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Mystery Child
Shirlee McCoy


TO SAVE A CHILDIn the dark of night, Quinn Robertson is on the run with her little niece, desperate to bring the child to her biological father. All Quinn knows from her scared sister is that the girl is in terrible danger. And when a security and rescue specialist intercepts Quinn and claims he’s there to help her, she isn’t sure who to trust. According to Malone Henderson, Quinn’s niece was stolen away as a baby from her real father—the very man Quinn is trying to reach. As Quinn works with Malone to uncover the truth, someone is trying very hard to make sure certain secrets stay buried and father and daughter are never reunited.Mission: Rescue—No job is too dangerous for these fearless heroes.







TO SAVE A CHILD

In the dark of night, Quinn Robertson is on the run with her little niece, desperate to bring the child to her biological father. All Quinn knows from her scared sister is that the girl is in terrible danger. And when a security and rescue specialist intercepts Quinn and claims he’s there to help her, she isn’t sure who to trust. According to Malone Henderson, Quinn’s niece was stolen as a baby from her real father—the very man Quinn is trying to reach. As Quinn works with Malone to uncover the truth, someone is trying very hard to make sure certain secrets stay buried, and that father and daughter are never reunited.

Mission: Rescue—No job is too dangerous for these fearless heroes


Quinn needed to know the truth, and she needed to know her sister was safe.

“Everything okay in here?” a man said, the voice so unexpected Quinn jumped.

Malone stood on the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space.

“You scared a year off my life.”

“Sorry,” he said easily.

“It wouldn’t matter if I hadn’t already had ten years scared off back in the woods.”

He nodded, his expression hard. “Things could have gone really bad back there.”

“I know. If you and my brother hadn’t come along, they would have gotten Jubilee.”

“And killed you.” The words were so blunt, his voice gruff.

“They didn’t.”

“When did you notice them following you?”

When had she?

She remembered spotting the truck on her way through New York, seeing it again a few hours later in Pennsylvania. “They were following me for a couple hundred miles.”

“Seems odd that they were able to pick up your trail so far from home.”

She hadn’t thought about that. She’d been too busy trying to figure out how to escape them.


Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much SHIRLEE McCOY enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.


Mystery Child

Shirlee McCoy






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


I know that I will live to see the Lord’s goodness

in this present life. Trust in the Lord. Have faith,

do not despair. Trust in the Lord.

—Psalms 27:13–14


To my ever faithful God.

Who sees me in my weakest state and loves me anyway.


Contents

COVER (#uea68fbc4-b86f-568b-9033-4fe8954ad46d)

BACK COVER TEXT (#uf00376d6-629b-5309-9893-37734730c6ff)

INTRODUCTION (#u1092493a-1374-5392-9b8f-aa73d30878ab)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u7312526a-c0e8-5856-a54e-c82639c47ea9)

TITLE PAGE (#u73cb8579-1b9a-588c-8064-622854ce6ec4)

BIBLE VERSE (#u2a002c7d-8e9a-54ea-8213-823e98d10202)

DEDICATION (#u0107a348-4489-56c4-8472-d3c7d7c03887)

ONE (#ulink_a18833ca-2c90-5c01-89e1-4f774ec61c0e)

TWO (#ulink_0decf471-deb3-5954-b06c-2493a1c8bc38)

THREE (#ulink_bc600cdf-6f49-5f38-9c5b-8db3aeea32dd)

FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ulink_3fecbdf2-01f8-5904-88e0-821af560cda1)

They were coming.

She could hear them as clearly as she could hear her pulse pounding frantically in her ears. Feet crunching on dry leaves, clothing brushing against pine boughs, the sounds of pursuit ringing through the dark forest.

A twig snapped, and Quinn Robertson shrank deeper into the tree throw, her arms tight around her five-year-old niece. Jubilee didn’t speak, didn’t whimper or cry or beg for her mother. She hadn’t made a sound since they’d left Maine twelve hours ago.

Please, God, don’t let her make one now.

The prayer bubbled up, borne of desperation and just the tiniest bit of hope that it would be heard.

Please...

A light bounced over the thick tangle of roots that jutted up from the hole Quinn cowered in and swept toward the ridge she’d just run down. Tumbled down. She’d been terrified, and she hadn’t been careful. She was still terrified.

Had her brother, August, gotten her message?

Did he know how close she was to his house?

Did he realize she should already have arrived?

If she’d snagged her purse before she’d taken off, she could have texted to let him know she was in trouble, but she’d left it in the Jeep, her cell phone inside of it. There hadn’t been time to grab anything but Jubilee. By the time her niece was out of her booster seat, the car that had been following them, the car Quinn had pulled off the road to avoid, had made a U-turn and was heading back in their direction.

She’d run into the forest that lined the rutted country road. She’d had no other choice. Tabitha had entrusted Jubilee into her care. She’d begged Quinn to bring the little girl to her father in DC. Her real father. Not the man Tabitha was married to—the man who’d left bruises on Jubilee’s cheek, bruises on Tabitha’s throat. The one Quinn had known nothing about. She hadn’t known her sister was married. She’d had no idea Tabitha had a child. Five years had passed since she’d seen her sister face-to-face, and suddenly she was at Quinn’s door begging for help, her eye black, finger-sized bruises trailing down the column of her throat.

Quinn hadn’t hesitated. She’d agreed to do what Tabitha was asking. She probably would have agreed even if her sister had told her how much danger she might find herself in.

A lot of danger. More than she should be facing alone.

Quinn shuddered, holding her breath as someone raced past her hiding space. Jubilee lifted her head from Quinn’s shoulder, her long braids snagging on roots that jutted into the tree hole.

Please, don’t cry, Quinn wanted to say, but a light slid over their hiding spot, illuminating the darkness for a heartbeat of time.

Quinn eased deeper into the hole, the loamy scent of earth mixing with decaying leaves and rotting wood. Branches jabbed into her ribs and back, scraping skin off her shoulder as she pressed into the root system of the fallen tree.

A voice called out. Someone answered, footsteps pounding on the ground nearby. The hunters weren’t giving up. They were determined to find their prey.

Did they realize how close they were?

Could they hear the frantic pounding of Quinn’s heart? The quiet panting of Jubilee’s breath?

How long would it take for them to discover the fallen tree? The hole Quinn and Jubilee were cowering in? Long enough for August to find the Jeep? If he was out looking, if he’d gotten her message, if he realized she and Jubilee were in trouble, he could be there in minutes, but that was way too many “ifs” for Quinn’s peace of mind.

Leaves crackled, branches broke and Quinn could hear the loud gasping breaths of someone just feet away. She tensed, her arms tight around Jubilee. She had to protect her. She’d promised Tabitha that she would. Of course, at the time, she hadn’t realized she was putting herself at risk. Knowing the truth wouldn’t have changed anything. Quinn still would have agreed to Tabitha’s plan. Only she would have been much better prepared.

Instead, she’d blindly believed a sister she hadn’t seen in years and headed out with no weapon, no plan for protecting herself or Jubilee.

It will be easier to disappear if we’re separated. Take her to DC. Her biological father is there. Don’t call the police or contact anyone before you get there. My husband has money, and he knows people who would be happy to help him get me back. If Jarrod has to use Jubilee to do it, he will. The best thing for her, and for me, is for you to get her to DC. The kid deserves better than what she’s been getting. I guess maybe I do, too.

The kid...

Such a strange thing to call your own child. It should have been a clue that something wasn’t right, that maybe Tabitha wasn’t being completely honest.

Too late to worry about that now.

Quinn had to find a way out of the mess she was in. She scooted backward, the soft rustle of leaves making her freeze.

“Over here!” a man yelled, and Quinn bit back a scream.

She expected the roots that hid them from view to be pulled away, for a monster in the guise of a person to suddenly appear.

Jubilee’s arm snaked around Quinn’s neck, her fingers tangling in Quinn’s hair. The five-year-old was terrified, her body shaking, but she didn’t make a sound.

Good girl, Quinn wanted to say, but leaves crunched and twigs snapped, and she knew their pursuers were closing in. Two men? Three? She hadn’t gotten a good look. She’d been too busy sprinting through the trees.

Please, God, don’t let them find us.

