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The Truth about Family
Kimberly Van Meter
Enjoy the dreams, explore the emotions, experience the relationships.Looking for answers, finding love? Leaving home wasn’t hard for Erin McNulty and she had no plans to return. Ever. Until one day, the phone rings… In her home town, police officer Colin Barrett informs her that someone is trying to kill her father. Together, she and Colin probe Charlie’s past for answers.But that’s not the only answer Colin wants. He needs to know whether he and Erin have any chance at happiness. For Erin, coming home means learning the truth about family…and the truth about love.


“So, just so I’m clear, you’re staying, right?”
Erin sealed her fate with a nod. “I’ll stay and help you with what I can, but I’m not doing it for Charlie. He made his bed, and he can lie in it for all I care.”
It sounded convincing. Too bad it wasn’t entirely true. Foreign feelings assaulted her when she thought of her father and his condition, confusing and frustrating her. But what bothered her more was that somehow Colin had seen through the layers she piled around herself to the bare truth underneath. His keen sense made him both dangerous and alluring.
“Who else are you doing this for?”
“Aunt Caroline, of course,” she answered. “If this was deliberate, I want that person to pay for what he or she did. Caroline was the best, and she didn’t deserve to die. When it was her time to go, it should’ve been peaceful and preferably in her bed.”
Something akin to admiration lit up his face and Erin had to bite back a smile. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m something special.”
Colin’s grin widened and he almost looked boyish. “Sorry, no can do.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An avid reader since before she can remember, Kimberly Van Meter started her writing career at the age of sixteen when she finished her first novel, typing late nights and early mornings, on her mother’s old portable typewriter. Although that first novel was nothing short of literary mud, with each successive piece of work her writing improved to the point of reaching that coveted published status.
A journalist (who during college swore she’d never write news), Kimberly has worked for both daily and weekly newspapers, covering multiple beats, including education, health and crime, but she always dreamed of writing novels and someday saying goodbye to her non–fiction roots.
Born and raised in scenic Mariposa, California, Kimberly knows a thing or two about small towns – preferring the quiet, rural atmosphere to the hustle and bustle of a busy city any day – but she and her husband make their home in Oakdale, which represents a compromise between the two worlds. Kimberly and her husband, John, met and fell in love while filming a college production. He was the camera operator and she the lead actress. Her husband often jokes that he fell in love with his wife through the lens of a camera. A year later they were married, and have been together ever since.
In addition to writing, reading and drinking hot chocolate by the window sill when it rains, Kimberly enjoys photography and is the resident photographer for every family event, including weddings and new babies. The photographs gracing the walls of their home are comprised almost entirely of shots Kimberly has captured, whether on the job or just playing around with the camera. The oldest of four siblings and the mother of three children, Kimberly divides her time between soccer games, swim meets, bottle feedings and deadlines.

Dear Reader,
As a native of a rural town in Northern California, I suppose you could say the inspiration for this book sprang from real-life experiences. I understand how reputations can be hard to live down and gossip in concentrated amounts can be toxic to the soul.
With that said, I think some of the best people reside in small towns and I’m thankful my roots are firmly grounded within small-town soil. In my experience, life in a fishbowl encourages character growth and fosters accountability. There’s nothing like thinking you’ve got away with something, only to learn your mum heard hours ago thanks to a large and tangled network of friends and family.
Both Erin McNulty and Colin Barrett are plagued by the past, but together they find the strength to confront old issues, freeing up space in their hearts to embrace a bright future. Their story is one of courage and discovery, but ultimately of hope.
Over the years I’ve found I’m most drawn to characters who use a prickly personality as protection against anyone getting too close. I enjoy the transformation that occurs when two people who are meant to be together finally overcome their individual obstacles to discover their personal happily ever after. That’s the best part about writing romance. No matter what I do to these poor people, I know in the end…everything will work out.
Like my firstborn, my first novel will always hold a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy reading Erin and Colin’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to drop me a line either through snail mail at PO Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361, USA or through e-mail at author@ kimberlyvanmeter.com.
Enjoy!
Warmly,
Kimberly Van Meter

The Truth about Family
KIMBERLY VAN METER

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my husband, John, for ten-second kisses,
our three beautiful children and
everything in between.
To Kamrin for being my dedicated reader – you
never let me down, no matter how
inconvenient the request.
To my parents for always believing I had the talent
to achieve my loftiest aspirations.
To Trudy and Kevin for always being the
wonderful people you are.
To my mentor Debra Salonen for believing I
had what it took to be a “Super” author, and my
critique partner Theresa Ragan for being brutal.
To all the other friends and family (you know
who you are) that are too numerous to mention
individually but without whose constant
encouragement I might have failed.
To my editor Johanna Raisanen for showing me in
the kindest way possible how to make a good story
even better than I imagined.
And, finally, to my grandmothers. Pat – for passing
on the dream; and Doris – for cookies
and homemade pickles…
I love you both immeasurably.
Special thanks:
Special thanks must go to Detective Sergeant
Michael Eggener with the Oakdale Police
Department for his invaluable advice on the inner workings of a real police station. Any deviations
from correct procedure are completely my own
and no reflection on the professionalism exhibited
by most law enforcement agencies.
CHAPTER ONE
“ERIN MCNULTY, line three, please.” A disembodied voice sounded above the din of the newsroom just as Harvey Wallace, editor-in-chief of American Photographic magazine, poked his head out from his office and bellowed.
“Erin! I need those proofs, like yesterday! Marshal,” Harvey shouted at the reed-thin reporter who was trying to scuttle past without drawing attention to himself, “that piece on corporate America was pure crap! College graduate, my ass! I want a rewrite by tomorrow or else I’m placing a listing for a features reporter in JournalismJobs.com first thing in the morning. You got me?”
Erin looked up long enough to watch the color leach from Marshal’s face. She spared the young man a compassionate thought but quickly returned to the latest proofs scattered about the light table. She didn’t have time for much else—they were all on deadline for the February issue and Harvey was riding her just as hard as he rode everyone else, possibly even harder since she announced her interest in the recently vacant position of senior photographic editor. Every assignment felt like a test, every successful campaign felt like a step closer to her goal. And as she surveyed the photos before her, she was sure she’d just taken a giant leap forward. They were, without a doubt, the best of her career thus far. If Harvey didn’t at the very least wet himself when he saw them he was a blind man and she was wasting her time.
“Erin!”
Despite the near growl he’d ended her name with, she held up a hand, halting Harvey’s tirade in midbreath. “Two minutes, Harv. Two minutes and you’ll have the proofs on your desk.” So, shut your yap, you cantankerous old fart. If only she could actually say that. She scooped the three best and headed for the lion’s den.
“It’s about time,” he said once they were in his hands.
“You upped my deadline by two days,” Erin reminded him, silently chafing at his tone. “You’re lucky I didn’t cut it close to my actual deadline.”
“No—” he glanced up, the look in his eyes combative “—you’re lucky.” When she failed to snap at the bait, he returned to the photos. His sharp blue eyes scanned the photos for the minutest of flaws, but Erin knew he wouldn’t find any. They were almost textbook perfect in composition, lighting and subject. She’d really outdone herself this time.
“Erin McNulty, line three, please.” The voice over the intercom sounded again, this time more urgently, but Erin ignored it. Not even the opportunity to photograph God himself could have torn Erin away. The longer Harvey studied, the more tense her stomach muscles became. Her confidence level dipped ever so slightly until Harvey leaned back and tossed the photos to the desk. “Not bad,” he finally grunted, making Erin want to climb over the desk and choke him until his eyes bulged from their sockets.
“I happen to think they’re my best,” she countered.
Harvey grunted again but didn’t comment further, which led her to believe he felt the same but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of voicing it. If he weren’t the best in the business, she’d have told him to take a flying leap a long time ago. Sometimes she thought it was a miracle she’d lasted this long.
Figuring there was no time like the present to broach the subject of her promotion she opened her mouth to start, but Harvey had already moved on. “I’ve pulled Michael from the Hometown America spread and I’m putting you on it,” he announced as if he didn’t know that Erin hated happy-sappy photo spreads. “Deadline’s three weeks from now.”
Disappointment at being thwarted drowned in the rush of anger that flooded her veins at the knowledge that he was deliberately provoking her.
“Problem?”
“No problem,” she answered, taking great effort not to clench her teeth as she said it. “Just surprised.”
“Why’s that?” he said, growl returning.
Sensing she was treading on dangerous ground, she proceeded with as much caution as her temper would allow. “Harvey, I’ve been working at American Photographic for three years full-time, and two years freelance. The last time you sent me to take pictures of hometown hoedowns was when I was freelancing and you figured even a novice couldn’t screw up that easy of an assignment. The only reason you’re putting me on this one is to see how much that promotion means to me. Well, I’ll tell you right now…that promotion means everything.”
Half expecting his marble pen holder to go whizzing past her head, she was relieved when all he did was snort.
“You’ve got a lotta nerve, McNulty,” he finally said. “I’ve fired better photographers than you for less.”
She didn’t doubt that, but it was too late to pull back. Either he’d toss her out or not. She met his stare. “But you know I’m right.”
