Had already cleaned the baby’s room from top to bottom.

  She was speeding faster than was good for her, all the way up to cloud nine, not that he blamed her, and could only hope that he hadn’t just set her up for one hell of a fall.

  He’d just come out of the shower. Putting on the dress pants and shirt he’d worn the first day he’d met her—maybe in accordance with a side plan to be ready to head out to his own life and whatever job needed to be done immediately, no matter how small—he found her in the kitchen, shining her ceramic stovetop.

  “I need to get to the store,” she told him. “I’ll need food. I have nothing in the cupboard for a two-year old, and she’s going to need clothes. And bigger diapers...”

  “Jess...”

  “No. I know. Don’t tell me. You could be wrong.” She faced him then, looking at him as she had in bed that first night, like he was far more than just a hired hand. “But you could be right, Brian, and I have to be prepared. I should have already taken care of all of this, you know. I need to be ready.”

  She was the strongest woman he’d ever known. And seemed about as fragile as glass right then. Like, if Anderson called with bad news, she might just shatter.

  “Even if I’m right, it’s going to take at least twenty-four hours before any kind of DNA test can come back. And that’s assuming the grandmother allows one. She hadn’t seen the baby since birth, but she’s taken on full responsibility for her. Is protective of her. If she doesn’t allow the test, they’ll need to get a warrant and—”

  She was shaking her head, her eyes bright with the sheen of tears. “Brooke was born with a little birthmark on her elbow. It looks more like a freckle, except that, I have one, too.”

  Turning her arm, she showed him the tiny, kind of oblong spot on the underside of her left elbow. “See? It wasn’t enough of an identifier to put on any of the posters when she went missing, but Anderson knows about it. He has a picture of it.”

  Her hope was contagious. They’d been over all the clues. Every single one of them had fallen into place, which he’d known before he’d called Anderson. Even the butterflies are free—the baby in the car accident had been wearing a butterfly onesie the day of the crash, and had been wearing an identical-looking one the day she’d been returned. The blanket with her had been identical, too, matching up with “her blankie made it” clue. Photos of both had been publicized during the first frantic week of searching for bodies. So searchers would know if they’d found pertinent items of clothing. And so Clint would have known what to shop for.

  And the one about wrinkles...a grandmother’s face, an older face.

  What if Brian was right? He’d found the missing pieces!

  His heart soared for a second. With a lightness he didn’t recognize. He smiled at Jess.

  And wanted her happiness to last forever.

  * * *

  The second Brian’s phone rang, Jessica’s heart plummeted.

  Staring at his pocket, at the hand pulling the device out of his pocket, she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want her time, suspended outside of hell, to end.

  The house wasn’t completely clean yet. She still had the kitchen floor. And the laundry room. The garage could use some work. Maybe the lawn. She hadn’t been shopping.

  And couldn’t suck in air until she knew.

  “It’s Anderson.” That early in the day, she’d figured.

  Brian answered with a “Hold on, I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

  He tapped his phone screen, walking toward her as he did so.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” The man sounded upset. Overcome with emotion. “I’m in Bloomsdale with the grandmother. And...it’s her. It’s Brooke.”

  She sagged. Lost every bit of strength she had. Brian was there. Caught her with an arm around her waist. Supported her weight against him with one arm as he held the phone.

  She’d...what...? “Oh my God,” she huffed. Dragging in air to ask, “Are you sure?” with another short-of-breath puff.

  “The freckle is exactly as the picture shows. Identical to yours.”

  He’d taken the photo on his search. Duane Anderson had kept the photo. And had taken it with him.

  Tears flooded her eyes then. “Thank you,” she sort of mumbled. Looking at the phone, at Brian. “Thank both of you sooooo...” There was supposed to have been a “much” there, but she couldn’t get it out for the sobs taking over her airways.

  Her precious baby girl was alive.

  She wasn’t losing her mind. She’d been right all along.

  Brooke was coming home.

  * * *

  Brian saw Jess fall to the couch. Listened as Anderson talked about finding the house. The grandmother answering the door.

  And saw the second when Jess came back to herself. She was a mother. Had a job to do. It was like he could read the resolution in her eyes.

  Her own needs would have to wait.

  She stood, joined him at the phone.

  “When can I see her? Should we come there? How far is Bloomsdale?” The third question, uttered on top of the other two without breath in between, was posed to Brian. He knew because Jess had looked at him as she’d asked it.

  “We have to work all that out,” Anderson said, his tone sounding more like the detective she’d come to know over the past year and a half. “I’m outside the home right now. Sonya, one of my detectives is inside with the child. The grandmother is obviously upset, though insistent that you get Brooke back immediately. She goes by the name Annabelle right now.”

  When the stark expression crossed Jess’s face, Brian caught a whole new wave of tough moments ahead for her.

  Things she’d mentioned once before. Late at night. After lovemaking one night. About how her own daughter wouldn’t know her. And that Jess could walk by her on the street and not even know the baby she’d given birth to.

