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Calculated Revenge
Jill Elizabeth Nelson


It's been eighteen years since Laney Thompson's sister was abducted and killed, but the pain Laney feels has never faded. And now the murderer is back, taunting Laney with mementos of her sister and threatening Laney's young daughter.School principal Noah Ryder is her best hope for protecting her daughter–if she can convince the former investigator to take the case. As the threats accelerate, a string of clues leads Laney to uncover old secrets. But without Noah's help, how can she piece together the puzzle before her child–like her sister–is lost to a killer's revenge?









Noah studied Laney.

“Why would her death be your fault?”


Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I was the big sister, the protector.” Bitter regret whitewashed her pale cheeks. “It was my birthday. I wanted to have some fun, and my fun cost my sister her life. What a selfish little fool!”



“Aww, Laney.” Noah reached a hand across the desk, though it couldn’t go far enough to touch her. “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard stories like that from family members looking for someone to blame. Quite often themselves. You were just a kid being a kid.”



Laney’s hard expression shattered, and she sobbed. Tears flowed down her face and dripped off her chin. “I hope—” she hiccupped “—one day…I can believe that.”



Blinking away the sting behind his eyes, Noah surged to his feet and grabbed a tissue from the box on his credenza. He came around his desk and sat in the guest chair beside her. She took the tissue and scrubbed as if she would wipe away memories.



“I hope you do take those words to heart. They’re real and true.” Noah brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips.




JILL ELIZABETH NELSON


writes what she likes to read—faith-based tales of adventure seasoned with romance. By day she operates as housing manager for a seniors’ apartment complex. By night she turns into a wild and crazy writer who can hardly wait to jot down all the exciting things her characters are telling her, so she can share them with her readers. More about Jill and her books can be found at www.jillelizabethnelson.com. She and her husband live in rural Minnesota, surrounded by the woods and prairie and their four grown children who have settled nearby.




Calculated Revenge

Jill Elizabeth Nelson







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


And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in Heaven may forgive you your sins.

—Mark 11:25


To the heroic men and women, both civilian and law enforcement, who devote their time and energy to finding the lost and stolen little ones. May their hearts be wise, their arms be strong, and their ears be open to guidance from the supernatural God who loves the children better than any natural parent.




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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


The grimy backpack rested abandoned against the playground fence. Laney Thompson’s eyes riveted on the schoolbag, but her feet stuck to the gravel near the swings. What was the matter with her? The students had rushed less than a minute ago into the elementary school building after noon recess. One of them must have forgotten the bag. Simple explanation. Then why did her skin pebble as if she stood on this Minnesota playground in mid-January, rather than the balmy end of May?

A warm breeze puffed a curtain of light brown hair in front of her face, and she blinked, breaking the hold of the strange paralysis. Laney brushed the hair aside and moved forward. Standing in front of the pack, she curled her hands into fists. Come on, pick it up. But her arms balked at the command to reach for the pack’s frayed top strap.

Dread pummeled her.

She studied the object. Mildew stains spattered the canvas, and the original color was barely discernable as green. Whoever owned this schoolbag had been mighty careless with it or was too poor to afford a new one. Several students who fit either description passed through her mind.

All she needed to do was check inside for papers identifying the owner. The plumpness of the pack suggested that there ought to be plenty of clues inside. She reached for the strap, then froze, breath sawing in her lungs. Blackness trimmed her vision.

Laney Thompson, this is no time for a panic attack. You left those behind. Remember?

Yes, she remembered the years of counseling. Vividly. Then the determined struggle to put the past behind her and get a college education—an effort prolonged and complicated by a mistake of a marriage and the birth of a beautiful daughter. But at twenty-eight she now had her teaching degree. She was what she had always dreamed of being—a protector and guide to the young. Perhaps to atone for…

Laney swallowed and rubbed damp palms against her tan slacks. She snatched up the pack. A side seam gave way, and the corner of a notebook stuck out. The bag was in worse shape than she’d realized. Laney squatted and set the pack on new spring grass. A smell like rancid musk wafted from the canvas. Her heart rattled against her ribs. Trembling fingers worked the zipper and another seam parted as she yanked the notebook out.

She had to know who owned this schoolbag.

Laney flipped open a yellowed page, and found a first name printed in ragged block letters in the top right corner. For breathless seconds, her mind denied what she saw. Then the horror—and the guilt—deluged her, as suffocating as the day of Laney’s tenth birthday. The day the nightmare began.

Grace Thompson. The name mocked her from the page.

This backpack had belonged to her eight-year-old sister. At least, that’s how old Gracie had been the day she disappeared on her way home from school. Alone. Eighteen years ago.

That terrible smell now held no mystery. Decay. She gagged. The pack had come from the unknown tomb where Gracie’s abductor had stashed her body. Her killer had put the bag here on purpose. He wanted Laney to find it. To know he was nearby.

She scooted backward, wails ripping through her mind, but bottled in her chest. She tumbled onto her side and gripped her legs in a fetal position. The screams burst free.

A sliver of her mind continued to churn questions. Was he watching? Enjoying her breakdown? Why now? What did he want? Or who?

Briana!

A vision of her daughter’s face sobered her like a plunge in a glacial lake. She sat up stiff. How could this mean anything else? Briana was newly eight years old. Just like Gracie.

Excited voices that had been there, but unregistered, reached her ears. The aide from the music department stuck his face in hers. “Are you all right?”

She surged to her feet, strong-arming him aside. “My daughter. I have to go!”

Astonished faces melted away before her as she charged between approaching people. Why couldn’t she move faster than the speed of sludge? Laney yanked open the door and raced up a hallway floored in wax-coated linoleum and walls covered with bulletin boards and glass display cases. Familiar scents pumped through her nostrils—white-board markers, sweaty gym shoes stored in lockers. She rounded a corner and dodged around a line of kindergarteners and their teacher heading for the restrooms. Squeaks of surprise followed her into the first classroom on the left.

Briana’s teacher and Laney’s best friend, Ellen Kline, stood at the head of the third grade classroom. She stopped mid-sentence and stared at Laney. “What’s going on?”

“Mommy!” A little girl’s voice drew Laney’s attention.

“Sweetie, you’re okay!” She ran to her daughter at her desk and hugged her tight. At the smell of strawberry shampoo in soft, brown pigtails, she exhaled a thankful prayer.

“Mommy…I can…hardly breathe.”

Laney loosened her grip and eased away from her daughter. Briana’s sea-blue eyes, mirrors of her own, brimmed with puzzlement. The classroom was dead silent. They must all think she’d gone insane. She needed to find a quick excuse for the interruption without alarming her daughter, or anyone else, further.

Fastening a smile to her lips, Laney rose. “I’m sorry—I…Well, I just needed to check on my daughter. One of those mother’s intuition things. I’m glad I was wrong.” She nodded toward Ellen, whose puckered brow said she wasn’t buying the lame explanation. “Forgive the interruption.” She backed toward the door, and a soft buzz of student voices followed her out into the hall. So did Ellen.

Her friend stepped in front of her, hands planted on generous hips. “Are you okay?”

Laney’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Ellen’s upper arms. “Don’t take your eyes off Briana. Don’t let her go anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom. I’ve got to see Principal Ryder, and then I’m going to call the police.”

“The po—”

“I’ll explain later.” Laney hustled off, leaving her friend with her mouth open.

Seconds later, Laney burst through the door of the main office.

Miss Aggie, the receptionist, fixed her with an eagle’s stare. “If you were a student, you’d risk a warning for running in the halls.”

“Is he in?” Laney’s breath came in little puffs.

“Who? Mr. Ryder?” Miss Aggie stood, her lined face beginning to mirror the alarm Laney radiated from her whole body.

“What’s up?” The man himself stepped out of the office situated to the left of the reception desk.

Lean and medium tall, the strength of Principal Ryder’s steady green gaze left no one in doubt of his authority. In the school year that he and Laney had served the district together, he’d shown himself to be a man as protective of his students as he was a firm, but understanding disciplinarian. He was also as honorable as he was good-looking, a combination that amazed Laney, based on past life experience.

A wave of warm comfort swept over her. She’d found a safe haven. Noah wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Briana. Hot tears spilled down her face and a sob surged from her throat.



Laney Thompson’s shattered expression shot a deep burn through Noah’s gut. In his thirty-six years, he’d had reason to learn the difference between a minor emergency and a critical situation. This felt like the latter. He motioned her into his office. As she stumbled past the reception desk, Miss Aggie stuffed a tissue into her hand. Noah nodded appreciation to the woman who really ran the show around here, and then closed his office door.

