She ran a hand over her hair. Straight, thick and red, though not as brilliant red as when they’d all been in school together. It was more auburn now and the other day, she swore she saw a gray hair where she parted it on her left side and let it fall naturally to brush the top of her shoulders.

  She’d just realized that a silence had settled when Ian’s voice broke it.

  “When are you going to ask me?”

  She could pretend not to know what he meant but it wouldn’t fool him. The question had been burning in her mind since Mac had told her.

  “There was a witness. Ian. Ian is their witness.”

  She looked at her hands, where she’d unknowingly clasped them together in her lap. Let out a deep breath. And decided maybe she needed some fortification to face this conversation. “Maybe I will have that drink.”

  Restless, snuffling sounds broadcast through the baby monitor in Addie’s room just then and she knew that she’d missed her window for the drink and for the answer to her question. At least for now.

  “The Princess?” Ian asked, sounding hopeful.

  She glanced at the clock. “Yep. She’s waking up. And right on schedule. I’ll be right back.”

  It was bittersweet watching Ian with Addie. It should have been Mac holding their child. But Ian was so good with her that Rachael rode with it and pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Plus it was a wonderful relief to not have to cook and entertain her daughter at the same time. Ian took over the last part beautifully.

  “Fit for a princess,” Ian said, touching a finger to Addie’s ear where a tiny gold ring pierced her earlobe.

  Rachael smiled. “Mac’s idea. Which frankly surprised me.”

  “She wears it well,” Ian said.

  She was about to tell him that the earring was more than decorative, but decided not to, for fear that Mac would sound paranoid. The truth was, he’d been so concerned about being deployed and unable to look out for them that he’d insisted Addie wear a tracking device of some sort. Short of a microchip – Rachael couldn’t handle that – or a bracelet that she’d outgrow or could easily break and get lost, the earring was the best solution. It had seemed a bit obsessive to her but it gave Mac a great deal of peace of mind so she hadn’t fought it. And frankly, she rarely thought about it anymore.

  “Stay for dinner,” she said abruptly.

  “I don’t want to make more work for you,” Ian insisted.

  “You’re not making more work. I miss cooking for Mac. So humor me. Just don’t expect a five-star meal. I’m a little rusty. Between the Thailand and Afghanistan deployments Mac’s been gone the equivalent of almost two years.”

  “You’re talking to a man who’s been eating MRIs or in mess halls for the better part of a year,” Ian said, joining her in the kitchen, carrying Addie on his hip while she stared up at this new wonderful creature in rapt fascination.

  “She’s teething,” Rachael warned him. “She’ll drool all over your uniform.”

  “I think I can handle a little drool. Man, she smells good. Like … I don’t know. Baby and sunshine. Maybe a little bit of flowers.”

  “Hold her long enough and I’m sure you’ll catch a whiff of something not so sweet.”

  He laughed. “From this pretty girl? Nah.” He smiled at Addie who beamed at him.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere with that child. That and a cracker.” Rachael held out a saltine for Addie to munch on.

  “She’s beautiful, Red. My God. You and Mac made magic when you made her.”

  He sounded so enamored with their daughter that tears welled in her eyes.

  “What? What did I say?” Ian rushed over to her side.

  She shook her head. Leaned into the counter. “Nothing. It’s … Mac used to look at her like that. He needs to see her so badly.”

  Ian wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, pulled her close so the three of them made a loose little wedge of warmth. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

  “Is it?” she asked into the hollow of his throat, needing the strength of a man, of a friend to assure her. “How can it ever be okay? Mac told me how this would go. That the Army rarely loses their cases.”

  The utter despair in her voice had Addie wriggling and reaching for her.

  “MummMummMumm.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” She lifted Addie from Ian’s arms and hugged her, feeling guilty that her emotions had gotten the best of her again. “Momma’s okay. See?”

  She smiled brightly, then tickled Addie until she giggled and squealed.

