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Without a Doubt
Kathleen Long


LITTLE GIRL LOST…AND FOUND?The moment she laid eyes on the little girl with the butterfly-shaped birthmark, reporter Sophie Markham swore she was looking at her long-lost niece. And yet this child's parents claimed to have met the birth mother…who had perished in a fire. Digging into the adoption quickly became dangerous, but her biggest challenge was the child's uncle, and Sophie's ex, Gary Barksdale. Being near him reminded Sophie of the passion that had once driven their careers and their relationship. And working together now felt as natural as it had back then–except this time someone wanted them dead.









“How do you do it?” Gary asked.


“Do what?”

Sophie had regained control of her emotionally guarded expression, and he scowled as he walked toward her, stopping mere inches from where she stood.

Gary pointed to her face. Her eyes narrowed. “That. How do you act like you don’t care when I know deep down you do? Are you afraid someone will glimpse the real you?”

Sophie shrugged. “What if this is the real me?”

The move ignited the frustration that had been simmering deep inside Gary’s gut. He brought his mouth down over hers. Sophie stiffened, but he pinned her to him.

When her lips softened beneath his and her body relaxed, he broke away and headed to the driver’s side, all the while ignoring how right it had felt to hold her again.

Sophie still stood where he’d left her, but turned slowly to face him, daggers firing from her dark brown gaze. “What the hell was that?”

“Just wanted to see what it would take to make that control of yours slip. I’d say mission accomplished.”




Without a Doubt

Kathleen Long







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




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


After a career spent spinning words for clients ranging from corporate CEOs to talking fruits and vegetables, Kathleen Long now finds great joy spinning a world of fictional characters, places and plots. She shares her life with her husband and their neurotic Sheltie, dividing her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found—hands on keyboard, bare toes in the sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that. Please visit www.kathleenlong.com for the latest contests, appearances and upcoming releases.




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Sophie Markham—When she spots a child who bears an uncanny resemblance to her deceased niece, she’ll stop at nothing to find out if the child might have survived, even if that means taking advantage of a former love.

Gary Barksdale—When Sophie Markham raises questions about his niece’s true identity, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect his family, even if that means going toe-to-toe with the woman he once thought he’d marry.

Ally Alexander—The adopted daughter of Maggie and Robert Alexander, and Gary’s niece, she’s the apple of her family’s eye. She’s also the spitting image of Sophie’s deceased niece. Is the likeness a coincidence, or much more?

Maggie Alexander—After SIDS claimed the life of her only child, she pursued every avenue to have a second child. But how far did she go to make her dream come true?

Robert Alexander—When he facilitated Ally’s adoption years before, did he follow the letter of the law? Or did he break the rules to provide his heartbroken wife with another child?

Trevor James—He’s become a legend in Philadelphia for providing life and career counseling to the rich and famous. Is he merely Maggie Alexander’s life coach, or does his influence go far deeper?

Rebecca Markham—Sophie’s sister died too young, after smoking in bed. Was her death a senseless tragedy or something far more sinister? Something no one ever suspected…until now.

Robin Markham—She was Rebecca’s infant daughter and Sophie’s beloved niece. Did she perish in the tragic house fire along with her mother as investigators claim?




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

Epilogue




Chapter One


Sophie Markham stood in the middle of the Hilton’s ballroom and stared into her past.

Looking at the child was like looking at a ghost—a vision of the young girl her sister had once been, many years before she’d perished in a senseless house fire.

Smoking in bed. Sophie blinked and shook her head. What a waste. She eyed the young girl again, watched how she interacted with her mother, the fund-raiser’s organizer.

If Rebecca’s infant daughter had survived the fire, she’d be about the same age. Five, Sophie guessed, though goodness knew she had so little experience with kids she wasn’t terribly gifted at guessing their age.

“Live in three, Sophie.” John Cook, WNJZ’s cameraman, spoke from just behind her left ear.

“Thanks.” Sophie wrenched her attention away from the young girl, smoothed the front of her designer suit and smiled at the camera. “Look okay?”

“Gorgeous as always.”

“I’m telling you, Cookie, if only you weren’t married.”

Cook, who was old enough to be her father, shot her a wink then tipped his head toward the event’s organizer, Maggie Alexander. “We’d better get set up.”

As Sophie crossed the room to where the girl’s mother stood, she couldn’t keep her focus away from the little girl. When the child’s gaze locked with hers, Sophie’s breath caught in her throat.

The little girl had the same chestnut-brown hair Becca had as a child, the same button nose. Sophie smiled at the way the girl’s pixie haircut framed her curious expression.

“Ally, Mommy’s got to talk to Ms. Markham now, so you’ll be a good girl, right?”

The child’s face softened into a huge grin revealing a wonderfully toothy smile, but as Ally turned to give her mother a quick nod, it was something entirely different that captured Sophie’s attention. It was a birthmark on the back of the girl’s neck in the shape of a perfect butterfly. A birthmark identical to the one Sophie’s niece, Robin, had been born with.

Sophie blinked, disbelief rushing through her. She never thought she’d see anything like the mark again.

Like a cruel glimpse into the past, the patch of discolored skin brought back memories of the night Becca and Robin had perished. What were the odds two children would have identical birthmarks? Apparently not as high as she might think, because there Ally Alexander stood, bearing Robin’s butterfly.

Robin. Who would have been the same age.

A wave of grief threatened to overtake Sophie’s emotions, but she shoved it away. Now wasn’t the time to let the past get the best of her.

“Sophie.” Cookie squeezed her elbow. “Thirty seconds. You all right?”

Sophie swallowed away the tightness in her throat and pasted on a smile, her expression nothing more than a reflex at this stage in her career. She compartmentalized the old grief, locking it inside the back of her brain as Cookie counted down on his fingers. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

“Sudden infant death syndrome,” Sophie began. “It takes the lives of 3,000 children in this country every year and yet it cannot be prevented or predicted.

“With me tonight is Maggie Alexander, chairperson of this year’s SIDS gala. Tonight’s carnival seeks to raise funds for local organizations that provide support services for area families who have suffered a loss. Organizers hope to spread awareness of the steps you can take to help reduce the risk of SIDS.”

She turned her cheek to the camera and gave Maggie a generous smile, hoping the woman would sound as competent and articulate in the interview as she had during their initial conversation. “Mrs. Alexander, this year’s attendance seems better than ever. Can you tell me a little bit about how tonight’s event can help our community?”

Maggie Alexander proceeded to concisely deliver what Sophie was certain must be a series of practiced talking points. The woman was effective in her comments and kept her tone conversational, without the visible nerves so many interviewees suffered as soon as Cookie turned on the camera light.

“Mrs. Alexander?”

“Please, call me Maggie.”

Sophie nodded and let her expression grow serious. “Maggie. If it’s not too personal, might I ask how you came to be involved with the program?”

Even though they’d discussed the question beforehand and Sophie knew Maggie was prepared for it, she felt like a heel invading the woman’s personal pain for the benefit of a story.

