“We probably won’t be here,” Phyllis called back. “Come by the house when you find something. We’re in the phone book.”

  Heart full, Caroline walked home as quickly as she could. Phyllis was indulging in wishful thinking if she thought Calvin was suddenly going to turn up. But anything was possible.

  She could have asked for a ride, but didn’t want to pull anyone off duty and figured that by the time she’d waited she could’ve made it home, anyway. If she had to go to Phyllis’s, if she hadn’t received word that the little nephew she’d never met had been found, she’d borrow Mrs. Howard’s car.

  A BOUT OF NAUSEA just as she arrived home slowed Caroline a bit. She dashed to her bathroom upstairs. When she came out, Mrs. Howard was standing there with a tray of food and a pot of tea.

  “I heard you were out searching. You missed your dinner,” the older woman said. “Not a good thing to do in your condition.”

  She met Caroline’s eye, her expression kind.

  With a hand on the doorjamb, Caroline asked, “How long have you known?”

  “Not long enough,” Mrs. Howard said. “We should be eating more nutritiously than we have been,” she continued. “And we will, starting now.” With a pointed look, the woman motioned toward Caroline’s door, following her in when Caroline had turned on a light.

  “Does the father know?” the older woman asked as she set the tray on the desk.

  She nodded. “He’s here in Shelter Valley.”

  “Is he going to marry you?”

  “We’re…seeing each other,” Caroline said.

  “Good.” Then, at the door, she asked, “Is he the young man who came visiting?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Howard nodded again, opened the door. “I liked him.”

  “I…I’m just home for a little while to look up something on the computer,” Caroline offered, the sharing of her movements foreign to her. “I’ll have to go back out when I’m done. May I borrow your car?”

  “Of course,” Bea Howard said. “As long as you’re careful not to do anything to hurt that baby. If my feet would carry me, I’d be out there looking, too.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Caroline said, a sense of peace pushing its way in with all the turmoil swirling inside her. It felt good to have a mother caring for her again.

  It was something she hadn’t even known she’d liked while living in Grainville, but had been missing ever since she’d left.

  SITTING IN MATT SHEFFIELD’S KITCHEN shortly after nine that last Thursday in March, John turned with everyone else when Caroline walked in through the living room. Phyllis and Tory had returned only moments before on the advice of Greg Richards, who’d said that at this point, they were considering Calvin abducted. His mother would be most needed at home. To answer phone calls, be present if the child was found and, though it wasn’t said aloud, to receive any demands for ransom that might be presented.

  “Her ex-husband’s a crazy man.” Matt was leaning against the counter, facing the men and women gathered there, but speaking primarily to one of them. Greg Richards, the sheriff of Shelter Valley. “I think that’s where we should start.”

  Most of the friends who’d been with them all evening had gone home to get some rest. They’d all be needed to begin searching anew at the first sign of light if the boy still hadn’t been found. Will and Becca were busy with their babies and the press. Which left Tory and her husband, Ben, Phyllis, John and the sheriff sitting around the table in Phyllis’s new kitchen.

  All eyes left Matt and turned to Caroline as she stumbled in. “It’s not Brad Langford,” she said. “He’s in jail in Virginia for unpaid traffic tickets. There’s some other records there, too. His home has been foreclosed and he’s filed for bankruptcy.”

  Greg perused the papers Caroline laid before him. She hadn’t looked anywhere but at the sheriff. And the floor.

  “Good work,” Greg said. “How did you do this?”

  “I’m a registered member of a couple of Internet search services. One in particular, a pay site, specializes in linking up all different kinds of records—banking, law enforcement, all sorts of things.” At Greg’s sharp glance, she stammered, “I, uh, used it to track down a missing family member.” That, at least was the truth. “Anyway, having his social security number made it easy.”

  “So it’s not Brad.” Phyllis’s statement fell into the air. Her eyes were intent on Greg and the pages in front of him.