The silence stretched between them until Erin thought she’d pass out from the breath she was holding. Finally, Harvey shrugged but the look in his eyes was shrewd. “Deliver this assignment and I’ll give it some serious thought.”
He’d give it some thought?
“See you in a few weeks, then,” Harvey said, finished with the conversation. His dismissive tone was meant to push buttons. The old man was notorious for driving people to their breaking point, which was why only a select few remained on staff for more than a year. She doubted poor Marshal had much of a chance. He was already sprouting gray hairs and the kid hadn’t even hit twenty-five yet.
She returned to the assignment. So, he wanted happy-sappy? I’ll give him a Norman Rockwell overdose, she thought as she scooped up the folder and turned her back on him. “In a few weeks then,” she said over her shoulder, equally dismissive.
Pompous windbag! She deserved that promotion, probably more so than anyone who’d ever had the misfortune to work under Harvey Wallace. Yet he continued to dangle the promise of that coveted position like a juicy carrot to a starving horse if only to see if it could take one more step before collapsing. Well, she was this close to telling him to stick his carrot up his ass, promotion be damned. Whoa there, a voice reasoned, putting a quick stop to her inner diatribe. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for.
Breathe. She exhaled slowly. Right, she reminded herself, taking another slow breath. Creative freedom and the power to delegate—not to mention a pretty sharp addition to her resume. That’s why she put up with his crap.
Feeling only marginally better, but certainly less likely to rip the last remaining hairs from Harvey’s head, she detoured toward human resources to grab some mileage forms, when she was nearly bowled over by Molly, the harried receptionist whose voice she’d heard over the intercom.
“Ms. McNulty! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, reaching out with a manicured hand to steady herself. “But I’ve been paging you for the past ten minutes. You have an urgent call on line three.”
It took a moment for Molly’s words to sink in. Erin’s mind was stubbornly refusing to let it slide that she was being sent like a cub photographer on her first assignment to shoot some bucolic country scene because her boss was on a power trip.
“Ms. McNulty?” Molly ventured hesitantly when Erin failed to answer.
Erin shook her head, realizing she was being rude. “I’m sorry… What were you saying? A phone call?”
“Not just any call,” Molly said with a worried frown. “He said he was with the Granite Hills Police Department.”
At the mention of her former hometown, Erin stilled. She rarely received phone calls from home. “Did he say what he wanted?”
Molly shook her head, her expression concerned. “He said it was personal… sounds serious. Isn’t that where your family’s from?” At Erin’s barely perceptible nod, the little worry lines that seemed a permanent fixture on Molly’s middle-aged face deepened. “I’ll transfer the call to your office,” she said and quickly disappeared down the hallway to the reception desk before Erin could say anything else.
Granite Hills. Aside from her Aunt Caroline, there was nothing of interest to Erin in that place. Her father included.
Closing the door behind her, she stared at the blinking red light on her phone and wished she didn’t have to take that call. There could only be one reason the police were calling her at work. Charlie. The urge to simply ignore the call and let it go to voice mail almost had her finger on the button to do exactly that, but a small seed of doubt laced with fear made her hesitate.
Dropping the assignment folder to the center of her desk, she sank into the leather chair and reluctantly picked up the line. “This is Erin McNulty,” she answered, hoping the reason for the call was innocuous, or better yet, a mistake.
“Ma’am, this is Officer Barrett with the Granite Hills Police Department,” a voice with a subtle New York accent said, his solemn tone trapping the air in her lungs and causing a bad feeling in her gut. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone but there’s been an accident.”
An accident? The image of Charlie weaving his beat-up truck down the highway, heedless of the danger he posed to others, popped into her mind and she had to force her voice to remain level when anger quickly replaced her fear. The drunken old fool probably drove off a cliff.
“What kind of accident?” she asked, though she sounded the exact opposite of someone who cared. Assuming her theory was correct, she returned her attention to her assignment folder. “Is he all right?”
He was probably fine. The man, despite the fact that his liver had been pickled nearly every single day of his adult life, was surprisingly healthy.
Erin, impatient for an answer yet not entirely interested in the details, rolled her eyes at the photographic drivel Harvey was sending her to capture and pushed the folder away. Boring as hell.
“Ms. McNulty…there’s no easy way to tell you this…”
“What?” She heard him drag a deep breath and knot of foreboding returned to her chest.
“I’m sorry but Caroline Walker died in a single-vehicle car accident earlier this morning.”
CHAPTER TWO
AUNT CAROLINE?
“Are you sure?” she asked, the words breaking like glass in her mouth. A snapshot of Caroline’s plump, beloved face flashed in Erin’s memory and a choking sound followed as she tried to form the right words. “What happened?”
“Your aunt was thrown from the vehicle when the truck hit a tree—”
The sound of the officer’s voice continued, providing details that were lost on her at the moment. Her mind had gone quickly and terrifyingly numb, yet it felt like something heavy and cruel had caved in her sternum. She sucked a ragged breath and realized she couldn’t get enough air.
Gone. Her aunt was gone? There had to be a mistake. Caroline was the most cautious driver ever issued a license. She was the type of person who personified the term Sunday driver. In fact, she once received a warning from a state trooper for driving under the speed limit on the highway. At the time it’d been really funny and Erin had teased her mercilessly, but Caroline had sworn the cruise control had been set on the speed limit and she hadn’t a clue as to what had happened.
“My little Toyota must have a mind of its own,” she’d joked.
Erin paused, her brain suddenly working again.
“Wait a minute…my aunt doesn’t own a truck,” she said, clinging to the hope that perhaps there was a mistake. That her aunt was fine and more than likely baking something.
“No, she was a passenger in an old, beat-up Ford,” the officer said, the sound of paperwork shuffling in the background. “It was registered to Charles William McNulty… I assume that’s your father?” When Erin didn’t answer, he obviously took that as an affirmative. Swallowing, she realized that the officer wasn’t finished and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Your father—”
“Is he dead?” Erin cut in, her voice tight. “Please don’t drag it out, just tell me…is he dead or not?”
The knowledge Charlie had been driving in the accident that had killed Caroline made her chest burn with an emotion a lot like hatred, but it was side by side with something else that felt like fear at the realization her entire family might have been wiped out in a single blow.
“Is he dead?”
“No,” he answered slowly. “But he’s in pretty bad shape. He went straight to surgery as soon as they got to the hospital but there was a lot of damage. I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”
Her father was alive, yet Caroline was dead. The injustice of it made her nauseous. If anyone had to die, why couldn’t it have been Charlie? She heard Caroline’s voice chastise her for the desperate thought and she sagged against the back of the chair, tears tickling the back of her throat.
“Tell me she didn’t suffer,” she said, the sound strangled.
“It was instantaneous.”
Thank God. The thought of Caroline dying in pain was more than she could handle at the moment.
Her mouth trembled and she nodded, even though she knew the man on the other end couldn’t see her.
“There are some details that need to be attended to.…” the officer said in an apologetic fashion, leaving the rest unsaid. She knew what he was expecting to hear, what she was supposed to say, but the words were stuck in her mouth.
The sound of Caroline’s voice, mildly reproachful for Erin’s continued refusal to come home to visit, echoed in her head and caused fresh tears to collect in her eyes. Every holiday, Caroline had called, asking her to come home, and every time Erin had found a reason not to. Most times she’d blamed work, which wasn’t hard since she maintained a hellish schedule, but there were times when Erin had simply lied to get out of going back to Granite Hills. And now Caroline was gone.
“Ms. McNulty?”
The soft query dragged her back to the phone in her hand. She swallowed and took a shuddering breath. “Yes?”
“About your father…”
A muscle twitched in her jaw and she realized she had clenched her teeth. She made an effort to relax but she couldn’t keep the tone of her voice from reflecting how she felt about the man at that moment. “What about him?”
“He might not make it,” he answered gravely.
Her stomach churning, she snuffed out the flicker of concern that had the gall to flare to life and pressed her lips together. She’d be damned if she were going to care one iota for that man. Her Aunt Caroline was dead and it was all Charlie’s fault.
“There’s nothing I can do for him. I’m sure he’s in the best of hands,” she said, nearly choking on the toxic mixture of grief and regret clogging her throat. She fastened her gaze on the folder lying on her desk in an attempt to keep from collapsing in on herself. “I appreciate your call, Officer Barrett. I’ll take care of the necessary arrangements,” she said, her voice sounding as if it were coming from someone else, someone who hadn’t just lost the one person who had truly loved her. “I have to go now,” she said, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand when she realized her tissue box was empty.
“Wait!” he exclaimed, catching her before she hung up the phone.
“What?”
“I know your father had a bit of a drinking problem,” he said, trying for tact but he needn’t have bothered.
“No, actually, he didn’t have any problems drinking. If it’d been an Olympic sport he would’ve won a gold medal,” she retorted bitterly. “My father was a drunk who took advantage of his family and never took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure last night was just the inevitable conclusion of his recklessness.” Her breath caught in her chest and she forced herself to continue. “Unfortunately, it was my Aunt Caroline who paid the price.”
“Well, we don’t know for sure if he was drinking and I’m not about to make that assumption,” he said. “We’ll know when the blood alcohol content comes back from the lab.”