  “It’s just momentary blips,” he’d reached down to whisper in her ear. Where the words came from, he didn’t know, but they seemed to work. She straightened. Nodded.

  Held her own weight.

  That kept her away from him.

  He’d known it would happen. That she’d move away from his body. Stand on her own two feet.

  He’d had no idea what a kick it would be when she did.

  “What do you want us to do?” she asked then, almost sounding like the woman he’d first met. Take charge. Letting nothing get in her way.

  “Should we come there?” she asked again. “It makes sense that we would so she sees me in the house she’s known. Sees her grandmother smiling as she’s leaving with me. Maybe I could talk to the grandmother, too. I know Brooke isn’t the biological granddaughter she lost, but she’s spent the last eighteen or so months taking care of her. Loving her. She’s family, and I’ll be happy to have her be a permanent part of Brooke’s life. Not just for the transition, though that would be best for Brooke, probably, if she’s willing, but...”

  She glanced up at Brian then. He didn’t know what she saw as she met his gaze, but her tirade stopped abruptly.

  “I, um, apologize, Detective,” she said with a shrug at Brian. “What do you want us to do?”

  Us. We. She kept using those words.

  They weren’t an us. A we.

  His job was done. As soon as they were off his phone, he’d put in a call to his team leader at Sierra’s Web. Hopefully get a job starting yet that night. Or that weekend at the very least.

  “I’d like you to make the trip here, if that’s okay with you both. I agree that it would be better for the child if you’re the one who takes her out of the house, rather than a stranger she may cling to and then lose in another couple of hours.” Right, that made sense. And Brian supposed he should drive her. Jess wasn’t in any state to be driving herself. Would be less so during those first hours after she was reunited with her daughter.

  And, considering all that he and Jess had...shared...over the past weeks, he kind of wanted to actually see her reunion with her daughter. See her happy and at peace, with Brooke back in her arms.

  “I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you when you get here, Brian, if you’re open to hearing it,” Anderson continued.

  “Of course.” There’d be reports. Follow up. His jobs didn’t usually involve such close contact with the police, but he knew procedures.

  Had grown up with them.

  They were the symbol of job’s end.

  * * *

  She had blond hair, wispy curls of it hanging over her neck, forehead and ears. Like it had never been cut.

  Jessica filled with gratitude for that choice. It was something she could hold on to. Something simple like haircuts. A first haircut. Something nonthreatening...

  The little girl’s chubby, somewhat stumbling legs, chased after a ball an older woman had just rolled for her. With every step Jessica took from the street across the front yard, her heart burst a little more. With some grief for all she’d lost and with incredible joy, too.

  Lillie Wilson knew they were there. And Jess’s heart broke a little more, not for herself or Brooke, but for the woman who’d lost her daughter and now, possibly, her granddaughter, too.

  Brian had pointed out, on the two-hour drive to Bloomsdale, that the woman’s ex-son-in-law had probably taken his daughter as had been originally thought until Clint had deposited Brooke in that safe drawer. Maybe Lillie’s son-in-law ran with his daughter, maybe not. She had a right to know. With her daughter dead, she had legal right to access to her biological grandchild. And Anderson had assured Lillie that they’d do everything they could to find that little girl, Annabelle.

  Still, Lillie was losing day-to-day access to the little girl she’d loved as her own for a year and a half.

  Brooke squealed as she raced the last couple of steps to the ball, tripped and rolled over with it. Jessica’s eyes welled yet again.

  In pink shorts and a matching pink-and-white-striped T-shirt, Brooke looked abundant. Healthy. Well-loved.

  Just as Clint had promised. Whether he’d just been guessing, assuming, or had followed Annabelle’s story, she didn’t know.

  He wasn’t getting off the hook. He’d never have access to his daughter again. And would be doing more time in jail. Beyond that, she didn’t want to know.

  Didn’t care.

  If she had to move, she’d do so, but didn’t think it would come to that. Clint was a disturbed, incredibly selfish individual who lacked compassion and had a disturbing mean streak because of it, but he wasn’t a physically violent man. Manipulation was his weapon.

  One thing she felt certain of, he couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  “You ready?”

  Brian’s words reached her where she’d stopped in her tracks, afraid to move forward. What if Brooke didn’t like her? Was afraid of her? Wouldn’t leave with her?

  Tears filled her eyes just watching the little girl. And she ached, so badly she ached, to hold the child, but...a crying, clutching woman was only going to scare her.

  “Hey, Annabelle!” Brian called, loudly and with cheer. “Throw me the ball!”

  “Throw the ball, Little One,” Lillie coached, while Detective Anderson watched from his perch on the front porch.

  The precious angel, standing again, bent down, her arms closing around the basketball-sized rubber orb, pulling it into her chest, and heaved with her whole body. She fell, but didn’t seem to care as she watched the ball roll down a slight incline toward Brian and... Jessica.

  Up again at once, the toddler half ran, half galloped after her toy. It fell short of them, but Brian stepped out, gave it a soft kick aimed right at Jessica.