A shadow passed across Maggie Alexander’s face as she visibly swallowed. “Of course. Like so many of us active in raising funds and awareness to fight SIDS, my husband, Robert, and I lost a child. Our son.” She shot a knowing glance to where her husband stood holding Ally.

“I’m so sorry.”

Maggie forced a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Sophie reached out and gently placed her hand against the woman’s arm. “Thank you for caring enough to take action. You have my sympathy and my respect.”

She turned back to the camera. “And with the help of those in attendance tonight and our viewers at home, together we can work to better understand SIDS.”

Cookie extinguished the camera light and headed for his bag of gear.

Mrs. Alexander’s throat worked, and Sophie regretted opening the wound of the woman’s personal pain. After they said their goodbyes, Sophie turned to the door where Cookie stood waiting.

That’s when she saw him.

Another vision from her past. This one taller, darker, definitely male.

She hadn’t seen Gary Barksdale in seven years, yet the sight of him affected her senses much now as it had the first time she’d set eyes on him.

She’d been a junior at the University of Delaware, testing the waters at a tailgate party before a home football game. She’d always kept to herself, and the party had been a huge step out of her comfort zone.

Sophie remembered thinking she couldn’t decide whether her inability to breathe had been due to Gary, or due to some sort of antisocial panic attack.

Based on the current tightness in her chest, she’d put her money on Gary.

Gary Barksdale.

As if one ghost hadn’t been enough for the night.

He visibly flinched when he realized she’d spotted him watching her.

Their relationship had been brief but intense—overwhelming both of them with emotions too strong for a pair of college juniors. Sophie had broken things off when she’d realized she’d grown to need and want Gary’s presence. Of course, the fact he’d proposed had played a small role in the speed of her departure.

Sophie had once vowed never to need a man after watching her mother’s parade of losers. As much as she’d cared for Gary, she couldn’t afford to let him past her defenses then—or now.

He looked more solid than she remembered, not in the sense of physique, but in terms of his presence. He’d visibly matured, soft lines edging the corners of his mouth and the patch of skin between his brows, as if he’d spent too much time frowning.

The old, familiar flicker of attraction edged through her, causing her to fake a cough and momentarily glance away. The last thing she needed was for Gary to know she’d never quite gotten over him.

When she recovered from the shock of seeing him, Sophie closed the gap between them, ignoring the tiny voice that told her to run—as fast as she could—in the opposite direction. Seeing Gary was just what her emotions didn’t need on top of the memories of Becca and Robin.

The crooked grin she’d once dreamed about slid across Gary’s lips, dimpling one cheek.

“Sophie Markham.”

The rough notes of his voice sent a shiver up the back of her neck. Damn. After all these years, her nerve endings still snapped to attention at the sound of his voice.

“What brings you here?” One dark blond brow lifted.

Sophie narrowed her gaze. “Working.”

His grin spread into what appeared to be a sincere smile. “Kind of figured that out by the television camera and the microphone.” He tipped his chin toward her cobalt-blue suit. “Not to mention the getup. Far cry from those sweats you lived in at U of D.”

The heat of a blush fired in Sophie’s cheeks, and she turned away as if admiring the crowd. “Guess your investigative skills are sharp as always.”

“Apparently so.”

“Still with the Inquirer?” As if she didn’t know. She turned back to face him now that her warm embarrassment had left her face.

He nodded. “Thinking about making a move, actually.”

Sophie widened her eyes, asking the question silently.

“Los Angeles.” Gary shrugged. “I’d rather not jinx it by talking about it.”

“I never knew you were superstitious.”

His only response was a deepening of his tantalizing grin.

Sophie’s stomach clenched, but she ignored it. If Gary had plans to relocate cross-country, that gave her all the more reason to ignore any attraction that still lingered between them after all this time.

She redirected the conversation—and her thoughts—to work. Work was safe. Chitchat was not.

“So what brings the award-winning Gary Barksdale to a fund-raiser for SIDS?”

The words had no sooner left her lips than she wondered whether or not he’d lost a child. Good heavens. It had been so long since she’d seen him, he was probably married with a house full of kids by now. Some people actually developed lives after college.

Sophie wasn’t one of them. She’d developed one hell of a career, deciding the corporate fast track suited her much better than thoughts of family, or love.

Gary opened his mouth to answer her question, but Sophie interrupted. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I know a lot of attendees have lost a child. You don’t have to answer me.”

“No children.” Gary shook his head. “No wife.”

A traitorous note of relief whispered through Sophie’s veins, and she mentally chastised herself.

The decision to break off their relationship had been hers. She had no right to feel comforted by the fact he apparently hadn’t found anyone to take her place—yet.

“It was my nephew.” Gary let out a quick sigh. “Six years ago. Just about devastated our family.”

His words jolted her from her selfish thoughts.

His nephew.

Sophie reached out to touch his arm, but withdrew her fingers at the last moment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” He forced a smile that didn’t come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. “They say time heals, but I don’t think it ever does.”

“Do they have other children?” Sophie hated the thought of anyone losing a child, remembering the way the death of her niece had sliced her clean through. She couldn’t imagine how a parent would survive.

Gary nodded. “They didn’t then. Adam was their one and only. It took them a while to have him. After he died, they tried again, and then chose adoption.” He tipped his head across the room. “I don’t know where my sister would be today without her.”

Sophie followed his gaze to where Maggie Alexander and her daughter stood. Her heart caught.

“Maggie’s your sister?”

“If you hadn’t dumped me so fast in school, you might have met my family.”

Sophie knew she should respond to Gary’s dig, but she couldn’t convince her brain to focus on anything but the young girl standing across the room, clinging to her mother’s hand.

Ally Alexander.

Adopted.

Ally Alexander.

With a birthmark identical to her niece’s.

Was there a chance—any chance at all—that Robin had survived the fire? After all, the investigators had found no remains.

What if the little girl the Alexanders had adopted was Robin? Could it be possible?

No.

She was thinking crazy thoughts. If Robin had survived, Sophie would be raising her now. After all, she’d been named guardian by Becca the day Robin was born.

They’d never found any bones that had been identified as Robin’s. They’d blamed it on her young age and the intense heat of the fire that had burned out of control for over forty-five minutes.

“Soph? You okay?”

The old nickname jerked Sophie’s stare away from Ally Alexander and back to Gary.

A frown had replaced his grin.

Sophie gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m fine. I was just thinking what a lovely family they make.”

Gary reached out and wrapped his fingers around her elbow. Heat seared from the point of contact through the thick weave of her suit. “I was sorry to hear about your sister and your niece. I should have called.”

Sophie swallowed and shook her head, taking a backward step to free her arm from his touch. “It’s okay. Listen, I need to get going.” She nodded to where Cookie stood waiting for her at the exit door. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too.” Gary held out a hand and she shook it, extracting her fingers from his as quickly as she could.

“See you around.”

Sophie beat a path across the room and past Cookie, holding her breath until she exited into the cool October air.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Cookie said as he loaded his equipment into the station’s van.

