“This town, the feeling of being part of a family, has allowed you to hide. You have a sense of belonging without ever really opening your heart.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

  He looked at her, though. At the bent head, the docile demeanor, and was consumed by a fear he couldn’t explain. This woman was such a conundrum, he couldn’t understand her, couldn’t grasp why she’d burst into his life.

  He didn’t know what to do with the feelings she made him face, about the past and the future. And didn’t know what to do with her.

  He wanted her to go. And he wanted her to never leave him alone, trapped in his private prison, again.

  And he couldn’t let her stay, couldn’t risk giving her what she’d take whether she meant to or not.

  The door opened. Closed behind her. Waiting until he heard her truck start, John turned off the front lights and let her go.

  PSYCHOLOGY CLASS on the Thursday after James Montford’s funeral was a subdued affair. While Caroline had attended the funeral with the majority of the town’s population, including a large number of Montford students who weren’t full-time residents of Shelter Valley, she’d stayed on the periphery and had not taken part in any of the other functions. A funeral was not the place for her to meet John’s friends.

  She wasn’t convinced that any place—or time—would be right for that.

  Wearing her capri jeans with the flowery stitched hem and matching top that made her look pudgy, not pregnant, Caroline sat in class, trying not to be upset that she hadn’t heard from John all week.

  “Sorry,” a young woman said. Coming in ten minutes late, she stumbled over Caroline’s sandaled foot as she brushed past her.

  “We’ve been discussing intelligence factors and the topic cannot be complete without taking a look at the nurture-versus-nature debate,” Phyllis was saying.

  Heart rate picking up as Phyllis’s words registered, Caroline glanced down at the blank page of her notebook. She hadn’t done a good job taking notes today. She’d start now.

  “Caroline, tell us what you think.”

  In the week or so since she’d spoken to her sister face-to-face, Caroline had begun to hope that Phyllis would forget to call on her.

  Perhaps Phyllis had just been waiting for a topic, a question, Caroline couldn’t possibly have an answer for. “The nurture-versus-nature debate has been going on since before Psychology became a science,” she said, staring at the blackboard and hoping the entire class wasn’t wondering why such an old lady was going to school with them. Not that she was really the oldest student there. She just felt as though she was.

  Montford had many students in its adult continuing-education program.

  “You’re right about that,” Dr. Langford said. Her expression was serious as she continued to watch Caroline. “But I wanted to know what you think.”

  I think I’d give half my life to have nature win. “Anyone who says that environment is not a factor in a person’s psychological and emotional makeup is mistaken.”

  “So—to put it crudely—you think that someone can be born with the ability to be smart and then end up stupid?”

  Phyllis had walked over to the side of the room, but was still facing Caroline. “I think that people could be made to believe they are.” She swallowed, willing her chest to lighten enough to allow her to breathe. “And if reality is what we believe it is, then the reality is, if we believe we’re stupid, we are.”

  The professor moved up a step. “But what if reality changes?” Phyllis was enjoying this.

  Somehow that knowledge gave Caroline courage. “You mean if someone who’s always considered himself stupid suddenly finds himself in a position to learn?”

  “Yes.”

  “He still won’t learn.”

  There were rumbles in the class. “Why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t believe he can.”

  Phyllis nodded, resting a hip against one of the vacant seats. “So you’d say that testing someone’s intelligence isn’t enough,” she said. “You’d also have to test his or her belief system.”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.” Phyllis stood, then moved back to the front of the class. “I agree with you, by the way.”

  Heat surged into Caroline’s face. With a sweaty hand, she picked up her pen and began to scribble on the page in front of her. Phyllis went on to talk about an incident Caroline had never heard of, illustrating exactly what she’d said. A young girl who’d frequently been told she was stupid had been unable to learn to read and write. It was only after she’d been adopted by a couple who were convinced she could learn that her belief system changed and she became literate. She told the class the woman’s name and everyone gasped. She was well-known throughout the world of science for her many forward-thinking theories.

  “So what about twin studies?” someone asked.

  Caroline paled, praying that her teacher wouldn’t call on her a second time. She was too close to this one. Couldn’t be impartial. Didn’t know what she thought. As many times as she’d read through the material, and the extra material she’d found on the Internet and in the Montford library, she still didn’t have a sense of clarity about the various findings, still didn’t know if environment or heredity played a bigger part.

  She wanted so badly to believe that it was heredity but feared it was environment. And that, if she didn’t turn her tail and run home soon, her environmental influences were going to embarrass her, expose her for the stupid country bumpkin she really was. Even if she happened to be a bumpkin who read constantly, voraciously. Because without much formal education, she had no framework for what she learned, no way of judging it.

  Her only hope for a different outcome was Jesse. That was one intelligent boy. And he’d come from her.

  Whether Phyllis planned to call on her or not, Caroline didn’t find out. Her teacher didn’t have a chance to call on anyone. The door down on the floor behind the podium flew open. Matt Sheffield quickly surveyed the room, spotted his wife and loped toward her. He said something and, in the next instant, Phyllis was pulling off her microphone, yelling that class was dismissed. Leaving her briefcase and books behind, she followed her husband out.