  “Where’s Bunny? Can you go find Bunny?”

  Addie’s eyes lit up and she started wriggling in Rachael’s arms, suddenly frantic to get down. “BunBun.”

  Rachael set Addie down on the floor. “Go find Bunny. Show him to Ian.”

  One of these days Addie wouldn’t fall for the Bunny ploy but at the mention of her favorite friend, Addie dropped to her knees and using choreography only a toddler could make up, half crawled, half scooted until she reached the door way. Then she hiked herself up to her tiny feet and using the wall for balance, sort of monster-lurched and shuffled out of the kitchen.

  Rachael wiped her eyes, feeling guilty. “I can’t let her see me upset. I just can’t. She’s so sensitive and intuitive to my feelings.”

  “You can’t keep them bottled up, either, Red.”

  She glanced at him. He’d leaned a hip against the countertop, crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with concern.

  “I’ve got broad shoulders,” he told her. “One’s got a little baby drool on it right now, but the other one’s available if you need it.”

  She almost cried right then and there but held it down to a watery smile. Both of her parents were gone, and she was an only child. Mac’s parents had never forgiven her for ‘making’ him get married right out of high school and not following his father’s career path in the family business. She’d never been close with them. And when she’d called them to tell them about the charges against Mac, she’d heard and sensed more embarrassment than concern for their son. It was tragic. There would be no support, emotional or otherwise, coming from that quarter.

  Ian had been the closest she’d ever had to family. He was like a brother. And she’d never needed him more than she did right now. Because she’d never felt so alone.

  Oh, yeah, she wanted to cry on his shoulder but was afraid that if she gave in to it, she might never get herself back together.

  “Rain check,” she said with a smile for his benefit. “But when the time comes, you’re going to be sorry. If this dam ever bursts...”

  “No worries,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I’ll take a lot of these hugs, though.” She walked over to him and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist.

  He hugged her back exactly how she needed to be hugged. So she’d feel safe. So she’d feel that she no longer had the entire weight of the world on her shoulders.

  And with the love of a friend she’d always treasured and felt so lucky to have.

  “We’re going to dump the Army attorney, right?” Ian asked. “Get him a lawyer who will argue for his side?”

  “I’ve been looking,” she said. “I’ll show you my list. Maybe you know something about them.”

  “If not, I have someone in mind.”

  “MummMumm.”

  Addie’s deep little voice had them breaking apart and turning to her as she monster-lurched back into the kitchen, dragging her pink bunny behind her.

  “BunBun.” Addie beamed up at Ian.

  “Oh. My. God. This child is going to steal my heart.” Ian went down on one knee and graciously held out a hand to accept the bunny when Addie held it out to him.

  With an ornery, drooling grin, Addie yanked the bunny away and held it behind her back. “Mine.”

  Ian burst out in laughter. “You little tease.” Still laughing, he looked up at Rachael. “Your daughter is a heartbreaker. Just like her momma,” he added with a soft smile.

  Chapter Six

  Less than three hours later, with Ian’s help and despite Rachael’s protests, they’d cleaned up the table and he’d loaded the dishwasher, while Rachael gave Addie her bath and bundled her into her pj’s. After a sloppy kiss on Ian’s cheek and a, “Ni Ni,” wave, Rachael tucked her into bed.

  The sweet child always went to bed like a trooper. Rachael bussed a kiss on her cheek, whispered, “I love you, baby girl,” and shut the door softly behind her.

  She ducked into the bathroom to wash her hands and caught a look at herself in the mirror. She had a smudge of flour on her cheek from the sauce she’d made for the meat, her lipstick had worn off hours ago and her hair – well, let’s just say it was all over her head.

  “Where’s it supposed to be if it’s not all over your head?” Mac would tease her when she made a fuss about her hair being a mess.