Sophie reached for the passenger door and shot a glance back at the banquet room door. “Call me crazy, Cook, but I think I just saw two.”

SOPHIE MARKHAM.

Gary’s gut did a sideways roll as he watched the dark-haired beauty walk away. Seven years. Seven years and she still had the same effect on him she’d had when he’d first spotted her on the University of Delaware campus.

His thoughts quickly shifted from the first time he’d seen Sophie to the last. The day she’d walked out of his life with no explanation other than the fact she didn’t need a man.

Didn’t want a man.

Didn’t want him.

The warmth that had spread inside his chest as they’d spoken wavered, cooling to an icy chill.

He’d known their paths would cross at some point. How could they not? He wrote for the largest paper in Philadelphia and Sophie reported for the most popular station. Matter of fact, it was a miracle they hadn’t bumped into each other before.

“Uncle Gary!”

The shrill little voice cut through his thoughts and he turned to find his niece, Ally, racing toward him, her patent-leather shoes slapping against the ballroom floor.

He dropped to one knee and braced himself for impact. Ally did not disappoint, launching herself at him as her uninhibited giggle filled the air.

Gary caught her under the arms, giving her a quick squeeze then lifting her up off the floor. He planted a kiss against her rosy cheek. “What’s up, kiddo?”

All thoughts of Sophie Markham faded as he took in Ally’s toothy grin and the sprinkle of freckles that spread across her pert nose.

“Mommy’s giving a party.” She nodded, excitement pouring off her small frame. “And did you see the TV camera? Mommy’s famous.”

“Yes, she is.”

Gary surveyed the room. How his sister had managed to turn the banquet hall into what appeared to be a mini-carnival, he had no idea. Maggie always had been a genius at whatever she put her mind to, and once she’d devoted herself to raising money and awareness for SIDS research, she’d never looked back.

“There she is.” Ally pointed to where her mother stood, mixing and mingling like a pro. “Mommy!”

Ally’s voice rang out across the room and Maggie’s face instantly lit from within as her gaze settled on her daughter. As Maggie closed the gap between them, Gary realized, not for the first time, that he’d do anything to preserve the look of pure joy that painted his sister’s features whenever she looked at her daughter.

To say adopting Ally had saved Maggie’s life would be an understatement—at least as far as Gary was concerned. He’d feared for his sister during the terrible time after she’d found her son, Adam, dead in his crib. When sudden infant death syndrome had taken his nephew, it had also taken a very big piece of his sister and her husband, Robert.

Their unsuccessful attempts at pregnancy—including financially and physically exhausting fertility treatments—had wrung the couple emotionally dry.

Ally wiggled in Gary’s arms as her mother neared, and he lowered her to the floor. She took off like a shot, straight for Maggie.

Gary’s gaze fell to the small birthmark that couldn’t be a more perfect symbol of what Ally meant to all of them. A butterfly. A tiny, perfect, life-affirming butterfly.

The day she’d floated into their lives, Ally had saved each of them. She’d reawakened the light in his sister’s beautiful eyes—the eyes that measured him now.

“Saw you talking to Sophie Markham.” Maggie waggled her brows teasingly, her smooth blond hair swinging against her jawline as she tipped her chin. “She’s very pretty. And smart. Not sure you’re man enough for her.”

That, he already knew.

Gary forced a weak smile. “Been there. Done that.”

Maggie’s brows snapped together and she frowned. “When?”

“College.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “A few months.”

Her pale gaze widened. “Serious?”

He shook his head. “Apparently not as far as she was concerned.”

They’d grown adept at the art of concise conversations ever since Ally had become a parrot, repeating the last words of most every sentence she heard.

“Serious?” she mimicked her mother now, who gave her a quick squeeze.

Silence beat between Gary and his sister for a moment, then Maggie smiled.

“Well, I thought the woman had it all going on, but she’s obviously an idiot.”

“Idiot,” Ally repeated.

Maggie cringed.

“Thanks, sis.” Gary stepped close to his sister and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Trust me, it’s ancient history. Are you going to feed me or what?”

She shifted Ally to one hip and linked her arm through Gary’s. “Right this way, handsome.”

As they crossed to the spread of appetizers and desserts, Gary fought to center his attention on the two women who loved him—the one at his side and the mini-woman she cradled in her arms.

If he took the Los Angeles job, these two would be what he’d miss most. Any time he seriously considered the position, it was the thought of leaving his family that made him hesitate.

Sophie Markham, on the other hand, would be someone he’d gladly leave behind. Her image flickered across his mind’s eye, and his tightening gut belied his tough thoughts.

Sophie Markham—the one woman who had made it quite clear years before that she did not love him, nor would she ever.

He worked to shove her image away, but his efforts were futile.

Seeing Sophie tonight had done nothing but sharpen the image that had never been far from Gary’s mind since he’d seen her last.

Ancient history?

Not so far as his heart—and pride—were concerned.

But there was no need for anyone but him to ever know the truth.

SOPHIE RUFFLED THE LAYERS of her short hair and braced herself, flipping open the cover of the folder she’d filed away five years ago.

Immediately after Becca and Robin’s deaths, she’d pored over every news article that mentioned the fire. She’d hounded the local police and fire departments. She’d been a woman obsessed, dumbstruck by grief and emotional loss.

She drew in a deep breath and held it, unsure whether she was ready to open the door to that pain again.

Careless Smoking Claims Life of Mother and Infant Daughter.

The words cut through her cleaner than any knife ever could. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them open, willing herself to revisit that horrible night. Willing herself to reread every single word. Every note she’d made from her interviews of those at the scene.

Every word.

Somewhere here there might be a clue, might be something she’d missed. She couldn’t afford not to open herself to the old pain.

For five years, she’d accepted her sister and niece were gone. She’d accepted she was now alone, the last living Markham of her family tree. She’d given Becca and Robin a joint funeral befitting royalty, even though Robin’s casket had been empty.

The investigators had explained a fire as intense and long-burning as the one that had destroyed Becca’s home could have easily destroyed a baby’s body and bones. But what if someone had saved Robin from the flames?

What if?

The image of Ally Alexander’s unique birthmark flashed through Sophie’s mind, and she scrambled for the album she kept safely tucked in her nightstand drawer. Robin’s baby album.

She lifted the small object from the drawer, tracing a finger across the yellow duck that graced the cover. Sophie cracked open the treasured collection of snapshots and smiled down at the luminous face that met her gaze. The navy-blue eyes. The dark brown hair. The pert little nose.

Her throat tightened as she flipped through the images of her niece until she found what she’d been searching for. The close-up of Robin’s birthmark.

A perfect butterfly.

Sophie inhaled sharply, squinting at the photo.

Could two children possibly have such an identical mark? Of course, it might be possible. But Ally Alexander not only had the identical mark, she also had the same coloring and was similar in age to what Robin would be were she alive.

And she’d been adopted.

Was it possible?