“Have a seat,” he told the attractive special education teacher who’d dogged his thoughts since he interviewed her for the position last summer.

She melted into a cloth-covered chair in front of his desk, wiping at pale cheeks with the tissue. Her fine-boned chin quivered. He perched on the edge of his desk. If she keeled over, he’d just as soon catch her before she hit the floor.

“What’s this all about?”

“Briana,” she croaked. “My daughter. I think she’s in danger.”

“How so?” His spine prickled.

Her fingers white-knuckled the wooden arms of her chair. “I don’t have time to go into detail, but I just found a backpack left on our playground that belonged to my sister Grace.” Her slender neck contracted around a deep swallow. “Gracie was abducted and presumed murdered eighteen years ago. They never found her body. Briana’s the same age as my sister was when she disappeared. I just…I can’t…Nothing can happen to my daughter!” Her haunted blue gaze sifted him, searching for a promise of safety.

He’d seen that look too often not to be wary of its demand. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Where is your daughter right now?”

“In her classroom. Ellen is watching out for her, but she doesn’t know why.”

“And where’s the backpack?”

“Still on the playground. It was more important to make you aware that a maniac may be nearby, and then to call the police.”

“You’re doing everything right, Laney. Make your call.” He patted the phone on his desk. “I’ll go to the playground and secure the evidence, while Miss Aggie puts the staff on alert.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you’re in charge of this school.”

The husky gratitude sandpapered through Noah as he went into the reception area. He was nobody’s savior. He’d proven that six years ago.

Agatha Nederleitner speared him with a stare. “Anyone can see that woman’s in trouble. How are you going to help her?”

“We’re going to help her,” Noah answered, then briefed her on what Laney had told him.

The woman grasped the situation quickly, and Noah was grateful once again for this gem in the rough. The steel-haired brick of the office never soft-pedaled her opinion, but her sternness hid a marshmallow heart. She refused to plague the children with her last name, so she was the beloved Miss Aggie who packed an ounce of sugar into her scolds and stood firm as a rock while everyone’s problems crashed against her. Today, she would need all her fortitude.

“Announce an orange alert over the intercom,” Noah finished. “Then give Laney any assistance she needs. I’ll wait for the authorities on the playground. Send someone to get me if you need me.”

“Will do.” Miss Aggie’s blazing brown eyes telegraphed that Satan himself would have a hard time getting past her to do anyone harm in her school.

As he strode up the hall, the woman’s platinum tones issued the orange alert, the internal code for intruder watch. In the tiny town of Cottonwood Grove, Minnesota, people routinely left their cars running during the winter while they ran into the grocery store for milk, so his code system had seemed extreme to some. When he implemented it, he’d hoped never to use some of the alerts—especially this one. At least it wasn’t an Amber Alert, the national code for a missing child.

Noah strode onto the playground. A small group of staff members hovered near the fence about a foot from an entrance gap. In the center of the huddle stood the custodian, Richard Hodge. The man cradled a bulky object in his arm while he rifled through it.

“All right, people.” Noah smacked his palms together, and heads swiveled toward him. The custodian froze with his hand in the bag. “Thanks for coming out to help. Richard, please leave the pack on the ground. I’ll take it from here.”

With murmurs and shrugs, the group dispersed.

The custodian plunked the bag on the grass and backed away from it. “Just tryin’ to see whose it was. Didn’t recognize the name.”

“Thank you, but it’s not your worry. Head inside, but be aware that we are on orange alert.”

Richard’s prematurely lined face settled into a scowl. “Figured we couldn’t end the school year without some kind of trouble.” He clomped away.

Noah watched him go. For a thirtysomething guy with most of his life ahead of him, a steady job and good benefits, the custodian had the dimmest outlook of anyone he knew. What was his story?

Shaking his head, Noah studied the bag. The backpack used to be green. He squatted down and took in the shabby condition and decaying seams. A few sheets of yellowed paper stuck out of the torn edges—aged but not pulped by exposure to the elements. Interesting. When the police arrived, he’d have to inform them the custodian had handled the bag, so they could get his fingerprints for elimination. Laney’s, too.

Noah let out a soft growl and rose. Even after all this time, his thoughts fell into investigator mode. This situation was a trap for him in more ways than one.

“The authorities are on their way.” Laney’s mellow voice reminded him of one of those traps.

He turned to find her approaching. Her complexion had more color than when she all but collapsed in his office. Everything about her appealed to him, from the glossy brown hair bouncing against slender shoulders to her big blue eyes and gentle way with her special needs students. But he’d vowed never again to mix his professional life with his personal life.

She stopped beside him, the top of her head coming to his chin, which made her a petite five-two or so. “I think we’re going to see both the sheriff and the city boys,” she said, her gaze fixed on the backpack. She shuddered and hugged herself.

Noah bunched his fists and denied the impulse to hold her. The temptation would have been harder to squash if he didn’t know so many eyes were on them. He’d seen noses pressed against the windows. Even without the orange alert, people in this small school could smell something was up.

“Tell me about it, Laney.” He stepped close.

Noah mentally smacked himself for a fool. The fresh rain scent of her understated cologne reached his nostrils, and as usual, those enormous eyes did terrible, wonderful things to his insides. Good thing for him she’d always appeared oblivious to the attraction.

“Grace was autistic,” she said. “It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to take advantage of her.”

“She was eight.” He grimaced. “It’s pretty easy for an adult to take advantage of any child that young.”

“I know but…how do I explain?” She rubbed the side of her neck. “My sister didn’t see the world in the same way as a child without that particular perspective. Gracie could fixate on something and not notice one other thing around her. The monster who took her must have lured her with something that fascinated her. Otherwise she was leery of strangers, and could get vocal and combative if someone unfamiliar invaded her space.”

Noah frowned. “Lured her? You’re sure it was a stranger abduction?”

“The FBI came to that conclusion after extensive investigation.”

“Did the predator have to get her away from a public place? If he found her in a remote or private location, he wouldn’t have cared if there was a struggle.”

Laney’s sable brows lifted. “You talk like someone familiar with these situations.”

Noah rippled his shoulders. “A school principal needs to be these days.”

She looked away, and a breath stuttered between her teeth. “The world has gotten so scary. You surmised correctly. Grace was walking home from school and disappeared from our home block. People were in their yards, but no one saw a thing.”

“I take it she was never found.”

“Not her body, just evidence that she didn’t survive the abduction. A lot of blood was discovered in the bottom of a ravine near Grand Valley. That’s the town in southeastern Minnesota where we lived at the time.” She shook her head. “I blame myself to this day.”

Noah narrowed his gaze at her. Why did she feel responsible? She couldn’t have been much older than her sister. Just a kid.

A sheriff’s SUV and a Cottonwood Grove police cruiser pulled up to the curb outside the playground fence, lights flashing but no sirens. Sheriff Hank Lindoll and one of his deputies climbed out of the SUV, and a pair of city officers out of the car. The convocation strode toward them in V formation, with Lindoll flying point.

“Noah.” The tall, rawboned sheriff greeted him and sent a long glance toward Laney.

“Hank.” Noah nodded to the county official who’d be lead investigator in this case. A good man. He should feel relieved. Instead, he tamped down an irrational spike of resentment.

“What’ve we got here?” The sheriff glared at the tattered pack.

“Laney says it belonged to her sister who was abducted as a child. I’ll let her fill you in.”

Noah forced himself to back away as the sheriff started the interview process and assigned his deputy and the other officers to cordoning off the area for examination. Eyes would really be glued to school windows now that yellow tape was going up.

He went back to his office and found Miss Aggie fielding questions from alarmed staff. She told them he would issue a statement soon. Noah sent them to perform assignments around the buildings, then set up a game plan with Miss Aggie.

When Noah returned to the edge of the crime scene tape, the sheriff was on the phone.

Laney sidled up to him. “He’s calling the FBI. The Minneapolis field office investigated Gracie’s disappearance years ago. They’ve got the case file from back then.”

He nodded. “They’ll probably want to come out here.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hope they don’t send the same people. One in particular.”

Sheriff Lindoll smacked his phone shut. “A team of agents and Evidence Recovery Technicians are on their way from Minneapolis. The agent in charge said for us to hold the scene but not do anything until they arrive.”