  Savoring another bitter sweet memory, she grabbed a hair pick from the top vanity drawer, quickly forked it through her hair and applied a tinted lip gloss. She couldn’t do anything about the circles under her eyes but she felt at least a little more normal. Ian deserved more than a worn-out wreck after the effort he’d made to get here to help them.

  “Wow,” he said from the sofa when she walked back into the living room. “I’m going to have to try putting a baby to bed. Must have some magical rejuvenation juju or something.”

  “Didn’t realize how bad I looked or I would have ‘put her to bed’ sooner. Can I get you another drink?”

  He shook his head and laid the photo album he’d been thumbing through back on the coffee table. “One’s my limit.”

  She grinned. “Yeah. I remember that about you. Very cheap drunk. Made it easy for the girls to have their way with you.”

  He pushed out a grunt. “Yeah, well, I might have, um…”

  “Played easy to get with or without alcohol involved?” she prompted, grabbing a pillow from the sofa and sitting down in its place. “You never fooled me, mister.”

  “My secrets are exposed. And here I thought I was so good at hiding them.”

  A warm gas heat brightened and cheered the living room. “Hope you don’t mind that I turned on the fireplace.”

  “No. Not at all. It feels good.”

  He’d kicked off his boots, crossed his ankles, and propped his feet on the edge of the coffee table. He looked very relaxed and comfortable. And very tired.

  “Long flights today, huh?” she asked already knowing they had been as she hugged the pillow to her breasts.

  He tried to stop a yawn. Failed. “Yeah. Been a long twenty-four hours. A lot of connecting flights. I probably should be going. You’ve got to be tired, too.”

  “Don’t go,” she said before thinking about it. “Stay here. Upstairs in the guest room. It’s snowing again. You don’t want to drive in this stuff. Mac would have a fit if I let you leave.”

  He rolled his head on the sofa, looked at her. “Tempting,” he said, “but I can bunk down in the officer’s quarters on base until I get settled.”

  “Not tonight. Tomorrow.”

  “Rachael, come on. People—“

  “ – Will talk?” she finished for him. “Don’t care. Not much left about our lives that hasn’t already been dissected and splattered across the air waves.”

  “If the reporters see my rental sitting in your driveway all night, I can already see the headlines.”

  “Right. ‘Distraught wife of accused killer turns to mystery man in hot, illicit affair’. Screw ‘em,” she added wearily. “Petunias, all of them. As soon as it started snowing, they started trickling home. Or to the nearest bar. They won’t know if you stayed here all night or if you left.”

  He reached across the sofa and lifted her hand. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Red. It’s been a real circus hasn’t it?”

  The empathy and affection in his voice was a comfort. A reminder that she didn’t have to do this alone. At least as long as Ian was here. She didn’t want to ask how long he could stay. She didn’t want to know.

  She looked at him, watching her with his dark eyes full of concern and affection. If she’d moved into his arms again, he’d have let her. He’d give her comfort. Give her a safe haven. Give her everything but what her husband could give her.

  And as much as she loved Ian and the support he offered, she was just tired enough that her filters had shut down. She finally blurted out the question that had burned in her gut since she’d left Mac yesterday.

  “Okay. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.”

  His eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was proposing. “All right.”

  “You saw him? You saw Mac shoot that man?”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. Let go of her hand. A flicker of flame from the fire flashed across his face and she could see the pain in his eyes. The guilt.

  “No. I didn’t see him shoot anyone.”

  She sat up straighter. “But…Mac said you were a witness.”

  He grunted, sounding disgusted. “I passed for one based on the Army’s standards.”

  “I don’t understand. I don’t even understand what you were doing there in the first place. I thought you worked out of the Tactical Operations Center.”

  “Yeah. I did work out of the TOC. My company arrived about six months into Mac’s nine-month rotation. Took me a few weeks to figure out he was there, but then I called in a few favors and managed to get over to see him every once in a while. That last night, our down time didn’t match up so I went out on patrol with him. Gave us another chance to catch up. Gave him an officer other than himself to help call the shots. Mostly, though, I was just a ride along – or that night, a walk along.”