Sophie swallowed hard, thinking of the series of articles Gary Barksdale had written for the Philadelphia Inquirer on the kidnapping and recovery of a local girl. The child had been six months old when she’d been kidnapped and four years old when she’d been reunited with her family.

He’d be the perfect person to help her sort through her suspicions and questions about identification, aside from the fact she’d be talking about his cherished niece.

Anxiety battled for its place among the tangle of emotions in her gut.

Gary Barksdale.

Seeing him tonight had been a reality check.

Since they’d split up, she’d worked with a vengeance, first at graduating college with top honors, then at landing a job with WNJZ.

She’d allowed herself to feel the pain, the joys and the triumphs of the stories she covered, yet she’d never let herself become close to anyone after her sister’s death.

Not a coworker. Not a friend. Not a lover.

Thoughts of the brief romance she’d shared with Gary rushed into her brain and she warmed instinctively. Her involvement with him had been heady, wonderful and foolish.

Breaking it off had been the smartest move she’d ever made. Watching her sister’s abusive relationship a short while later had convinced her she’d made the right move.

Once Robin had been born, Becca had wisely kicked out the man she’d been involved with— Robin’s father. He’d threatened violence on more than one occasion and after Becca had filed a restraining order—at Sophie’s urging—he’d thankfully disappeared from their lives.

Becca had moved back to the Philadelphia region, ready to make a fresh start with her gorgeous daughter. Sophie had been ready to do whatever her sister and niece needed. Anything.

Tears swam in her vision and she blinked them away.

Anything.

Then everything had changed, and the sister and niece who were her world were gone. Forever.

Or so she’d thought.

She might be grasping at the longest shot of her life, but she had to see it through. She owed that much to her sister’s memory.

Her reporter’s instinct wouldn’t rest until she fully explored the possibilities, and as much as she didn’t want to face the man again, she knew exactly where to start.




Chapter Two


Gary pulled open the door to the diner, pausing for a beat to gather himself. He’d been pushing an afternoon deadline when Sophie called. He’d asked her to give him an hour to finish up. He should have asked for two. Maybe then he could have cleaned up a bit.

He ran a hand up through his close-cropped hair then down over the stubble on his jaw, catching himself in the move.

So what if he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night? He hadn’t. The news came first. Sophie knew that. Hell, she lived the life as much as he did, only she had to do it live in front of millions of viewers.

She waved from a booth along the far wall of the quaint room and Gary couldn’t help but notice how slender she’d become—not that she’d ever been heavy—but back in the day, the woman had had curves. Serious curves.

He grinned to himself as he crossed the worn linoleum floor, picturing her long brown ponytail shoved up into a baseball cap, her U of D jersey tucked into a pair of tattered jeans, white high-top sneakers on her feet.

What a sight she’d been back then.

Sophie stood and extended her hand.

What a sight she was now.

Gary bypassed the handshake and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She blinked and a flush of color spread up her face.

She glanced down at the table, apparently waiting for him to slide into his side of the booth. Her close-cropped, dark hair feathered impeccably around the sharp angles of her cheekbones. Small diamond studs sparkled from each earlobe.

Her crisp white blouse looked as though it had been made for her, the seams perfectly hugging her slender shoulders, the sleeves falling smoothly to the shirt’s precise cuffs. A rich brown jacket lay folded on the bench seat next to her, a perfect match for the slim, classic skirt that sheathed her lean hips and thighs.

“I guess you’re wondering why I called.” Sophie’s voice cut through the visual inventory Gary had been taking.

He nodded. She was absolutely right. He was wondering why she’d called. Certainly it hadn’t been for old time’s sake.

Gary knew she had no interest in picking up where they’d left off seven years earlier. She’d made her feelings crystal clear when they’d parted ways, and Gary had no desire to set himself up for that kind of hurt again. Ever.

He inhaled deeply, shoving the old disappointment out of his head. He’d truly loved her back then, but her heart had been cold and sharp-edged when she’d walked away—as cold and sharp-edged as the rest of her body appeared now.

Maybe she’d done him a favor way back when. Since their breakup, he’d avoided personal entanglements, focusing on honing his reporting skills. His stories had progressively grown bigger and broader, and now he’d attracted the interest of the L.A. paper.

Not bad.

Gary dropped onto the bench seat and Sophie mirrored the move.

“What’s up?” he asked, realizing he’d taken far too long to speak.

Her throat worked, and she stared at him as if studying every line and shadow of his face. “It’s been a long time.”

Her voice was soft, bringing memories of the tender times they’d shared rushing back.

Gary nodded, but kept his features expressionless. “You’ve certainly changed.”

Her solemn features broke into a smile, and for an instant he flashed back on the younger, softer Sophie.

The skin around her eyes crinkled. “Can’t say the same for you.”

He glanced down at the creases in his denim shirt and the coffee stain on his rolled-up sleeve. He met her gaze and arched his brows, rubbing a hand across his day-old beard. “We don’t all have to be live at five.”

“I guess we don’t,” she said softly.

“Speaking of which—” Gary took a long sip of the coffee the waitress had poured into his cup “—don’t you have a broadcast to get ready for?”

Sophie nodded, then splayed her hands on the glass tabletop. “I’ve got a little time first. How about you?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Can you give me a half hour or so?”

He could. The question was whether or not he wanted to. “Sure,” he answered, wondering what the woman was up to.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Hernandez story.”

Even though he’d mulled over the possible reasons she might want to see him since her call, it was safe to say the Hernandez case hadn’t appeared anywhere on his mental list.

He narrowed his gaze, his curiosity beginning to percolate. “Go on.”

“How did they work the identification?”

It was a simple question. Too simple for someone like Sophie. She knew the ropes. Hell, she’d covered the story. Gary’s investigative nose began to itch.

“I thought you knew the case.”

“I do.” Her features brightened and she ran the fingers of one hand across the table. To the left, then to the right. To the left. To the right.

She stilled suddenly, catching herself in the nervous move.

“I want to hear it from you. Step by step. Just in case there’s anything I’ve forgotten.”

He frowned, not believing her motivation for a second. “Why?”

“I have a source who’s wondering about a child’s parentage.”

“A kidnapping?” He straightened now, wanting to know every detail.

Sophie shook her head and tucked her wispy brown hair behind her ears. “Not necessarily. Could be mistaken identity.”

He leaned forward, close enough that Sophie sat back, pressing herself against the padded bench seat.

“I’m not following you.”

She measured his expression, her eyes reading his face. She tipped her head and pressed her lips together, her stare never leaving his. “Off the record?”

Now she had his full attention. “Sure.”

“What if a child was presumed dead, but there might be a possibility that child was alive? Where would you start?”

Now Gary was the one who straightened against his seat. “What about the body?”

“No body.” Her features tensed.

Gary pursed his lips. “How?”

“Fire.”

The images crystallized in his mind. The black-and-white of the burned-out home. The photos of the mother and daughter who had perished in the blaze, the child’s remains obliterated by the heat of the inferno.