  There was a flurry of papers and pens as students packed up around her. Caroline stood, all the blood draining from her face. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Her sister was in trouble.

  And she didn’t know how to find out what kind of trouble. Or how to help.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PHYLLIS’S TWO-AND-A-HALF-YEAR-OLD son, Calvin, was missing. The twins had been with their father in town. He’d bent down to tie Clarissa’s shoe and when he’d stood up again, Calvin was gone. Less than half an hour after the interrupted Psychology class had been dismissed, an announcement had been made on the local radio station. It was now spreading by word of mouth around the campus.

  Caroline, standing with several other members of the class, was one of the first to hear. The Sheriff’s Department was asking for volunteers to form a search party. So far, more than three hundred people had gathered.

  “Come with me.”

  Caroline jumped as the voice spoke just behind her left ear. It was John. And he was dragging her through the crowd of people to the front, where Phyllis was surrounded by the rest of the Shelter Valley Heroines and their husbands. She looked for Ellen, didn’t see her, and figured she must be watching some of the younger kids.

  Clarissa, she soon heard, was at home with Beth Richards.

  “We’re going to split up into groups,” Greg Richards was speaking into a bullhorn, which he lowered to say, “Matt, take three people with you. Phyllis, you take another three. The two of you know Calvin’s habits and are most apt to figure out where he might go. You’re also most likely to recognize any sign of his presence—a piece of clothing, a wadded-up wrapper of some kind of candy he likes.”

  Looking at her twin, Caroline could feel the panic riding up Phyllis’s spine.

  Greg lifted the horn. “For now—” he gazed out over the growing crowd “—I’m inclined to think Calvin’s just wandered off. But time is of the essence. A two-year-old alone after dark, even in Shelter Valley, isn’t something we want to face.”

  Heads nodded as murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Let’s break up into groups of two,” the sheriff continued. “Everyone start with your own neighborhood and any play areas you might know about. Go to the grocery store, comb Wal-Mart. If there are ten of you looking in the same place, fine. Someone has to see what someone else might miss.”

  Greg had a few more quick instructions and gave out a couple of emergency phone numbers that would be taking any information. An office had been designated to receive reports of each search.

  Taking Caroline’s hand, John walked over to the Sheffields.

  Raising a shaky hand to her temple, Phyllis was frantically searching the faces in front of her.

  “Tory, Becca…” she said at the same time that Matt called out to John and Will. “And…” Phyllis’s eyes caught Caroline, standing there with John. “You. Please come with me.”

  “But I—”

  “Please, you’re smart. I need your help.” Phyllis’s voice was sharp with fear.

  With a nod toward John, Caroline quickly introduced herself as one of Phyllis’s students to Tory and Becca, following just behind the other three women as they set off for the ice-cream shop in town—the last place Calvin had been seen. They were going from there to the day care.

  Matt and his group were going to the park across the street and would work their way home.

  “HE ISN’T HERE.” Phyllis blurted, looking around the ice-cream parlor. She’d checked every closet in the shop and every stall in the both bathrooms, even examined places a child, no matter how small, could not possibly hide.

  With an arm around her back, Tory led Phyllis outside and up the street toward the day care.

  “We’ll find him, hon,” Becca said. “Even if he was here, he’d have left by now. You know Calvin, always figuring he knows just what to do.”

  “I can’t believe he left Clarissa,” Tory muttered.

  Caroline wondered where a small boy would go if he suddenly found himself free….

  “My son hid in a haystack,” she said, thinking aloud. “He was just playing. We wouldn’t even have known he was gone except he fell asleep there and we discovered he was missing. I thought he was with his dad…. He woke up when we found him and wondered what all the fuss was about.”

  “See?” Tory said. “It’s going to be something like that.”

  Caroline hoped she was right.

  “He’s bound to be scared by now,” Tory said an hour later. With dusk falling, the women left Little Spirits Day Care and headed back toward the ice-cream shop, watching every movement on all sides of them. They encountered various other groups of searchers, but no one had news.

  “He’ll be hungry, too,” Phyllis said. Becca, walking beside Caroline, said nothing. Her eyes were intently focused, seeming to be everywhere at once.

  “The first time my stepfather hit me, I ran away from home,” Tory said. “I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember I got scared whenever it started to get dark. I hid in the closest corner I could find.”

  Caroline started studying every single crevice and corner they passed. So Tory Sanders had been abused. No wonder Phyllis was so protective of her friend.

  MATT AND HIS GROUP were waiting at the ice-cream shop. Caroline stood back, unable to keep the tears at bay as she watched her sister fall apart in her husband’s arms. Matt cried, too, his head bent, but quickly straightened.

  “Okay, Phyl, he needs us now.” The words were filled with love and a curious kind of strength. It wrapped around the small crowd gathered there, touching even Caroline.

  “I just talked to Greg. He suggested a few of you wait here. Often when a child wanders off, he’ll eventually make his way back to where he started from.”