Noah nodded. “I can buy that for letting their techs get first shot at the schoolbag, but we need to contain the people factor.” He canted his head toward the school building. “I want to meet with teaching staff first and give them every available detail. Then I’d like to hold a general assembly and explain things in simple terms that even the kids can grasp. We’ll send them home with letters for their parents. Families should be on the alert if there’s a child predator in the area.”

Laney gasped. “But won’t that frighten everybody, especially the kids?”

Noah met her concerned gaze. “People will be afraid, but not panicked. I believe they’ll react with steady heads, even the children, if the information is presented the right way.”

“And you’re the guy to do that for sure,” Sheriff Lindoll spoke up.

“And you’re the guy to organize students and staff into interview groups while everyone is assembled,” Noah shot back. “We need to speak to people while memories are fresh, before they’ve had time to go home and debrief with friends and family. Every class was on the playground in shifts over the noon hour before Laney found the pack. We need to find out if anyone saw someone leave it, or if and when people first started noticing the pack. That should help establish a timeline to narrow the investigation.”

The sheriff pursed his lips. “That’ll lean on FBI toes, but I think you’ve got a winner of a plan. Not surprising, with your background.” He smacked Noah on the shoulder and tromped off to consult with his deputy.

With your background. Noah gritted his teeth. Hank had to mention that in front of Laney. But in this situation, wasn’t it only a matter of time before his secret was out?

“I’ll have Miss Aggie call the teachers together.” Noah avoided Laney’s questioning gaze. “I’d like you to be in that meeting and share the facts. Then you might want to pull your daughter aside and give her a heads-up on what’s going on. You can stay with her in my private office until we call the assembly. Then I’ll have you sit backstage so you can hear but not be seen. I don’t want Briana subjected to staring eyes.”

She touched his arm, and his gaze returned to hers. His pulse rate quickened. How could she not feel this powerful connection between them? Please, don’t let her feel it.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been terrific. I knew you would be.”

A smile quivered up at him, slipping a sharp pang of longing beneath the armor his head had erected around his heart. As far as he knew, there was no man in her life. Her ex-husband was out of the picture. She was available, but out of his reach. Not only was theirs a work relationship, but she was now the nexus of a missing person’s investigation. Pure poison for him.

Noah answered her smile with an effort, then strode toward the school doors.

There was no way he could risk involvement with Laney, or this case, beyond his duties as school principal. But, a small voice niggled, if there’s a predator lurking near the students, shouldn’t that include catching the slime? He slowed his pace. He had the skills, and this incident involved him directly, but to save his sanity he had to let law enforcement handle this. After what happened six years ago, nothing could drag him back into the business.




TWO


Laney ushered her daughter into the office under the speculative gazes of a pair of aides loitering near the staff mailboxes. Miss Aggie stepped out from behind her desk, and her forbidding glare shooed the curious aides out the room. Then she turned a smile on Briana and motioned them into Noah’s inner sanctum. Laney mustered a faint nod of thanks.

Her chest tightened as Miss Aggie closed the door. Laney looked down at her daughter. Now she’d have to tell her about Gracie. It had been difficult to go over the whole thing with the teaching staff a few minutes ago, but those were adults. How could she explain to an eight-year-old that she had an aunt she’d never heard about, much less what had happened to that child?

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Briana’s nostrils pinched above a frown.

Laney settled her daughter into one of the principal’s guest chairs, then eased into the other one. “Bree, I have something to tell you.”

“Is it bad, Mama?”

“Yes, honey, but it’s about something that happened a long time ago. At least, it started then, but I think…I’m afraid…Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”

Briana’s little hand folded around Laney’s. “It’s okay, Mama. You can tell me anything. We’re BFFs.”

“Best Friends Forever. Yes, we are.” Laney wavered a smile at her daughter, whose open gaze radiated innocent trust. Silently, she cursed the evil that had again touched her life and now forced her to violate that innocence with vile news.

God, give me strength. Give me wisdom. She filled every air passage with fortifying oxygen. “I need to tell you a story about a little girl your age.”

In halting, terse statements the tale came out. A flat, angry calm blanketed her words. Briana stared intent and silent into her face as she spoke. When she finished telling about Grace, Bree nodded, expression sober.

“I would have liked Grace.” A soft smile flashed. “I’m excited to meet her in heaven.”

“You would have liked her a lot, and you’ll get the chance to meet her one day.” Laney got down on her knees and hugged her sweet daughter, then put her at arm’s length. “But that’s not the end of the story. Today I—Well, I found something that lets me know that the bad man is back. We need to do certain things to stay safe until he’s caught. That’s why Mr. Ryder let us be in his office.”

Briana’s eyes widened. “Principal Ryder’s going to look out for us?”

“In a way. He’s arranging things with people in the school so everyone can be safe.”

Briana nodded. “That’s good. I like Principal Ryder.”

“Yes, we can trust him.” She’d only known Noah Ryder for this school year, but she knew that with every fiber of her being. Besides, he couldn’t have planted the backpack. He wasn’t outside during recess today.

Laney tweaked her daughter’s button nose. “But remember, we can’t trust strangers. I need you to stay with me every minute. Don’t get out of my sight. And if you can’t be with me, I’ll make sure you’re with someone who will take care of you. Do exactly what they say.”

“Don’t worry, Mama.” Her daughter patted Laney’s cheek. “God’s watching over us.”

The depth of faith in the simple statements stole Laney’s breath. Where was her faith? It sure wasn’t very strong in this area. She struggled to believe God would—not could—keep them safe from this monster? Why hadn’t He protected Gracie?

Why didn’t you? A small voice accused.

A rap on the door brought her head around. Noah sidled halfway inside. His questioning stare met hers.

Laney rose. “You shouldn’t have to knock to enter your own office.”

“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t intruding at a bad moment.”

“No, we’re done here.”

“You okay, princess?” His gaze fell toward Briana, who beamed at him. As usual, Noah had said exactly the right thing. Bree’s pink princess pajamas were her favorite.

“I’m fine, Mr. Ryder.” The little girl hopped up. “Mama told me about my Auntie Grace and the bad man who’s come back.” She stepped toward the principal, face tilted up toward him. “I’m glad you’re gonna help keep us safe.”

Noah rendered a half smile. “I’ll do my best.” He looked toward Laney. “Everyone’s gathering in the gymnasium. I’ll escort you to a secure location backstage.”

“We’re ready.” Laney nodded, not at all sure she’d spoken the truth.

She snagged her daughter’s hand and followed on Noah’s heels. As always, his presence enveloped her like a warm security blanket, and she craved more of that feeling. Too bad the principal had made it clear, by fending off more than one unwed teacher’s batted eyelashes, that he wasn’t interested in a work romance, even though there was no rule against it.

They wove through a hallway teeming with children and adults headed for the gym, which doubled as an auditorium in this small school. The masses parted before the school principal, and Laney kept herself and Briana closely in his wake. She caught snatches of agitated speculation in conversations buzzing around her. Soon they went through a doorway and entered the relative calm of the stairwell that gave backstage access. As they climbed the few stairs, the faint scent of resin-coated boards greeted her. Two folding chairs waited in the left wing area between the heavy, velvet curtains. A city police officer hovered nearby.

“I’ll leave you in Deputy Carlson’s capable hands,” Noah told them with a nod toward Laney and a wink at Briana, who warbled a tiny giggle.

“Thank you,” Laney breathed.

Something in her expression must have betrayed that she hovered between petrified and panicked, because he laid his hands on her shoulders. His solid nearness drew her. What would he think if he knew how tempted she was to throw herself into his arms? She kept her gaze averted. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the pulse pumping in her throat.

“You’re doing great, Laney,” he said. Then he leaned closer. His warm breath feathered the hair on the top of her head. “Hang tough. We’re going to get through this.”

She lifted her head, but he’d already turned away. Did he say we? Just how much could she presume on this man?

Laney watched Noah Ryder walk out onto the stage. The muted roar of conversation dimmed, and at his first words, halted.

Butterflies fluttered around inside Laney’s stomach. In a few minutes, every student and staffer would know about the greatest tragedy of her life—a tragedy that now cast a shadow over theirs. In a few hours, the entire town would know. If the flourishing local grapevine hadn’t accomplished that task already.

Who did this murderous pervert think he was? Why had he returned to plague her now, after all these years? How could she, or anyone, possibly keep her daughter safe?

