’d suffered making them both pause.

Finally, Piper cleared her throat. “Marcus would be so happy about the book.”

“He’d be even happier knowing that you were the one putting it together.”

“I just hope I do it justice. Miriam is putting an awful lot of money into this—”

“Has anyone ever told you you worry too much?”

“About a million times.”

“So stop worrying. The book will be great. I’ll see you Saturday.” He hung up and Piper leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. She should have asked Wayne about the antiques again. Three weeks ago he’d promised to go through Marcus’s paperwork, see if there were any sales records for three items that were missing from the collection Piper had inherited from Marcus. He had yet to do it, despite the fact that she’d reminded him several times.

She’d have to ask him when she saw him Saturday. For now, she’d do what he had suggested and try to stop worrying. The caramel cheesecake in her refrigerator would go a long way to help with that. She pushed away from the desk, sighing when the phone rang again.

Grayson’s number flashed across the caller ID and Piper let the machine pick up.

“Piper, I know you’re there.”

That didn’t mean she wanted to listen to her oldest brother’s lecture.

“I’m home. I can be at your house in fifteen minutes.”

Piper grabbed the phone. “I’m sorry, so you can skip any lecture you might have planned.”

“No lecture, even though you didn’t ask Jake to call me and I had to track him down to get the whole story. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am.”

“Good. Now, go check the windows and doors so we can make sure you stay that way.”

She mumbled a complaint, but went anyway, knowing Gray was even more of a worrier than she was. “So, why’d you send Jake? I thought for sure you’d be the one running to my rescue.”

“I would have been, but Maria and I were in Richmond registering for wedding presents at some swanky place.”

“I can’t believe you both managed to find the time. What’d you register for?”

“Plates. Forks. A bunch of kitchen stuff I don’t even know how to use.”

“Does Maria?” The bedroom windows were locked, and Piper stepped out into the hall.

“She says our chef will know what to do with them.”

“A chef? I hope I’m invited to dinner often.” Piper didn’t switch on the light as she moved through the kitchen and into the morning room.

“As often as you like. Not that Maria and I will be there to enjoy the food with you. She works more hours than I do.”

“Is that possible?” She reached for the last window in the room, ready to check the lock. Saw something dark move to block the moonlight. Large. A head. Black. No. A mask. She could see the eyes gleaming. Something slammed into the glass, rattling the window.

Piper screamed. Jumped back, tumbling over the piano bench, righting herself. Grayson’s voice shouted for her attention, but she was too busy running from the room to listen. There was another jarring thud. She imagined glass shattering, the dark figure climbing through the broken window. Coming after her.

She screamed again. Grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen counter as she flew past. The bedroom. She’d climb out the window if the intruder made it inside the house. She held the phone under her chin as she locked the door, her hands shaking so hard it took three tries. Her palm was slick with sweat and the knife slipped from her grasp, falling to the wood floor with a sharp thud. She didn’t bother picking it up. Just hung up on Grayson and dialed 911, her mouth so dry she was afraid she wouldn’t be able speak.




THREE


Cade sped down Main Street, took a hard right onto Fifth, his sirens blaring, adrenaline pumping through him and waking him more than the strong, bitter coffee he’d been drinking. He barely braked as he turned left onto Apple Orchard Lane. Dark and lined with large, lush trees, the street offered plenty of hiding places. He searched the area as he pulled up in front of the tiny bungalow at the end of the road. Flanked by woods on one side and an oversize Victorian on the other, it looked like a fairy-tale cottage. Soft light spilled from the front window, illuminating the yard and the vintage GTO that sat in the driveway.

The front door of the house flew open as Cade stepped out of his car, and a woman tumbled out. Five foot three, maybe a hundred and ten pounds, wearing baggy sweats and a bright pink T-shirt. Cade didn’t need to see the color of her hair and eyes to know the woman.

He strode forward, caught Piper’s arm as she raced off the last step. “Are you okay? Is he inside?”