He’d heard rumor of how crazed Sophie had been after the deaths. Not that he could blame her, but did she really believe anyone could have survived? After five years, hadn’t she let go of the grief and moved on?

“You’re not talking about a source, are you?”

Her eyes widened, as if the fact he’d seen right through her surprised her. She shook her head.

“What brought this on?”

“I saw someone.”

The pain in her voice gripped at his gut and twisted. For a crazy moment, he longed to reach across the table and take her hands. Longed to pull her into his arms and smooth away her heartache. But seven years was a wide void to cover, and he had no intention of bridging that gap.

“Who?”

Sophie shook her head. “No names. Just help me.”

Help her? Words Gary thought he’d never hear uttered from Sophie’s gorgeous lips. She’d never let herself need anyone, had she?

“Please, Gary.” Her eyes pleaded with him now, eradicating any bitter feelings he still held for her. “Tell me where to start.”

And so he detailed every step of the Hernandez case. Every inch of the investigation, the identification, the reunion of the kidnapped child with her mother.

As he walked back toward his car, he found it impossible to quiet the whirling thoughts and questions racing through his brain.

Who had Sophie seen? When? Where?

What had sparked her reporter’s brain to question the validity of her niece’s death?

Then one thought silenced all of the rest.

She’d reached out to him. She’d asked for help.

Maybe Sophie’s sharp edges hadn’t won out yet after all.

“THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE these fluff pieces,” Cookie said as he drove the WNJZ van across town toward the Alexander home.

“It’s not a fluff piece.” Sophie wondered momentarily if her tone sounded as defensive as it felt. “The powers that be loved the profile angle.”

She glanced out the window, watching as the South Jersey scenery shifted from row house to duplex to suburban chic. “You have to admit Maggie Alexander is the perfect example of an everyday citizen who’s making a difference.”

“Her brother’s not bad either.”

Sophie cringed at her cameraman’s teasing tone. When would she learn never to confide in the man? She’d told him about her connection to Gary on the way back to the station after the fund-raiser. Cookie might be quiet behind the camera, but otherwise, look out.

“All I’m saying is that you could do a lot worse.”

Sophie traced her finger along the edge of the door handle. “I don’t want to do anything at all.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Can it.” She cut him off before he could launch into his standard lecture on love and family and security.

Sophie knew he meant well, but she didn’t need anyone to remind her of how alone she felt in the world, not that she had anyone but herself to blame. She’d had plenty of opportunities for romance. She’d merely chosen not to take them.

She’d watched her mother’s dependency on men spiral out of control during her childhood. After her father had deserted their family, her mother had bounced from one man to another—or rather, the men had bounced in and out of their lives.

No one had stayed around long enough for Sophie and Becca to grow attached. Thankfully.

After the two sisters had grown and left home, their mother had done the unthinkable. She’d taken her own life, choosing to leave this world rather than live alone.

Sophie shuttered her heart to the pain that threatened with the memory. She was not her mother, and she’d never allow herself to be that needy. Never.

As far as she was concerned, being alone was safe.

Being in love was not.

She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat just at the thought of being in love—at the thought of Gary. She’d seen the look in his eyes during their meeting, felt the question that had hung unspoken over their table.

Why?

Why had she hurt him? Why had she panicked and run when he’d told her he loved her, asked her to marry him?

Why?

She’d asked herself the same question countless times during the past seven years, but the answer had always been the same.

Needing him, loving him, wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

“Here we are.” Cookie pulled the news van to a stop in front of the Alexander home.

Sophie took a quick appraisal of the stately structure, noting the coordinated porch furniture and the oversize pots of flowering perennials still in full bloom, hanging on even though the chilly Philadelphia nights had begun to set in during the past few weeks.

As Sophie climbed the steps, the front door snapped open before she could press the doorbell. Ally Alexander smiled up at her, clutching a pink bunny rabbit in one hand and waving with the other.

“Hi. Mommy said you were coming to read a story.”

Maggie Alexander’s laugh rumbled down the hall from behind her daughter. “Do a story, sweetheart. Not read a story.”

She lovingly patted her daughter’s head then shook Sophie’s hand. “Welcome. We’re delighted for this opportunity.”

We?

Sophie’s unspoken question was answered before she could speak it out loud.

A handsome man stepped to Maggie’s side. Sophie squinted, racking her brain for recognition. She knew him from somewhere, but he was most definitely not Maggie’s husband, Robert. So who was he?

“Trevor James. Sophie Markham.” Maggie gestured between the two of them. “Trevor is my life coach, though he prefers the term personal adviser. Did you two get a chance to meet at the party?”

No, they hadn’t. But Sophie recognized him now. Life coach to the rich and famous of the Philadelphia region. The man had made quite a name for himself in the elite circle of the business and social sets. In recent months, his face had been on the news almost as much as her own had been.

Sophie extended her hand. “We didn’t, but it’s a pleasure to meet you now. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope.” James gave her hand a quick pump, but held her gaze a fraction of a second too long, sending a frisson of unease skittering across Sophie’s nerve endings.

“Naturally.” She freed her grip from his.

Tall and lean, he stood at least six foot three. His dark waves fell in a precise cut that Sophie found borderline artificial. He stepped back, allowing Sophie and Maggie to walk ahead of him.

As much as she told herself she was letting her imagination run amok, Sophie swore she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her skull. The tiny hairs at the base of her neck pricked to attention, and she fought the urge to reach back and smooth them.

In a matter of minutes, Cookie completed their setup and locked the necessary lighting into place. Sophie gave silent thanks, not wanting to make small talk with Trevor James any longer than she had to.

She’d lied when she’d thought she hadn’t let herself care for anyone since her breakup with Gary. Cookie’s friendship and grace under pressure were two things she’d be lost without, and she cared for him. Over the years, the gentle soul had become the father she’d never known.

He shot her a wink. “Ready when you are, Ms. Markham.”

She rolled her eyes at his use of formality, knowing he was the only one in the room who could see her, then she turned her attention to Maggie.

Trevor James sat at the woman’s side, his obviously practiced smile glued in place on his chiseled face.

Even though Sophie had done her best to gently suggest the piece would be more genuine if her life coach was not in the shot, Maggie had insisted.

An emotion shone in James’s icy eyes, an emotion Sophie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Smugness? Confidence? A certainty that he’d get his way no matter what?

She shook off her instinctive dislike of the man and began the interview. She’d no sooner begun than Ally popped into the living room, launching herself into her mother’s lap.

“Sorry.” Maggie gripped her daughter’s hand and marched her toward the kitchen. She returned a few moments later. “She’s just excited. If she stays with her coloring books, we’ll be safe.”

But no more than a few minutes passed before Ally repeated her performance.

Each time the girl appeared, Sophie found herself more and more distracted by the assuredness that had begun to settle into her bones.

Ally Alexander was her niece. Professional objectivity be damned. Robin had somehow survived the fire and had been adopted by the Alexanders.