Erin shrugged. She didn’t need a piece of paper to tell her what she already knew. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll call you when I get the results,” he said.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say don’t bother but she was quickly losing her fire. All she wanted to do was cradle her head in her arms and cry. “Fine,” she finally answered. “I’m usually here until nine p.m. After that, you’re out of luck.”
The officer paused and Erin could almost feel his censure at her cold attitude toward her sole surviving kin. She knew how she must look to someone who didn’t know their history, but she’d long since stopped trying to defend herself to total strangers. It was easier to let them assume what they pleased. No doubt, the officer judging her on the other end of the line was no exception.
“I’ll try to get back to you before then…in case you change your mind and want to book a flight home,” he said.
The flesh on her arms suddenly puckered and popped as a chill raced down her spine. Granite Hills, Michigan, hadn’t been her home for a long time. San Francisco was her home now. “That’s not necessary,” she said, rubbing the skin on her arms. There was no way she was going back there. Especially not now. “I’m sorry, it’s just not—” Possible. If she went back to Granite Hills the memories would destroy what little hold she had on her sanity. “I have deadlines.”
“Right. I understand,” he said, but his tone told her he didn’t understand at all. He probably had two loving parents who hadn’t left him to fend for himself at the age of six so they could drink themselves into a blind stupor. And most certainly, probably hadn’t beaten him so badly that he’d lost consciousness. Bitterness flooded her mouth along with the bad memories, but she held her tongue. No. He probably didn’t understand at all. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I suppose not,” he answered slowly, seeming reluctant to let her go, as if he could sense she was holding it together by a thread. Erin swallowed, wishing for a fleeting moment someone, perhaps even Officer Barrett, was here with her. She remained quiet, not quite trusting her voice any longer. The silence stretched and Erin was grateful when, after offering his condolences, he said goodbye.
Another memory popped into her mind, unwelcome and very recent.
“Please come home for Christmas, love. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Caroline had pleaded, pulling at Erin’s conscience. “I’ll make all your favorite dishes…candied yams, mincemeat pie, fresh cranberry sauce…you name it. The sky’s the limit, if you’ll just come home, at least for a visit.”
Caroline’s insistence had coaxed a small smile, but Erin had shaken her head as she rolled a pencil back and forth on the surface of her desk. “I can’t, I’m shooting a holiday spread for the magazine. I’ll be booked before and after Christmas.”
That much had been true but Erin could have scheduled a few days in Granite Hills if she’d wanted to. Even Harvey Wallace had family. He would have granted her at least a weekend.
“Are you going to invite Charlie?” she asked after Caroline refused to let the subject go even after she’d politely declined the offer. There was a telltale pause on the other end. “Well?” Erin prompted, yet already knowing the answer. “Because you know if he shows up, I leave, and frankly, that’s a waste of airfare.”
Caroline let out a sigh. “Erin Mallory, why must you be so hard-headed? He’s your father for goodness sakes! And he deserves a second chance. He’s changed, really he has, and if you’d talk to him you’d see that,” she said, her tone openly disappointed. When Erin remained stubbornly quiet, Caroline changed tactics. “Erin, I know things were bad, Lord, how I know, but people change. Why won’t you give him a chance to show you he’s not the man you remember.”
Because men like Charlie didn’t deserve second chances. Men like Charlie were the human equivalent of a black cloud of doom hanging over a person’s head. He destroyed everything he touched. He was probably the reason Erin’s mother killed herself before Erin was even out of diapers. Of course, she didn’t know that for certain because Caroline refused to talk about it but Erin wasn’t stupid or blind. It hadn’t taken long for her to piece together that pathetic puzzle.
Erin had ended the conversation with an empty promise to call again but they’d both known she probably wouldn’t. As it turned out, Erin had spent Christmas Day in the same place she’d spent it last year—in her apartment alone. She didn’t even have a cat, unlike her Aunt Caroline, who thought it was unnatural to live without the company of a good animal or two.
Staring at the far wall, half-lost in memories, she sniffed back the tears that seemed to flow no matter how hard she tried to hold them back and bit her lip to keep from wailing. Why did bad things happen to good people? How could fate be so cruel a second time around? Hadn’t her family suffered enough? She closed her eyes but the action was useless. The dialogue in her head continued to rant with the single-minded purpose of a spoiled child. It just wasn’t fair.
Caroline was all she had. No mother, no father to speak of…no other family. She was alone. Cradling her head in her arms she sobbed until the tears had soaked the silky softness of her cashmere turtleneck. Finally, the sobs racking her body slowed to a trickle and she lifted her head with a watery hiccup. Arrangements…she had to make arrangements. What did that entail?
She dragged a fresh notebook from her desk and attempted to start a list, though her fingers felt stiff and useless. Where did she start? It was damn near overwhelming. Caroline had mentioned something about a living trust during one of their conversations, but truthfully, Erin hadn’t been interested in pursuing the details. Somehow it had seemed morbid talking about arrangements for the estate when her aunt was still alive.
“Oh, God.” Her eyes widened in alarm as she remembered Butterscotch, Caroline’s dog of thirteen years, midway through her list. “What am I going to do with the dog?”
She dropped the pen and ground her knuckles into her eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing. Focus, damn it. You can fall apart later, she promised herself, sniffing back another wave of moisture that was gathering like an ocean swell after a big storm.
She supposed she’d have to call someone to go over to the house and pick her up, but who? Erin had long since lost contact with the people she’d once known in Granite Hills. Someone was bound to realize Butterscotch was alone at the house, right?
Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not.
Visions of a half-frozen dog waiting pitifully for her master to come home made her shudder, the very thought weighing like a two-ton bulldozer on her conscience. After all Caroline had done for her, she couldn’t possibly let her aunt’s favored companion die forgotten like day-old trash. But what was she supposed to do if she couldn’t get hold of anyone?
Her gaze returned to the assignment folder and she contemplated telling Harvey that she wasn’t going to do it. He’d no doubt spit bullets but there was nothing he could do if she chose to take time off under these circumstances. Of course, if she did that she could probably kiss off any chance of landing the senior photographic editor job. She drew a deep breath and leaned back to stare at the ceiling, her grief-numbed brain reminding her sharply to get her priorities straight. The promotion was the least of her worries.
Yet, she realized with a groan, time off with nothing but her grief to occupy her mind would probably drive her crazy. Photography had always been her form of therapy. Losing herself in the process of capturing a sliver in time enabled her to stay sane when the moment proved too much to handle. It was what had kept her on track those first few years after leaving Granite Hills; what had kept her from self-medicating with drugs or alcohol. Closing her eyes as another wave of anguish rolled over her, she knew with resigned certainty that she wasn’t going to pull out of the assignment, no matter the circumstance or her personal feelings on the subject matter. Once again, she would cling to her photography like a life raft in the hopes that she wouldn’t drown.
A fat tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away, almost absently, her mind already attempting to work in some sort of productive direction. She glanced at the folder on her desk.
Hometown America—the fantasy of small-town life.
Granite Hills—the reality of what small-town life was all about.
Quaint pictures of cobbled streets and gabled churches didn’t always tell the story straight. Most of the time, the pretty picture was simply that—a nice illusion. Which was why she hated these types of spreads. She preferred urban settings—gritty and real.
But, as she soon realized, most people weren’t like her. They wanted the fairy tale, which was why American Photographic was going to give it to them in full Technicolor.
“Happy-sappy sells magazines,” Harvey had snapped when she’d tried to talk him out of a similar spread last year.
And that’s what mattered.
Ironically, Granite Hills was probably the place of Harvey’s photographic dreams. On the surface it was chock full of Mayberry goodness; almost enough to give a person a cavity if they stuck around too long. It was the kind of place that Erin distrusted. She’d always felt apart from the shiny, happy people around her; always felt afraid that someone might judge her by the actions of her father. It hadn’t been easy being the only child of the town drunk. It probably hadn’t been any easier to be his sister but Caroline was one of a kind; she never gave up hope that things might change for the better. Unlike Erin, who’d given up on that pipe dream the day she left Granite Hills.
“Erin McNulty, line two.”
Erin stared at the sudden appearance of the blinking red light on her phone and wondered what more bad news could be waiting for her on the other end. She was half-tempted to let it blink for all eternity. Not possible, a derisive voice answered back. Besides, whoever it was would probably just call back anyway. She scrubbed the last of her tears from her face, and made an attempt to appear as if her world hadn’t just crumbled around her feet, before picking up the phone.
The officer with the New York accent spoke and the corners of her mouth turned down as fresh tears threatened to ruin her mask of composure. What now?
“I thought you should know the results of the BAC tests,” he said, pausing ever so slightly. “Aside from a little Robitussin for a cough, he was totally sober. I just thought you should know that before you made your decision.”
Sober? Impossible. “How accurate are those tests?” she asked.
“One hundred percent.”
Erin recalled Caroline trying to tell her that he’d stopped drinking a while ago but she hadn’t believed her. Actually, she hadn’t given Caroline much of a chance to convince her either. The thought of a sober Charlie was too fantastical to entertain and it tugged too hard on a childish dream that Erin had let die the night he beat her nearly senseless.
“You must have caught him on an off-night,” Erin retorted, a different sort of bitterness flooding her chest. “Ironic. The night he ends up killing someone with his driving is the night that he’s, according to your tests, quite sober.” A mirthless chuckle broke free. “Fate is a fickle bitch, isn’t she?”