Please.

The prayer whispered through her mind, a knee-jerk reaction to hard-core terror. She’d prayed like that before. The day after Cory’s brain cancer diagnosis, the weeks during his radiation and chemo treatments and at the end, when there’d been no hope, when Cory had been nothing but a shell of the man she’d married, she’d begged and pleaded and petitioned God.

Maybe He’d heard.

Maybe He hadn’t.

He hadn’t answered. Not in any way that had mattered.

Light splashed across the fallen oak, highlighting the giant tangle of roots that she and Jubilee had crawled beneath. She forced herself to stay still as the light found its way to the other side of the oak. The night went dark again, the woods silent and still. Leaves fell through the cracks in the root system, dirt raining down on Quinn’s head as someone moved past. Probably so close he could have reached in and grabbed Jubilee from Quinn’s arms.

She was stiff with fear, numb with it. She wanted to run and find another place to hide, but she didn’t know where the guy with the light had gone. There were no more shouts, no more pounding footsteps. Just the darkness, the silence and Jubilee’s arm around her neck.

In the distance, a car engine broke the silence, the sound growing closer with every passing second.

August?

If he’d gotten her message, he’d be out looking for her. She knew that. Just like she knew him. August was quick to plan and to act. He never hesitated. Not when it came to the people he loved.

That’s why she’d called him when she’d first realized she might be being followed. It’s why she’d listened when he’d told her to drive to his rural Maryland property. He’d promised to contact Jubilee’s father, have the guy meet them at August’s place.

It makes more sense than you driving to DC alone, Quinn, he’d said. If Tabitha is lying, you could be in a boatload of trouble for taking that kid out of Maine. The sooner you get her in her father’s hands, the better.

Not something she hadn’t thought about, but thinking about it hadn’t been enough to make her break the promise she’d made.

In for a penny. In for a pound.

That’s what Grandma Ruth had always said. No sense beginning something and not finishing it. At least not in her mind, and not in Quinn’s.

The car rumbled closer, the forest remaining silent. Not an animal moved, not a leaf rustled. The stillness terrified Quinn, the thought of someone lurking just out of sight made her pulse race. Jubilee shifted, the fabric of her dress swishing, the noise overly loud in the silence.

“Shhhh,” Quinn wanted to warn, but she didn’t dare make a sound. The car engine died, a door slammed and a long low whistle broke the silence. Somewhere in the distance, a man called out, his voice edged with panic. Feet pounded on dry leaves, branches snapped. Someone was running, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.

Was he calling off the hunt for Quinn and Jubilee?

Please, God...

Just that. She had nothing else, no profound prayer to offer, no bottomless well of hope. She’d used up every bit of faith she had when Cory was sick. Now, she planned for the worst, worked toward the best. She’d spent the past few years rebuilding her life, repaying medical bills that had piled up so high she hadn’t been sure she’d ever see the end of them. She’d worked full-time as a kindergarten teacher, part-time as a janitor. Sixty, seventy, eighty-hour workweeks, going home to the tiny efficiency apartment over Martha Graham’s bakery. She’d lived off ramen noodles and peanut-butter sandwiches. Two months ago, she’d finally paid the last medical bill. Now she was building her savings, looking down the road to a time when she could purchase a little house a few blocks away from Echo Lake.

If she survived tonight.

If a dozen things that could go wrong didn’t.

Another car door slammed, the sound reverberating through the forest. Tires squealed and an engine roared. Then, the world went silent again.

Quinn waited until her legs were numb, her arms stiff, before she moved. She waited until a night owl called from a nearby branch and a small animal scurried through the tree’s exposed roots. Finally, she eased out into the cool night air, Jubilee still clinging to her neck.

Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, dappling the leaves with gold. She glanced up the ridge she’d barreled down. Her Jeep wasn’t far from the top, parked in the small clearing she’d veered into when she’d realized the black SUV she’d spotted on the interstate had followed her onto the narrow road that led to August’s house. She could walk back to the Jeep, but she didn’t trust that the men who’d been following her were gone. Sure, she’d heard a vehicle drive away, but she’d also heard one arrive. Maybe it had been August, or maybe it had been someone else. Someone who wanted to get his hands on Jubilee?

Quinn couldn’t take chances with the little girl’s life.

She’d have to walk through the woods until she reached August’s property. She hefted Jubilee onto her hip, pried the little girl’s fingers from her neck.

“Just a little looser, sweetheart,” she murmured. “If I pass out from lack of oxygen, we’ll both be in trouble.”

Jubilee didn’t respond, but her gaze darted from Quinn to the ridge.

Her silent watchfulness wasn’t normal five-year-old behavior. Quinn worked with kids every day, had been teaching for years, knew exactly how most children Jubilee’s age would act. Typical five-year-olds didn’t stay quiet during long road trips. They didn’t stay quiet when they were scared or hurt, either. Of course, this wasn’t a typical situation. Quinn couldn’t really expect Jubilee to act in a typical way. Maybe she would start talking once she was reunited with her father. Daniel Boone Anderson. The name was scrawled across the sealed manila envelope that Tabitha had thrust into Quinn’s hands. Beneath that, an address and phone number had been printed neatly next to the word HEART. Jubilee’s father. His work address and phone number.

That’s all Tabitha had said about the envelope.

The envelope that Quinn had promised not to open. The one she’d left tucked under the driver’s-side floor mat in the Jeep.

A soft sound drifted through the darkness. Not leaves crackling or twigs snapping. Just a whisper of something that shouldn’t be there. A shifting in the air, a soft sigh.

Quinn froze, her arms tightening around Jubilee as she scanned the darkness. Nothing but shadowy trees and bushes, but the night had gone quiet again.

Was someone moving along the ridge? A dark figure darting through the trees?

She turned and barreled into a hard chest.

She screamed, the sound ripping from her throat as she tried to run. Someone snagged her shirt, dragged her back. She screamed again, Jubilee’s terrified howls mixing with hers.

A hard hand slapped over her mouth.

“Shhhhh!” a man hissed, but there was no way she planned to go quietly. She slammed her head into his chest, tried to knock him off balance. If she could loosen his grip, she and Jubilee might have a chance to escape.

* * *

Having a head shoved into his solar plexus wasn’t exactly how Malone Henderson had planned to spend the first morning of his vacation. A couple of eggs, buttered toast, some canoeing on Deep Creek Lake—that had been the plan.

A wiggling, squirming, head-butting woman was not.

Neither was a screaming kid.

He pulled the woman up against his chest, tightening his grip just enough to keep her from slamming her head into his chest again.

“Enough,” he said. “You want whoever ran you off the road to find us?”

The woman mumbled something against his palm. The kid shrieked even louder.

This was definitely not what he’d had in mind when he’d left HEART headquarters the previous day, fought his way through Beltway traffic and headed to the tiny vacation rental that he’d planned to spend seven very quiet days and nights enjoying.

“With how loudly the kid is screaming,” he said, hoping that reason would win out over terror and that Quinn Robertson would calm down enough to calm down the kid, “your brother isn’t going to need me to call in our location. He’ll find his way here all on his own. So will whoever else happens to be hanging out in these woods.”

Quinn stilled, all the fight seeping out of her.

The kid was another story. She sounded like one of the baby hogs Malone’s grandfather had kept on their Tennessee farm, squealing frantically for her mother.

Only Quinn wasn’t this kid’s mother.

If Malone’s boss Chance Miller was right, August McConnell’s other sister, Tabitha, wasn’t the little girl’s mother, either. Her mother was Boone Anderson’s deceased wife. Boone was the kid’s father, and five years of searching, five years of hoping and praying that the infant Boone’s wife had stolen away from him would be returned, had finally ended. Boone would have what he’d been praying for. He’d have his child back. Everyone at HEART was focused on making sure that nothing went wrong, that the little girl who might be Boone’s would arrive in DC safely.

If Boone hadn’t been on the way home from a hostage rescue mission in Turkey, he’d have been the one hanging onto Quinn Robertson listening to the kid scream. Boone had been notified of his daughter’s supposed return. He’d be stateside in thirty hours. Until he returned, Malone and Chance were taking responsibility for the child. There’d be lots of questions, lots of police and FBI involvement.