Laney sank onto one of the chairs and pulled Briana onto her lap, hugging her close. Officer Carlson nodded approval. No doubt he assumed she meant to offer comfort to her daughter when the opposite was closer to the truth. Only one of them was trembling, and it wasn’t the child.



Thirty-five minutes after his presentation about what had occurred and its significance for everyone present, Noah finished interviewing the third grade class. The children sat cross-legged on the gym floor with their teachers. Some of the little faces were pale, some flushed—depending on whether they considered this situation frightening or exciting.

Noah thanked the group and unfolded himself from the floor where he’d gotten down on their level to ask his questions. He consulted his notes as he headed for Sheriff Lindoll, who was speaking with a group of sixth graders. So far, the feedback indicated that the backpack had not been on the playground during the first half of recess period when grades kindergarten through three were outside.

The sheriff turned away from his group and met Noah in the middle of the gym floor. “I’ve got credible positives on the bag being seen by students and teachers during the second recess period.”

Noah nodded. “I’ve got the opposite with the younger group. It looks like either the bag was placed during the ten minutes between recess periods or when grades four to six were on the grounds.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Has anyone reported seeing who left it?”

“Negative. But we’re not done talking to people.”

“Yes, you are,” sniped a voice from the past.

Spine stiff, Noah swiveled toward the last man on the planet he ever wanted to see again. “Hello, Special Agent Justin Burns.”

The sheriff’s brows flew up. Was it because Noah knew the FBI agent or because he hadn’t done too well at keeping the sneer out of his tone? Burns hadn’t changed much. Looming middle age had drawn a few more creases on his bulldog face, but the frost-gray eyes were still as cold as a gravestone. As usual, he wore a crisp-pressed suit that made him look like a surly, burly version of Tommy Lee Jones in Men in Black. And the set of his pencil mouth…well, the urge to knock the arrogant expression off that mug hadn’t diminished with time.

“It’s Supervisory Special Agent now,” Burns said, his sneer not hidden, either. “What are you doing here, Ryder? I thought you were retired from bungling investigations.”

Make that urge a compulsion…suppressed. Barely. This time.

Noah stretched his lips into a smile that was as good as a spit. “Tread lightly, Burns. You’re on my territory, and my students’ best interests will be served.”

“This is our school principal.” Hank plunked a hand onto Noah’s shoulder.

Burns barked a laugh. “Nurse-maiding the kiddies, are we?” He turned his attention toward the sheriff. “Make no mistake. We are in charge. We’ll collect whatever information your people have gathered and take the investigation from here. You’ll be informed whenever we need information from you on a local matter, but this case reaches beyond Cottonwood Grove.”

The sheriff’s gaze met Noah’s. He sent Hank a miniscule shrug.

“I can take your team to the backpack,” the sheriff said to Burns.

“No need. The ERTs are already examining the bag and the site. We recognize crime scene tape when we see it.”

“Hooray for the good guys.” Noah looked around the gym. Other agents were joining interview groups or consulting with the city officers. Some even deigned to smile and joke with the local yokels. At least the rest of this federal team didn’t have their ties yanked too tight. Most of them weren’t even wearing one. Or a suit, either. He returned his gaze to Burns. “I wonder if you’re the one.”

The agent drew himself up to his full height, which was a good couple of inches shorter than Noah. “The one what?”

“Miss Thompson mentioned an agent that was involved in the original investigation.”

“Would that be Laney Thompson, the victim’s sister? Where is she? She’s got questions to answer.”

“She and her daughter are backstage. Come with me.” If this guy got out of line with Laney, he’d stop curbing his impulses, even if the swing got him jail time.



“That was very good, sweetie,” Laney told her daughter, who gazed up proudly from the book she was reading aloud.

“Laney Thompson, I need to talk to you!”

The hairs at the base of her neck stood on end as if someone had scraped fingernails across the chalkboard of her mind. Those growled tones were from a long-ago nightmare. She looked up to see Noah, with Special Agent Burns in tow, bearing down on her.

The FBI agent stopped in front of their chairs. “Supervisory Special Agent Justin Burns. I’m told you remember me.” He spoke as if her recollection of him was a matter of pride.

It had taken her a long time to overcome the nightmares featuring the agent’s roughshod interrogation of her as a traumatized child. Burns would have to trample her dead body to do the same thing to Briana.

Laney rose and stared the agent in his pug nose. “What would you like to know? But leave my daughter out of it. This is the first she’s heard about what happened back then, and she wasn’t anywhere near Gracie’s schoolbag.”

Burns looked from Briana back to her. “All grown up and with a kid of your own. We’ll see where the investigation takes us. Is there somewhere we can visit in private?” The agent pointed a look toward Noah, who stood with his arms away from his body, legs slightly apart, as if he’d as soon tackle Burns as look at him.

They glared at one another like familiar enemies. Burns must have worked fast to get on Noah’s bad side so quickly. Then again, the agent had that gift.

“You can use my office,” Noah said. “I’ll escort you.”

“No need.” Burns waved him off. “I’m sure Laney knows where it is.”

“Ms. Thompson.” Laney spoke in unison with Noah. They shared a look, and sparkly fizz shot through her middle at the smile in his eyes. What was the matter with her? Now was so not the time for this hopeless attraction to her boss.

Burns’s jaw firmed. “Very well, Ms. Thompson. Lead the way. And you,” he turned and jabbed a finger toward Noah, “stay out of this investigation.”

Laney drew herself up. “Stay out of this investigation? If your people find any lead worth following it will likely be because of this man’s quick thinking. He secured the scene, alerted the school, organized the interviews—”

“You did what?” Burns put himself in Noah’s personal space. “I might have known you couldn’t keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong. I told the sheriff not to make a move until we arrived.”

“How can you be so obtuse?” Laney burst out. “We need a vicious murderer apprehended, and you instruct your fellow law officer not to employ his intellect, training or experience?” Both men were staring at her now. She was babbling in English-nerdese, but she was on a roll. “If Sheriff Lindoll had listened to you instead of Noah, you’d be hours behind on an investigation that is now well in hand. Accolades are more in order than scorn. And,” she sniffed, “if you need a dictionary to look up any of my verbiage, this school is gifted with an abundance of those.”

“Mommy?” A tap on her side brought her attention to her daughter, who stood clutching her book. “He can use a dictionary from my classroom.”

Silence blanketed the moment, except for the background noise of voices from the gymnasium. A snort turned everyone’s heads. Officer Carlson stood red-faced and grinning from his post behind the folding chairs. A suppressed chuckle came from Noah, whose lips had disappeared between his teeth.

Laney tugged a lock of her daughter’s hair. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re a thoughtful little girl.” Her heart was galloping like a colt let out of the gate. She’d just thoroughly antagonized the man who held the authority in a life or death investigation involving her family. Great going, girl. She tried, but an apology wouldn’t form in her mouth. The man was a grade-A blockhead, but they were stuck with him.

Burns’s subzero gaze surveyed her as if she was a speck of lint. “If your sophomoric tantrum is quite finished, you and I have matters to discuss. And I do want to speak to the child, as well.”

“My daughter’s name is Briana.” She turned her focus on her little girl. “Briana, this is Agent Burns of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Your mommy set a very bad example. We need to respect his authority and position.”

Briana smiled and held out her hand to the agent. “Pleased to meet you, Agent Burns.”

The agent stared at the hand as if he’d been offered a porcupine. Then he slowly took the little member in his. “Good meeting you, too, Briana.” The words came out a bit gruff, but his expression softened.

Noah dipped his head, as if chastened. “I was going to offer to be present during the interview, but I think you can take care of yourself.” He looked at his watch. “I need to arrange for parents and bus drivers to be aware of late school dismissal.” With a small wave, he left the stage in one direction, while Laney motioned Burns to follow her in the other.

On the way to Noah’s office, questions bombarded her mind. What had Burns meant by his statement that he “might have known” Noah couldn’t stay out of the investigation? Had the agent and the principal met before? How? When? And why did the local police chief respect Noah’s advice about the investigation? Who was Noah Ryder, really? The internal gossip den contained sketchy knowledge about the man’s background. He started his teaching career about five years ago in a different school system, then got his principal’s license and took over in Cottonwood Grove two years ago. What had he done before that?

When they arrived at the reception area, Burns dismissed Officer Carlson, and then swept past Miss Aggie without a glance as he took over the lead into the principal’s inner sanctum. He made himself at home in Noah’s big desk chair, pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the edge of the desk. Laney and Briana occupied the guest chairs.