“Yes and no.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were wide with fear, her teeth chattering.

“Then go back inside. I’ll knock when I’m finished out here.”

“But what if he’s out here?”

“Let’s hope he is. I want to have a little chat with him. Go on. Inside.” He nudged her toward the three steps that led to the front door, waited until she was locked inside and made his way around to the back of the property. There was no light here, only the silvery glow of the moon reflected on grass and trees. The yard was empty, but he walked the perimeter anyway, flashing his light into the woods, searching for signs that someone had hidden there. Closer to the house he found a patch of matted down grass, but nothing more. He’d dust the windows and siding for prints, though he doubted he’d find anything. Whoever had been here had fled, leaving little of himself behind.

Was it a coincidence that Piper had stopped a kidnapping attempt three hours ago and was now the victim of an attempted break-in? Cade didn’t think so. He radioed for dispatch to locate Jake Reed, and then strode back around to the front of the house.

An engine roared through the darkness and headlights illuminated the street. Cade’s hand dropped to his gun, then fell away as a silver Jaguar pulled in behind his cruiser, and a lean, hard-built man stepped out. Grayson Sinclair. Even if Cade hadn’t known him years ago, he would have recognized the deputy commonwealth’s attorney. Well-known by the community and well-loved by the media, his was a face often in the news.

He strode toward Cade, calm, but for the hot anger that shot from his eyes. “Is my sister okay?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Someone was at her back window.”

“You’ve checked out the backyard?”

“Yes.”

“Dusted for prints?”

“Doing it now.”

“Have you called—”

“How about you go inside and talk to Piper and leave me out here to do my job, Gray?”

Grayson’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Used to. Cade Macalister.”

“Seth’s friend. Last I heard you were an MP.”

“Now I’m a freelance photographer.”

“And part-time cop?”

“Reserves.”

“I guess Jake needs the help. Things get busy around here when the summer crowd arrives.”

“Grayson?” Piper peeked out the front door, her pale face just visible.

“We’ll catch up later, Macalister. You okay, Piper?” Grayson’s attention turned to his sister, the anger and frustration Cade had noticed well-hidden as he walked up the front steps and disappeared into the house.



Twenty minutes later, Piper’s hands were still shaking. She grabbed cups from the cupboard and tried to pour coffee for the three men sitting in her living room. It splattered over the rim, and she muttered under her breath, wiping the spill up and trying again.

“Need some help?”

Her hand jerked. More coffee spilled. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to face Cade. “Only if you’re better at pouring coffee than I am.”

“I can give it a try.” He stepped beside her, eased the coffeepot from her hand, a half smile showing off a deep dimple in his cheek. Had it been there when they were kids? If so, Piper hadn’t been mature enough to appreciate it.

“You’re staring.”

Her cheeks heated, but she didn’t turn away. “I’m just trying to match who you are now with who you used to be.”

“Don’t bother. There’s not much of the kid left.” His words were light, but something in his eyes made her wonder where he’d traveled in the past years, what he’d seen.

Now wasn’t the time to ask. Maybe there wouldn’t be a time. Four years her senior, Cade had been Seth’s best friend. The last time Piper had seen him, he’d been eighteen and getting ready to enlist. Now he was thirty-three. A man who was nothing like the teenager he’d once been.

“You have a tray for these?” He gestured to the cups he’d filled.

“Right here.” She set the cups on the tray, then pulled out a package of chocolate chip cookies and piled some on a plate. Before she could lift the tray, it was in Cade’s hands and he was leading the way back into the living room where both Grayson and Jake were waiting.

Piper stepped into the room behind him and sensed a tension that hadn’t been there when she’d left to make the coffee. She glanced at Jake Reed, who’d arrived soon after Grayson. He looked frustrated and angry, his mouth set in a firm line.