Knowing there wasn’t an appropriate response to her acidic comment, she let him off the hook and changed subjects. She didn’t want to talk or think about Charlie. Ever again.
“My aunt had a dog,” she began, focusing on keeping her voice strong. “Her name’s Butterscotch. Can you send someone to get her? She’ll freeze out there by herself.”
“Sure thing,” he answered. He paused, then said, “We can hold her for three days, but if no one adopts her, I gotta be honest with you…she’ll be put down. Shelter policy. It’s a terrible thing but there’s just not enough space to hold all the animals we pick up.”
Of course. “Are you sure there’s no way the shelter could keep her until someone adopted her? I’d be willing to pay for her room and board,” she offered, yet, she knew that finding a family for an older dog was difficult at best. Most families wanted puppies or at least adolescent dogs who still had the energy to romp and play and fetch a stupid stick. She tried sweetening the deal. “I could even make a donation to the shelter, if need be.”
Money was one thing she had. If she had to she’d pay room and board for the dog until she died. If she had to empty her savings to build another wing for the animal shelter, she’d do that, too. But the man’s hesitation told her it wasn’t going to be that easy.
She could almost hear the man shake his head. “Sorry, ma’am, it doesn’t work that way. If the shelter ran like that it’d be a kennel,” he said, adding in a tone that was meant to soothe…or rile, she wasn’t quite sure. “But don’t worry, we’ll send someone out to get her. She’ll sleep warm tonight.”
But after that? Who knows. Criminy, what was she supposed to do? Fly to Michigan for a dog? She wasn’t a dog person. She wasn’t a pet person period. What was she supposed to do with the dog if she went and picked her up? Her apartment wasn’t conducive to other living things. The dog was probably better off taking her chances at the shelter. Someone was bound to adopt her. Judging by the pictures that Caroline always sent around Christmastime, she was fairly cute, as far as dogs went. A mutt of indeterminate parentage, but cute nonetheless.
And what if no one adopts her? a small voice shot back.
Then she’ll be put to sleep.
Can you live with that?
Don’t all dogs go to heaven?
Don’t be flip. This time the voice sounded a lot like Caroline’s and Erin actually flinched.
Caroline loved that dog. And Erin owed Caroline at least that much for all the times she stood by her, protected her, treated her like the daughter she never had the opportunity to have.
Once again her eyes strayed to the folder lying on her desk and she realized if she could manage it emotionally, this was an opportunity to hand Harvey his precious Hometown America wrapped with a gingham-print ribbon. But could she handle it?
She’d have to.
“Fine.” Erin closed her eyes and heard herself say the words that she never imagined herself uttering in this lifetime. “I’ll take the next flight out. I should be in Michigan by tomorrow afternoon.”
CHAPTER THREE
COLIN BARRETT’S SUV lumbered through puddles of slushy mud as he made his way carefully to Caroline Walker’s house. It was near nightfall and the rain had quickly turned to sleet with the promise of a full-blown, nasty snowstorm on the wind, but his wipers were doing a valiant job trying to keep his windshield clear and as long as he could still see, he wasn’t turning back.
A woman was coming all the way from San Francisco for this dog; the least he could do was make sure it hadn’t caught pneumonia by the time she got here.
He pulled onto the long, dirt driveway, his tires slipping a little in the mud, and turned the spotlight on. The dog, eyes reflecting the light, rose painfully to her feet from her place on the porch but managed to wag her tail in welcome.
“Poor thing,” he murmured, knowing from the dog’s stiff gait it wasn’t accustomed to staying outside for long periods of time. Caroline had probably let the dog out while she went with Charlie, figuring she’d only be gone for about an hour.
Colin pulled his slicker over his head and climbed out of the vehicle, narrowly missing a puddle that looked as if the Loch Ness monster could easily take a few laps in, and reached behind his seat for the control pole he’d borrowed from the animal control officer.
He walked slowly, offering soothing words of welcome until the old girl sniffed his hand and then gave him a warm lick with her tongue. Smoothing her damp fur, he started to slip the nylon loop around her neck but thought better of it. This dog was no Cujo, that was for sure.
“We don’t need this, do we, girl?”
She licked her chops and stared up at him expectantly. She was probably wondering where her master was, and if her dinner was coming, Colin realized.
“She’s on her way,” he said, feeling only slightly ridiculous for trying to make a dog feel better.
Suddenly his radio crackled to life.
“SR4, ten-nineteen.”
Return to station?
“This is SR4, ten-four.” Holstering his radio, he made quick work of getting the dog settled in the vehicle and jumped in himself.
Once inside, he switched to his Nextel for privacy.
“Hey, Joe, this is Colin. What’s going on?” he asked the dispatcher.
“Sorry, Colin, but Danni was hauled in while you were heading out to the Walker place. Thought you’d want to know right away.”
As soon as he heard his daughter’s name he felt a flush travel up his neck that was surely a result of his blood pressure hitting the ceiling. He bit back an oath, needing a moment before he was able to speak again without clenching his teeth. “I’m on my way.”
Twenty minutes later he was sliding his ID card into the back door of the police station, silently fuming. It had taken every ounce of training he possessed not to speed down the snow-covered streets of the quiet town as he drove to pick up his only child. This was becoming an all-too frequent occurrence and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Hey, Col.” Joe Boland waved and gestured toward the holding cell. But before he could enter, Joe stopped him, his face grave. “They had to book her this time. I’m sorry.”
Colin pressed his lips together but nodded in understanding. “With what?”
“Possession,” he answered. When Colin swore and shook his head, Joe tried lessening the blow. “It was just a bit of weed—a misdemeanor—but she’s going to have to go to court. I think Marty’s already processed the citation, you can probably take her home.”
Colin thanked Joe for his help. This wasn’t the first time Danni had been caught hanging with a group of kids with a shady reputation, but the officers had let her off with a warning. This time, Colin knew, she’d gone too far. He couldn’t expect his buddies to keep covering for her. It wasn’t right. The law was the law.
A sense of loss filled him as he pushed open the holding cell door. Where was his little girl? And was she ever coming back?
Colin’s heart contracted at the sight of Danni slumped in the metal-backed chair, chewing at the cuticle on her index finger as she stared glumly at the dull metal table. She looked up as he entered the room, her expression changing quickly to the picture of defiance but not before he saw the relief in her eyes. Colin ignored the pain that lanced through him and made a curt gesture for them to leave. “Let’s go. You’re supposed to be at your Aunt Sara’s. She’s probably worried sick.”
“Yeah, right.” Danni shoved away from the table, the legs scraping against the old tile floor, as she shouldered her backpack and stalked past Colin with more attitude than an MTV diva on concert night.
“An attitude like that won’t land you anywhere but more trouble, young lady,” he said to her back as they walked out of the station and into the biting cold. He hit the automatic door lock on his key ring and both locks popped up in unison. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there? The weather alone made it dangerous, never mind the company you’ve recently taken up with. And what about your homework? Or the fact that you have school tomorrow?”
“Whatever.” Danni jerked the door open and slid in, noticing after she took her seat that there was a dog in the back. Startled, she dropped her scowl long enough to give him a questioning look. “What’s with the dog?”
“The shelter’s closed and, as you can tell, there’s a bad storm. I didn’t want her to freeze to death,” he answered, amazed he was able to keep from yelling. He was so mad he was shaking.
“How sweet,” she said, reverting back to the sour-faced teen that he’d found sitting at the station. She gave the dog a long look then wrinkled her nose. “It smells like wet dog in here.”
“And you smell like cigarettes and stale beer,” he returned. “Frankly, I think I prefer the smell of the dog.”
The black look he received was completely out of place on the face of his thirteen-year-old daughter and made him wish that he could turn back time—to change what had gone so horribly wrong between them.
But he couldn’t and because of that he could feel her slipping further and further away from him with each sullen glare, each angry exchange. Lately, she seemed to hate him.
They drove home in silence, the endless swish of the wipers the only sound between them. Colin risked a glance at his daughter as she leaned against the window frame, her cheek resting against the cool glass. Her profile, so much like her mother’s, made him ache. Danielle had been classically beautiful, yet her delicate features could not have hinted at the vulnerability hiding in her fragile mind. Years ago, geneticists had warned him that Danielle may have handed down her condition to their only daughter. Colin swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat. All he could do was hope that Danni had dodged that bullet.
Putting the SUV into Park, he turned to tell Danni to go straight to bed, but she hadn’t waited for instruction. She was already out of the truck and stomping her way through the snow to the front door. By the time Colin made it to the house she was already ensconced in her bedroom with the door closed firmly behind her.
“Well, girl,” he said to the dog, which to his best guess looked to be some kind of yellow lab cross, her face nearly white with age. “It’s just you and me. How about something to eat?”
The dog looked up at him with big brown eyes that were sweet and trusting and he found himself hoping that Erin McNulty didn’t flake on the poor thing. He didn’t know her from Adam but she made it pretty clear that coming home to Granite Hills was as appealing as having a nail pounded into her foot. He went to the fridge and pulled out some ground beef he’d planned to make into burgers tomorrow and crumbled some into a bowl for the dog. He’d hate to have to put her into the shelter. By the way she moved, stiff and slow, it looked as if she had some level of hip dysplasia. If the McNulty woman pulled a no-show and he had to check her into the shelter, the odds were slim that she’d find a home. He wasn’t a bleeding heart, by any means, but he didn’t like the thought of putting the old girl down.