  “No.”

  Her chin trembled. “Thank God.” With tears in her eyes, she stood silently, moved over to Caroline and held on. Caroline hugged her back, but John could see her discomfort.

  Glancing at the papers, John was astounded—and slightly horrified. He’d had no idea it was possible to find so much information. It made him want to close all his accounts, unplug his computer and its IP address, pay his bills by money order and disconnect his phone. And why in hell did Caroline subscribe to those services, anyway? What “family member” was she tracking down? Her birth parents? She’d never said.

  “This is impressive work.” Matt was looking at Caroline’s results and then at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “She’s that student I was telling you about,” Phyllis said, her smile weary but obviously sincere. “With the perfect test scores.”

  Lowering the pages, Matt held out a hand. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

  Caroline shook his hand briefly, murmured something and stepped back while the others continued to talk about what she’d managed to do in a very short period of time.

  And through it all, she just stood there, never smiling. Saying nothing. John wanted to get up and shake her. It was obvious that she had no idea of the value of what she’d been able to do. It had been easy for her, so it must be easy for everyone. And her reaction made him a little angry.

  What was it going to take to change this woman’s view of herself? To give her the confidence she lacked?

  “So…” Phyllis sat back down next to Tory. “If it’s not Brad, who is it?”

  “Could be anyone,” Greg told her. The FBI had been called in, bulletins sent out. “Calvin might very well have wandered off like we thought and, if he was picked up, it happened later. Maybe not even here in town.”

  Face drawn, Matt Sheffield watched the sheriff and nodded. Phyllis did the same. Ever since Phyllis’s return, the couple had been avoiding each other. John had a feeling it was the only way either one of them could cope.

  “A woman desperate to have a baby of her own sees a toddler standing alone, probably crying, and decides she can make him happy. That type of situation happens far more than we like to think.”

  “What about that guy who was hanging around the day care a couple of years ago? Shane something-or-other. Is he still institutionalized?”

  “No,” Tory said. “Bonnie told me the other day that he’s living in a halfway house for mentally challenged people.”

  “Well, there you…” Matt started, pushing away from the counter.

  Greg shook his head. “Nope. I already checked him out. He’s been home sick and under supervision all day.”

  Talk continued, possibilities suggested. At ten, Beth, the sheriff’s wife, called, saying that Clarissa had fallen asleep with their son and she was putting them both to bed at her house. After hanging up, Matt finally slid in beside Phyllis on the built-in bench by their corner table. She leaned her head against him, tears trickling slowly down her face.

  It was as if, with their daughter safe out for the night and Calvin missing, there was nothing more for her to do, nothing holding her together.

  Her son’s disappearance had stripped her of confidence, of strength, leaving her weak and helpless.

  John recognized that feeling. It was all too familiar.

  And it was a risk that always accompanied deep love. A risk he couldn’t take again.

  How would he ever survive having a child of his own?

  CAROLINE STOOD by the far kitchen wall, listening to the talk around her, not speaking at all. Wishing she could talk to John. He looked about as sick as she felt. She had no idea what he could say to her that would take away the sting of the day’s events. Or what she could possibly say to him to ease the fear he felt so deeply. She just needed to talk to him.

  “Okay.” Greg grabbed a pad and pen from his pocket. “Let’s go through a list of everyone either of you has ever known,” he said. “Anyone you can think of who might have a grudge, deserved or not. Anyone who just plain didn’t like you for some reason.”

  He gestured to Phyllis. “Let’s start with you.”

  Caroline knew she should probably just go.

  Other than her ex-husband, Phyllis wasn’t aware of any enemies. A woman whose job she’d taken in Boston, maybe. A student she’d failed the previous semester.

  Caroline wasn’t surprised to hear that the list was so small. Phyllis was the kind of person people just naturally liked. Perhaps because she seemed to genuinely like everyone herself.