It took only a few minutes for Laney to divulge the story about finding the school bag on the playground, though she kept the panic attack to herself. Burns was a cold, hard facts kind of guy, and she didn’t need to expose her shattered emotions.

Burns spent a few minutes grilling her, then he turned his attention to Briana. “Young lady, have you noticed anyone watching you these past few days or weeks? A stranger? Or someone who shouldn’t be paying you that much attention? Think very hard now. This is important.”

Briana’s brows scrunched together, and she kicked her feet back and forth. Then she shook her head, pigtails flapping.

The agent leaned across the desk. “You’re sure. No one when you’re outside? Or with friends? Or with your mother somewhere? At the store, perhaps?”

“No one,” Briana answered in a small voice.

“How about the playground where the bag was found? Someone watching—”

“Agent Burns,” Laney interrupted, “my daughter has already said no.”

“Yes!” her daughter burst out.

They both gaped at her.

Briana bounced in her seat. “There was a man in a suit.” She screwed up her mouth. “I remember ’cuz I noticed him when my friend Alicia lost her pinky ring under the slide.”

“A man in a suit.” Burns all but sprawled across the desk. “He was watching you?”

“No, not me.”

“Bree,” Laney said, “why didn’t you report this? We’re not supposed to let strangers hang around the playground. Haven’t you learned anything from the lessons Mr. Ryder’s put on about stranger awareness?” Her tone had gone shrill before she finished the sentence.

Her daughter’s lower lip quivered. “But Mommy, he didn’t have mean eyes. More like sad. And he went away as soon as the bell rang and we had to go inside.”

“What did the man look like?” The agent’s palm slapped the desktop.

Laney fried him with a glare. “You are not interrogating a criminal.”

“All right. Okay.” He lifted his hands and settled back in his chair. “Briana,” he gritted between a wooden smile, “would you kindly describe this person to me?”

The little girl shrugged. “He had a suit on, but not the same color as yours. His hair was dark, except for white spots here.” She motioned toward her temples. “And the metal pole on the fence came to here on him.” She sawed her hand back and forth across her upper abdomen.

“Very good, honey.” Laney squeezed her daughter’s arm, then looked at Burns. “The stabilizing pole is about halfway up the fence. That would make our man less than average height—five foot eight or so.”

The man grunted. “Good description, young lady. Now would you mind going with one of my agents while I talk to your mom for a little while?”

Laney shook her head. “I won’t send her with someone she doesn’t know. I want my friend Ellen to be with them.”

Burns hissed out a breath. “Make it happen, but my guy will be in charge. Unless you think one of my agents is the perp.” His sarcasm was sharp enough to scrape paint.

He retrieved a radio from his belt while Laney went to the office door and peered out. The outer area teemed with people, and Miss Aggie was busy at a swamped desk. Some of those hanging around were bus drivers. Laney glanced at the wall clock. School was overdue to be dismissed. On the other side of the area, a tall, dark-haired man waved to her, flashing a big smile. It was Pierce Mayfield, driver of the small city bus that transported several in-town children to and from school. Laney answered with a flutter of the fingers.

Pierce had been flirting with her all year and even asked her out a couple of times. So far she’d turned him down. Not that Pierce wasn’t nice. He was even pretty good-looking. His eyebrows of slightly different heights and vaguely crooked nose gave him an appealingly interesting face. He simply wasn’t a certain school principal who had already captured her attention. Of course, she might do well to give up that hopeless quest and give Pierce a chance. Ellen sure thought so. She’d been trying to get them together all year. And Laney was all for finding a good husband. Briana deserved the daddy she kept praying for…but first, her precious little girl needed to be safe.

A welcome figure stepped into the reception area. Now she didn’t have to ask Miss Aggie to call over the intercom.

“Ellen!” Laney motioned her friend over.

“Oh, girl!” Ellen swept her into big arms, and her lavender scent enveloped Laney.

For a brief instant, she allowed herself to slump into the comfort. Then she pulled away. “Can you go with this agent,” she pointed to the big fellow in a sport coat who’d come up behind Ellen, “and look after Briana?”

“Anything.” Ellen’s brown eyes poured warm honey over Laney. “We’ll hang out in my classroom.”

“Thanks. You’re the best.” Laney squeezed her friend’s hand and called for Briana. “You remember what I told you about minding anyone watching out for you.”

“I will, Mama.”

The little girl skipped off, holding Ellen’s hand and trailed by Hulk Hogan’s clone with a buzz cut.

Laney closed the office door and returned to her hot seat in front of Agent Burns.

The agent studied her with flat eyes. “What do you know about Ryder?”

“What’s that got to do with this situation?”

Burns stared at her like a hawk at a mouse.

Laney shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. “He’s a terrific school principal.”

“That’s it?”

“I’ve only been here one school term. It’s not like we hang out socially.” Not that she wouldn’t like to, but that was none of Burns’s business.

The agent twirled a paper clip between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t place any confidence in him to figure this out for you. Leave that to the professionals.”

Laney blinked at him. What in the world was he getting at?

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come!” Burns called.

A short man walked in carrying a box about the size of a microwave oven. Laney recognized the strap of Grace’s backpack sticking out the top inside a clear plastic bag.

“This is Agent Wallace,” Burns said. “One of our Evidence Recovery Technicians. I need you to take a look at the items from your sister’s backpack and tell us if you notice anything out of place or missing.”

“O-okay,” Laney quavered. Nausea churned her insides.

Wallace began taking bagged and tagged items out of the box and laying them carefully on any available surface. First, the empty pack itself. Then papers and notebooks and pencils and erasers, a ruler, an assortment of hair pins, a shriveled and barely recognizable candy bag, a smashed calculator and several school texts and workbooks.

“That’s it?” Burns grated.

“All she wrote,” Wallace confirmed.

“I see nothing out of place.” Laney walked around and forced herself to examine every object. “Even the candy is her favorite—Reese’s Pieces.” A lump crowded into her throat and tears stung her eyes. Oh, Gracie! She swallowed the lump and took a deep breath. “What’s this dark stuff staining the corner of the bag and this book? It’s not—” She didn’t finish the statement, as her brain registered the truth without needing to hear from the technician.

Her sister’s lifeblood.

Her gut heaved, and she hurried from the room. No one tried to stop her. She dodged between people in the crowded reception area. Her foot rammed something hard, and she stumbled. Righting herself, she looked down to see heavy, brown work boots. Must be steel-toed. Then she looked up into the scowling face of the custodian, Richard Hodge. His glower chilled her heated rush.

“Pardon me,” she murmured.

The man sneered and turned away.

Laney stared at his stiff, broad back. Why did the custodian dislike her? She shook her head and moved on, grief surging behind her eyes. A headache began to throb. She needed to get somewhere alone. Just for a few minutes.

She reached the exit, but a hand closed around her arm and turned her.

“Pierce. Hi. I can’t talk right now. I’m going—”

“Wherever it is, consider me your escort.” His concerned brown gaze drew a trickle from a corner of her eye. “Hey!” His thumb wiped at the tear.

She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you can go with me to the restroom.” She escaped out the door of the office.

In the hallway, students were rushing around, getting ready to head for home. Locker doors rattled, and juvenile voices yelled greetings and banter. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds. Even the threat of a nameless stalker couldn’t douse the kids’ spirits on a fine day this close to summer break. Laney moved quickly between them, forcing herself to bestow smiles.

Fellow staff members called encouragement like, “We’re with you, Laney,” and shot her thumbs-up. But she read from their eyes that they didn’t know how to guarantee a good outcome any more than she did. Their sense of safety had been violated along with hers. At last she reached the ladies’ room and scurried past people to the last stall. She darted inside, closed the door, and leaned her aching head against the cool metal.

Oh, God, let this be a dream.

But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t turn back today’s clock any more than she could have turned it back eighteen years ago and made a different choice on that awful day.




THREE


Noah found Laney in her darkened classroom slumped at her desk with damp paper towels pressed to her forehead. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her as he approached. “The children are gone for the day, but Ellen has Briana. They’re playing a game.”

“I know.” She looked up, fathoms of pain in her shadowed gaze. “She’s a good friend. She’s been giving me some space to process.”