Grayson looked just as angry and just as frustrated. Jaw lined with dark stubble, his short hair slightly mussed, he was as close to unkempt as Piper had ever seen him. He looked up as Piper approached, some of the anger seeping from his gaze. “Coffee. Just what I needed.”

Piper grabbed a cup and handed it to him. “Why don’t you take it to go? You look like you’ve had a long day.”

“I have. But I’m not going anywhere until I hear what Jake plans to do to keep you safe.”

“What do you expect him to do? Put a guard on me twenty-four hours a day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You know that isn’t possible, Gray.” Jake’s words were calm, with just an undertone of irritation. Obviously, they’d been discussing this while Piper was in the kitchen.

“Possible or not, it’s what I want.”

“And I wish I could give it to you, but I can’t. We don’t have enough evidence that Piper’s in danger to justify the manpower.”

“Evidence? She got knocked around at that weight-loss class. Now someone’s tried to break into her house—”

“If he’d wanted to get into the house he would have. Old single-pane glass. Flimsy doors. It wouldn’t take much effort to get inside,” Cade said, his words interrupting the argument. Piper was sure he’d planned it that way.

She glanced at the door and windows, pictured a masked person breaking in, and shivered.

Grayson nodded. “I think you should come stay with me for a while.”

“You’ve got a one bedroom condo. I’d be sleeping in the living room, and I’d have to come back here to teach piano lessons.”

“Then I’ll stay here.”

“Gray, I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe. But your brother’s right to be worried about you,” Cade said, his gaze traveling the room, touching on the windows and the front door. “You don’t have a security system, do you?”

“No, I never thought—”

“A dog’s a better idea, anyway.” Grayson stood and began pacing the room.

“A dog?”

“Sure. They’re more effective than a security system when it comes to scaring people away.”

“I don’t think a dog will fit my lifestyle.”

“One of my men brought a German shepherd to the SPCA a few days ago,” Jake added, completely ignoring Piper’s protest. “Female. Maybe two years old. She was wandering around near the lake. If she hasn’t been claimed she’d be perfect.”

“Why don’t I pick you up after work tomorrow? We can go to the SPCA, see if the shepherd’s still there.” Grayson paused, his brow furrowed. “Wait. I can’t. I’ve got a dinner meeting.”

“That’s all right. I’ll go myself.” Maybe. Though as far as Piper was concerned, Grayson’s unavailability was the perfect excuse to not get a dog.

“Do you know anything about dogs?” Cade’s question caught her off guard, and she shook her head, recognizing the mistake immediately.

She tried to backtrack, think of a good reason why she’d be capable of picking out the perfect guard dog, but came up blank. “I’m sure someone at the shelter will be able to help me.”

Apparently Cade wasn’t. He leaned forward, his steady, reassuring gaze almost masking the humor that danced in his eyes. “Maybe it would be a good idea for one of us to go with you.”

“I wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”

“You wouldn’t be. I’m doing a photo shoot at the new medical clinic tomorrow. It’s ten minutes away. Why don’t I stop by when I’m finished? We’ll go to the shelter together.”

“I’m giving a final exam tomorrow. I can’t be out.”

“It’s your early day isn’t it, Piper?” Grayson knew it was. Just as he knew she wasn’t gung ho about the dog idea. Of course, being Grayson, he focused on the part that coincided with his plans and completely ignored the rest.

“Yes, but I’m not sure—”

“Then it’s settled.” Cade set his coffee cup down on the tray and pulled a business card from his pocket, flashing his dimple and acting like he had no idea Piper would rather not go to the shelter. “Here’s my card, Piper. Call if something comes up. Otherwise I’ll be here at two. I’d better get back on patrol.” He stepped past Grayson and disappeared into the darkness. Jake followed close on his heels.

“I’m staying the night, and don’t even bother trying to talk me out of it,” Grayson said as he stepped out onto the front stoop. “I need to talk to Jake. I’ve got the key. Lock the door. I’ll let myself in when we’re finished.” With that, he was gone, too.