And Malone was going to be in the middle of it all until Chance arrived from DC. Another two hours maybe. That’s what Chance had said when he’d called to ask Malone to drive to August McConnell’s place. It had seemed like an easy enough thing to do. Malone was taking his vacation in a cabin not too far from McConnell’s property. All he had to do was wait around until Chance arrived.

Of course, things were never as easy as they were supposed to be. At least not in Malone’s experience.

And, this?

It was proving to be pretty complicated.

He eased his hand from Quinn’s mouth, took a step away. He hadn’t meant to scare her or the child. He’d been working out of an abundance of caution, making sure that the person crawling out from the roots of an old tree wasn’t armed and dangerous. He and August had found Quinn’s abandoned Jeep, they’d heard men moving through the forest, they’d assumed trouble. Doing that was a whole lot better than winding up dead.

“No more screaming, kid,” he said quietly.

“Telling her that isn’t going to make her stop,” Quinn muttered, taking a step back and then another. If she kept going, she’d fall into the hole he’d watched her climb out of.

“And running from me isn’t going to keep you safe,” he responded, snagging her elbow as her foot slipped between thick roots. The tree throw had been a good hiding place. He’d give her that, but she should have stayed put until her brother arrived, and she knew she was safe.

“Watch it,” he cautioned, pulling her away from the roots. “We don’t want to end our first meeting on a bad note.”

“We sure began it on a bad note. Where’s August?” she asked, shrugging away, her arms still tight around the little girl.

“Probably hiding until the kid stops shrieking.”

“She wouldn’t be screaming, if you hadn’t terrified her.” There was no heat in her words, no fear. For someone who’d been run off the road and chased through the woods, she seemed calm.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure who was coming up out of that hole, and I didn’t want to be shot before I figured it out.”

She nodded, her attention on the girl. “It’s okay, Jubilee. Everything is going to be fine.”

She smoothed thick braids that fell over the kid’s shoulders.

Red braids?

It was too dark to see, but Boone’s little girl had red hair. At least, she had when she was a baby. Malone had seen the photo in Boone’s office, sitting right next to the one of his new wife and their children.

“Hush,” Quinn murmured against the girl’s hair, and to Malone’s surprise, the kid pressed her lips together and stopped screaming, the abrupt silence thick and heavy.

He glanced around, eyeing the shadowy trees and the heavy undergrowth. Anyone could be hiding there, and all it would take was one bullet to take Quinn or the little girl out. If that was the perp’s goal. If not, Malone would be the target. Take him out. Grab the kid. Get out before August arrived.

“Let’s go.” He took Quinn’s arm, leading her toward the ridge and the Jeep that was parked at the top of it.

“August—”

“Is smart enough to figure out that we’re not going to wait out in the open for him to show,” he cut her off, digging into his coat pocket and pulling out the little pack of chocolate candies he always kept there. Years ago, he’d used them to bribe his siblings and cousins. Now, he used them to comfort scared kids. A necessity, because he wasn’t like Boone or Chance or Chance’s brother Jackson. He didn’t have the ability to look kind or easygoing or harmless. Most kids took one look at Malone’s face and were terrified. According to his coworker Stella Silverstone, that wasn’t because of his scar. It was because of his scowl. One he apparently wore all the time. The candy might not make that any easier on the eyes, but it sure helped get cooperation from kids. That went a long way when he was trying to get them out of dangerous situations.

“You hungry, Kendal?” he asked, holding the little packet out to her.

“Her name is Jubilee,” Quinn said.

“Not if she’s Boone Anderson’s daughter, it isn’t,” he responded, smiling as the kid took the candy from his hand.

“Even if she’s his daughter, her name is Jubilee. That’s what she goes by. It’s what she knows. Forcing her to respond to something else would just be cruel.”

“Okay. Jubilee it is.” It wasn’t his battle to fight, and he wasn’t concerned one way or another with the kid’s name. What he was concerned about was getting her to Boone alive.

That shouldn’t have been a problem.

Chance had assured him that the job would be easy. Meet August McConnell at his house, wait with Quinn Robertson and the little girl she was traveling with until Chance arrived. Go back to his vacation.

Piece of cake.

Only, of course, it wasn’t.

That was a lot worse for Jubilee than it was for Malone. He could vacation anytime. He had plenty of leave saved and plenty of freedom to go when and where he wanted. Jubilee deserved better than this, though. He planned to make sure she got it. He’d spent too many years helping raise his four siblings and six cousins to want to spend much time with kids now, but he wasn’t going to let a child be hurt or scared without doing something about it.

Maybe that’s why he loved his job so much. He got to effect change in the lives of kids like Jubilee all the time. As a matter of fact, half the cases he’d worked for HEART involved kids who were being used, abused or held hostage. It seemed as though that was the way of the world—the innocent were often the most ill-used.

God was still in control, that’s what Granddad Cooper had always said. Granddad had been a preacher. He’d also been caregiver to a houseful of kids. All of them left orphaned when their parents died in a multivehicle car wreck outside of Reedville, Tennessee. That wreck had cost Granddad Cooper his two oldest sons and their wives, but it hadn’t cost him his faith. He’d held fast to that through the next twenty-some years of trying to raise eleven kids.

Malone probably could have learned a thing or two from that. If he’d ever slowed down enough to think about it.

He frowned, eyeing the top of the ridge.

The silence was bothering him. A lot. So was the fact that August hadn’t shown up. With all the screaming Jubilee had done, Malone would have expected a guy like August to come running. He had ex-marine written all over him—quiet, gruff and not too keen on strangers showing up in the darkest hours of the morning. Not surprising. Chance had done a background check before he’d called Malone. According to him, August had served in the Marine Corps until three years ago. He’d taken a medical discharge, then, and had worked private security ever since.

Malone had spent forty minutes with the guy, and he could say for certain that August didn’t do patience, he didn’t believe in waiting and he’d never hold back when he could be taking action.

Unless something kept him from doing it.

Or someone.

Malone didn’t believe in leaving anyone behind, but he couldn’t risk Quinn and Jubilee’s lives. He’d bring them back to August’s place. Once he made sure they were secure there, he’d return for August.

What he wouldn’t do was the expected.

Quinn’s Jeep and August’s vehicle were at the top of the ridge. If someone wanted to stage an ambush, that would be the place to do it.

“Change of plans,” he said, taking Jubilee from Quinn’s arms. “We’re going to walk to your brother’s place.”

“I can carry her.” Quinn reached for Jubilee.

“That will slow us down.”

“I ran through the woods with her in my arms. I think I can manage a short hike.”

“You can, but is it the safest option?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jubilee was screaming like a banshee, and your brother didn’t show up. That could be because he was a good distance away and wasn’t sure what direction the screams were coming from, or it could be because someone stopped him.” He didn’t hold back, didn’t have time to soften his answer.

“That’s not a pleasant thought.”

“No. It’s not. Neither is the thought of you carrying Jubilee if some guy comes charging after us. She’s little but so are you, and it will be a lot easier for me to run with her than for you to.”

“I prefer petite to little,” Quinn muttered, moving beside him as he followed the ridgeline. She took two strides for every one of his, her small frame drowning in an oversize sweatshirt.

“If you’re dead,” he responded bluntly, “I guess that won’t matter.”

She didn’t respond.

He guessed she’d gotten the point.

Stella would have had a field day reaming him out for his less-than-delicate approach. Fortunately, she wasn’t there. Something was going on, and until Malone knew what it was, he didn’t have time to waste playing nice.

He jogged through the trees, the kid’s long braids slapping his shoulders and face. She had a bruise on her cheek. He could see the dark smudge of it against her pale skin. He thought there were freckles on her nose, too.

Freckles and red hair?

He didn’t ask Quinn. No talking. As little noise as possible. Every cell in his body focused on getting them out of the woods and to safety.

Up ahead, a shadow moved through the trees. Silent, barely visible in the darkness. Malone reached for Quinn’s hand, yanked her behind a huge evergreen.

“What—?”

He pressed his finger to her lips, gestured for her to be quiet. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then, furtive steps. The hunter on the prowl. He handed Jubilee to Quinn, pressed them both deeper into the pine needles.

