“No worries. You take care of your grandmother. We’ll be fine here.”

  Grace left the door open and watched as Cara exited through the main entrance. She wondered if the woman had any idea how lucky she was to still have family alive. Grace had Liam and she cherished him beyond measure, but she missed her father so desperately. Her mother had died when Grace was only five years old, and since Grace had been an only child, there was no other family. Her parents had no siblings either, so she truly was alone except for Liam. She had always told herself she would never have an only child for just that reason, but now she couldn’t see herself ever trusting anyone enough to go down that path again.

  The image of Rob Vaughn slipped into her mind, but she dismissed it. He was a very nice man, but no matter how much she liked him, and he appeared to like her, his opinion of her would change dramatically when he learned the truth. Considering what she had just discovered, she wasn’t sure how long her dark secret would stay hidden.

  Rob had family. He would never dream of bringing someone with her past into that tight, loving group. It was foolish even to consider such an idea. He deserved someone without the sort of baggage she carried.

  The front entrance opened, and Grace’s heart stopped. Why hadn’t she locked it after Cara left?

  Because she had guests. She couldn’t lock the door until tonight.

  Cara. It was Cara coming back. Grace managed to breathe again.

  “Did you forget something?”

  “The mail.” She placed it on the desk. “See you tomorrow.” She waved and disappeared out the door once more.

  Grace steadied herself. She had to pull herself together. She had a son who needed her, and she had guests. She couldn’t fret about this a minute longer. She had to do something. If she worked at the desk, at least that would put her between the front door and Liam. First, she popped into the kitchen and ensured the back door was locked. Diane had a key. No need to leave it unlocked.

  The inn was quiet with only two guests and Liam having a nap. The only sound was the big old grandfather clock ticking. There were many vintage clocks throughout the inn, but the grandfather clock in the lobby was her favorite. The sound soothed her just a little.

  At the desk, she checked her email. Worked hard to keep her mind off events in California. Then she picked up the bundle of mail and picked through it.

  The utility bill sat on top. She opened it, reviewed the charges, then set it aside. She would take it to her desk later. Then she smiled when she counted three postcards from previous guests who wanted to thank her again for a lovely stay. She appreciated the online reviews, but to receive a handwritten note was particularly heartwarming.

  A copy of the Lookout Mountain Monitor. She set it aside as well to review later with a cup of tea. It was her favorite late-afternoon appointment with herself. Lots of junk mail, which she tossed into the recycle bin beneath the desk. A six-by-nine-inch white envelope with no markings. A frown tugged at her brow. Probably went with the junk mail, but she checked to see what was inside just in case.

  A photograph...the kind printed from a computer onto plain white paper.

  She froze, then started to shake as her heart bumped back into rhythm and then began to pound frantically.

  Liam...standing at that window last evening. His curly blond hair sleep tousled.

  Someone had taken the picture from outside the window. The man Liam had seen in the snow.

  The man with blue eyes like Liam’s.

  “Oh my God.”

  He was here.

  Grace didn’t have to wonder. Adam had signed the bottom of the photograph the way he always signed notes to her.

  XOXO

  Chapter Four

  Bluebird Trail, 1:30 p.m.

  “Mrs. Sells, you’re certain about the timing?”

  Rob watched the elderly woman consider the question. She’d called to say someone had been staying in her garage. From the looks of the place, someone had indeed fashioned a makeshift bed by throwing together a couple of moving quilts in one corner.

  “Well, I was out here Sunday around lunchtime. I parked my car in the garage after church, so I think I would have seen this mess then.”

  Rob nodded. “But you haven’t been out here since then?”

  “Not until lunch today,” she explained. “Mattie England and I have lunch together every Monday. I didn’t notice anything out of place until I came back, of course. When the garage door opened I could see straight in here and there it was.” She shook her head. “Now, I don’t mind anyone trying to stay warm by whatever means is handy, but it would be nice to be warned.”

  Rob gave the lady a nod. “Mrs. Sells, if someone you don’t know shows up at your house needing a warm place to stay, you send them on over to the shelter on Bennett Street. There’s always plenty of room there. Never let a stranger into your house.”

  “Well, now, Deputy,” she argued, “he didn’t knock on my door.”

  Okay, now Rob was really worried. “Did you see this man?”

  The ninety-year-old lady frowned. “Well, no, but I did see a young fella walking down the trail just before dark on Sunday. He wasn’t from around here, so I suspect he’s the culprit who did this.” She gestured to the mound in front of her vintage Ford sedan. “No one who lives in the neighborhood would do this and then not bother to fold the quilts up and put them away like he found them. He could have at least done that.”

  “What was this man wearing?” Rob asked, pulling out his notepad to jot down anything she remembered. Under other circumstances the lady’s opinion might have been amusing, but these days nothing about an intruder should be minimized.

  “A black coat and one of those beanie things.” She patted her head. “It was black too.”