“It ain’t steak but it’s better than nothing,” he murmured, giving the dog a gentle pat on the head as she bent down to eat what was offered. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. At least someone would go to bed happy. His gaze strayed to his daughter’s closed door, knowing that he was, no doubt, playing center stage as the villain in his little girl’s dreams, and his brief moment of satisfaction evaporated. After placing a bowl of water on the kitchen floor, he retired to the small room he’d converted to an office, wishing he could sleep but knowing that he couldn’t. Despite the late hour, he sighed as he picked up the phone and made a quick call to his sister so that she wouldn’t worry. With Sara’s husband in Iraq and a six-month-old to care for, she certainly didn’t need the grief Danni was dishing out on a daily basis to everyone she felt had betrayed her.
A box of chamomile tea sat unopened on his desk, part of a care package his mother had sent. He wasn’t much interested in it, but his mother swore by chamomile when things looked rough. She said it had a soothing touch. He eyed the box without much hope. He knew what he needed wasn’t in that box but at this point he was starting to feel a little desperate.
God, he missed his parents. They’d bought a condo in Florida last year in search of warmer climates. With her arthritis getting worse each year, Ma said she couldn’t take the winters here anymore. They were coming back for the summer, but it just wasn’t the same without them. Although his sisters lived close by, they were busy with their own lives and he hated to bother them with the problems he was having with Danni. Turning to face the large bay window, he watched as Mother Nature did her level best to ensure that Granite Hills was buried under a soft layer of snow come morning. Colin thought of the McNulty woman and wondered if her flight would be delayed due to the weather.
He closed his eyes to relieve the burning behind them and briefly thought about giving that damn tea a shot. He needed sleep but he knew that if he went to bed he’d just end up tossing and turning, punching his pillow in frustration or staring at the ceiling. He was only thirty-six but he felt one hundred. The last few weeks with Danni had been hell.
And he blamed himself. He should’ve told Danni the truth a long time ago but he’d chickened out. Now, the secret was out and his daughter hated him for it.
A seemingly innocuous slip of paper, he mused bitterly, had driven a wedge between him and his only child.
How many times since that afternoon had he wished he’d burned it the moment it’d been put in his hands? A dozen, a hundred, a million? Countless. But he hadn’t. Like an idiot he’d put it in his file cabinet and forgotten about it.
Until he came home one day three weeks ago to find Danni standing in his office, holding it in her hand, her eyes full of wounded disbelief, demanding an answer.
“What is this!” Danni had screeched, tears streaming down her cheeks, jerking the paper away just as he’d reached for it—no, grabbed at it—in horror. “You lied! You said she died in a car accident when I was a baby but she didn’t!” She thrust the document at him, the broken-hearted look reflecting back at him nearly sent him to his knees apologizing. “This says she died five years ago—” her voice dropped and wavered, suddenly sounding much younger “—of a drug overdose.”
He’d tried grasping the death certificate she’d waved under his nose but she’d jerked it away, scanning it as if it would somehow reveal the truth to her as he had not.
“Danni, you don’t understand…it’s complicated,” Colin tried explaining, but Danni wasn’t interested in the reasons. “I was going to tell you when you got older, but the time never seemed right…I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”
“But you lied,” Danni wailed, the tears falling unchecked to splash down the front of her shirt in wet splotches. “All that time… I could have known her. I wanted to know her! You didn’t have the right!”
The rise in Danni’s voice bordered on hysteria, reminding him of Danielle for a split second and panic fueled his reaction. “Like hell I didn’t!” he roared, his hands curling in his vehemence. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought for control but it was too late.
Face pale and lower lip trembling, Danni pulled away when he tried reaching for her and fled the room.
The echoed slam of her bedroom door reverberated in his memory. Lately, the sound of a slamming door was just about the only communication between them. Colin understood her rage, the sense of betrayal, but he’d had no choice.
He stared grimly at the gently falling snow out his bay window. That saying “the road to hell was paved with good intentions” could be tattooed across his forehead. His intentions had been good. He’d wanted to tell Danni the truth when she were older. Old enough to handle it. Instead, fate had different plans and here he was up to his eyeballs in misery because of it.
Colin dropped his head into his hands and drew a painful breath. The fact of the matter was it had been easier to tell Danni that her mama had died from a car accident than a drug overdose. And it sure was a lot easier than telling his little girl that her mother had tried to kill her.
CHAPTER FOUR
TEN HOURS LATER, after hopping a red-eye, Erin’s plane was touching down in Ironwood at the Gogebic-Iron County Airport on time, despite the storm that had the snow-removing equipment busy on the runway between flights. She rubbed at her eyes, blaming the constant burn she felt on the lack of sleep due to two lengthy layovers, one in Denver the other in Chicago. She tried not to think of the fact that she was actually returning to the place that she’d gratefully said goodbye to long ago.
For a dog.
Not just any dog, her conscience whispered. Caroline’s dog. Her breath hitched in her throat and she forced herself to ignore the pain in her heart and the fatigue that dragged on her heels. Let’s just get this over with, she thought, winding her woolen scarf around her face as she prepared to leave the warmth of the crowded terminal to find the Chevy Tahoe she’d reserved.
Although Erin wasn’t religious, she sent a prayer skyward as she got in the SUV that the cop was true to his word and Butterscotch was not frozen to her aunt’s porch.
Caroline had gotten the dog right after Erin had left, saying the house was too empty without her, and Erin had been glad that she did. It made her feel less guilty for practically abandoning her the way she did. A sudden prick at the back of her nose warned of impending tears and she sniffed them back. A part of her was screaming turn around, go back, but somehow, she kept on course and an hour later she was pulling into Granite Hills, a surreal fog surrounding her senses as she drove past landmarks that seemed locked in time.
Nothing had changed.
When she left fourteen years ago, the place where her heart should have been felt filled with broken shards of glass that cut and scratched each time she breathed; today, it felt much the same. Except, this time she wouldn’t have Caroline’s soothing voice to get her through the rough spots.
The weather forced her to drive slowly but her foot itched to press the gas pedal harder, if only to escape the flood of memories that were already pushing at her mind.
Dulcich Hardware—the only place in town to buy nails, paint and plumbing supplies.
Gottaleri’s Pizza—her first real job.
The Granite Hills Tribune—the only newspaper in town worth reading and the first place she’d nervously look after Charlie went on a binge, hoping—no, praying—that he wasn’t listed in the cop log.
Erin swallowed and purposefully dragged her gaze away from the shops lining the main street, grateful for the anonymity of the rental car. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that she could escape without someone recognizing her but if she could prolong it, she certainly would.
Going by memory, she turned down a side street and headed for the police station. Moments later, she was there. Aside from subtle changes to the building, it looked the same. Charlie had spent many a night sleeping off a drunk in one of the three holding facilities. She’d gone with Caroline—once when she was too young to realize what was going on—to pick him up. Her nose twitched at the memory of whiskey on his breath and she clamped down on a wave of nausea.
To this day, the smell of alcohol made her skittish.
Two officers sharply clad in blue uniforms erupted from the side door reserved for employees and Erin’s heart leapt into her mouth. She waited for them to climb into their squad car before exiting her own vehicle. She’d been crazy to board that plane. She should’ve listened to her instincts and refused to come.
But, she hadn’t. So, quit whining and get it over with.
The sooner she found a home for the dog, made arrangements for the…funeral…
Suddenly her chest felt tight and it hurt to breathe. Funeral. She’d have to make arrangements for her aunt’s funeral. She squeezed her eyes shut and tersely ordered the tears to stop. Now was not the time to start blubbering. She was being brutal with herself but she didn’t have a choice. She blinked to clear her vision and then opened the front door. First things first…
COLIN GLANCED UP AT the wall clock and wondered what time the woman’s plane was scheduled to arrive. He’d thought she would have called to let him know, but she hadn’t so he was left to guess. He thought of Charlie McNulty, laying broken and battered, in the hospital ICU, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had caused such animosity between father and daughter. His thoughts shifted to his relationship with Danni and a cold chill entered his heart. What if Danni never forgave him? Was he doomed to spend the next few years chasing after an angry teen, only to lose her forever when she finally moved away?
This morning he’d tried to talk to her about the events of last night, but Danni had stonewalled him, choosing instead to chew her oatmeal in silence. Only occasionally did her gaze stray to the dog that had commandeered a spot by the fireplace.
As a last-ditch effort, he tried offering to give her a ride to school, but all he received in response was a withering stare, which told him that she’d rather freeze to death than spend more than five minutes in his company.
How much longer was she going to punish him for trying to protect her? Surely, she couldn’t hold it against him for the rest of their lives? He grimaced at the sour feeling lodged in his gut. Of course, she could. And at this point, it was probably exactly what she planned on doing.
Ah, hell…
Realizing that he’d been staring at the same piece of paperwork for the last ten minutes, he was almost relieved when the dispatcher called his name over the paging system.