“Stay here until I come back for you,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear, the words more breath than sound.

She nodded her understanding, and then he slid back into the forest, heading for the shadowy figure that was stalking them.


TWO (#ulink_2dd5b813-272f-5a2e-9860-deb313a3f92d)

Quinn had never liked horror movies. Right at the moment, she felt as if she were living in one. Only this wasn’t a movie. This was real-life terror. This was her alone in the woods with an innocent life depending on her. She didn’t know where the guy had gone. She didn’t even know what his name was. All she knew was that he’d told her to stay put until he returned.

From where?

That’s what she needed to know.

Had he seen something?

Heard something?

How long should she wait?

Ten minutes?

Twenty?

Jubilee’s head rested on her shoulder, her hand lax against Quinn’s bicep. She was exhausted, of course. Probably terrified, too. She’d been left with a stranger, carted hundreds of miles away from her home, and now she was in the dark woods waiting for something horrible to happen.

Quinn wanted to ease out from behind the tree and creep through the woods until she found her brother’s house. She was afraid, though, terrified of making a mistake. If Cory were here, he’d know what to do. A deputy sheriff in Echo Lake, he’d always known exactly what every situation required. He wasn’t there, though, and Quinn would have to figure this out on her own.

Somewhere beyond the tree, leaves crackled. She waited, expecting to hear men’s voices, a shouted warning. Fist against flesh. Something. Anything.

She heard nothing but that soft crackling sound.

She edged back until she was wedged between pine boughs, the sharp, tangy scent of broken needles filling her nose. Jubilee had gone still, one hand clutching the little bag of chocolate candy she’d been given, the other clutching a fistful of Quinn’s jacket.

She still hadn’t spoken, but those screams? They’d probably stay with Quinn for the rest of her life. They’d been the sound of profound terror. No child should ever have to feel that. She shifted her grip on Jubilee, listening for any sign that August’s friend was returning. Friend? Maybe. Quinn had no idea who the guy really was. He hadn’t introduced himself, and she hadn’t thought to ask how he knew her brother. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, either. She had noticed the scar that bisected his cheek, though. If she’d met him before, she’d have remembered that.

Jubilee shoved against her arms, trying to wiggle down. Quinn held tight. No way was she putting the child down, but August’s friend had been right about one thing—running with a five-year-old in her arms wasn’t going to be easy. Quinn had her mother Alison’s build—small-boned, short, thin. Her sprint from the Jeep had been fed by adrenaline. Now, she felt tired, her arms aching, her legs trembling. Still, she wanted to run. She just wasn’t sure what direction to go.

They couldn’t stay there forever.

Eventually, the night would pass, day would dawn, and they’d be sitting ducks, waiting to be spotted by whoever was after them.

Tabitha’s husband?

It was the only thing that made sense. Quinn had no enemies. She barely had any friends. Funny how people pulled away during times of grief. Strange how those that she’d been closest to seemed to have drifted the furthest after Cory was buried. Or maybe she’d been the one to drift away, separating herself out from the pack of happy, successful couples that she and Cory had once gone bowling with, camped with, biked and hiked with.

She shook the memories away, ducked beneath the pine boughs and stepped out of the shadow of the tree. She had to move or she’d be frozen forever, too terrified to do anything but wait for someone to find her.

Jubilee stared at her through eyes made dark by fatigue. Wisps of hair had escaped the braids they’d been plaited into. A few long strands straggled across her neck and curled up to touch the bruise on her cheek.

Poor kid. She hadn’t slept much during the long drive. She’d just sat in her booster, staring out the window. She hadn’t spoken, but she’d responded to questions with nods or shakes of her head. Obviously, she had a good receptive vocabulary. There was no doubt that she’d understood everything Tabitha had said to Quinn. She knew she was going to DC to see her biological father. Had she met Daniel Boone Anderson before? That was something Quinn should have asked, but she’d been too shocked by Tabitha’s sudden appearance to think straight.

A light flashed to the right. There. Gone. Someone searching through the woods, and whoever it was had probably heard Quinn shuffling through the dead pine needles and fallen leaves.

Quinn didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare go back to the tree or duck into another hole. They’d find her this time. She was certain of it.

She sprinted into a thicket, brambles and branches tearing at her hair and snagging the comfortable yoga pants she’d worn for the ride.

She barely felt it.

Keep going. That’s all she could think about. Run as fast as you can.

Jubilee’s weight slowed Quinn down, but she pushed through the other side of the thicket, dodging through trees. Her foot caught on roots that snaked out of the ground, and she fell hard, skidding on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching Jubilee.

A man stepped out in front of her, appearing so quickly, she thought she must be imagining the dark form.

He moved toward her and she scrambled up.

“I have a gun,” she lied, her voice shaking.

“No, you don’t. You’re a pacifist to the core,” the man responded, his voice so familiar, she wanted to cry with relief.

“August?”

“Yeah, and you’re lucky it is. Didn’t Malone tell you to stay hidden?” he responded.

“Not exactly,” she hedged.

“Exactly,” a man said, his voice coming from behind Quinn. “I told you to stay put until I got back.”

“I decided I’d be safer heading to my brother’s place.”

“Your brother was the one I saw walking through the trees. If you’d given me half a minute to check things out, you could have saved us all some time.”

“I gave you more than half a minute.”

“Learn a little patience. It might save your life one day,” he retorted, his eyes blazing through the darkness.

“How about we discuss this at my place?” August cut in. “I’ll feel a whole lot better about everything once we’re not standing in the woods making it easy for any sniper who happens to be skulking around.”

A sniper?

That wasn’t something Quinn wanted to think about.

She shuddered, clutching Jubilee a little tighter.

“I agree,” Malone said. “I don’t know about you, McConnell, but I’m not liking the way things are playing out.”

“You want to walk or go back to my SUV?” August asked. The fact that he was asking surprised Quinn. August had been doing his own thing and going his own way for as long as she could remember. He’d joined the marines at eighteen, been discharged honorably five years later. Now he worked private security, traveling around the country doing work for a high-profile security firm. He didn’t ask anyone for advice, and he never seemed to need help.

“It’s your call. You know the area better than I do,” the guy responded. Malone? That’s what August had called him. Maybe they were old military buddies. Quinn would have to ask. After they got out of the woods.

“Let’s walk to my place. I’ll come back for the SUV after law enforcement gets here.”

“You called the police?” Quinn had promised Tabitha that she wouldn’t. She’d kept that promise the same way she’d kept so many others. She was big on that. Keeping promises. Mostly because her father had never kept his. Not to her mother. Not to her. Not to any of his children, friends or relatives.

Danner McConnell had been a conman. A liar. Sometimes even a thief. He’d been charming, too. Funny. Always at every dance recital or school performance. He’d liked people, and people had liked him, but he’d never made a promise he hadn’t broken. He’d never sacrificed anything for his family. He’d died of a massive heart attack Quinn’s senior year of high school. She’d been sad, and she’d been relieved. For the first time in nearly three decades, Quinn’s mother had been free to live her life happily. No husband scheming and jostling to get whatever he could from whomever he could. No explanations needed for money borrowed and never repaid, tools taken and not returned. The jovial, sweet guy who’d mowed the lawn for the neighbor and cheered from every audience was what Quinn tried to remember, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t quite forget all the promises broken and all the nights she’d heard her mom crying in her room.

“I called the police when I found your Jeep. The door was open, the keys were in the ignition and you were gone. The police seemed like a good idea,” August replied as they walked back the way Quinn had just come. Apparently, she hadn’t been sprinting toward his house. Who knew where she and Jubilee would have ended up if August and Malone hadn’t stopped them.

“I guess they were, but Tabitha—”

“Is just like our father was. You know it. I know it. She’s a liar, a thief, a con woman.”

“Was those things. People change.”

“Some people change,” he grumbled. “Our sister isn’t one of them.”

“Jubilee is her daughter,” Quinn retorted. “How about you have a little respect for that?”

To his credit, August didn’t say another word about Tabitha. “Sometimes we have to break promises to keep our word, Quinn,” he said instead. “You’re going to have to tell the police everything she told you.”