“Is it working?” He knew the answer before he asked. This woman needed an old-fashioned bawl session, but he’d leave that to Ellen Kline’s sturdy shoulder. It was not a good idea for him to put his arms around Laney Thompson. He had to maintain professional distance, even in his thoughts. Too bad that plan wasn’t working very well.

Laney wadded the paper towels and chucked the ball across the room. She made the wastebasket.

“Good arm,” he said.

“Are they still here?”

“The FBI? Yes, they’ve commandeered a meeting room. Agent Burns said to tell you he’d have someone outside your apartment all night.”

Laney snorted. “So you’re his errand boy now? I suppose he shared that information so that I won’t call the cops on his agent.”

Noah sent her a wry smile. “He plays it close to the vest.”

“A bit too close.” She told him what Briana had confessed to Agent Burns about noticing a man in a suit lurking outside the playground just before the end of second and third grade recess.

He rubbed his chin. “That fits with the timeline for the first appearance of the backpack.”

Laney pressed a hand to her chest. “I hope this is finally a break in the case, but I’m not holding my breath. Agent Burns wasn’t in charge of the team when Gracie went missing, but he was there, throwing his weight around. They didn’t find anything then. Why should I believe results will be different now?”

“A hot new lead can sometimes break a cold case.”

Laney leaned back in her chair, her gazed fixed on him. Noah shifted his stance and looked around the room. If décor was a reflection of personality, this room did Laney justice. Everything from the skipping hippos stenciled on the wall to the bright construction paper flowers edging the bulletin board spoke of warmth and energy. This was a great room for mentally and physically challenged kids to find safe stimulation, as well as hearty doses of encouragement.

“Why do I get the feeling you know a lot about criminal investigations?” She asked the question Noah wished he hadn’t invited with his careless remark.

He sent her a casual smile. “A hobby of mine.”

Her eyes widened. “You investigate crimes in your spare time?”

“I meant that it’s an interest.” Beads of moisture sprang up beneath the collar of his polo shirt. How close was that kernel of truth to telling a lie? “I’ve got a suggestion,” he hurried on. “It’s Friday tomorrow. Why don’t you and Briana take the day off? Then you’ll have the whole weekend to stay home and regroup. You probably have people to contact.”

“My parents.”

“Of course. Maybe by Monday things will have cooled down here. And maybe we’ll even have a dirtbag in a suit behind bars.”

“How I hope so!” She rose. “Thank you.” She came around the desk and touched his arm. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I’ll check on you, at least by phone, every day.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Her smile emerged and did amazing things to his insides.

“Let me walk you to your car. We can pick up Briana on the way.”

They collected the little girl, and the child slipped one hand into her mother’s and took Noah’s with the other. The simple intimacy felt too right to be comfortable. By the time Noah waved Laney and Briana off toward home, he was sweating in earnest, and not from the balmy weather.

He returned to the office, where Miss Aggie was closing up shop.

“You did well today,” she said.

“Thanks. So did you.”

She walked to the door, then turned and lasered him with a look. “But remember, some gains are worth great risk. Don’t screw up your chance at a future because of the past.”

She whisked away, leaving Noah with his mouth open. What did she mean by that remark? Had some little birdie with a sheriff’s badge been twittering in her ear, or was his attraction to Laney as obvious as his efforts to keep her at arm’s length?

Noah undid a button on his shirt and retired to the inner office, where he got on the phone. “Have you been talking out of turn, Lindoll?” he said as soon as Hank came on the line.

“Huh?”

“Did you tell my secretary who I was?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t told a soul, but I’m tempted to spill the beans to Laney Thompson. She could use your services right now.”

“Nothing doing. I’m retired and into my second career, which I like very much, thank you. Besides, she’s got you on her side.”

The sheriff snorted. “Fat lot of good that’ll do her when my people are shut out of the investigation. Information is a one-way street with this Burns, except for something he deems ‘local’ enough for us to know.”

“And you think I’d fare any better? You saw how we get along.”

“Must be a story there, eh?” The man gave a dry chuckle.

“Later. Maybe. Right now, I’m calling to see if anything more came of the interviews your guys conducted. Is there anything I need to know to protect my students and staff?”

Several heartbeats passed. Noah’s internal antennae perked up. There was something, but Hank must not be sure if it was significant or not.

“We do have one suspicious circ,” the sheriff finally said.

“Suspicious circumstance? Involving who?”

“Glen Crocker, a local electrician, has been missing for a couple of days.”

Noah pursed his lips. “The timing would be right for a perp who needed to go somewhere and get that backpack.”

The sheriff sighed. “I’d hate to see this turn out to be a local guy. Could be Glen’s just skipped out on his family, which is bad enough. Let me look up the report. My deputy got this lead at the school from the guy’s son and interviewed the wife at home.”

Noah doodled with an automatic pencil while he listened to papers rustle at the other end. “Glen must be Sam Crocker’s dad. Sam’s in Mrs. Link’s fifth grade class.”

“You sure know your students…and their families. That’s part of what makes you a good principal, but paying attention to people also makes you an outstanding investigator.”

“Get off it, Hank.” Noah stabbed the pencil point into the pad.

“All right, but I’m just saying. Ah, here it is.” A desk chair creaked in the background. “According to little Sam, his daddy left for a job day before yesterday, and the kid hasn’t seen him since. My deputy talked to the mom, and she didn’t know where her husband was, either. Didn’t seem too surprised Glen took off, which is why she hadn’t reported him missing.” Hank snorted. “Must’ve been problems in the marriage.”

“That’s too bad.” Noah shook his head. “Especially for little Sam. Any personal effects gone from this guy’s home?”

“His Chevy Impala’s gone, but he didn’t grab any of his clothes or belongings. Doesn’t mean he didn’t take a hike of his own free will, so maybe this has nothing to do with our sicko on the loose. Glen’s been a citizen in good standing around here for a decade, but I’ve initiated inquiries about him prior to coming to Cottonwood Grove.”

“Sounds good. And I’ve got something for you that I’ll bet Burns hasn’t gotten around to sharing.” Noah gave the sheriff the information Laney had shared about the man in the suit watching kids on the playground.

“Hmm. The description doesn’t match Crocker. Thanks for the lead though.”

“And you’re going to call me if you find out anything interesting?” The doodles became larger and darker.

Hank laughed. “Do you really want me to, Mr. Principal? I can practically feel the investigator salivating.”

The lead on the end of the pencil snapped. “Just call me.”

“Will do.” The sheriff hung up, still chuckling.

Was it really too much to ask to be kept in the loop about something that could affect a whole school full of children in his care? Noah snatched up a fistful of paperwork Miss Aggie had left for him to sign. Taking part in the investigation was the last thing on his mind. It was!



Laney struggled through the evening at home in their apartment. She and Briana did the regular things—homework, a select amount of TV time, supper, a bedtime book—but everything felt odd and ill-fitting, as if ordinary had skewed off its axis. By the time Bree knelt at her bedside in her pink princess pajamas for prayers, Laney’s headache had morphed into Goliath stomping through her brain. At least she’d managed to give Briana a normal evening.

“…and, Jesus, remember that I’m still waiting for a daddy. And please help Mama to get her real smile back…”

Laney tuned in to her daughter’s conversation with the Lord.

“…and not be sad about her sister and not be so a-scared. Amen.”

Then Briana hopped up and threw her arms around Laney. She squeezed her daughter extra tight. What a reminder that kids were more perceptive than adults realized. She hadn’t done as great with her stick-to-routine plan as she’d thought.

Laney tucked Briana under the covers. “Would you like to talk about what happened today?”

Her daughter shook her head, a peaceful smile on the heart-shaped face that was a miniature of her own. “I talked to God. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Laney kissed Briana’s forehead. “I’ll count on it, then.”

Briana settled in with a contented sigh. “I think I’m real close to getting my daddy,” she murmured.

Laney’s pulse jumped, but she didn’t answer, just shut off the bedroom light and left the door ajar. She didn’t have the heart to discourage her little girl with the information that her mother had no daddy material on her social calendar.

Then she went through the apartment and checked the security of every window and the front door. Locked up tight. In the bathroom, she downed a couple of painkillers. The phone rang, and she hurried to the living room. Her fingers hesitated over the receiver. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. That monster wouldn’t dream of calling her, would he?

Taking a deep breath, she picked up. “H-hello?”

“Laney, it’s Noah. You sound shaky.”