  “I’ll stay,” Phyllis said immediately. Matt nodded. “Becca, if you and Will could handle the phone lines, that would be great. There’s been a lot of questions from the press and you’re the two best suited to handle that job.”

  They nodded.

  “How’re you doing?” Caroline hadn’t heard John walk up.

  “Okay.” Better with him around. He knew her. Somehow, that made a difference to the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her.

  “I’m going with Matt and Ben to search the desert areas around town.”

  Caroline’s heart sank. “They aren’t still thinking he just wandered off,” she concluded softly.

  “They aren’t sure, and no one wants to take any chances.”

  Oh, God. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not in Shelter Valley. Suddenly Caroline was reminded of something Ellen had said one day, something about thinking the exact thought when she’d heard the hotel-room door shut behind her and felt her attacker’s hands on her breasts.

  “Someone needs to tell Phyllis.” Her sister wasn’t the type to hide things from; Caroline’s senses told her that much.

  “Matt’s telling her.”

  As John spoke, Caroline looked over and saw her twin fall against her husband a second time. And then watched her nod. Stand. Straighten her shoulders.

  It was what Caroline would have done if Jesse had been in trouble. There’d be time for falling apart later.

  For now, Phyllis’s son needed her.

  Nothing else mattered.

  FOR A WHILE they looked around the ice-cream shop again, and then, convinced there was no other way in, and that the little boy hadn’t fallen asleep in some corner, the three women sat down outside the building, leaning against the wall.

  The green-silk pantsuit that had been so crisp during class hours before was snagged from the cement. And stained. Phyllis seemed oblivious to the condition of what had to be a very expensive garment.

  Caroline wouldn’t have cared, either. While they’d been walking back from the day care, Caroline had heard more about Tory’s past, the abusive childhood that had led to an even more abusive marriage. The more she heard, the more her heart went out to the other woman.

  “So how’d you two come to meet?” she asked now, attempting to keep Phyllis’s mind at least partially occupied with something other than panic.

  “My older sister, Christine, and Phyllis were best friends.” Tory said, sitting between them.

  Blinking, Phyllis appeared to be mentally joining them at just that moment.

  “You and Tory’s sister were friends?” Caroline had known that Tory had a sister from an article she’d read, but Phyllis had never been mentioned in connection with her.

  “In Boston. Before I came here. We lived in the same complex, taught at the same university. She was an English professor.”

  Caroline knew what had happened to Christine and didn’t want to broach that subject. Especially not then. She searched for something else to say.

  “Christine was killed,” Tory said. Her voice was thick, but she was otherwise composed. “My ex ran us off the road. He was after me.”

  What was meant to be a happy topic—Tory and Phyllis finding each other—had become just the opposite. Caroline had never wished more fervently that she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “I’m so sorry.” She needed to say more but couldn’t find any words.

  Sorrow consumed her. For Tory. For Phyllis and little Calvin. For John and his Meredith. For Jesse, who’d lost a father too young. For herself… She was sorry that life held so much pain.

  “IT’S GOT TO BE BRAD.” Phyllis hadn’t spoken in more than twenty minutes. She’d paced the block. She’d been in and out of the ice-cream shop that had agreed to stay open in case Calvin hadn’t been found by closing time. But she hadn’t spoken. When she did, her voice rang with conviction.

  “Brad’s her ex,” Tory told Caroline. All three women were standing on the street corner, watching for movement. The other businesses on Main Street were all closed, their owners either out looking for the missing boy or home with their own children.

  Peering up at Phyllis, Tory asked softly, “Do you really think so? He’s deranged, Phyllis, but he’s never done anything against the law.”

  “Why would your ex-husband kidnap your son?” Caroline asked. At least they were doing something besides going quietly crazy. Even if it was only talking about what they were all thinking.

  Without moving her gaze from the street, Phyllis told Caroline about an investment of her ex-husband’s and how, during their divorce, his broker had made the stock seem far more valuable than it was, awarding it to Phyllis in exchange for liquid assets. And his subsequent harassment of her when the loss suddenly turned into a gain and she was sitting on a nice sum of money that still bore his name.

  In listening to Phyllis’s explanation, Caroline learned a lot more about her than simply those facts. Phyllis had not lived a blessed life. Nor had her sister always been the strong, confident woman who’d stood before her class all these weeks.

  And then something dawned on Caroline. All the time she’d spent searching the Internet for the birth family she hadn’t known might finally come to good use.

  “I know a little about searching for people on the Internet,” she said slowly. It wasn’t as if she’d ever done, or ever would do, anything illegal, but there were things a lot of people didn’t know about using the Internet. Ways to find out all kinds of information about almost anybody.

  “I might be able to find out if your ex-husband is in his home state.” There were several good services for tracking people, some of them free of charge. She belonged to a couple. “You don’t happen to know his social security number, do you?”

  Phyllis looked directly at her for the first time since the search had begun and rattled off the number. “It was on all our accounts all the years I paid the bills.” She added, “You think you can find him?”

  Caroline shrugged. “Depends on what he’s been up to. Give me some time at home,” she called, turning to walk away. “I’ll be back.”