“I can’t do that. Tabitha said—”

“A promise isn’t a good one to keep if it gets you killed,” Malone broke in, lifting Jubilee from her arms. “Whatever she said, whatever she told you, doesn’t matter in light of the fact that you’ve been followed here. The more the police know, the easier it will be for them to figure out what’s going on.”

He was right. She knew it, so she kept her mouth shut, and trudged behind August, Malone right beside her. Jubilee seemed comfortable enough in his arms, her head resting against his chest, the candy still clutched in her hand.

She’d felt heavy, but Quinn knew she was small for her age. Probably an inch shorter than the smallest kid in Quinn’s kindergarten class. Someone had painted her fingernails pink with tiny flowers in the middle of each nail. She had a pretty diamond and gold necklace that Quinn thought was the real deal, a beautiful coat that had probably been purchased at some fancy designer shop, patent leather shoes, and the look of a child who had been given just about anything and everything she wanted.

Except for the bruise.

That was the one discordant note in an otherwise perfect picture, and it made Quinn’s heart ache. To have everything you wanted and nothing that mattered? That was the cruelest irony of all.

The faint sound of sirens drifted from somewhere in the distance, the local police responding to August’s call.

Or the state police?

Either way, the promise Quinn had made Tabitha had been broken. There was no way to undo that, and Quinn didn’t know if she’d have wanted to. Despite what she’d said to August, she knew Tabitha had looked her square in the eye and lied.

There’s nothing to worry about, Quinn. You’re not breaking any laws, and my husband couldn’t care less about Jubilee. Not his kid. Not his concern. It’s me that he wants. Plus, he’s got no idea that I came here. Vegas is far away, and he doesn’t know I have a sister in Maine.

Maybe not, but he’d figured it out, and Quinn was sure her sister had known he would. Tabitha had been edgy and anxious when she’d stood on Quinn’s doorstep. She’d refused to go inside, refused coffee, tea, food. She’d kissed Jubilee once, told her to be the best girl she could and taken off before Quinn could ask questions.

It had all happened fast, and Quinn knew that was purposeful, knew that her sister was protecting herself more than she was protecting her daughter. She had to have understood just how easily her husband could find her and Jubilee. She should have warned Quinn. She should have told her to be prepared for anything. Instead, she’d smoothed things out, made them nicer than they were.

Just like August had said—she was like their father.

Her daughter could have died because of it.

Her daughter...

Malone had called Jubilee by a different name.

Kaitlyn? Kendal?

Quinn had been too terrified to really listen to what he was saying. She needed to ask more questions, she needed to get some answers. First, though, she needed to get to August’s house and away from whoever might still be lurking in the woods.

* * *

They made quick time, heading east on a path August led them to. It wouldn’t take long to get back to the ranch-style house that stood in the middle of acres of corn fields and pastures. That was good, because Malone didn’t like the feeling he was getting. Trouble. It seemed to pulse around them, mixing with the howling of sirens and the soft rustle of leaves and pad of feet.

“Where’d you tell the police to meet us?” he asked. “If they’re at the Jeep, you might want to call and let them know we’re heading toward your place.”

“I gave them my address. They’ll be there when we arrive.”

“Do you think they’ll take Ju...” Quinn’s voice trailed off. She must have realized it wasn’t a good question to ask in front of the five-year-old. The kid had already been through a lot. She’d been thrust into the arms a stranger, driven from Maine to Maryland. Everything she’d known, everyone who was familiar, was gone.

She didn’t cry, though. Didn’t complain. Didn’t ask for Quinn, her mother or her father. She just rested her head against Malone’s chest, the bag of candy he’d given her hanging from her hand.

Odd. Maybe even a little alarming. Most of the kids he brought out of traumatic situations wanted the familiar, begged for whomever it was they were closest to. This kid didn’t seem as if she wanted anyone or anything. Except, maybe, to be left alone.

If she really was Boone’s daughter, he’d have his work cut out for him. Building a bond with a child who didn’t seem to have bonded with anyone wasn’t going to be easy.

Then again, maybe she had bonded. Maybe she was in shock or so terrified she was afraid to speak.

He patted her narrow shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, kid,” he said, and she looked square in his eyes. For just a second, just enough time to make his pulse jump, he saw Boone in her face. Something about the tilt of her eyes, the freckles that were definitely on her nose. It was enough to make him want to put her in his SUV and drive her straight to HEART headquarters, keep her safe there until Boone arrived.

He couldn’t. Not without getting into a boatload of trouble with the local PD and with Chance. Malone’s boss liked to play by the rules. He liked to do things by the book. He did not like to get on the bad side of law enforcement.

They trekked up a small hill, pushing through thick foliage. Despite her short stature, Quinn kept up, her pale face and panting breaths the only sign that she was wearing down.

“You doing okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Dandy,” she panted, the response almost making him smile.

“I hope you feel that way when we get to the house,” August grumbled. “You could go to jail, sis. You could be charged with kidnapping. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t kidnap Jubilee. Tabitha asked me to bring her to her father.”

“Tabitha. Right.” The disgust in August’s voice was obvious.

Malone didn’t question it.

He didn’t want any part in family drama.

He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. He loved his siblings and his cousins, and he hadn’t minded helping to raise them, but he’d done his time, and now he enjoyed the freedom that came with being single.

Most of the time he enjoyed it.

Lately, he’d been a little tired of returning to his empty apartment, sitting up late at night, dozens of memories filling his head. He had his demons. A man couldn’t do the kind of work Malone did without them. Some days, he wished that he had someone to fight them with.

That was the truth.

One he didn’t like to admit even to himself.

“Tabitha really has changed,” Quinn whispered as if somehow that would keep Jubilee from hearing.

August snorted.

“She has!”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you’re sitting at the local sheriff’s office explaining why you’ve transported a missing child across state lines.”

“What are you talking about, August? I did what her mother asked me to do.”

“If this little girl is Daniel Boone Anderson’s daughter, then Tabitha is not her mother. I’ve done a little research while I was waiting. Anderson’s daughter was kidnapped by his former wife.”

Jubilee stiffened, her muscles going taut, her little hands pushing against Malone’s chest. She might not be saying a word, but she understood everything they were talking about, and it was upsetting her.

“That’s enough, McConnell,” Malone said quietly. He didn’t want to scare the little girl more than she’d already been.

August didn’t get the hint. He just kept talking. “Nothing to say to that, sis? You’ve always been quick to defend people. Even people who don’t deserve it. Tabitha is not just a thief and a liar. She’s a kidn—”

“I said,” Malone cut in, “that’s enough.”

“Not nearly,” August replied.

“How about you stop thinking about your vendetta against your sister long enough to consider the kid’s feelings?” Malone growled.

That shut August up.

Up ahead, blue-and-white lights flashed through the trees, the tinny sound of a police radio drifting on the chilly night air.

“Looks like they’re there,” August said. “I’ll run ahead and fill them in.”

He sprinted forward, and Quinn muttered something Malone couldn’t hear.

“What’s that?” he asked, glancing in her direction. Strobe lights splashed across her face. There were scrapes on her neck and on her cheeks. Probably from hiding in the tree throw and running through the woods.

“Nothing I want to repeat in front of Jubilee.” She took the little girl from his arms, hugged her tight. “Everything is going to be okay, sweetie. I know it will be.”

She couldn’t know it. Not with any certainty. Life played out the way it did. God did what He would. All they could really do was trust that He had things in control.

Malone didn’t correct her.

There wasn’t any sense in that.

Besides, Jubilee deserved a little comfort before she got handed over to more strangers.

And then to Boone?

Malone hoped so. That was the goal. Get her back to her biological father.

If she was Boone’s kid.

One way or another, the police would figure things out. Before they did, they’d probably hand Jubilee over to Child Protective Services. Which was a shame, because Boone wouldn’t be in-country for another...Malone glanced at his watch...twenty-nine and a half hours. He’d want to see the girl as soon as he arrived. That might be difficult if CPS secreted her away.

Still...

If she was Boone’s kid?

That would be something.

Everyone who worked for HEART knew how long and hard Boone had hunted for his daughter. She’d disappeared while he’d been overseas, serving his country. His first wife had joined a cult and taken their newborn baby with her. By the time Boone returned to the States, everything he’d thought he’d had was gone—his wife, kid, money. All of it had gone to the cult.