  The man Liam had seen had been wearing a beanie. Considering Bluebird Trail was the next street over from Mockingbird Lane, there was a reasonable possibility it was the same guy.

  “Could you see any details of his face? Was he Caucasian?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, he was. I couldn’t make out any real details like the size of his nose or anything like that, but it was clear that he was white.”

  Rob surveyed the garage again. “Have you noticed anything missing? Tools? Anything at all?”

  “Well, no.” She too glanced around. “But I never really kept up with what Harvey had in here. The garage was his domain.”

  Harvey was her late husband. He’d passed away last year.

  “Do you mind if I have a look around?”

  “You go right ahead, Deputy.” She shivered. “I’m going in the house. It’s cold out here with that overhead door open.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you do that. I’ll close the door and check in with you before I leave.”

  When the lady had gone back into the house, Rob started on one side of the garage and surveyed the shelves. Tools lined most of them. Tools for working on automobiles and tools for gardening. Since Mrs. Sells rarely came into the garage, he hoped anything recently taken or moved would be noticeable due to the fine layer of dust that coated the shelves. He moved slowly along one side, then progressed to the other. Nothing jumped out at him. He retraced his steps, studying the concrete floor where a few items were stored beneath the shelves. In the corner, sawhorses had been tucked away. A creeper for sliding beneath cars. None of which appeared to have been moved.

  So far, it seemed that whoever had found his way into the Sells garage had only been looking for a place to sleep. Still, this was not safe, particularly for an elderly person like Mrs. Sells.

  Rob closed up the garage and walked to the back door of the Sells home. He knocked and then waited for the lady to answer.

  She opened the door. “Did you find anything?”

  “No, ma’am, nothing more than you did.” He made a face. “I’m not happy with the idea of someone creeping about on your property. I need you to be sure to keep your doors locked at all times. Tonight, around six, I or another deputy will come by and check your garage. We’ll do it again at midnight. If you have no objections, we’ll do this for a couple of days just to be sure he’s gone for good. If your trespasser notices this, he may find someplace new to hang out.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” she agreed.

  “But I do need you to call it in if you see any strangers in the area. Even if they’re just on the street. If someone you don’t recognize is walking by, I want to hear about it.” This was a dead-end street with little or no traffic. Strangers stood out.

  “I sure will,” she promised.

  “All right, then. I’ll be on my way.”

  Rob had just backed out of the Sells drive when his cell sounded off.

  Grace Myers.

  His pulse rate sped up as he accepted the call. “Hey, Grace. Everything okay?”

  “There was something in my mail,” she said, her tone more than a little reluctant. “Do you mind dropping by and having a look?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Mockingbird Lane, 2:10 p.m.

  WHILE LIAM RAN around the room chasing the multicolored balls that had escaped his portable ball pit, his mom stood by nervously watching Rob study the photograph and envelope she’d discovered in her mailbox.

  Since there was no address and no postage mark, obviously the envelope had been placed in her mailbox by someone unaffiliated with the postal service. Also, obviously, it was the person who had walked through the snow and stood on her porch staring through a window at her son.

  He hated to ask the question he couldn’t avoid any longer. It would sound like an accusation, and he didn’t want that. But there was no way around it. “And you don’t have any idea who may have left this for you to find?”

  It was the lengthy hesitation before she summoned a response that told him all he needed to know.

  “I—I just can’t imagine why anyone would do this.” She gestured to the photo. “It makes no sense.”

  Rob glanced at Liam to ensure he was occupied with his attempts to get all the balls back into the pit before saying what he could no longer put off. “Think carefully about your answer, Grace. This person could be dangerous. You shouldn’t have any hesitation talking to me about this. The XOXO at the bottom feels personal.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to hold them back. “Give me a minute.”

  She hurried into the hall outside her private parlor and called for Mrs. Wilborn. A moment later the housekeeper appeared, and Grace asked her to stay with Liam for a bit. Evidently, whatever Grace had to talk about, she didn’t want Liam overhearing.

  Mrs. Wilborn smiled as she breezed into the small parlor. “Afternoon, Deputy Vaughn.”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Wilborn. How’s Mr. Wilborn?”

  She harrumphed. “Complaining as always but managing to stay out of trouble.”

  Rob laughed. “Planning that big garden already, I imagine.”

  “He is.” She settled on the floor with Liam. “What’s happening here, Mr. Liam?”

  Grace waited in the doorway. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

  Rob gave her a nod and followed her in that direction.

  In the kitchen, he waited while Grace opened one cabinet door after the other. He had no idea what she was searching for or why, so he settled on a stool at the island and waited patiently.

  “Finally,” she said, withdrawing something from the last cupboard she searched. She set a fifth of bourbon on the counter, then went to another cupboard and grabbed two glasses. She placed them next to the bottle, opened it and poured a generous serving in each glass.

  She looked to him. Blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you cared to join me. I just assumed.” She passed a glass to him, then raised her own and drank deeply.