  “Did?” she asked referring to his statement that he had worked out of the TOC.

  “I was due to ship out soon anyway. That’s why I used a little pull to get over to see Mac as often as I could. I knew I’d be heading stateside soon.”

  While she was still chewing on that information, Ian started talking again.

  “I didn’t see Mac shoot anyone,” he said emphatically. “And the army knows that.”

  Here it was. The moment she’d been dreading. “Then why are you considered a witness?”

  He let his head drop back on the sofa, closed his eyes. “Because I was the one who found Mac by the body. I had to write a sworn statement of what I saw – just like the rest of the platoon on patrol that night did.”

  “What exactly did you see? Mac said you and the guys stayed outside waiting for him after he went into the house.”

  He nodded. “Right. He was in there for a while longer than I thought was safe, so I told the patrol to wait and I went in looking for him. The first room – the family area – was empty. So I called out to him. That’s when I heard shouting from somewhere in the back of the house. Then I heard rifle fire.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest. Stared at his clasped hands. “When I finally found the room, Mac was face first on the floor and the Afghan was on his back, bleeding out.

  She sucked in a breath while he went on.

  “Mac was so still. I was afraid he was dead. His rifle was on the floor beside him. I reached over and grabbed the barrel – the closest thing to me – to get the rifle away from him so I could get to him and see if he was alive. The barrel was still hot from firing.”

  The anguish in his voice was heart-wrenching. “He had a pulse so I checked him all over and didn’t find any wounds. I was rolling him to his back when the rest of the guys barged in. I told them to do what they could for the Afghan but I knew it was already too late. He was gone.”

  Rachael’s heartbeat quickened as she listened, seeing the picture Ian painted of the scene in her mind.

  “Mac started to come around then. He was dazed. Confused. He had a lump on the back of his head that I hadn’t seen. He started bleeding so I sat him up against a wall and one of the guys started bandaging him up. He … he was still groggy when the man’s wife and daughter rushed into the room and started screaming.”

  He shook his head. “I… managed to calm the wife down and ask her if anyone else had been in the house. The only thing that made sense was that someone had attacked Mac then used his rifle to kill the Afghan. She kept shaking her head but, she was out of her mind with grief and I’m not sure she really understood me. Later, the next day when TOC sent someone out to talk to her, though, she confirmed that there hadn’t been anyone else in the house. She hadn’t seen anyone.”

  When he paused, Rachael pressed him. “So … so for whatever reason Mac and this man … they might have had a struggle? And if so, wouldn’t it be self-defense if Mac had to shoot him?”

  Again, he shook his head. “I knew the lead investigator from being stationed with him at the TOC. He wasn’t supposed to but he let me see the reports. There weren’t any signs of a struggle, Red. No other guns in the room. And if the man had hit Mac, it had been hard enough to knock him unconscious. If that was the case, Mac couldn’t have shot him if he was out cold.”

  “Then that lends credence to someone else being there, right?”

  “The TOC had a forensic team go over the place with everything they had in their arsenal. The wife wasn’t lying. They couldn’t find any evidence of anyone coming or going out the back way or any of the windows and we would have seen them if they’d tried to escape from the front.”

  “Then … maybe it was the wife.” She knew she sounded desperate but it was the only thing that made sense.

  “They looked into that. Not a trace of gun oil or gun powder residue of any kind on her or her clothes. Nothing to tie her to the shooting.”

  “Then how? If Mac was knocked out, how could he have shot him?”

  He sat up straighter, turned toward her. “This is the hard part. They came up with the theory that Mac shot him, then faked his own attack.”

  She could only stare. Then blink. “Faked? That’s ridiculous! How … how do you fake being knocked out?”

  He looked at her then, his eyes weary. “Supposedly you hit yourself in the head with the butt of your rifle, then fake unconsciousness.”