He’d hired a lawyer, petitioned for custody, but his wife had gone so deep into the cult it had been difficult to find her. She’d died of a drug overdose a few months later, their daughter taken by members of the cult. Despite the efforts of police and FBI, she’d never been found.

Eventually the case had gone cold, but Boone hadn’t given up. Even after he’d married again, he’d kept looking.

If this was his daughter, all those years of believing she’d eventually be found, all those years of following dead-end leads, tracking down friends of friends of his deceased wife, would pay off. All that hope that Boone had held out, all the belief and faith he’d poured into the search? It would be worth it.

That would be nice to see.

Malone considered himself a cynic, a little rough-edged and definitely more logical than emotional, but even he liked a good story and a happy ending.

If Jubilee was Boone’s little girl, that would be the kind of happy ending everyone at HEART worked for. A coup for the entire team; and something that would be celebrated by everyone.

If...

The story Quinn had told her brother didn’t jive with what Malone knew. According to Quinn, the five-year-old had been living with a real estate broker named Jarrod Williams. If he had any ties to the cult Boone’s first wife had joined, Chance hadn’t been able to find it.

A little more time would bring everything to light. It usually did. For now, they had to keep track of Jubilee, make certain that she didn’t disappear again, and convince the police that she really could be Boone’s child.

He glanced at Quinn again, her small frame drowning in the oversize sweatshirt, her hair just brushing its collar. If she hadn’t called her brother, if she hadn’t told him when to expect her, she might still be hiding from the men who’d followed her from Maine.

Or worse.

She might be dead.

They’d have to make sure she stayed safe, too.

They?

He was on vacation.

As soon as Chance showed up, he was going back to it.

Until he showed up, though, Malone would stick around. He always completed his missions. This time would be no different. He just hoped that finishing it didn’t mean sticking around for days or weeks. That seemed to be the way things went—he agreed to help for a few hours and ended up helping for a lot longer.

He pushed through a thick stand of trees, stepping off the path and into a small field that butted up against a wide well-manicured yard. The small ranch house August lived in was just ahead, the glow of the porch light faded beneath the onslaught of emergency lights. Three police cars were parked in the driveway, and two officers stood on the porch, talking to August.

“Looks like this is it,” Quinn said so quietly he almost didn’t hear. Then she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and marched toward them.


THREE (#ulink_de835aa6-1285-5ea0-bc3d-eb6b6a07738a)

No record of Tabitha McConnell ever giving birth.

No adoption records.

No evidence that there is any connection between Jubilee and your sister.

The words spilled out of the mouth of the stunning brunette who sat across the table from Quinn. Flawless skin, beautiful tailored suit, Special Agent Veronica Spellings looked like a model and acted exactly like what she was—a federal investigator. She’d arrived an hour ago, and she’d been all business ever since. Questions. Jotted notes. Sympathetic looks mixed with a few raised eyebrows.

“Take a look at this,” she said, sliding a paper across August’s kitchen table, her dark eyes devoid of emotion. She had short nails and long fingers, the diamond ring that glinted on her left hand almost gaudy in comparison to the woman’s conservative suit.

Quinn lifted the paper, eyeing the colored photo of a pretty blonde, a tall red-haired man and an infant. The woman held the baby as though she wasn’t quite comfortable with it, her smile a little forced. She had dark circles under her eyes and the look of someone who was deeply unhappy. Beside her, the man stood grinning at the camera. His hand cupped the woman’s shoulder, and the joy in his face was undeniable.

“That’s Megan and Daniel Boone Anderson, and their daughter, Kendal. The picture was taken a month before Megan and Kendal disappeared. Megan died a few months later. Kendal has been missing ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

“That was five years ago. The baby would be Jubilee’s age now. Mr. Anderson has moved on, of course. He has a family. Children, but he’s still desperate to find his daughter. He’s never stopped looking for her.” Agent Spellings eyed Quinn expectantly.

Quinn knew she was supposed to respond. Maybe with a gasp or a denial—No way! The baby in the picture isn’t Jubilee.

She couldn’t deny what she didn’t know, though.

She wanted to believe Tabitha, but the evidence Agent Spellings had laid out was undeniable. Up until Tabitha had moved to Nevada a year and a half ago, she hadn’t had a child. Friends at her old apartment had never seen her with a little girl. Her coworkers hadn’t ever heard her speak about being a mother.

The FBI had moved fast, gathering information a lot more quickly than Quinn ever could have, and the information indicated that Tabitha had lied.

Quinn couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t brush it under the carpet and pretend it didn’t exist. But, she wouldn’t regret the decision she’d made, either. Jubilee deserved to be with someone who loved her, who had been desperately seeking her for years. If she was Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, she deserved to be part of his family.

“I’m sorry for what happened, but I don’t know anything about it.” She fingered the photo before sliding it back across August’s kitchen table. She and Agent Spellings had been left alone in the room, a half dozen police officers and two other agents vacating the kitchen and escorting August and Malone out with them. A CPS caseworker had arrived and taken Jubilee into another part of the house.

Hopefully, she hadn’t taken the little girl away.

Jubilee might not be her niece, but Quinn felt responsible for her.

“You’re sorry, but do you understand the ramifications of what you and your sister have done?”

“Of course, I understand, but I had no reason to doubt my sister’s story.”

“Except that you hadn’t seen her in years,” Agent Spellings pointed out.

“She’s family.” That was it. All Quinn was going to say. If she needed a lawyer, she’d get one. Right now, she just wanted to be done and go home.

“I understand. I have sisters, too. I know how deep the bond can run.” Agent Spellings sighed. “You’re not in any trouble with us, Quinn, but we would like to speak with your sister.”

“If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.”

“I hope so.” The agent switched gears, pulled something out of a briefcase. “We found this in your car.” Agent Spellings set a manila envelope on the table, Tabitha’s handwriting scrawled across the front. It had been sealed when Quinn fled the SUV. Now the flap was open.

“Tabitha gave it to me.”

“And you didn’t open it?”

“She asked me not to.”

Agent Spellings raised a dark eyebrow. Obviously, she doubted Quinn’s answer.

“She asked me to give it to Jubilee’s father,” Quinn continued, her tone a little more defensive than she wanted it to be.

“I would have been curious enough to open it,” Agent Spellings countered. “Most people would have done the same.”

“I’m not most people. Jubilee’s father’s contact information was on the envelope. I didn’t have any need to see what was inside of it, and I had no reason to doubt my sister’s word.”

Agent Spellings snorted, the first time she’d done anything that was less than professional. “Of course you did. Your sister is as much of a con artist as your father was.”

It was a low blow, and one Quinn wasn’t expecting. Obviously, Jubilee and Tabitha weren’t the only ones the FBI had been investigating.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she hedged, not sure where the conversation was going but certain she wasn’t going to like it.

“Did you really think she wasn’t conning you, Quinn? That she didn’t know you were going to become bait? A way of getting whoever was after her off her tail?”

“All I know is that she was dead serious when she said she was afraid of her husband. She wasn’t conning me when she said he’d kill her when he found her.”

“Believing people we love is a lot easier than realizing we’ve been fooled and used by them.”

“I’m not a fool, Agent Spellings. Living with my father taught me how to know a lie from the truth.”

Agent Spellings sighed. “Then, maybe she was afraid but maybe it was because she took thousands of dollars from her husband’s bank account and stole a small fortune worth of family jewelry from his wall safe.”

“Who told you she did that?”

“A police report was filed in Las Vegas last night. We’re trying to get in touch with your sister’s husband now. He flew out of town on business a few hours after he filed the report.”

“Convenient,” Quinn muttered, but she felt exactly like what Agent Spellings had implied she was—tricked, duped, used.

“The trip had been scheduled for months, Quinn. As a matter of fact, your sister’s husband was supposed to leave yesterday morning. His flight was delayed, then canceled. He booked a second flight out late last night. I’m sure your sister wasn’t anticipating him coming home so soon and discovering what she’d stolen.”

“Has it occurred to you that she took what she did, because she was terrified, and she needed a way to start a new life?”