Which left Piper alone, wondering how she’d allowed herself to be railroaded into a trip to the SPCA.

“Men. Can’t live with ’em. The end.”

She grumbled the words to herself as she snagged a cookie and marched to the linen closet. She was half tempted to make Grayson sleep on the sofa, but since it was only a little longer than a love seat and he was just over six feet tall, Piper thought that would be cruel and unusual punishment.

The curtains in her room were open and she hurried over to close them, her gaze drawn to the branches that swayed in the breeze outside the window. If someone was outside watching the house, watching her, she’d never know it. Not until it was too late.

Maybe a dog wasn’t such a bad idea.

She shook her head. No way. Dogs were messy and they stunk. She did not want a dog. Then again, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being alone in the house with a snake-tattooed kidnapper holding a grudge against her. She knew she didn’t like the idea of Gray sacking out in her house every night. She loved her brother, but he was overprotective and bossy. One night was about all she could take of him.

She tugged fresh sheets onto her bed, her mind racing with a million thoughts, a million worries. She had a lot to do in the next few months. A book to write. Piano lessons to teach. Finals needed to be administered and graded. She had to plan and practice the music for church. Make sure the collection of musical antiques she’d inherited were catalogued, appraised and ready to go on loan to the Lynchburg Museum of Fine Arts. And she’d offered to help Miriam plan the exhibit’s grand opening to coincide with Music Maker’s twenty-fifth anniversary.

What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. She’d been asked and she’d said yes. At the time, she’d really thought she could do it. Now, she wondered if what she’d thought she could do was a little more than what she was capable of.

A few weeks ago Gray had accused her of having superwoman syndrome. Had he been right? Did she think she could do everything? Accomplish everything? Did she jump into things without thinking them through? Maybe sometimes. But not now. Now she was thinking. And what she was thinking was that she definitely didn’t need a dog complicating her life. She’d call Cade tomorrow and tell him she wasn’t going to the SPCA. That would take care of at least one of the problems. Everything else would work out in its time. She hoped.

As Piper finished making the bed, she had the sinking feeling that that wouldn’t be the case, that maybe tonight’s troubles were only the beginning. She shivered, grabbed the quilt off the end of her bed and walked back out into the living room. Huddled on the sofa, gaze fixed on the door, she could only pray that she was wrong.




FOUR


A night spent tossing and turning on her hand-me-down sofa left Piper feeling groggy and irritable. Fighting Grayson for time in the house’s sole bathroom only worsened her mood. By the time she ran out to the car, already five minutes late, a bagel clutched in one hand and a diet soda in the other, her briefcase and purse under her arm, Piper felt like she’d already put in a full day’s work.

Grayson looked just as tired as he pulled open the door to his car. “You’re meeting Cade here at two. Don’t forget.”

He didn’t ask, and she decided to save an argument and not mention that she planned to cancel. “And you’re sleeping at your own place tonight.”

“We’ll see.”

“Gray—”

“We’re both running late. Let’s discuss it later.”

“Why is it that you always say that when we don’t agree on something?”

But Grayson was already in his car, waving as he drove away.

Piper shook her head, shoved a last bite of bagel in her mouth and yanked open the door to the GTO. There was no sense being irritated. Grayson was Grayson, determined to have his way in everything. They’d talk. She’d present her view of things. He’d disagree. In the end, he’d do exactly what he wanted.

And tonight he’d be sleeping on the couch.

Classical music was playing on the radio, but Piper needed something different this morning. Contemporary Christian music seemed just the thing to lift her dark mood and she hummed along with familiar tunes as she drove. The sun peeked over the trees, bright orange against the azure sky. It would be a beautiful day. Perfect for hiking near Smith Mountain Lake.

Too bad Piper wouldn’t have time for it. She had two classes to teach this morning. Then she’d stop at the police station to sign her statement, call Cade, practice for Sunday’s service and then teach piano from five to nine. A full day, but if she kept on schedule, everything should work out fine.