Laney sank onto her couch. “It’s terrible being afraid to find out who’s on the other end of a phone call. Briana and I are doing fine. I just put her to bed after a dull evening. No indication of anything out of the ordinary.” She injected all the lightness she could muster into her words. If only he were sitting here in her living room, she might feel some of it. What a pitiful creature she was to pine after someone who saw only another staff member.

“Have you called your parents yet?”

“That’s next on the agenda.”

“Well, then, I’d better let you get to it. I’m here if you need anything.”

A picture of him holding her appeared in her mind’s eye, but she squelched it. “Thanks. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome. Hang in there.”

The line went dead, and Laney cradled the receiver in her hand. She dreaded the next conversation as much as she needed it. Her parents would be devastated that the nightmare had returned. Too bad they’d moved away from St. Cloud, Minnesota, a few months ago for Dad to take a high-paying job as a vice president for a big corporation. Laney punched in their Louisville, Kentucky, number.

The phone had scarcely begun to ring when a familiar voice said hello.

“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

“Oh, sweetie, we were about to call you.”

The tears in her mother’s voice told Laney she wasn’t first with the news to her parents. “I suppose you’ve heard from Supervisory Special Agent Justin Burns.”

“We just got off the phone with him.” Her dad’s voice came from another extension. “He said you received a threat.”

“If you call finding Gracie’s backpack on the school playground after recess a threat, then yes. I took it that way.”

“Does the little Bree-bee know?” His voice dripped concern.

“I could hardly keep it from her. The whole town is in an uproar. Principal Ryder put the entire school on alert and sent informative letters home with the kids for their parents.”

“Sounds like your principal knew what to do,” her mother put in. “How’s Briana taking the news? Maybe we shouldn’t have decided not to tell her about Grace. Look what’s—”

“Loretta, there’s no use second-guessing ourselves now.” Her father’s voice took command. “We agreed it was best she not be told until she was older. How could we know this maniac would force our hands?”

“Mom, Dad, don’t worry about it,” Lainie said. “If anything, Bree is calmer than I am. She’s convinced God is guarding us, and Noah Ryder’s his helper. I wish I had half her confidence.” A sour laugh spurted between her lips.

“Honey, you have more faith than you think,” her mother said. “You wouldn’t be the strong woman, wonderful mom and terrific teacher you are without it.”

The affirmation tasted like a soothing tonic. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Still, it might not be a bad idea for me to hire you a bodyguard,” her dad put in.

Laney snickered. “Can you see me wandering around this little burg with some goon in my shadow? Briana and I are conspicuous enough as it is. So let’s talk about something else. Did Agent Burns indicate if they have any good leads?”

Her dad snorted. “Since when does that man indicate anything? He dictates and he interrogates.”

“Sounds like you talked to the same Burns I did.”

Laney’s chuckle joined with her parents’, but an ache in her throat followed. “I miss Gracie. I’d forgotten how cute and funny she could be. Then today, all this turmoil dredged up a whole bunch of Grace pictures in my mind. Like the way she’d scrunch up her nose and cross her eyes, Mom, when you served something for supper she didn’t like. Or how she’d sit in your lap, Dad, and kiss your cheek over and over for no reason at all.”

Her mother sniffled. “Do you remember how she’d follow you around so close, Laney? You’d practically trip over her every time you turned around.”

Laney’s heart turned to lead. She hated it now that she’d resented it then. “I remember.” The confession scraped against her voice box.

A half hour of tears and recollections later, the call ended, and Laney flopped her head back against the couch, utterly drained. If only she could go straight to bed. Hibernating until the monster who stole Gracie was caught sounded like a splendid plan. In her dreams. She forced herself off the soft cushions and took a seat in front of the computer desk on the other side of the living room. One more mission to accomplish before she called it a day.

While the computer booted up, she got a glass of apple juice from the kitchen. The phone rang again, and she picked it up without thought. It was a television news reporter asking for an interview. Laney politely but firmly declined.

Then she settled in front of the monitor. Her fingers danced across the keys. She’d run a search on Noah Ryder. There had to be something significant to know about him besides the scuttlebutt that he’d attended Southwest Minnesota State University in Marshall, Minnesota, for his teaching degree. Time for a different approach.

The search engine came up, and Laney typed in Noah Ryder. She discovered he had a Facebook account like she did. Would it be forward of her to submit a friend request to him, so their profile pages were accessible to each other? She decided against it for the moment.

She continued searching under Noah Ryder, but learned nothing she didn’t already know. A few other Noah Ryders came up that couldn’t possibly be him—wrong age, location, etc. Laney smothered a yawn. She should hit the sack. Yet the innuendos about Noah from Sheriff Lindoll and Agent Burns wouldn’t leave her alone.

She typed in a search under Ryder. The more general search would generate a vast array of hits, but she was going to check every one until she found something more about her enigmatic boss. This was desperate times.

A couple of pages of listings were connected to the moving company by that name. Then there were a few hits about a Ryder family tree, but these never mentioned a Noah on one of the branches. Finally, many pages into the search results, an intriguing article caught her eye—Investigator Unites Mother and Son After Dangerous Manhunt.

Laney clicked on the link and started reading, then slumped. The investigator mentioned in the headline was Franklin Ryder, not Noah. She read on anyway. The article involved a missing child. Not that an abusive husband and father snatching his son from the custodial mother was a new tale these days, but it sounded as if this dad was a devious piece of work who eluded law enforcement time after time…until Franklin Ryder, Private Investigator, took the case. In the photo that accompanied the article, a pretty young woman beamed for the camera as she cuddled a chubby, dark-haired boy.

“Nuts!” Laney exclaimed. She’d hoped for a picture of this whiz-bang investigator. She peered at the photo. Someone was walking away in the background. It was a side shot too grainy to identify the person, but there was something familiar about the stride and the confident set of the shoulders. And the man was a blond, like Noah.

Heart trip-hammering, Laney plugged in a search for Franklin Ryder. Page after page of articles came up. She had her confirmation on the first one. The man she knew as Principal Noah Ryder stared back at her from the screen.

Headache and exhaustion forgotten, Laney spent until the wee hours devouring news articles about Franklin Ryder. There were even videos. But news reports on the man abruptly ceased six years ago. Why had he suddenly given up investigating? And why change his name? Wasn’t he proud of his work that restored the lost to their families, or at least got them justice and closure?

The media dubbed him a “relentless bloodhound” and “a kidnapper’s worst nightmare.” Excitement squeezed Laney’s chest as she continued reading stories and quotes from people who saw him in action. “It’s downright eerie the way Ryder can put himself inside the skin of a kidnapper and figure out what he’s going to do almost before he does it,” said a law officer involved in one of the cases.

Why hide from a reputation like that? If the cops weren’t delivering on a missing persons case, Franklin Ryder was the guy to hire, especially if the victim was a child. Franklin was passionate about kids, just like the Noah that Laney knew. There was way more to Principal Ryder than anyone in this town had a clue about, except maybe for Sheriff Lindoll. The man’s remarks and reactions today suddenly made perfect sense. And somewhere along the trail of Noah’s career as an investigator, he and Agent Burns had clearly locked horns.

Finally, Laney rose and stretched, but she wore a smile on her face. Hope had gained ascendancy over fear. She’d found an answer that couldn’t be more clearly from God if He’d etched the message on her forehead.

Whatever it took, whatever it cost, she was going to hire Noah/Franklin Ryder to find the monster that killed Gracie and threatened Briana.



Well before time for school to start, Noah sat in his office on Friday morning going over his notes about yesterday’s incident. Why did he write these things down anyway? And why couldn’t he put the notes away and concentrate on school business? Old habits died hard, but then, he was responsible for the safety of everyone in this school. As long as he kept that motive in the forefront, he’d be all right.

A rap sounded on his door. “It’s open,” he called. Probably Miss Aggie, miffed to discover he’d arrived ahead of her. But his visitor was most decidedly not his angular administrative assistant. The slender female in form-fitting jeans and a tailored aqua blouse walked toward his desk, and his mouth went dry. “Laney? What are you doing here?”

“I’m a desperate woman in need of your expertise.” She laid a small stack of news reports printed off the Internet in front of him.

Noah’s heart leaped against his ribs. He kept his gaze averted as he forced his composure back into place. Finally, he allowed himself to look up. Laney’s pleading blue eyes clawed at his resolve. He pushed the papers back toward her. “What’s all this about?”

Her nostrils flared. “I called Sheriff Lindoll this morning and asked him about these.”