“Even if that was true—” and based on the way Agent Spellings looked when she said it, she didn’t think it was “—there’s no reasonable or acceptable excuse for committing a crime. I’m sure you know that, Quinn.”

She did, but she didn’t think Agent Spellings expected a response, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Like I said,” Agent Spellings continued, “you’re not in any kind of trouble. We know you were doing a favor for your sister, and we know that you had no idea the child you were transporting wasn’t hers. If you’d opened the envelope your sister gave you, you might have realized that before you traveled six hundred miles.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope, slid it toward Quinn. “This is Kendal Grace Anderson’s birth certificate. The original.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage, the official document sitting in front of her all the evidence she needed that Tabitha had had no business taking Jubilee anywhere.

“Your sister lied to you, Quinn. Jubilee was never her child. I’m sorry about that, but you can help us find out how Tabitha ended up with someone else’s child, and you can help us figure out how this document got into her hands.”

“And help send my sister to prison, right? That’s what you’re asking me to do,” she said, the words tasting like dust on her tongue.

“If your sister kidnapped a child, then she’s sent herself to prison.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t feel guilty about helping us with the investigation. Mr. Anderson has every right to know whether or not Jubilee is his. If she is, he has every right to know how she ended up in your sister’s custody.”

“I’ve told you everything I know. I gave one of the responding police officers Tabitha’s cell phone number. I told him where Tabitha said she was going.”

“Florida, right?”

“Yes.”

“She told you she booked a flight?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve checked the airports. She didn’t have a ticket.”

Another lie. They were piling up, and there was nothing Quinn could do but accept it. “I wish I had more information. I’ve told you everything I know.”

“If you think of anything else, let me know. If she contacts you, I need to know immediately. We’re trying to trace her cell phone.”

“Okay.”

“Sit tight,” Agent Spelling said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She walked out of the room, and Quinn was left alone, the soft tick of a clock and the quiet murmur of voices background music to the wild thumping of her heart.

She had been lied to.

She’d believed the lie.

She could toss in the towel, admit that her sister was a kidnapper, a thief, a con artist, and maybe those things really were true. But Tabitha had been terrified. There’d been no doubt about that. She’d been bruised, too. A faded black eye, a healing cut on her lip.

Quinn should have called the police the minute Tabitha told her that her husband and caused the marks, but Tabitha had begged her not to. Too dangerous. Her husband was too well connected. He knew people in high places.

Had it all been a lie to cover Tabitha’s crimes?

Given Tabitha’s history, it was an easy thing to believe, but Quinn didn’t believe it.

She’d seen terror in her sister’s eyes.

She couldn’t discount it. She wouldn’t.

Family first. That’s what her mother had taught Quinn. Always. Husband, kids. They’d all been a priority to Alison McConnell. Everyone first. Alison last. The stress of that had made Alison age well before she should have.

Quinn grabbed the cup of coffee her brother had poured an hour ago, surprised by the direction of her thoughts. Her mother had been gone for a decade. Her death had been the catalyst that had spurred Quinn to get her teaching degree. That had always been Alison’s dream—to teach children, but she’d put it on hold to marry and raise her children. Quinn had loved her mother for that. Her father? She’d tried.

She took a sip of cold coffee, wiped a splotch of condensation from the mug. She knew what her mother would want her to do, would expect her to do. Go back to Echo Lake, retrace her steps, try to figure out where Tabitha had gone. Alison would want Quinn to find out the truth about her sister, and then she’d want her to help her sister make things right.

Because Quinn had always been the sibling who followed the rules, did things the right way, tried to make everyone happy. She’d do it again this time. She owed her mother—for all the love she’d given her, for the money she’d set aside in a savings account for Quinn’s college. She owed her for teaching her the value of faith and the importance of love, because if Quinn had only had her father as an example, she’d have learned that people were there to be used, that family was there as a cover for criminal activity.

Even if she hadn’t owed her mother, she’d have gone looking for Tabitha. She needed to know the truth, and she needed to know her sister was safe.

She carried the coffee to the sink and poured it out. She needed to get her Jeep, get her purse, head back home.

“Everything okay in here?” a man said, the voice so unexpected she jumped, whirling toward the doorway.

Malone stood on the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space, the scar on his face deep red-purple.

“You scared a year off my life.”

“Sorry,” he said easily.

“It wouldn’t matter so much if I hadn’t already had ten years scared off back in the woods.”

“Sorry about that, too.” He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Not quite black, but close. And he didn’t smile. Not even a hint of it.

“You probably saved my life, so I guess an apology isn’t necessary.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping from her face to the bright pink t-shirt she’d chosen for the trip. Dozens of little hand prints were splattered across it in various colors. A Christmas gift from last year’s kindergarten class. On anyone else, it would have been fine, but it made Quinn look even younger than she already did.

“I’m a teacher,” she said, tugging her sweatshirt closed, her cheeks hot.

“I know.”

“The kids gave me this shirt last year.”

“No explanation necessary.”

“I wasn’t explaining.”

“Actually,” he said, something that might have been humor gleaming in his eyes, “you were.”

“Okay. I was. Agent Spellings just finished interrogating me. I’m a little frazzled.”

“She’d probably prefer to refer to it as an interview.”

“Whatever it was, I’m frazzled.”

“You shouldn’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve got nothing to hide. You’ve got no reason to be worried about speaking with law enforcement.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Did she say anything else?” he asked, and she knew there was something specific he wanted to know. Maybe about Jubilee and her biological father.

“She said a lot of things. Most of them were about my sister and not very flattering.”

“I’d apologize, but your sister has done a pretty good job of making herself look bad.”

“I know.”

“Did Agent Spellings ask when you realized you were being followed?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Is this your version of an interrogation?”

“I prefer to refer to it as an interview,” he said, and she almost laughed.

Almost.

Except there was nothing to laugh about.

Her sister was in trouble.

She was in trouble.

Jubilee’s entire life was about to be turned upside down.

“As far as I know, they started following me right before I hit New York.”

“You’re sure they didn’t follow you from home?”

“Agent Spellings asked me that, too, and I gave her the same answer I’ll give you—I’m sure. I would have noticed if they’d started following me earlier. There’s not much between Echo Lake and Boston.”

“It seems odd that they were able to pick up your trail so far from home, don’t you think?”

She hadn’t thought. Not about that, and Agent Spellings hadn’t mentioned it. She’d been too busy asking questions about Tabitha’s life. Questions Quinn hadn’t been able to answer.

“I guess it is.”

“It makes me think that someone besides Tabitha knew her plans.”

“No way. She was scared out of her mind. She wouldn’t have told anyone anything.”

“Not a friend? A lover?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”

“You’re not sure, Quinn. We both know it.” He said it kindly, but she heard the accusation in his words the same way she’d heard them in Agent Spellings’.

“You’re right. I’m not. My sister and I hadn’t spoken in years. I sent her Christmas cards and birthday cards and hoped they’d be forwarded to whatever place she’d moved to. I never got anything in response. I didn’t even know if she had my address. Then, she showed up on my doorstep, terrified. Was I supposed to turn her away?”

“No. You weren’t,” he said simply. “She was terrified of her husband, right?”

“Yes. She said he would be following her, trying to get her back. She also said he wouldn’t care about Jubilee.”

“I guess that wasn’t the truth.”

“There were a lot of things she said that weren’t the truth.” She didn’t want to discuss them, though. Not until she could wrap her mind around what her sister had done. Taken a child that wasn’t hers or her husbands? If that were the truth, how had Jubilee ended up in Las Vegas with them?

“Have you seen Jubilee?” She changed the subject, because that was easier than discussing her sister’s mistakes.

“She’s back in one of the bedrooms with a couple of CPS workers. I tried to get in, but it was a no-go. They’ve got her guarded tighter than Fort Knox.”

“When will her father be here?”

“Boone? Not for another twenty-something hours. If he’s her father. We haven’t established that yet. I’m hoping you can help me out, though.”

“How?”

“I heard a couple of the CPS workers talking about a birth certificate. Have you seen it?” There was no emotion in his voice, none on his face, but she could feel the energy in him, could sense his tension.

This was what he’d come into the kitchen to find out, and she had no reason to keep the truth from him. “Yes. It was in the envelope my sister gave me.”