“Officer Barrett to the front desk. Officer Barrett to the front desk.”
Dropping the paper in his in-tray, he went to answer his page.
He peered through the window in the lobby door and saw a tall, lithe woman with a startling contrast between skin so pale it looked almost translucent and shoulder-length, jet-black hair. She removed a pair of stylish glasses, and quickly folded them into a case while she waited. Erin McNulty. There was no doubt in his mind. For someone who grew up in Granite Hills, she couldn’t look more foreign to her surroundings. She had big city written all over her, from the black cashmere scarf wound around her neck to the leather gloves she was pulling from her fingertips as she glanced around in an impatient gesture. He shook his head at the realization that she was nothing like he’d expected, though, to be honest, he hadn’t thought he’d be so off the mark. In this case, it seemed the apple had catapulted from the proverbial tree and landed somewhere on another continent.
Pushing open the door, he found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes that were almost unreal in their brilliance. He nearly said something stupid but, fortunately, he caught himself in time. The woman’s family was in shambles. The last thing she needed was some yahoo babbling about the color of her eyes.
“You must be Erin McNulty,” he said, extending his hand with professional courtesy, which she accepted with a nod. “I’m sorry to meet under such circumstances,” he said, watching as she made a concentrated effort to hold back tears. “I knew Caroline from her volunteer work at the Winter Festival. She could make a mean cup of cocoa.”
Her head jerked in a nod. “She said the secret was using fresh cream instead of milk.” Her voice was husky with emotion. “Makes it smooth as silk and twice as fattening.”
“Twice as good in my book,” he countered, wondering when she’d last eaten a good meal. She was so skinny he could almost count her ribs through the turtleneck sweater she wore.
“Yes, that’s what people said,” she added, offering a brief smile that was clearly for his benefit before drawing a deep, halting breath. “But then again, there wasn’t much that Caroline couldn’t make taste good,” she murmured, dropping her gaze in an attempt to hide the sudden glistening in her eyes. A rueful smile touched her lips. “She was always trying to get me in the kitchen, one way or another. I tried telling her I didn’t inherit her talents but she wouldn’t listen and invariably, every Christmas I’d get the newest Betty Crocker cookbook in the mail. I have everything from Crock-pot Creations to DeliciousDesserts and I’ve never cracked open a one. But she never quit trying.…” She frowned as if embarrassed at her personal comments to a total stranger.
“It’s okay—”
“I’m sorry—” she cut in tightly, shaking her head before clearing her throat. “My aunt’s dog…were you able to go get her last night?”
“Yes,” he answered, feeling oddly guilty for catching a glimpse of her personal pain when she had no desire to share such intimate details about herself. There was a brittle quality to her rigidly held composure, like someone whose hold on the fabric of life as she’d known it was slipping as it tore in two.
“Have you gone to see your father yet?” he asked, the question springing from his lips without conscious thought.
An iron curtain slammed behind her eyes and he had his answer. Disappointment welled in his chest but he couldn’t explain why. If the woman had no interest in seeing her father before he died, it was none of his business. Sure, it seemed heartless, but why should he care? His utmost concern was relieving his home of the dog that had seemed quite comfortable this morning laying beside his hearth. “Your dog is at my house. If you want to follow me I’ll take you to her.”
“She’s not my dog,” she corrected him.
“She is now.”
She conceded that small point, adding, “Well, only until I can find a suitable home for her. My life isn’t conducive to pets.”
He knew she worked for a magazine but he wasn’t sure in what capacity. Before he could ask, she answered what must’ve been the question in his eyes.
“I’m a photographer. I travel. A lot.”
“That’s right, American Photographic,” he said, recalling how difficult it had been tracking her down. “Real nice magazine.”
She accepted his compliment with a reluctant smile and he was struck by how she looked every inch the part of a sophisticated traveler. She could probably navigate a crowded airport terminal with ease and sleep just as comfortably in a hotel bed as her own. In her world, the word home was probably a relative term. He couldn’t imagine a life like that. “So, how long are you staying?”
She seemed startled by his question and she fumbled a little, causing a momentary break in her carefully held composure. “N-not long,” she answered, quickly regaining her equilibrium. “Um…the dog?”
In other words: Butt out of my business.
“I’ll get my coat,” he answered, prickling just a little at her subtle hint to back off, yet at the same time reluctantly intrigued by the questions that came to mind when he considered her attitude toward her father. He was smart enough to know that it was foolish to draw parallels between his problems with Danni and the damaged relationship Erin had with her father. The situations were likely not the same but he couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever come a time when Danni would refuse to see him at his darkest hour. The pain that went straight to his heart almost made him make a plea for Charlie’s case, but a quick reminder that it was none of his business kept him from making a fool out of himself.
Five minutes later Colin was pulling into his driveway while Erin’s sleek, black rented Tahoe came to a stop directly behind him. The storm had kicked up again, sending flurries of snow drifting to the ground, making him wonder whether or not Danni had remembered to take her woolen hat when she stomped off to school this morning. Probably not, which was why he decided at that moment, despite the glares he’d no doubt receive, to pick her up after school.
“Dog’s pretty easygoing,” he called over his shoulder as he trudged his way through the freshly fallen snow to his front door. “She might be a little hungry, though. I gave her some hamburger to tide her over.” He unlocked the door and waited for Erin to catch up. “She also seems to have some sort of hip dysplasia. You might want to have a vet check that out.”
“Hip dysplasia? Wonderful,” she said with a touch of frustration. She rubbed her arms for warmth despite her thick woolen peacoat. “Old and crippled. What are the chances of finding her a home within a few days?”
Not good, he communicated with a look.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, following him into the house. At the sound of the door opening, the dog raised her head and peered expectantly into the hallway. As if believing it was her job to greet guests, she struggled to her feet and walked over to them. Erin’s forehead furrowed and her gaze softened ever so slightly. She cast a worried glance his way. “She does seem a bit stiff… is there a vet in town who could look at her?”
Ridiculously relieved, he nodded. “Doc Archer can probably take a look at her first thing in the morning.” At her glance, he explained. “Doc closes shop at noon, and he’s the only vet in town.”
She accepted his answer, but from her expression he could tell she wasn’t pleased. It was clear she wanted her stay in Granite Hills to be as brief as possible and a crippled dog only hindered that plan.
“I figure you’ll be staying out at Caroline’s place?” he said, leaning down to gently click the leash into place and handing it to her.
“No,” she answered, the tone of her voice suggesting the thought was too much to bear. She added hastily, “There’s bound to be a hotel that has a room available. It’ll be easier if I stay in town.”
He frowned and she queried sharply, “What?”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been gone but around this time of year the hotels are all full. Winter Festival. It’s one of our biggest tourist attractions,” he said.
She swore under her breath. Obviously, she hadn’t taken that into consideration. Her voice took on an incredulous tone. “All the hotels? Even Buttercreek?”
“No, that one closed about a year ago. Mr. Grogan died from congestive heart failure and his wife went to live with their daughter over in Ironwood,” he answered, surprised by her stricken expression.
“I hadn’t heard,” she murmured, something, regret perhaps, catching in her throat. “The Grogans were nice people. They used to let me swim in their pool during the summer and Mrs. Grogan always had a small something for me at Christmastime. Well, that’s too bad about the hotel closing. It was a special place.”
He didn’t disagree with her. Danni had learned to swim in the Grogans’ pool. When Cappy Grogan died, he’d been one of the pallbearers.
Eyes suddenly clearing, Erin looked down at the dog, who was watching the exchange with a soft intelligence that was almost startling, and reluctantly relented, though he could tell it was the least desirable option. “I guess it’s back to Caroline’s then…for the time being,” she said, focusing for a moment on the leash in her hand before meeting his gaze again. “Thanks…for taking care of her.”
“No problem,” he answered, noting that the brief smile she offered was pained around the edges. “She’s a good dog. I hope you can find her a good home.”
“Me, too,” she said, sincerity evident in her tone, as she headed toward the door. Suddenly, she paused and twisted to face him wearing a drawn and pinched expression, as if whatever she was about to say tasted bitter on her tongue. “When I used to live here, the Barstow family owned the mortuary…is that still the place to go to make…funeral arrangements?”
He answered her with a short nod, his gut reacting to the almost palpable sense of sorrow that surrounded her like a cloud. She drew a deep breath, as if she needed the extra oxygen for strength, and offered her thanks in a husky murmur before turning and leading the old dog carefully down the snow-covered steps to the front walk. Within minutes they were gone.
He stared after the retreating back end of the Tahoe and pressed his lips together in silent commiseration. He didn’t envy her homecoming.
What had gone wrong between her and her father? He only knew Charlie McNulty in a peripheral fashion but the man seemed harmless enough. He’d picked him up a few times when Charlie had had one too many, but it’d been a while since he’d had to do that. Someone had said something about Charlie finally joining AA. He chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip. After years of more than likely driving drunk, Charlie McNulty got in a wreck stone-cold sober. The irony was tragic.
Locking up quickly, he returned to the station, detouring briefly to grab a cup of coffee from the carafe that some blessed, probably underpaid, junior officer kept gurgling at all hours of the night, before making his way back to his desk.