Of course, things never quite turned out the way Piper planned and she wasn’t surprised when it took her double the time she’d expected it would to sign her statement at the police station. Nor was she surprised when she arrived home and found an unfamiliar SUV parked in front of her house.

She glanced at the dashboard clock, saw that it was a few minutes after two, and knew exactly who was waiting. “Perfect.”

Piper shoved open the car door and climbed out, her breath catching as Cade stepped out of the SUV. Dark aviator glasses, too-long hair, an easy, comfortable way of moving. A smile that should be outlawed.

And that was something Piper did not want to be noticing. She had enough men in her life. One more would just complicate things.

She turned away, yanking her purse from the passenger seat and calling over her shoulder, “Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. Have you been waiting long?”

“Just a few minutes. I was a little early.”

“And I’m a little late.” She grabbed her briefcase, shoved the door closed with her hip.

“Rough day?” He pulled the briefcase from her hand, started toward the house.

“I’ve had worse. How about you?”

“I guess I could say the same. The photo shoot was easy. Dealing with my father, not so easy.”

“How is he?”

“Better physically. Mentally is a different story. I thought moving him back here would help. So far, it’s just made things worse.”

“Have you been back long?” Piper followed him up the stairs to the front door.

“About a month. I…” His voice trailed off. “Your door is open.”

“What? It shouldn’t be. I locked it before I left this morning.” Her pulse sped up as she sidled close, leaned past Cade’s arm and watched as he pushed with one finger and the door creaked inward.

“Go get in the car.”

“But—”

“Go. If I’m not out in ten minutes, call for backup.” The hard tone of his voice had her moving, hurrying back to her GTO, watching as Cade disappeared inside her house.

Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. She was supposed to wait ten, but Piper didn’t think she’d make it five. She grabbed her cell phone, clutched it in her hand, ready to dial 911. Was Cade okay? Should she call for help and then go inside?

Before she could decide, a figure rounded the corner of the house and Piper’s heart lurched, settling back into place as she recognized Cade.

She scrambled out of the car, searching his face, trying to determine what he’d found. “Did you see anyone?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t look like anything was touched, either. Want to come in and see?”

She did, and followed him into the house.

He was right. Everything looked just the way she’d left it. Her quilt thrown over the couch. A book sitting on the end table. A glass in the kitchen sink. A few crumbs on the counter. In the morning room, the mahogany wood of the piano gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Piper walked into the office, her bedroom and the bathroom, and found each in order, nothing out of place, nothing missing.

Finally satisfied, she grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, offered one to Cade. “So, what do you think?”

“It doesn’t look like anyone was here. The door was locked, just not closed all the way. Is it possible you didn’t shut it when you left?”

“No. I shut it.” She thought back, trying to remember the moment she’d closed the door. She’d been carrying her purse, briefcase, bagel, soda. “Then again, I was in a hurry and I had a lot in my hands. It could be I didn’t pull hard enough and the lock didn’t click.”

“Or someone was here, but doesn’t want you to know it.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Things don’t always make sense, Piper. If they did, police work would be a lot easier.” Cade took a swallow of soda, trying to decide how much he should say. “Most likely this is exactly what it seems to be—a locked door that wasn’t shut tightly enough.”

Piper relaxed at his words, the crease between her brows smoothing. “Good. The thought of someone snooping through my house while I’m gone is creepy.”

“I agree. Which is why getting a dog is such a good idea.”

“About that…” She shifted, turning away to grab a towel and wipe crumbs from the counter. “I’m not sure a dog will fit my lifestyle.”

“I guess that’s your choice to make.”

She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. “So you’re not going to argue with me?”

“No.”

“Try to convince me I’m wrong?”

“Should I?”

“I guess not, though every other man in my life would.”

“Then it’s good I’m not any of the other men in your life.”

She smiled for the first time since getting out of her car, her face lighting, her eyes silvery gray. “I’m sorry you came all the way over here for nothing.”