  His eyebrows reared up in surprise. This was going to be interesting. He’d never seen Grace drink wine or beer, much less anything stronger. Rather than explain how he was on duty, he simply set the glass down and waited for her to spill whatever was troubling her. The quickest way to slow the momentum of someone who wanted to talk was to make some unrelated comment.

  Her glass landed on the counter once more and the look of pain on her face told him he was right to assume she wasn’t much of a drinker. When she finally managed to swallow the strong liquid, she cleared her throat, coughed, cleared her throat again and managed a breath.

  “Better now?” he asked.

  She shuddered a little. “We’ll see.”

  He felt confident this was no time to laugh, but he couldn’t resist a soft chuckle. “Want to tell me what this is all about?”

  * * *

  GRACE CONSIDERED POURING another deep shot of bourbon but figured she should stop while she was ahead. Otherwise she might not be able to stay standing. She couldn’t take that risk no matter how much she would love to drown out the world for a little while. Keeping Liam safe was all that mattered. Not her feelings. Not her own safety—only his.

  Which was why she had to do this. There was no pretending it would all be okay. Not anymore. Her reprieve from the nightmare was over.

  For more than two years she had promised herself that no one would ever know the truth about her past. No one would ever hear the awful story and associate Liam or her with it. But she had no choice now.

  Clearly the legal system had failed Liam. Failed her. Failed all those victims.

  She squared her shoulders, stared Rob Vaughn straight in the eyes and said what she needed to say. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  There. She’d said it. She allowed herself to breathe again. The burn in her throat and stomach had settled, and she felt the beginnings of another sort of warmth seeping through her system.

  “Can you be a bit more specific?”

  He frowned, his brown eyes clouding with questions. He had the nicest brown eyes and thick black hair.

  She blinked. Focus, Grace.

  When she failed to find the words to continue in a timely manner, he said, “I can see this is serious.” He nodded to her. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes. Very serious. My real name is Gianna Reinhart Locke. You may have heard of my...” Take a deep breath and just say it. “My ex-husband is Adam Locke.”

  He didn’t have to say a word. The look on his face told her that he knew who she meant. The whole world knew.

  She closed her eyes and forced away the memories that attempted to intrude.

  “Okay.”

  The single word caused her lids to flutter open. She studied his face. She had come to trust this man on some level. Something she had thought she would never again do. She liked him. Was attracted to him. And he felt the same way about her. But now, the way he looked at her put a new fracture in her already damaged heart. He didn’t look at her with suspicion but with something far too similar, and it hurt. It hurt because she had worked so hard to build a new life here. She had struggled and fought to make it the best life possible for her and her son.

  Now it was all crashing down.

  “I barely got away from him after...” She forced her mind to allow the past back in. She had kept it at bay for so long that her brain resisted the intrusion now. “That day...” The memory of that day—the hours that bled into night. “I discovered the basement room that morning. He’d left extra early for work. He was supposed to be on vacation, but an emergency had come up and he’d had to go into the office.”

  The man she had married—the man she had thought she knew better than herself—had been a savvy businessman. He’d traveled frequently. But twice a year he had taken a week off. Grace hadn’t known then what the timing was all about. Most people she knew took a vacation once a year. But not Adam. Every six months he took a week off. He stayed home and worked on his projects.

  She, like a good wife, had believed him. Just as she had believed his projects were the handmade furniture he crafted for their home and as gifts for special friends. His little semiannual vacations were always spent on his projects. The two of them never actually went on a vacation. This hadn’t bothered her at the time because they’d only been married a few months before she’d gotten pregnant, and then they’d both wanted to stay near home.

  “He was angry,” she continued, her voice sounding hollow. She hugged her arms around herself as the memories and the cold that accompanied them filled her. “It was some sort of emergency with an account, and he was livid that he had to go into the office on his time off.” She vividly recalled how furious he’d been. “The baby was due in a short two weeks, and his big surprise was not finished.” Her mouth struggled with forming the words she had to say. “He warned me not to go into the basement. He said I might fall and he didn’t want me to see his surprise until it was finished.”

  She hadn’t meant to break her promise. She really hadn’t. “I never went into the basement. It was his domain. I thought it was a bit odd that he pressed me on the issue that morning.” She fell silent for a moment. “But not long after he left I started to understand.”

  She looked around the kitchen she loved so much. Nothing would ever be the same now. “At first I thought I left the television on in the bedroom. But I hadn’t and then I heard the sound again. A banging or thudding from the basement somewhere.”

  When she didn’t continue, he prodded, “What did you do next?”

  She blinked, drew back from the memory. If she allowed herself to be too fully immersed, she would never get this told. “I got up and checked the house. The doors and windows were locked. There was no one in the house except me. No one in the yard. I even considered that I’d imagined it or maybe that a bird had somehow gotten trapped in the attic. Then the sound grew louder, more frantic, and I realized it wasn’t in the attic.”