“Sorry to hear about Danni,” he heard Max Stubberd, a patrol officer, call out as he walked by. Colin acknowledged the man with a nod. He was sorry, too.
Sipping his coffee, he winced just a little as his muscles protested his early-morning snow shovel duty. He supposed he could pay someone to do it but it seemed like throwing away good money when he was just as capable. He rotated his shoulder and stretched the muscle. As much as he hated to admit it, paying someone was beginning to have some appeal. Reaching in his bottom drawer for a bottle of aspirin, the voice of Detective Leslie O’Bannon, a native of Granite Hills and one of his good friends, sounded at his shoulder.
“Here’s that supplemental from the state trooper, Col,” Leslie said, handing him the two-page report. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the partition separating their desks, her expression solemn. “So, you were the first on the scene, huh? Pretty bad, I take it?”
He nodded. “One of the worst I’ve seen in a long time. Caroline Walker died on scene, poor gal, and Charlie’s over in the ICU at GH Medical.”
“Think he’s going to make it?”
“Hard to say. He’s pretty banged up.”
“Man, can you imagine going sober after all those years only to have this happen? Doesn’t seem fair.” She shook her head. “Caroline was about the sweetest person I’d ever known, too. I remember she used to volunteer at the schools when I went to Granite Hills Elementary, always brought homemade cookies for the holidays. Every kid went home with a small bag of goodies.” Leslie frowned at the memory. “Geez, she must’ve been baking for days, but she never complained. In fact, she always seemed to enjoy doing something for everyone.” She was quiet for a moment, her expression full of sorrow. “What a crying shame.…”
Colin nodded in agreement. Caroline would surely be missed in this town. Leslie sighed, the sound echoing the emotion he felt in his chest at the tragedy. “So, is Erin coming back for the funeral and to take care of her dad?”
Leslie’s inquiry summoned the image of Erin’s shuttered expression when it came to the subject of her father and the corners of his lips twisted. “She’s already in town, but I get the impression that as soon as the funeral is over, she’ll be on the first plane out of here. Seems she and her dad don’t get along so well.”
“Yeah, that family’s had it rough. I guess you can’t blame Erin for wanting to get the hell out of here.”
Leslie’s tone suggested that she knew what Colin was referring to but before he could prompt her for more details, she was paged to the front desk and she turned to leave. “Well, let me know if you need any help,” she said, gesturing to the paperwork before hurrying down the hall.
He knew the offer was made in light of Danni’s escapade and, although he appreciated everyone’s concern, it chafed more than a little that everyone knew his business. He couldn’t hold it against anyone, though. Colin had moved to Granite Hills when Danni had still been in diapers. As a single father, sometimes without daycare to fall back on, Danni had been a frequent visitor to the station. This recent turn of events probably had everyone alarmed, he realized.
Returning to the case in his hand, he grabbed the hospital report to attach to the file and his eyes focused on the BAC levels.
Totally sober.
He had to admit, he’d been surprised. The discovery certainly begged a few questions.
If the man hadn’t been impaired and, as evidenced by the supplemental report, the roads had been clear, what had sent the old Ford into that tree? He flipped through the medical evaluation, but there was no indication that Charlie had had a stroke or heart attack, no medical reason for him to lose control. Then he thumbed through the state trooper’s report, looking for the skid-mark pattern, but came up empty. Puzzled, he checked again, thinking he might have missed it, until he realized with a perplexed frown that there weren’t any to find. Charlie McNulty had plowed headlong into that birch…for no apparent reason.
What was he looking at?
Something didn’t sit right with Colin about this accident. His mind was moving in circles, but he couldn’t put a voice to his suspicions.
The unanswered questions prevented him from filing the case as closed.
He needed more information, preferably background, to see if he had cause to dig a little deeper. A pair of vivid blue eyes appeared in his mind and an electric thrill followed that was both unexpected and startling. If he hadn’t been annoyed at his own reaction, he might’ve chuckled at the absurdity. Erin McNulty? She was about as warm as the waters in Lake Superior at this time of year. Anyone willing to walk out on family like she was itching to do could use a little help in the compassion department. He’d do well to nip that attraction in the bud. He had enough problems.
From what he could gather from people who’d known Erin’s family, he found that while the McNulty side had been hard workers, they played equally as hard. Erin’s mother Rose had come from an upper middle class family. Rose Rawlins’s father had been a businessman, and her mother a homemaker, but both had perished in a house fire when Rose had been seventeen. Rose had been sleeping over at a friend’s house when it happened. It seems that family was a magnet for trouble.
Colin sat back in his chair, his thoughts returning to Erin. He supposed he was still caught off guard by how different she was. Though he had to admit his assumptions had been ridiculous. What had he expected? A wild-haired, younger version of Charlie? He snorted—well, she was anything but that. She was sleek and refined, whereas Charlie was coarse and crabby. The differences raised more questions than they answered.
Another officer walked by, offering a quick goodbye before heading out the door. Shaking himself out of the useless direction of his thoughts, he proofread his official report of the accident, reviving the memory of that night.
He’d been heading down Old Copper Road when he saw the vapor spiraling from the ruptured radiator into the frigid air. The front end of the older model Ford was wrapped around the solid trunk of an old yellow birch while a fresh drift of snow had started to fall on the wreckage. As Colin picked up speed toward the accident, he radioed for emergency crews and prayed whoever was in that mess was still alive. He glanced at his report again.
Driver #1, 58-year-old male, head lacerations, multiple injuries.
Passenger #1, 54-year-old female, severe head trauma. Dead on arrival.
The sterile report in his hands did little to communicate the horror of the fatal accident. Colin could smell the tang of copper drifting on the wind and mingling with the scent of wintergreen from the injured tree as emergency crews worked to save Charlie, knowing that Caroline was long gone.
Thank God no one else had been traveling that same stretch of highway that night. Colin shifted in his chair and let the paper slip out of his hands. Tomorrow he’d have to stop by the hospital and check Charlie’s status. He couldn’t help but feel bad for the old guy, seeing as he was broken all to hell without a soul in the world to care if he lived or died. The one person who had cared was dead; and the one who should care would rather walk the other way.
Colin could hear the night shift arriving, their voices rising in playful banter with one another. He recognized the voice of Mark Sporlan and the newest officer to join the small department, Missy Reznick. Then, he heard the voice of Roger Hampton, the chief of Granite Hills P. D.
“Got a minute?”
Surprised, Colin swiveled in his chair. “Sure, Chief,” he answered, following him to his office. Normally, the chief left before the night shift came in. The fact that he was still here and wanted a private audience gave Colin pause. Something was up.
“Take a seat, detective.”
“Something wrong?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” He fixed Colin with a sharp stare that was piercing, yet showed concern. “I’m not one to meddle in personal affairs but I couldn’t help but notice that Danni got hauled in last night on a misdemeanor drug charge. What’s that all about?”
Colin tensed, immediately on the defensive. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just your run-of-the-mill teenage rebellion.”
“I’m sure you’ve got things well in hand, Colin. Look, I know I’m treading on dangerous ground here. No parent likes a meddler. So, I’m not going to do that. But if my officers are having personal problems that might affect their job performance, I like to know ahead of time what I’m dealing with.”
“The problems I’m having with Danni won’t affect my job,” he assured the chief. “She’s a good kid. This is just a phase.”
“What if it isn’t?”
The chief’s blunt question zeroed in on Colin’s worst fear. “Then, I’ll deal with it,” he answered with more confidence than he felt. How he was going to deal with it, he hadn’t a clue, but that was just one more problem he’d work through. If he could handle midnight feedings, diapers and daycare issues as a single father, he could handle this.
“Listen, Colin.” The chief drew himself up as far as his round belly would allow, his finger tapping his desk. “You’re a good cop. I’m only saying this to you because I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather authorize some personal time now so you can figure things out than lose you permanently because the problems have spun out of your control. I already had Bruce look at the books and you have plenty of vacation time banked. If you need it, just say the word and I’ll sign the paperwork.”
At a loss for an appropriate response, he gave the chief a curt nod. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll keep your offer in mind. If things continue to go downhill…” God, he hoped it didn’t go that way. “Then I’ll take your advice and cash in some of that vacation time.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” The chief stood and grabbed his jacket. As Colin approached the door, his mind returning to the situation with Danni, the chief’s voice stopped him.
“I heard Charlie McNulty was banged up pretty bad in that fatal accident with Caroline Walker on Old Copper. Is he going to make it?”
Colin stopped and turned. “Not sure,” he answered truthfully. “Did you know them?”
His expression guarded, the chief answered with a slow nod. “We used to be buddies. But we had a falling out years ago. Haven’t seen much of either one of them lately. It’s a shame about Caroline, though. She was quite a woman.”
Surprised at this admission, Colin started to ask him some more questions about Charlie, but suddenly Roger winced and rubbed at his breastbone. “You okay?” he asked, not quite liking what he saw.
The chief stopped the motion and waved away Colin’s concern. “Just a little bit of heartburn, is all.” Then, in a characteristic move, he winked. “Had hot sausage for lunch—don’t tell Vera or she’ll have my head.”
Relieved, Colin returned the conspiratorial grin. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Roger Hampton. He was a great guy and a mentor to his officers. “Your secret’s safe with me Chief.”