  Then it was Matt’s turn. Caroline didn’t know how to leave without interrupting, drawing attention to herself. No one seemed to remember she was there. Except maybe John. He’d looked at her a time or two. Motioned for her to slide onto the end of a bench, but she’d shaken her head, declining his suggestion. She didn’t belong there.

  “What about the woman you went to jail for?” Tory asked as his list drew to a close.

  “Shelly Monroe?” Matt asked.

  “She hated you enough to send you to prison.”

  Matt and Phyllis both disagreed. “He writes her a check every month,” Phyllis said. “He’d be at the top of her fan list.”

  “He does?” Tory asked. And then, looking at Matt, “You do?”

  Running a hand lightly over Phyllis’s head, tangling his fingers in her hair, Matt said wearily, “She’s not a bad kid. She just had rotten luck. My intention has been to help her. I can afford it. And she deserves the break.”

  “Deserves it for stealing years of your life with her lies?” Tory asked. Phyllis sent her friend a shake of the head so imperceptible that Caroline guessed she was the only one who’d even noticed. Admittedly, she was paying more attention to Phyllis than anyone else would. Probably more than she’d ever paid to any other person in her life. But if paying attention to the little things was the only way she was going to know her sister, she needed to notice every detail she could file away.

  “She was a desperate kid, trying to hold on,” Phyllis was saying. “I don’t begrudge her the money. It saw her through college and it’s giving her son a chance at a better life than she had.”

  Her sister’s eyes were completely devoid of makeup, swollen and without their usual spark of energy.

  Matt, too, seemed drained to the core.

  They’d both been through so much, and now they were facing such unspeakable horrors….

  “Have you heard from her lately?” Ben asked, a hand on Tory’s thigh.

  “I never hear from her,” Matt said. “Except by way of the endorsed check in my bank statement at the end of each month. Truly, she’s not a problem. She graduated from college and is teaching school someplace in Utah.”

  “No, she’s not.” Caroline straightened, her heart suddenly pumping so fast she was light-headed.

  Or maybe it was the stress, combined with the baby growing inside her, that brought about the roaring in her ears.

  “What do you mean?” Greg Richards spoke, but everyone was staring at her. For once Caroline didn’t care.

  “She’s not in Utah.” Finally, she had the answer that had been plaguing her on and off for weeks.

  Unfortunately, she was afraid she’d really screwed up. She’d made the connection too late.

  “Caroline?” John stood and approached her, his hand on the small of her back, a steady force, helping her focus.

  Oh, my God. She looked around her. What if she was too late?

  “She was in Phoenix the first day of Ellen’s trial…” She stopped, giving her heart time to slow to its normal speed.

  “The day Randi and Zack’s son was taken,” Greg said quietly.

  “In the photo of you outside the court building, Matt was holding Randi’s son, right?” Caroline continued. “I saw a picture on the Internet news that night.”

  Everyone stood at once, as though ready to run out the door. “She thought Billy was Calvin,” Tory said.

  “We have no way of knowing if she’s even in Arizona,” Greg cautioned, but he’d unclipped the phone from his belt.

  “She is,” Caroline said, feeling cold all over. “I just saw her again—outside the Psychology building.” She turned to Phyllis. And started to cry. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t remember who she was. Until now, listening to Matt. I remembered seeing her photo in an old article about Matt’s trial….”

  Greg was on the phone, giving orders. Caroline could hear him. Was aware of the urgency in everyone’s movements. But all she could see was her sister.

  “Don’t be sorry, Caroline,” Phyllis said, tears in her own eyes as she gave her a hug. “You might just have saved Calvin’s life.”

  Or lost it for him, Caroline added to herself, afraid to look at John, to see confirmation of her worst fears.

  On that one, only time would tell.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JOHN FOLLOWED Caroline to Mrs. Howard’s place to drop off her car. Then, with the older woman’s blessing, he took Caroline home for the night. Whether news came or not, he didn’t want her left alone. Regardless of what anyone said, she was eaten up with guilt. She’d been through too much lately, was asking too much of herself for a woman who was pregnant and on her own. She didn’t look well.