“It’s not a problem. I was on my way home, anyway.”

“Are you close?”

“Just a few streets over. Off of Main Street.”

“And you moved in there a month ago? I can’t believe I didn’t hear anything about it. Usually news spreads like wildfire around here.”

“Between my work and Dad’s physical therapy I’m gone more than I’m home, so there’s probably not much news to spread.”

“I can sympathize. I probably wouldn’t be home at all if I didn’t teach piano lessons here.”

“This used to be your uncle’s studio, didn’t it?”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“How could I forget? Seth had carpool duty the year he got his license. We’d pick you up from school and drop you off here. Then interrupt whatever we were doing to come back and bring you home.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten. But now that you mention it, I seem to recall a few very tense car rides.” She was smiling again, her face soft with memories, her fingers tapping against the kitchen counter.

She’d grown into her fey eyes and stubborn chin, grown into the gangly arms and legs that had been too skinny when she was a teen. Now, dressed in white slacks and matching jacket, a vivid blue tank top in some silky material beneath it, she looked like the accomplished professional she’d become. A very attractive professional, and Cade wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the change.

Nor was he comfortable leaving her alone in the house when his gut said there was more to the open door than there seemed to be.

So maybe now was the time to try a little persuasion.

He straightened, placing his empty can on the counter. “If you’re sure you’re not interested in going to the SPCA, then I’d better head out.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Too bad for the dog, though.”

“What dog?”

“The dog you would have been giving a home to.”

Her eyes narrowed, her fingers stilling. “You said you weren’t going to try to talk me into it.”

“Actually, I said I wasn’t going to argue with you, or try to persuade you. And I’m not.”

“Then what do you call what you’re doing?”

“Presenting the facts.”

“And they would be?”

“You’re alone in a house at the end of a very secluded street. Your house is about as secure as an open safe in the middle of a den of thieves. Last night, someone came very close to breaking into one of your windows. Today, you came home and found your front door open.”

“You said—”

“I said it was probably nothing, but that doesn’t mean it was. A dog will serve as a deterrent and an early warning system. If anyone gets within a few hundred feet of the house, you’ll know it. You’ll have added security and the dog will have the home it needs. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

For a moment she was silent. Then she shook her head, amusement flashing in her eyes. “You’re good. Really good. My brothers would have beaten me over the head with their opinions. Then demanded I do what they wanted. You’re just standing there as relaxed as can be, waiting for me to make the right choice for me and for some dog I haven’t even met yet.”

“Is it the right choice for you?”

“I don’t know, but now I feel obligated to check it out.” She looked disgruntled, but not altogether unhappy, amusement still dancing in her eyes, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the counter once again.

“Let’s head out then.”

“Give me ten minutes to change.” She started down the hall toward the bedroom, then turned back. “Promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t let me walk out of there with more than one dog.”

He had the nerve to laugh, his eyes, green as the Irish hills his family had come from, sparkling with mirth. “I promise.”




FIVE


Piper had known it would come to this—standing in the SPCA kennel, looking at one dog after another and wishing she could adopt them all despite the fact that she knew she didn’t want even one. The pitiful little terrier mix that would keep her up all night with its yapping, the black lab mix that looked like it had more energy than brains, the beautiful German shepherd that had been found wandering beside the lake—each in need of a good home. And then there were the rest—barking, yapping, howling, begging for attention. Piper turned in a circle, scanning the long row of cages. “How could I ever choose?”

“The shepherd is beautiful, and it looks like she’s had training.” Cade stood at the shepherd’s cage, eyeing the dog in question.

“Which means there will be plenty of people who want to take her home. I’d rather give a second chance to a dog who probably won’t get one.”

“Do you mean that?” The SPCA volunteer who had walked them back into the kennel area spoke up, scratching the top of his balding head and shifting from foot to foot.

“Mean what?”

“What you said about giving a chance to a dog that wasn’t going to get one?”