As crazy as the theory sounded, Sophie’s gut knew she was right.

Her head knew.

Her heart knew.

And she’d do whatever it took to get her niece back.

She stifled the gasp that threatened to burst from her lips. Fought the urge to bundle the girl into her arms and bury her face in the baby-soft hair. She battled down her desire to press her lips to the butterfly birthmark, just as she’d done the day Robin had been born.

“Sophie.” Cookie’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Earth to Sophie.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, reaching for the notepad on her lap onto which she’d scribbled her interview questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” Maggie replied. “I’m afraid my daughter’s a bit wound up today. She doesn’t want to miss anything.”

Sophie tipped her head, listening to the sweet notes of Ally’s singing coming from the kitchen. “Would she like to watch us?”

Maggie’s expression brightened. “She’d love it, but I don’t know how we’d ever get her to sit still or be quiet.”

Sophie reached down into her bag and pulled out a rainbow-colored lollipop. She kept a bag of the sweet treats handy for occasions just like this one.

“I used to be a Girl Scout,” she teased. “Is she allowed to have this?”

“Always prepared.” Maggie nodded and took the offered treat, then called out to Ally. The young girl’s navy-blue eyes grew to the size of saucers as she spied the candy. “You have to sit still and be quiet. Can you do that?” Maggie asked.

Ally grew very serious, nodding her head as if the sight of the lollipop had put her into a trance.

A few moments later, she settled happily across the room, licking her treat and quietly watching her mother’s interview.

Sophie shut out the questions screaming through her mind and immersed herself in the task at hand. She methodically fired questions at Maggie and redirected the interview as necessary to gather enough statements and reactions to edit the final piece.

She was deep in the zone when Ally let out a squeal and dashed across the room to where a newcomer stood, wordlessly watching the scene before him.

Cookie cut the camera light and Sophie turned, her heart lodging in her throat at the sight of Ally bundled into Gary Barksdale’s arms. He’d shaved today and the dimples winking out from his cheeks reawakened long-dead memories of lazy afternoon walks and long talks that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning.

The mental pictures grabbed Sophie’s heart and squeezed.

She swallowed down the unwanted tangle of emotions and plastered on her most professional smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Gary said with a wink. “Thought you’d be done by now.”

WHEN MAGGIE HAD PHONED to let Gary know Sophie was on her way over to do a feature spot, he couldn’t resist watching. He knew his sister’s game, but so what? She had designs on putting him in close proximity with Sophie, no doubt wanting to rekindle the spark of what they’d once shared.

The diversion had fit perfectly into his day. His next piece wasn’t due until tomorrow, and after he’d spent the morning reviewing the photos and stories that had covered Rebecca and Robin Markham’s deaths, he had to admit Sophie might be on to something with her theory.

Seeing her again would give him a chance to dig more deeply into just what had awakened her suspicions.

At the time of the fire, the investigators’ determination that the absence of the child’s remains needn’t be questioned had been acceptable. But the case had been unprecedented. Shouldn’t that alone have raised a note of doubt?

The cause of the fire had been ruled accidental. Gary realized that point was crucial. Any sign of foul play would have raised a red flag, but there had been none.

End of story. Closed case.

Closed, at least, until Sophie’s questions had kicked his investigative brain into overdrive. The what-ifs had been rattling around inside his skull all day.

As he watched Sophie now, he took stock of how far she’d come with her career. He remembered the day she’d done her first live report for WNJZ. He’d watched every second, had followed her career from graduation forward. As much as he tried to deny it, Gary had always been sure of one thing.

For him, Sophie Markham would always be the one that got away. Hands down. No matter that she had broken his heart, he’d never been able to shake the depth of what they’d shared for however briefly they’d shared it.

Ally had begun to alternate between licking her lollipop and singing. Maggie shot Gary the evil eye and he smiled. He recognized that nonverbal cue. He held out his hand to his niece and tipped his chin toward the kitchen.

She smiled, tucked her tiny fingers into his hand and skipped all the way down the hall. Ah, the wonders of refined sugar.

Ally settled at the kitchen table and lost herself in her coloring books. Gary absentmindedly nodded encouragement as she showed him page after page of brightly colored scribbles. All the while, however, his brain clicked through everything Sophie had said at their meeting.

She’d seen someone.

So at some point in the recent past, Sophie had seen someone who looked enough like what she thought her niece would look like to raise her suspicions.

A child.

Ally bounced away from the table, having lost interest in her works of art. He watched as she danced around the kitchen, swinging her lollipop as if it were a magic wand, her short brown hair bouncing with the motion. Her blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

A child the right age and coloring.

Gary’s throat tightened as he flashed on the images of Robin Markham’s photos. The little girl who would have been five years old.

Just like Ally.

Gary had given Sophie step-by-step instructions on what to look for. Fingerprints. Bone structure. Eye color.

“Wanna lick, Uncle Gary?” Ally waved the lollipop in his face.

He shook his head. “No thanks, kiddo.”

“Miss Sophie gave it to me.” She gestured dramatically as if he didn’t know what he was missing. “It’s good.”

DNA.

The puzzle pieces flew into place.

Disbelief and fury tangled inside him as he turned away from Ally and headed back to where Sophie and Maggie were finishing up.

Sophie had met Ally at the fund-raiser, then she’d sought out Gary only because of his relation to his niece. Not because she’d needed him. She’d needed his connection. Furthermore she’d used him for information on how to ID a kidnapped child.

What a fool he’d been.

How typical of Sophie Markham to walk back into his life without so much as an apology or an explanation of the past. He should have known she had her own agenda.

Well, he had a news flash for the woman.

If Sophie thought she could use him against his own family, she had another think coming. And when she lifted her gaze to his, the look of surprise on her pretty features told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.




Chapter Three


Sophie straightened, willing herself not to wilt beneath the fury emanating from Gary’s gaze. He crooked his finger, and she turned to Maggie, pasting on a phony smile.

“You were wonderful. I’ll be sure to let you know when your segment’s going to air.” She tipped her head toward Gary. “I think your brother needs me for a moment.”

Maggie eyed her warily as she excused herself, and Sophie wondered just how much the woman knew about her and Gary’s shared past.

The question evaporated when she stepped into the kitchen and took in the sight of Gary, hands on hips, color blazing in his cheeks.

He gave Ally’s shoulder a pat and nodded toward the hall. “I think your mommy’s calling you.”

The little girl took off like a shot, leaving her lollipop glued to a page in her coloring book.

“Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

Gary’s words hit her like a slap, and she adopted a tone of indignation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she did. She knew in that instant exactly what he was talking about. The man wasn’t an award-winning journalist without reason. He’d put the pieces together and knew she’d been talking about Ally when she’d questioned him the day before.

“Do you want to start, or should I?”

Sophie flinched. “Why don’t you.” She wasn’t a fool. She could formulate her response as he spoke. No sense giving away any information he hadn’t already figured out.