  Giggling, shrieking, her face alight with glee, Brooke ran toward the ball, stumbling just before she reached it and would have fallen, hard, if Jessica hadn’t reached out and caught her up to hold her safe and sound against her chest.

  It happened so naturally, the save from danger, the pulling her in, and then there she was, holding her daughter against her heart.

  Certain she was never ever going to let her go again.

  * * *

  Brian was quiet on the drive home. Jessica had been hoping for time alone with him, and yet, was finding herself suddenly unsure of what to say.

  Back at the house, while Brooke had sat in her high chair, having a snack, Jessica had had a short but deeply emotional talk with Lillie. The woman, Mima, Brooke called her, was going to be coming to Fayetteville for a visit in another week—giving Jessica enough time to get Brooke settled back in at home first—and would be staying for a while, at least, in the apartment Jessica had rented for Brian, to babysit during the day while Jessica worked.

  Jessica was going to have to call her ma, too. Jackie Shepherd wouldn’t be waiting the week to get to Fayetteville. She’d be catching the first flight out after she heard.

  But her life was in California. And it worked better for both her and Jessica to keep it that way.

  The whole time Jessica had been talking to Lillie, she’d been waiting for Brian to come inside, to meet the woman face-to-face, not just across a yard, to speak with her.

  Instead, he’d stayed outside, in conversation with Detective Anderson. Like an investigator talking shop with a coworker.

  And maybe that was it...the reason for his silence. His job was done.

  Surely, he wasn’t thinking about just...

  What? Leaving?

  Of course he was.

  The job was done.

  The thought struck her so hard she almost gasped out loud. He glanced her way. She smiled, pretending that all was fine.

  And sat in shock. Her daughter was asleep behind her. A two-year-old child who didn’t know her, who was going to need a lot of time and attention.

  Her time and attention.

  She’d already made a call, as soon as they’d started the drive home and Brooke had fallen asleep in her car seat, to have someone cover for her at work for the next week.

  Her life was all falling into place. She had plenty of clothes for Brooke—Lillie had packed them all up. And diapers. Even two grocery bags of toddler food. She had the toys from the Brain Play Toys complete package she’d purchased.

  And Brian...he had a life to get back to as well.

  She kept repeating the fact to herself all the way home. Afraid to break the silence that had fallen between them.

  Not wanting to hear that he’d already booked a flight out yet that night.

  But as they turned into her drive and he opened the garage door and pulled inside as he’d done so many times over the past many days, she wasn’t just thinking about introducing Brooke back into her home.

  The toddler was still sound asleep, for one thing. She opened the back passenger door. Carefully unbuckled a car seat she hadn’t used in eighteen months—one that was facing forward instead of backward as it had been...

  Emotion started to overwhelm her as she looked at the sleeping child and the enormity of the immediate change in her life hit her. For so many months she’d been alone. Living alone. Doing only for herself...

  “Let me get her.” Brian’s voice came softly from behind her. She stepped back without a lot of thought on the matter. Watched as he carefully lifted her daughter, and followed him in as he managed to lay her in her bed without Brooke waking up.

  It felt right. Him doing that.

  He did it well.

  “How did you know how to do that?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Seemed pretty clear. You don’t want her to wake up, you support her body so she won’t, and you lay her down the same way.”

  His words made her grin. She’d been dealing with tragedy for so long, she’d forgotten how to take life on the simple.

  How to not worry about every little thing.

  Like Brian getting ready to tell her he was leaving?

  “What were you and Anderson talking about?” she asked as she flipped on the baby monitor, grabbed up her portable speaker part of it, took a long glance at her daughter, hardly believing Brooke was really there, and followed him out to the dining room and watched him collect up the debris from his investigation. As long as they’d worked at that table together, as many hours as he’d spent there alone, it took no time for him to gather papers in file folders, stack them, unplug his laptop and lay it on top of them.

  All ready to be packed.

  And he hadn’t answered her.

  He stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her.

  “Love isn’t enough.”

  Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?”

  “It can’t keep bad things from happening.”

  Not at all sure where he was headed, or why, she still couldn’t leave well enough alone. “No, but it sustains you until you get through them,” she said.

  He looked like he had more to say, like he was about to argue with her, but stopped and then said, “You’ve been right about a lot of things.”

  “So have you.”

  At least they had that settled.

  “What was Anderson talking to you about? He’d said he had something to talk to you about.”

  “He offered me a job, sort of. The department is looking for a full-time investigator, hired as a contractor, not as a member of the force. Contractors aren’t under the auspices of department policy. The state police have expressed a desire to have access to this person as well. Starting with finding Lillie’s granddaughter and the little girl’s father. Apparently, there were questions about the crash. Things that made it look deliberate...”

  The way his chin was jutting, and his hands were fisted inside his pockets, scared her. Her heart, though...it was thudding a mile a minute.

  And it hit her.

  She hadn’t just needed to find her daughter. She’d needed to find herself.