It sounded like a question Piper should answer with a loud and firm “no,” but she was intrigued, wondering what kind of animal could possibly be so bad it had no chance at all of a home. “I guess that depends on the dog.”

The volunteer studied her for a minute, then issued a curt nod. “Come on. This way.”

Piper glanced at Cade, who shrugged and gestured for her to follow. They walked past cage after cage, rounded a corner and spotted the biggest dog Piper had ever seen. Huge paws, huge brown head, huge amounts of slobber drooling from his mouth. Obviously, this was the dog no one wanted.

“This is Samson. Purebred Great Dane. A little over a year old. His owner passed away four months ago. No one in the family could keep a dog as big as Sammy, so they brought him here. He’s got a great disposition. Loves cats, kids and people in general.” The volunteer patted the door of the cage and the dog pressed his head against the metal, perhaps hoping for a scratch.

“Then why is he still here?”

“Samson’s been adopted twice and returned twice. Every time he starts to settle in he’s uprooted again.”

“Poor thing.” Piper stepped forward to get a closer look, stopping when Cade’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

He leaned forward, speaking so close to her ear she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. “Did you notice he didn’t answer your question?”

She had, but as always, the instinct to say “yes, I can do it” overshadowed the voice in her head shouting “no way!”

Only this time she was going to think things through, get all the facts and then decide what she wanted to do, not what she felt obligated to do.

She cleared her throat, turned her gaze away from the dog. “What were the reasons Samson was returned?”

The volunteer rocked back and forth on his heels and scratched the top of his head again. “At the first placement we found for him, he broke about a thousand dollars’ worth of antique glassware. At the second, he didn’t break anything, he was just under his new family’s feet and constantly knocking over chairs and lamps.”

“I guess a big dog needs a lot of extra room.”

“Depends more on the owner than the dog. A young gal like you will have plenty of energy to take Samson for walks, get rid of all his extra energy. Come on and meet him.”

Before Piper could protest, he’d pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the kennel door. The dog rose from his haunches, tail wagging, brown eyes staring into Piper’s. If dogs could speak, Piper knew this one would be saying, “Go ahead. Take me home. You won’t even know I’m there.”

He walked out of the kennel with the volunteer, grinned a big, sloppy doggy grin and sat on Piper’s feet.

She couldn’t help smiling as she leaned forward to scratch Samson behind his ears. His fur felt warm, smooth and much softer than she’d expected. Maybe taking a dog home wasn’t such a bad idea.

She was going to take the dog. Cade could see it in Piper’s face—worry, dread and excitement. The dog knew it, too, his giant head pressed against Piper’s stomach, his eyes staring straight into hers. A con man if Cade had ever seen one.

Piper rubbed the dog behind its ears. Then she straightened, her ponytail swinging with the movement. Brown fur stuck to the shimmering treble clef symbol on her T-shirt and she brushed it off, a frown line appearing between her brows as she met Cade’s gaze. “I guess you’re not going to try and talk me out of this.”

“You told me not to let you go home with multiple dogs. You didn’t say anything about pony-sized ones.”

“So, you don’t have any opinion about it?”

“My opinion doesn’t count. You’re the one who’s got to live with him.”

“I know. And I should probably get a smaller dog. But he’s just so…”

“Pitiful?”

“I was thinking sweet.” She looked disgruntled as she reached down to pat the dog’s head. “My brothers are going to think I’m insane. I can just hear Gray now—what were you thinking, Piper?”

“So?”

“You’d have to be the youngest child to understand.”

“Maybe. But even if I were a youngest child instead of an only, I don’t think I’d let my siblings’ opinions keep me from doing what I thought was right.”

“I don’t plan to. I’m just preparing myself for their disapproval.” Her voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of something—maybe frustration—lacing the words.

“They won’t disapprove. The dog is big enough to scare away the most persistent intruder. Your brothers will appreciate that.” He gave in to temptation and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting the silky threads of it slide through his fingers.