“You spot my niece at the fund-raiser, learn she’s adopted, and decide—for whatever reason—she’s your niece.” He dropped his voice low and stood so close Sophie could feel the heat of his anger.

“Then you butter me up for a how-to on identifying a kidnapped child.” His voice cracked with emotion and he looked away momentarily.

“What do you think?” he continued. “Do you think my sister and brother-in-law stole your sister’s child?”

He gripped Sophie’s shoulders and gave her a quick shake. A whisper of anxiousness filtered through her. She knew he’d never hurt her. He wasn’t that type of man, but she’d never seen the depth of fury in his eyes she saw there now.

“Your niece is dead, Sophie,” he continued. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone. Forever. Stay away from my family.”

No, Sophie screamed silently. Robin wasn’t dead. She was in the next room singing to the woman who had adopted her.

Someone cleared his throat, and Sophie and Gary both turned quickly to spot Trevor James standing in the doorway. Instead of showing any concern over his intrusion, he instead wore an expression of annoyance, as if they were in his way.

He tipped his chin toward the refrigerator. “Need to grab one of my beverages.”

They both watched wordlessly as he crossed the room, opened the appliance door and took out a bottle of vitamin-enhanced water.

“Carry on,” he said glibly as he headed back out into the hall.

Gary’s eyes narrowed, focused on James’s back. “Pompous—”

“Look at her birthmark,” Sophie interrupted, forcing her voice through her throat, now tight with emotion. She kept her speaking volume low, not wanting to be overheard by the others down the hall. “Robin had an identical mark. Identical.”

The heat of her determination fired in her cheeks and she knew she’d lost all semblance of professional cool. She could care less.

“People can have similar birthmarks.” Gary dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her.

Sophie’s frustration soared, overwhelming her. She jammed her finger into his chest, flinching when he caught her hand in his fist.

“Not similar. Identical.” She pressed the point, refusing to be intimidated by anything Gary said or did.

“It’s impossible.” He leaned close, not letting go of her hand. “That little girl out there is the light of my sister’s life. She’s my niece. My niece.” He shook his head. “Not yours.”

Sophie wriggled her fingers free. “What if you’re wrong? Are you willing to live with not knowing? I know you, Gary. You live for the story. Live for the truth.

“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you can walk away from the possibility I may be right?”

Gary stood his ground, not giving her the satisfaction of so much as a blink.

Yet another male throat cleared and Sophie snapped her attention to the doorway. Cookie leaned against the doorjamb, the look on his face making it abundantly clear he’d heard every word.

Sophie grimaced. She could only hope their voices hadn’t carried to where Maggie and her daughter sat.

“I hate to interrupt,” Cook said. “We’ve got to go. Breaking story.”

Sophie welcomed the excuse to walk away from the argument, even though her anger had reached its boiling point. Blood roared in her ears, and she was certain her normally pale complexion was flush with color.

Gary reached for her arm as she passed, but she dodged his touch. “We’re not through discussing this,” he called after her, anger heavy in his voice.

Sophie paused at the doorway, turning back to pin him with her gaze. “That’s where you’re wrong. This discussion is most definitely over.”

But as she headed out of the house toward the van, she knew Gary would never let the topic drop that easily. He’d make contact again, and before he did she had better get her thoughts—and emotions—in check.

HOURS LATER, JOHN COOK PULLED the news van back into the WNJZ parking lot. Sophie didn’t know about the older man, but she was exhausted and hungry. Her head had been pounding ever since she’d left the Alexanders’ home, and spending seven hours covering a hostage situation hadn’t done much to ease her tension.

“Want to tell me about it?” Cookie asked.

“What? My headache?” Sophie rolled her neck, then massaged her pounding temples. She could feel Cook’s visual scrutiny, but she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d take a hint.

“Whatever you and Gary Barksdale were arguing about earlier.”

Apparently Cookie wasn’t going to let this one go without forcing the issue.

“Sounded pretty intense. Did I hear you mention Becca and Robin?”

Sophie spun on him, gracing him with one of her trademark glares. “How about if I give you a transcript? Would that ease your curiosity?”

Her venom didn’t make the man flinch, not in the least. He knew her too well, knew all of her acts of bravado were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

“Feel better?” He crooked a gray brow.

“No.” She slouched in her seat, regretting her inappropriate outburst. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Nope.” He shook his head and patted her arm. “I didn’t, but I’m glad I could be here to take the heat. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to use the wide-angle lens the next time I film you?”

It was his favorite threat, and it never failed to make Sophie smile.

“Anything but that.” She pulled herself upright in the seat and took a deep breath. “You have to give me your word you won’t tell a soul.”

Cookie nodded. “You know you don’t have to remind me of that.”

“You’re right.” Sophie swallowed before she continued. “Did you notice the Alexanders’ daughter?”

Cookie let loose with a chuckle that rumbled the windows of the van. “The whirlwind with the lollipop, the coloring books and the off-note singing?”

Sophie nodded. “I think she could be Robin.”

Cook blinked, then his eyes narrowed. Silence stretched between them. “How?”

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. He knew her well enough to know she’d have thought through every possible angle before making such a statement.

“You remember there were no remains, right?”

He nodded without saying a word, lines of concern etching the corners of his eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about her birthmark?”

Cookie shook his head.

“A butterfly,” Sophie continued. “A perfect butterfly.” She pointed to the nape of her neck. “Right here.”

“Just like the Alexander girl,” Cook said softly.

Sophie met his curious gaze and nodded. “And she’s five years old.”

“The same age Robin would be.”

“And she’s adopted.”

He gripped the steering wheel as if the news had thrown him off balance. “So you’ll pull the adoption records and take it from there?”

“Yeah.” Sophie blew out a tired sigh. “I will. I’m compelled to check this out. I have no choice.”

“What if it turns out she’s not your niece?”

“Then at least I’ll know for sure.” She breathed in deeply, realizing she wasn’t prepared for that possibility. She’d already decided she was right in her assumption.

“And if she is your niece?” His tone dropped low and intent. “Are you going to take her away from the only home she’s ever known?”

Sophie opened her mouth to answer, but then fell silent. She hadn’t really thought about the situation from that perspective. Bringing Robin home was going to be a long and difficult road. She could handle it, though. She had to. For Becca.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

“What if what’s right is leaving that girl where she is?”

Disbelief knotted in Sophie’s throat. John Cook was the last person she expected opposition from. “Whose side are you on, Cook?”

He patted her knee. “Yours, honey. You know that. I just want to make sure you’ve really thought this thing through before you do anything rash.” The gray brows met in a peak. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always.”

He gave her a quick wink. “Okay. Then let’s get you out of this van and on your way home. It’s been a long day.”

“I have to run in for a few things.” Sophie shrugged into her jacket as she stepped down from the van. “Want me to grab anything for you?”

“I’m good.” He shook his head and grinned. “I’m just going to straighten up here then head home. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“You got it.” Sophie paused for a split second, then stepped close and planted a kiss on his cheek.

His blush was evident even in the shadows of the dark parking lot. “What was that for?”