“I knew I could count on you,” the chief answered, his lips twisting in a smile that was probably meant to be appreciative yet seemed ragged on the edges. A flutter of unease returned to his gut. He had no choice but to shelve it for the time being. The chief had already stayed later than usual on account of Colin and he didn’t want to keep him any longer.
He glanced at his watch and drew a deep breath. It was time to pick up Danni from school. Gathering his coat, he waved goodbye to the night shift and prepared to endure another emotional assault at the hands of his daughter.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME ERIN PULLED into Caroline’s driveway, she was bone-tired, but even the fatigue wasn’t enough to dull the shaft of pain that went straight to her heart as she stared at the old house. Shutting off the ignition she pressed herself against the soft seat and fought against the well of tears that sprang to her eyes with the knowledge that Caroline wasn’t coming out to greet her, nor would she ever again. Despite her best efforts, a tear snaked its way down her cheek, and before she knew it, she was holding her face in her hands and sobbing.
Why were you with him, Caroline? What were you doing?
Erin stared into the darkness as the tears continued to fall unchecked. The questions were as endless as they were pointless. Butterscotch whined from the back seat, and Erin realized she was shaking from the cold. Logic dictated that she go inside, but she wasn’t sure if she could. Another whine from Butterscotch sounded, this time more urgent, and Erin reluctantly pocketed her keys. Drawing a deep breath, she ruthlessly shoved her heartbreak into a dark corner of her mind and focused on the situation. If she stayed much longer in the car, someone—more than likely Colin Barrett—would find them frozen to their seats, and dying from hypothermia with an old dog for a companion was not the way she envisioned going out.
A bright porch light illuminated the familiar house against the snow-topped forest and even through the milky light she could see signs of decay that tore at her heart. The house wasn’t what anyone would call fancy, but at one time it had been quite lovely. A frown crossed her face as more guilt pricked her conscience. If she’d known the house was in need of repair she would’ve sent the money. Of course, Erin couldn’t have known because she never came home to visit and Caroline, darn her stubborn soul, would never ask.
Without conscious thought she inhaled deeply the scent of fresh water on the air from Lake Superior as her breath plumed in frosty clouds. The crescent moon sheathed the wooded backdrop in pale light, giving the snow a luminescent glow, like something out of a fairy tale. The quiet stillness was soothing to her ragged nerves and for a moment she just stood and listened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such peace. In the city, the constant cacophony of busy streets, honking horns and loud pedestrians filled her apartment despite the windows that she kept closed and locked.
Erin shook her head free of the melancholy that had enveloped her and went to grab her gear. Obviously, jet lag was doing more than tiring her out—it was making her downright loopy. She did not miss this place. Opening the back hatch, she grabbed her suitcase along with her camera bag.
Glancing down at Butterscotch, who was waiting patiently by her side, she shook her head in disgust at herself and made her way to the front door.
She was here to take care of business, not wallow in useless nostalgia. Yet, when she came to the porch steps, she stopped and cast one last look at the wooded shoreline, hating it for its beauty and its ability to move her in spite of everything. She shut her eyes against the ghostly light of the moon and focused on getting through the door without collapsing.
Don’t think of it as Caroline’s house, she told herself fiercely when her breath hitched in her throat as she slid the key into the lock.
It’s just a bed and a place to shower.
No, it was more than that, a voice argued with the same vehemence. Caroline’s house had been the one place she’d felt loved, cherished and safe. The place where she could sleep an entire night without waking in a cold sweat, terrified of the agonizing, drunken bellows that echoed in the still night air. The place that Caroline had insisted she consider home—no matter how old she was.
Erin closed her eyes and swallowed, knowing with a fatal certainty that walking through that door would crack her heart in two, yet also knowing that the pain was inevitable.
She swore softly at the situation. Congratulations. You’ve made it as far as the porch before falling to pieces. Open the damn door already before you and the dog freeze your asses off.
Wiping the residual tears from her eyes, she opened the door and stepped inside as Butterscotch nosed her way past, intent on finding her own bed for the evening. Erin didn’t bother with the hall light. Despite the years that had passed since she’d been back, Erin knew her way around as if she’d never left. The fatigue that had been a constant companion as she drove returned with a vengeance and, for once, she welcomed it.
Walking like a zombie to the bedroom that had once been hers, she stepped over the threshold, flipped the light and sucked in a breath as memories assailed her.
It was exactly as she remembered, as if time had stopped or Caroline had been loath to change anything. It was both oddly comforting and disturbing. She crossed to the wrought-iron bed and sank onto the sturdy mattress, a small smile lifting her lips as the old springs squeaked from disuse.
Erin’s fingers skimmed the soft fabric of the quilt covering the bed, remembering how her aunt had patched it together especially for her from old odds and ends that’d been collected over the years. Erin had spent many a night snuggled into its protective warmth.
The hardwood floor still had a bare spot by the entryway from the many comings and goings throughout the years and the antique armoire that had once been part of a glorious collection of hand-crafted Victorian furniture stood sentinel against the wall near the bed. Caroline had inherited the piece from her mother, who had inherited it from her husband’s family before that. Erin had loved having something with such history. It’d made her feel as if she were someone important instead of always feeling forgotten.
Spurred by the flash of a memory, Erin rose, despite her fatigue, and walked to the armoire. Bracing her hand against the opposite door, she gently opened it and peered inside. The sharp smell of aged wood and dust motes tickled her nose but her gaze immediately fell to the far left corner. She knelt, a pained smile curving her lips, as she traced her fingers over the tiny scratched initials of a lost, scared little girl whose tears were locked deep inside so that no one would know just how much it hurt to feel alone.
E.M.McN.
Erin rocked back on her heels. If it hadn’t been for her Aunt Caroline, she’d often wondered if anyone would have noticed or cared if she’d disappeared. Her father certainly wouldn’t have. An old familiar ache crept into her chest. She groaned when she realized she was doing exactly what she’d sought to avoid for the past fourteen years. Rising, she shut the armoire doors and wearily dusted her knees. She needed sleep, not a trip down memory lane.
After quickly changing, she burrowed under the thick quilt and closed her eyes as she gratefully surrendered to a deep, dark, dreamless exhaustion.
A RESPECTFUL MURMUR filled the air from the crowd that mingled beneath slate-gray skies outside Barstow’s Mortuary as mourners made their way out of the funeral home following Caroline Walker’s services two days later.
The dreary weather seemed to fit the occasion as Caroline had been well-liked within the community despite her brother’s wild reputation and often unpredictable nature, and everyone had come to pay their respects.
As Colin searched the line of mourners for a familiar face, he realized there was only one face he was looking for.
He spotted Erin standing outside the mortuary doors, looking brittle in her stylish, black pantsuit, and nearly frozen to the bone as she accepted hushed words of kindness from virtual strangers. She had grace despite the grief that dragged on her slight shoulders and he was reluctantly drawn to the aura of sadness and vulnerability that she was struggling to hide. As he approached, he noted the quick flare of relief that followed recognition and he was glad he came.
“Quite a turnout,” he acknowledged once he was by her side, his voice low. She nodded, the motion so filled with sorrow he hastened to say something soothing. “Your aunt will be missed in this community.”
Her chin wobbled in a subtle motion but she managed to hold it together. “Did you catch the ceremony?”
He gave a short nod. “It was beautiful. Caroline would’ve been proud, I’m sure.”
The shine in her eyes told him that his comment hit a nerve that was particularly sensitive but he wasn’t sure why. Before he had the chance to ask, she looked away, her gaze wandering over the assembled crowd. “I had no idea she had so many friends.” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat a moment later. She tried again. “I didn’t get home very often. My schedule—” She stopped, as if an internal alarm had warned that she was in danger of sharing too much, and the smile that followed was short-lived. “Well, as I said before…my schedule didn’t allow for much visiting,” she finished, her stare dropping to the frozen ground.
Feeling useless in the face of such heartache, yet knowing that there was little he could do to ease her suffering, Colin merely stood by her side as she received the long line of mourners offering their condolences. He caught a few questioning glances but Caroline’s friends had the good grace to leave it be for the time being. He didn’t blame their curiosity, he hardly knew her; that much was true. But it didn’t seem right to leave her alone.
He watched as she received a warm handshake from an elderly gentleman and weighed the measure of her apparent grief against the magnitude of a past transgression. Whatever Charlie did, it must have been a doozy to keep her away from her Aunt Caroline. The love she’d had for her aunt was almost palpable; as was her anguish for not being able to say goodbye.
He considered his major screwup with Danni and inwardly flinched. For all he knew, he was catching a firsthand glimpse of what his own future held with his daughter.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, once she had a free moment, jerking him out of his troubled thoughts. “I know we just met but it feels good to see someone I recognize.”
Her comment startled him. “I thought you grew up here.”
“I did. I used to think I knew everyone there was to know in this town. I figured I would recognize at least a few people,” she admitted almost to herself as tears welled in her eyes despite her attempt to blink them back. “But, just when I think I know who they are I can’t seem to remember their names and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
The last part came out sounding like a confession and the force of her statement hit him like a punch to the gut.
There was little he could do to stop the grief but he could help in one small way. He turned to survey the crowd, looking for people he knew. He nudged her gently.

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