putting them to good use.
“Sorry,” she said to the dog. Its ears perked up, its dark eyes watching her every move. At least it had stopped growling, snapping and foaming at the mouth. The last part might have been more her imagination than anything.
“She forgives you,” Gavin said dryly. “Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing out here?”
“Running for my life. And, not from your dog. There was someone at All Our Kids tonight.”
He stilled, his eyes blazing, his expression unreadable. “When?”
“Maybe ten minutes before I ran into you. He was out on the back porch.”
“Doing what?”
“I have no idea. I heard him, thought he was one of the kids. I opened the door and there he was.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” He pressed a hand to her lower back, issued a command to Glory and started walking.
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. He was a stranger.” They made it onto the path that led from All Our Kids to Harland Jeffries’s mansion. An easy walk for anyone who knew the way.
An easy route for someone who might have murder on his mind.
The thought left her cold.
She’d known Harland for years, had been hired by him fresh out of college. She respected him, liked him, and believed in the things he stood for.
“You said someone was murdered tonight,” she said before Gavin could ask another question.
“I’m afraid so.”
“It wasn’t Harland, was it?”
He hesitated, and she grabbed his arm, pulled him to a stop. “Gavin, was it Harland?”
“It was Michael. Harland was injured, too, but he survived.”
“Was it a knife attack?” she asked, her eyes hot with tears. Michael had been a great guy. He’d spent a lot of time at All Our Kids, teaching the children to play football and basketball, bringing them treats. He had a heart of gold, and the world was going to be a lesser place without him in it.
“That’s an odd question,” Gavin responded quietly, urging her forward again. Just ahead, the path opened up into All Our Kids’ yard. She could see the house, lights blazing from every window of the three-story building. A police car sat in the driveway, flashing blue-and-red light across the pavement. Virginia had called the police. It looked as though she’d woken all the kids, too. Either that or the arrival of the police had. “Not really,” she responded as they moved across the acre of green lawn. “The guy on my back porch had a knife.”
“Michael and Harland were both shot,” Gavin said bluntly. “Michael died before the ambulance arrived. Harland called for help and was transported to the hospital.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“I didn’t hear a thing.” Not gunshots. Not ambulance sirens. Nothing. Then again, she’d been dead tired from nursing David through the flu, the windows were double-paned glass, the house well-constructed.
“You heard the guy on your back porch,” he pointed out.
“I have an internal alarm that goes off when one of the kids is wandering around at night. Apparently, it doesn’t work when sirens are screaming through the neighborhood.”
He let out a bark of rough laughter, shook his head. “The house is pretty well built.”
“And, I was dead tired. One of the kids had the flu this week, and we’ve got a toddler who hasn’t been sleeping well.” Juan Gomez’s mother had died, and he’d been crying out for her for the past two nights. “I was dead to the world until I heard the guy on the porch.”
“Do you think your assistant heard anything?”
“Not until I screamed.”
“She came outside then? Did she see your assailant?” he asked.
“She didn’t come outside, and I don’t think she saw anything. She turned on a light, and it distracted the guy. I ran into the woods, and he followed.” She shuddered.
“Do you think he was here for you?”
“If he was, I’ve got no idea why. He had a duffle and—” She remembered the smell of gasoline clinging to him or to the bag.
“What?” Gavin prodded as he led her up the front steps and onto the wide porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. She’d be hanging flower baskets soon. Destiny had been looking forward to that. She’d never had a yard or a garden, and being at All Our Kids was allowing her an opportunity to test out her green thumb.
It was so much easier to think about that than to think about Michael dead and Harland wounded. To think about someone shooting two of the nicest men Cassie had ever met.
“Cassie?” Gavin touched her shoulder, and she realized she was standing in front of the door, hand on the knob.
“Gasoline. When I walked outside I smelled it.”
He frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “We found something at the crime scene. I think it might belong to one of your kids.”
“What?” Her heart thundered in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. She didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say, but she wanted him to say it, anyway.
He pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and holding it up so she could see what was inside. A blue mitten. Hand-knit. Child-size.
She knew who it belonged to.
David.
“Do you recognize it?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. She’d seen the mittens earlier that day, tucked into David’s pocket when she’d brought him to the doctor. Somehow, at some point, one of them had ended up near the crime scene.
Had one of the kids witnessed a murder?
“Whose is it?”
“David’s, but he’s the one who has the flu. He’s been in bed all night.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I was sleeping in a chair beside him.”
“Someone had the mitten on. Whoever it was may have seen what happened at Jeffries place.”
“You think that’s why the guy was on the porch?”