He stilled, his dark eyes spearing into hers. “You got a good look at it?”

“I saw her father’s name and her mother’s.”

“And?”

“Your friend was listed as her biological father. Which matches with what my sister told me.” The one truth among the many lies.

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I’m not happy about any of this. The FBI seems to think Tabitha has been keeping a missing child for years. She may end up in jail and poor Jubilee—”

“Will be back with her father. Where she belongs.”

“It is a rough thing for a child to be pulled away from everything she knows.”

“It is just as rough a thing for a man to be without his child for five years,” he responded.

“If she’s his child.” But, she really didn’t doubt that Jubilee was.

“I saw her when we walked in the house. She looks just like him. A prettier, younger, cuter version, but just like him.” He grabbed a mug from a small stack near the coffeemaker. Small scars crisscrossed his knuckles, thin white lines against his tan skin. They were nothing like the scar on his face. That one was thick and jagged, stretching from the corner of his eye to his jaw.

“And there’s the birth certificate,” she said more to herself than to him. How had Tabitha gotten her hands on it? If Jubilee wasn’t Daniel Boone Anderson’s child, why had Tabitha asked her to bring the little girl to him?

“There’s that, too. Wonder where your sister got it.” His voice had gone quiet, his eyes suddenly cold and hard.

“I don’t know.”

“I may just have to see if I can find her. Boone deserves the truth.”

“So does everyone else, but you’re just going to have to join the crowd of people hoping to get it, because I have nothing else to offer.”

“Except that you’re the one person your sister has contacted since she left Las Vegas.”

“There’s that,” she murmured, grabbing a clean coffee cup and filling it with hot liquid. She took a sip. It tasted like sawdust and disappointment.

* * *

This was what Malone had been hoping to hear. A birth certificate with Boone’s name on it. It was the kind of thing that he’d been looking for. Not just a red-haired child with freckles and blue eyes. A document that linked that child with Boone.

He needed to track down Special Agent Spellings and confirm that the birth certificate was legit, then he’d call Chance. His boss had left DC nearly three hours ago. He’d be arriving soon, but this wasn’t the kind of news that Malone wanted to hold on to. The sooner they could confirm the birth certificate, the sooner they could start the process of petitioning CPS to run DNA tests. Five years was a long time to wait to be reunited with a loved one. He didn’t want Boone to have to wait even an hour longer.

Once he got the information about the birth certificate, he was going to do a little digging, see if he could figure out where Tabitha had gone. He wanted to talk to her.

So did a host of other people. Quinn was right about that. She was wrong about her sister, though. Tabitha had known exactly what she was getting Quinn into.

He was pretty certain that Quinn realized it now.

Too little, too late.

She was staring into her coffee cup as if she could find the mysteries of the universe in it, the bright pink hand-printed shirt peeking out from beneath her sweatshirt again.

She didn’t look angry. She looked...sad.

That bothered Malone more than he wanted it to.

A simple mission. In. Out. Back to his vacation. Only it wasn’t going to turn out that way. He set his mug down, took Quinn’s.

“You were right,” he said, placing it next to his.

“About what?”

“Everything is going to be okay.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure you did. You said it to Jubilee.”

She frowned, her smooth skin and large gray eyes making her look years younger than she was. She could have passed for a teenager, but he knew she’d been widowed for several years. He’d have liked to know more.

Like why a woman as smart as she seemed to be would believe the lies her sister had told her.

“I guess I did.” She offered a half smile and sighed. “I probably knew Tabitha wasn’t telling me the entire truth, but I never would have imagined that she had a child who wasn’t hers.”

“We could all be mistaken. That’s a possibility.”

“No. It’s not. I got a good look at the birth certificate. It was an original,” she responded.

“Did you see the baby’s name?”

“Kendal Grace Anderson.” Flyaway strands of hair stuck to her forehead and cheek. She brushed them away, moved toward the back door. “Mother’s name was Megan. Father’s name Daniel Boone Anderson.”

It all lined up.

Every detail.

“I need to call my boss,” he muttered. Once Boone got word about the birth certificate, he was going to be chomping at the bit, trying to get home faster than humanly possible. Returning home and being told he wasn’t going to be able to see his child wouldn’t sit well. Maybe Chance could work a little magic and make sure that didn’t happen.

“You go ahead. I...need some air.” Quinn walked to a small alcove at the back of the kitchen. A door led from there out to a porch.

Malone had already scouted the property, looking for areas that might be security risks. Quinn had been run off the road and chased into the woods. There was no guarantee the perpetrator wouldn’t return, but there were law enforcement officers all over the property and along the road where Quinn’s Jeep had been abandoned. She’d be fine outside on her own, but he followed anyway, stepping into the cool night air.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Quinn murmured as she settled onto a bench swing that hung from porch eaves.

“Who said I was?” He settled down beside her, the chains creaking.

“You were going to call your boss.”

“It can wait.”

“Until?”

“I make sure you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was tiny. Probably a foot shorter than Malone, but her personality seemed bigger—her voice, her gestures, those eyes that seemed to take up most of her face.

“You were lied to. You were put in danger. You trusted someone, and you were betrayed.” They were all good reasons for not being okay, but Quinn shrugged.

“I’ve been through worse.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

She turned her head, looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze dropping to the scar on his cheek, the one on his hands. “I think you’ve been through way worse, so I don’t think you should be sorry for me.”

“Trouble is relative.” He stood and paced to the porch railing, because he didn’t want her to ask about the scars. It wasn’t something he discussed—the torture, the sorrow of losing brothers in arms, the helplessness of watching it happen. “Is there someone you want me to call?”

“About?”

“You. Your brother is busy with the police. I thought you might want some moral support.”

“If my husband were alive,” she said quietly, “I’d want him here. He’s not, and there’s no one else.”

“I’ll say I’m sorry again. For your loss, this time.”

“Thanks.”

“I know it doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t, but after a while, the agony fades to a dull ache.”

He’d been there. Done that. He knew how it felt to lose someone and to move on from it. The ache never left. It simply became tolerable.

“Quinn—” he began, not really sure what he was going to say, not actually sure he should say anything.

They were strangers, and nothing he could say to her would make any difference.

“Are you going to let Daniel know about the birth certificate?” She cut him off.

“Daniel?” he asked, confused for a split second before the name registered. “Boone. That’s what he goes by. I’ll send him a text. Our boss will, too.”

“Boss?”

“Chance Miller. He owns HEART.”

“I’d like to say I’ve heard of it.”

“But you haven’t? Neither have most people. We’re a privately owned hostage rescue team. We also provide security, do cyber forensics. Lots of things.”

“Including tracking down a coworker’s missing child?”

“That, too.” He stood, the swing creaking as it moved. “Hopefully, this will all pan out. I’d hate for Boone to get his hopes up and then have them dashed.”

“I have a feeling it will. I just hope that it pans out for Jubilee, too. She deserves to have a happy ending, because I don’t think her beginning has been easy.”

“I saw the bruise on her cheek.”

“There are a few on her arms, too. And, she doesn’t talk. Boone will have his work cut out for him.”

“He’s up for it. He’s been waiting for this for five years, preparing for it.”

“Maybe you can give me a call after they meet, let me know how it goes.”

“You could stick around. Find out for yourself.”

“I need to get back to Echo Lake. I’ve got a job, a whole classroom full of kindergartners who won’t know what to do if I’m not there.”

“You like the little kids, huh?”

“I do, but it’s also the only grade that I could be guaranteed to be taller than all my pupils.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, and she smiled. “Yeah, it was a joke, but I have met third graders who are almost as tall as me.”

The back door opened, and August stepped outside.

“I’ve been looking for you, Quinn. Is everything okay out here?” he asked.

“Just waiting to get permission to go home,” she responded.

“You have it. The authorities have your contact information, and Agent Spellings said you’re free to go when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” She stood. “I’ve just got to get my Jeep...”

“I drove it here,” August said. “But I think you should stay until the sun comes up.”

“It’s almost up now,” she responded. “And the sooner I get on the road, the sooner I can get home. I’ve got a classroom full of rowdy five-year-olds to face on Monday morning.”




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