Her eyes widened, her face—usually pale porcelain—tinged pink and she stepped away, the frown line back between her brows. “One way or another, I’m about to find out.” She turned to the volunteer and smiled. “What do I need to do to adopt him?”



An hour later they were on their way home and Piper was wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Again. She sighed, pulled the rubber band from her ponytail and rubbed the sore spot at the base of her neck. Talk about tension! Who knew deciding to adopt a dog could be so stressful? At least she had a few days to prepare for Samson’s arrival, though she wasn’t sure that was even possible. Samson was huge. Her house wasn’t. Maybe the SPCA would decide her bungalow wasn’t a suitable home for the dog she’d chosen. Piper couldn’t decide if that would be a disappointment, or a relief.

“Regretting it already?” The quiet rumble of Cade’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Not regretting it. Just wondering how I’m going to manage. I work a lot. Travel some. This summer I’ll be doing even more of that than usual.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been hired to write a book about the nonprofit organization my uncle founded.”

“Music Makers?”

“Yes. There’s going to be a huge fund-raising event next December. A twenty-fifth anniversary gala—those are Miriam’s words, not mine. The book is going to be given out as a gift.”

“Miriam?”

“Miriam Bradshaw. Curator of the Lynchburg Museum of Fine Arts. Friend of my uncle. Longtime supporter of Music Makers. She’s got a million hats and wears them all well. If I were half as organized and efficient as her, I’d be happy.”

“You seem pretty organized and efficient to me.”

She snorted.

“You do.”

“Because you don’t know me. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m going to be traveling out of state to conduct interviews. Miriam wants the book to be a photo history of Music Makers’ service to the community. We’ve picked one or two people from each year, successful musicians who owe at least some of what they’ve accomplished to the foundation. We’ll get photos of the musician, his or her instrument, then…” What was she doing? Boring Cade to tears, most likely. She’d yet to meet a man who was even vaguely interested in what she did for a living.

“Then what?”

“Put the photos together with my commentary, but I think you’ve probably heard enough. I’m excited about the project and tend to talk about it incessantly.”

“You’ve got a right to be excited. The book sounds great. Your uncle would have been pleased.”

“I know.” She fell silent, not sure what else to say, the weight of her uncle’s death still heavy on her heart.

She thought Cade might say something comforting, offer the same words she’d heard over and over since Marcus’s death. Instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it, letting her have her silence.

She cleared her throat, forced back her sadness. “It’s going to be hard to find someone to pet-sit this late in the season. Everyone already has plans.”

“Not everyone.”

“You know someone who might be willing to watch Samson?”

“Sure do. My father.”

“I thought he wasn’t doing well.”

“He’d be doing a lot better if he’d stop feeling sorry for himself.” The words sounded harsh, but the concern in Cade’s face took the sting out of them.

“You’re worried.”

“Worried and frustrated. When Dad had his stroke, the doctors weren’t sure he’d live. When he survived, they weren’t sure how much neurological damage there’d be. Now, he’s on the verge of getting back his independence, but instead of pushing for it, he’s complaining. Taking care of someone or something else might be just what he needs.”

“Do you think he’d agree to it?”

“If I ask him? No. If you ask him? Maybe.”

“Then I guess I’ll ask him. When’s a good time to stop by?”

“Any time you want. Dad doesn’t leave the house except for physical therapy sessions. And even that’s a struggle.”

It sounded like things were a lot worse than Cade was letting on. Piper worried her lower lip, tried to think through her schedule over the next few days. “How about tomorrow evening?”

“That should work.”

“Should I invent an excuse for stopping by?”

“We’re friends. You don’t need any other excuse.”

Friends. Good, that’s exactly what Piper wanted to be, that’s all she wanted to be. She’d spent too many years dating men who were more interested in themselves than in her; too many years looking for that elusive dream—soul mate, perfect match, one and only. They were all the same, and none of them existed.




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