Noah groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Here’s what he said,” she continued. “I quote. ‘I’m not going to deny your research, Ms. Thompson. If it is him, it’d be great to have someone in on the action who can tweak those federal guys’ noses.’” She planted her palms on his desk and leaned toward him, bringing their faces inches apart. “You can tweak noses or cut them off for all I care, as long as you catch a child killer. I can pay you whatever you want…or my dad can, at least.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, gaining distance. “I can’t do that anymore.” Each word came out clipped and razor-thin.

Laney drew herself up tall. “Your real name is Franklin Ryder. You’re an ace investigator. What do you mean you can’t do what you’re so great at doing?”

He shook his head. “My real name is Noah Franklin Ryder, Jr. To differentiate between me and my dad, I grew up being called Franklin. By the time I quit the P.I. business my dad had passed on, so I reverted to Noah and embarked on a new career. I love being a school principal, and I meant what I said. I can’t go back to what I did before.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both.”

Something deflated in the woman before him, and the sight cut deep. She sank into a chair. “Why not?”

“I’m not too proud to admit that I’m washed up as an investigator.” He frowned and studied his desktop, pain surging through him. “Something happened half a dozen years back.”

“When the news articles about you ceased.”

“That’d be the time. Look,” he squared his gaze with hers, “I won’t go into detail, but the wheels came off on an investigation and an innocent person died.”

“Was it your fault?’

“I ask myself that every day.”

A wounded laugh bubbled from her throat. “Join the club. I ask myself the same thing about Gracie.”

Noah leaned his elbows on his desk and studied the woman before him. “Why would her death be your fault?”

Her gaze fell away. “I was the big sister, the protector. I was supposed to walk Gracie all the way home from school that day. Instead, I went as far as our home block, then I ran off with my friends to play. I figured she could make it the rest of the way by herself. I was wrong.” She lifted her head, cheeks whitewashed. “It was my birthday. I wanted to have some fun, and my fun cost my sister her life. What a selfish little fool!”

“Aw, Laney.” Noah reached a hand across the desk, though it couldn’t reach far enough to touch her. “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard stories like that from family members looking for someone to blame. Quite often themselves. One moment of common carelessness ends in tragedy, and people can’t forgive themselves for being human. You were just a kid being a kid.”

Laney’s hard expression shattered, and she sobbed. “I hope…” she hiccupped “…one day…I can believe that.” Tears made twin tracks down her cheeks.

Blinking away the sting behind his eyes, Noah grabbed a tissue from the box on his credenza. He came around his desk and handed it to her. She took the tissue and scrubbed as if she would wipe away memories.

“I hope you take those words to heart. They’re true.” Noah laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hard-won truths like that are the best I can offer. Please keep your knowledge about my former business name and occupation to yourself. Investigating is not in me anymore.”

She stared up at him. “You’re wrong. A gift like that doesn’t just go away. If you can lie to yourself so completely, how can I be sure you’re not telling me a pretty story, too?” She shrugged off his hand, then rose like a grand diva and stalked from the room.

Noah watched her leave, every thought frozen in his brain. A few moments later, he shook himself. Her statement was ridiculous. He wasn’t lying about being washed up. She didn’t know what she was talking about. How could she? She wasn’t there when it all went down.

The sound of drawers opening and closing in the outer office signaled that Miss Aggie had arrived. Had she encountered the irate Laney Thompson? Noah stepped into the reception area. One look at his secretary’s face told him what he needed to know.

“You are going to help that poor girl?” Miss Aggie pronounced.

“But—”

“No excuses, young man.” She shook a finger at him and turned away.

Noah retreated into his sanctuary. What did Miss Aggie know about him? How did she find out? The same way Laney did?

He plopped down behind his desk and put his head in his hands. Lord, how can I take the chance again? But how could he live with himself if something bad happened to either Laney or Briana because he didn’t get involved? He slumped against his chair and tilted his head back, scrubbing his cheeks with his palms. Then again, how could he survive if he did take the case, and the worst happened anyway?

The miserable morning passed like an ant crawling across hot coals. Most of those coals were hidden behind Miss Aggie’s silent stares. Near noon, he escaped to help supervise the early recess. Some of the adult workers seemed subdued after yesterday, but if anything, the children were more boisterous and active. Noah kept busy making sure they used the equipment safely and respected each other’s boundaries, but he didn’t forget to push the swings and give rides on the merry-go-round.

Laughing, Noah drifted toward the fence to take a break and observe the whole playground. A figure in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head and froze.

A short, burly man in a business suit stood in a shadowed spot near the fence. Hands fisting and flexing, his gaze devoured one specific cluster of giggling little girls.




FOUR


Noah spoke a few words to one of the aides on the playground. She hurried toward the building to call the police. A fast walk took Noah to one of the openings in the fence about fifty feet from the man in the suit. He kept the corner of his eye on the intruder, but was careful not to stare in a way that might draw attention. If this louse was up to no good, the smallest hint that he’d been spotted would send him scuttling away. The man’s focus never wavered from the children. Noah’s lips thinned. Maybe his caution was wasted on the pervert.

Reaching the street, he circled behind the guy. He needed to catch him by surprise. His pulse thundered in his ears, and the burn on his face didn’t come from the sun. The muscles in his arms and legs tensed like piano wires. Patience. Remember? That’s how it’s done. His fists would rather make pulp out of a sicko like this than hold him for the police, but that’s what he’d do, law-abiding civilian that he was.

Just a little bit closer. Almost there. His breathing sounded way too loud in his own ears.

The guy ran a hand across a bald spot on the back of his head and then turned from the fence. His eyes widened to find Noah almost upon him.

“Hold it! We need to talk,” Noah said.

The man yelped and whirled away. Noah charged and his fingers closed on the back of the man’s suit jacket. The intruder jerked the smooth fabric out of Noah’s grasp as he took off up the sidewalk at a sprint. Surprisingly quick for his squat stature, he gained a few strides. Then Noah ducked his head and put his own sprint into gear.

The man darted onto the street, heading for a blue Impala parked and running at the curb a short way up the street. Oh, no, you don’t! Their feet thundered in near unison across the pavement. Noah lunged forward and rammed into the stalker as they reached the rear of the car. The stocky guy was more flab than muscle, and Noah’s shoulder buried itself in the man’s back. Breath exploded from the guy’s gut, and they fell across the rear end of the Chevy. The acrid stench of car exhaust bit Noah’s nostrils as he struggled to control the flailing man.

“I…didn’t do…anything!” The stalker’s voice came out in hoarse pants.

“Strangers…staring at…little kids…don’t sit well with me.” Noah finally wrestled the guy to the pavement and clamped his wrists together while he pressed his knee into the small of the man’s back.

The sudden bleep of a siren announced the arrival of a city black and white that pulled up beside the Impala. Deputy David Carlson climbed out.

“What have you got here?” The officer hustled toward them, then stopped short. “Eddie Foreman!”

The man beneath Noah quit wiggling. “You know this guy?” Noah stared up at the deputy.

“Me and Ed went to school together. He moved to Watertown, South Dakota, about an hour from here, but he’s okay.”

Noah glared down at his captive. Just because a local police officer was acquainted with the suspect didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty. But the man wasn’t likely to run again with both a cop and a principal breathing down his neck. Noah released Eddie’s arms, stood up and backed away a marginal step.

The stalker struggled to his feet, huffing, face apple-red. He adjusted his suit jacket. “I told you I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Now, Ed,” Carlson crossed his arms, “lurking around school yards is frowned upon, even in Cottonwood Grove.”

Ed’s gaze fell to loafers that had seen better days. “You knew Bonnie and I split?”

“You don’t say!” The officer’s arms fell to his sides.

Noah stared from one man to the other. What was this? Old home week?

“Yeah.” Ed lifted his eyes. Sad, all right, just like Briana described. “She got custody of Becca and moved back to the old hometown. I was just—” A soft sob left the man’s barrel chest, and he rubbed a pudgy hand across his face. “I deliver office supplies around here, and then I stop at noon to catch a glimpse of my girl. That’s all.” He sent a glare toward Noah.

Carlson’s face pinched. “Sure am sorry, but you’d best not be hanging around the school grounds without permission.”

“I understand.” The other man nodded. “I’ll go now.” He shuffled toward his car door.

“Hey, wait. You can’t—” Noah started, but the officer lifted a palm. He clamped his lips shut against angry words. This guy was not cleared of anything in his books.




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