Sophie shrugged. “Just because.”

“You’re not getting soft on me are you?” His tone had taken on a teasing note. “I know how particular you are about keeping your cool.”

“Never.” She released a quick laugh as she hurried across the parking lot.

Getting soft? Not hardly.

She’d worked too hard for too long to earn her reputation as one cool reporter under fire.

But cool or not, right now she was emotionally wrung out, wanting only to gather a few personal items and put this day behind her.

HER PRODUCER HAD SIDETRACKED Sophie when she’d dashed inside to grab her date book. Now, fifteen minutes later, she was beyond exhaustion, ready for a hot bath, a glass of wine and sleep. Lots of sleep.

All worries about Gary Barksdale and Ally Alexander could wait until morning. She wasn’t capable of additional coherent thought tonight.

Forty-eight hours ago, her life had been status quo. Now her reality had been tilted on its axis.

If Ally was her niece, not only had Robin survived, but she’d been put up for adoption. By whom? And why? And if whoever had taken her had planned their actions, had the fire really been an accident?

She shook her head. She was overtired and letting her imagination get carried away.

She weaved between the parked cars in the lot and stopped dead in her tracks at the site of the van. The side door sat wide open, just as it had been when she’d said good-night to Cookie.

A shiver whispered down her spine, and she quickened her pace. What was taking him so long? Was something wrong with the truck? With Cookie?

She had her answer the second she got close enough to see into the van. Cookie lay sprawled across the equipment on the floor of the truck, one arm bent beneath him at an unnatural angle, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.

“Cook.” The word slid across her lips, barely audible.

Her heart lurched in her chest.

She scrambled into the van, checking for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when she found one—weak, but beating.

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you help.”

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, satisfying herself he was able to breathe on his own. She shrugged out of her jacket, bundled it on top of him, then dumped the contents of her purse to locate her cell phone, not wanting to leave his side long enough to reach the van’s two-way radio.

She hit the speed-dial button for 911. “WNJZ parking lot. We need help ASAP.”

But before the voice on the other end of the line could respond, something knocked the phone from Sophie’s hand. She twisted, raising her hands defensively, but she was too late.

Her assailant backhanded her across the side of her face, then hoisted her, kicking and screaming from the van.

The masked man pinned her to the asphalt, his knee in her chest. Her face throbbed from where he’d struck her, and her legs protested at the way they’d been twisted beneath her.

When he slapped a piece of heavy tape over her mouth, bile rose in her throat. Her only hope now was that help for Cookie would arrive in time to save her.

She fought to scramble to her feet, but felt the back of her attacker’s hand against her cheek again. This time when she fell, her attacker dragged her around the far side of the van, headed toward the deserted lot of the soon-to-be-demolished hotel next door.

She had to break free. Had to. All of her self-defense training screamed through her brain.

Don’t let him take you to a second location. Fight him. Fight him.

She kicked, working to free her feet from her pumps. Once the shoes fell away, she fought to hook a foot on a rock, in a hole, anything that might slow their forward progress.

Panic squeezed at her insides and she struggled to remain coherent.

Focus, Sophie. Focus.

If she lost control of her senses now, she might very well end up raped…or far worse.

Sirens sounded and Sophie dared hope she might survive—unless her attacker had dragged her so far out of sight the authorities would never find her.

Icy cold terror tangled with her panic.

What if no one looked for her?

She’d dumped her purse before she made the call. Anyone responding to the scene would know she’d been there. And her coworkers knew she’d never leave Cook alone and injured.

Cookie.

Her attacker tightened his grip, dragging her forcibly farther and farther away from the lot. She continued to wiggle and kick, doing her best to break free, to slow him down, to frustrate him.

Sophie’s heart twisted in her chest at the thought of Cookie injured and bleeding.

Determination welled inside her. She had to find a way out of this, had to find a way to escape.

Her assailant dropped her to the hard ground, and the back of her head connected with packed dirt.

The sirens grew nearer and he straightened, looking in both directions. When he bent down, putting his face near hers, she swung at him wildly, but he pinned her arms down effortlessly. She brought her knee up, hoping she’d hit his groin, but missing her mark.

Panic surged through her every muscle and nerve ending. How would she survive this? How would she escape? He was too big, too strong.

Just as she’d begun to accept her fate, he spoke.

“Consider this a warning.”

The cold edge of the man’s voice cut through the night air, freezing Sophie in mid-struggle.

“Next time, you won’t live to talk about it.”

He released his grip on her arms and Sophie struggled to sit up, to wriggle away.

This time, when his hand connected with her face and her head slammed against the hard dirt, Sophie’s vision faded.

Then turned to black.




Chapter Four


The whine grew louder and louder, nearer and nearer. Sophie struggled to open her eyes. She couldn’t shake the pitch-black and fought against it. Her eyelids felt as though someone had pasted them shut and her cheekbone felt as though it had been shattered into a million pieces.

“She’s coming around,” a female voice said, close.

A hand pressed against her arm and she tried to jerk away, but her body didn’t want to respond to her brain’s signal. She recognized the whine now, loud and piercing. A siren.

The metallic mix of fear and blood lingering in her mouth brought the memory of what had happened crashing back. She’d been attacked, and Cookie had been badly beaten.

She struggled against the hand holding her, wanting to get away, needing to get away.

“Settle down. You’re going to be fine.” The female voice spoke again. “Almost there.”

Sophie forced her eyes open. The woman was nothing more than a shadowy blur until Sophie managed a blink that brought her surroundings into focus.

The inside of an ambulance.

“How’s Cook?” She managed to push the words through her shock and pain.

The paramedic hesitated before she answered, and Sophie’s mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. “Is he—”

“He’s pretty banged up.” The paramedic gave a slight nod. “I’ll try to get an update for you once we get you settled inside.”

The vehicle jerked to a stop and the back doors flew open. The next several moments were a blur of voices, antiseptic smells and ceiling tiles whizzing past over Sophie’s head as they rushed her into the emergency room triage area.

She’d covered plenty of stories from outside these same doors, but this was the first time she’d had occasion to be the center of a medical team’s attention. She prayed it would be the last.

Her head felt as though it were about to explode and she closed her eyes, willing the pain to go away, but fighting to stay conscious. She wanted to be sharp enough to find out if Cookie was all right, to find out what had happened.

The masked face flashed through her memory and she shuddered. Why had they been attacked? And by whom?

Her mind wanted to leap from the table and chase the story, look at the evidence and piece together the facts, but she knew better. She was starting to feel everything now. Her battered face. Battered legs. Battered head.

Her mind might be up for the chase, but her body was a long way from cooperating.

GARY DIDN’T LOOK UP from the clippings on the Markham deaths when the shadow fell across his desk. He didn’t know who or what wanted something, but right now he didn’t give a damn about anything but proving Sophie Markham wrong.

There was no way in hell Ally was her deceased niece, Robin. No way.

“What?” he snarled.

“Another television-station attack.”




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