  “Really, I’m okay,” she insisted. “I can stay in my room.” But he knew it was a lie, because she was sitting in his car, on the way to his house, before she voiced that argument.

  John didn’t bother to answer.

  Once home, he led her straight to his room. It was the only one with sheets on the bed.

  “I shouldn’t stay here,” she said, standing in the doorway with drooping shoulders and a halfhearted wariness.

  “The bed’s made,” he said from right behind her. “And you’re exhausted.”

  Caroline nodded, picked up her toiletries and asked if she could use the bathroom.

  John pointed to the arch on the opposite side of the room. It opened into a bathroom suite the likes of which she’d probably never seen before. What had seemed commonplace when he’d showed his friends around his new house a couple of years before was now an opulent embarrassment to him. Why on earth had he thought he needed a jetted tub? He took showers; he hadn’t taken a bath since he was ten.

  He was suddenly picturing Caroline in there with bubbles foaming around her swollen breasts, her legs falling open…

  No, he wasn’t going to do that.

  Especially not tonight. What kind of sick pervert was he? Lusting after a woman who was exhausted, sick with worry, pregnant.

  He wasn’t only not going to do that tonight, he wasn’t going to do it ever. Not with Caroline. She couldn’t be a momentary fling. Or a six-month fling. Or even a year’s fling. She was his daughter’s mother. A fling with his daughter’s mother would be far too complicated.

  Besides he…

  “You have metal things sticking out of your tub.”

  “They’re jets.”

  She nodded, as if she’d known that all along. “I saw a whirlpool once, last winter, when I went to Frankfort.”

  The weekend they’d met.

  “The jets didn’t seem to protrude quite so much.”

  He’d seen the spa by the pool on her floor that next morning, when he’d left her room just after dawn. “Those were plastic, not chrome.”

  A little boy was missing. They were two damaged human beings who were going to have a baby. And they were talking about spa jets.

  “Well,” Caroline said, standing there in her jeans and white top. “One thing’s for sure. If Sara and I ever find ourselves homeless, we can camp out in your bathroom and have enough space for every single one of our possessions.”

  Her grin was weary, but still a grin. John almost hugged her.

  Until he remembered that he didn’t want to. And that she didn’t want him to.

  “I’m just going down the hall to my office to check e-mail. You get into bed. I’ll be back later to check on you,” he said.

  “You’ll keep your cell phone on, right?” she asked. It was the number Phyllis had said she’d call.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  She hadn’t asked where he was going to sleep.

  John closed the door softly behind him and walked slowly down the hall. Did that mean she expected him to climb in beside her at some point? After she was asleep?

  Or did she expect him to make up a bed in one of the guest rooms on the other side of the house?

  He could go back and ask. Or he could just wait until later and figure it out for himself. Once he knew what he wanted the answer to be.

  If he ever knew.

  John tended to his e-mail. He drank his beer. Watched a rerun of his favorite law show. He checked on Caroline. Checked his cell phone. Changed from slacks to sweatpants and an old T-shirt.

  And eventually, when he was too tired to think anymore, he lay down beside the mother of his child and fell asleep.

  THE RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE woke them. Recognizing the ring as he rose to consciousness, John was confused. Who was his arm around?

  “John?” Caroline’s voice brought it all back to him. He jumped out of bed, away from her, and grabbed the phone.

  Calvin had been found. He’d been thrown from a car as his abductor attempted to elude capture by off-roading up the side of a mountain outside town, where they’d been hiding in a cave. He was hurt, but the extent of his injuries wasn’t known. He was being transported to the Shelter Valley clinic, where the town’s emergency trauma team would be waiting, and if necessary, he’d be flown by helicopter to Phoenix. Everyone was gathering at the clinic to offer Matt and Phyllis support.