Stonebrook Cottage. Carla Neggers

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thought of her towheaded godchildren asleep down the hall. They were so damn young. How could Allyson have sent them on such a crazy trip?

       She didn’t.

      But something was wrong—very wrong. Henry and Lillian weren’t bad kids. They wouldn’t deliberately scare their mother and manipulate their godmother if they weren’t frightened themselves. But of what?

      Kara knew she had to think. She didn’t have much time, and she had to get this one right. Too much was at stake.

       Four

       F atigue clawed at Sam and had already had an adverse effect on his judgment—after all, he was in Austin, not home in bed—but he continued up Kara’s walkway and onto her porch, anyway. A light was on. It was almost midnight, but he doubted he was getting her out of bed. Not that it mattered.

      Henry and Lillian Stockwell had apparently conned their way to the Austin airport. Now, why could that be? It wasn’t to fly. No flights had taken off with them on board, and their mother was up in Connecticut still sounding the alarm.

      Just as Sam started to ring the bell, Kara pulled open the front door. “Sam—scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?” She held up a pottery vase and smiled. “Consider yourself lucky. I was going to bonk you on the head. I don’t normally get visitors at midnight.”

      “You don’t own a gun?”

      “No way. I hate guns.” She hadn’t changed out of the work clothes she’d worn down to San Antonio earlier in the evening. Sam noticed her crisp blouse was a little rumpled. She set her vase on a small hall table. “Do you have news? I haven’t heard a word.”

      She made no move to invite him in. Everything he knew about body language—and Kara Galway—told him she was trying to keep this exchange simple and short and get rid of him as fast as possible. There could be innocuous reasons for that, sensible ones that had nothing to do with the Stockwell kids.

      But he was playing this one his way. “Henry and Lillian conned the shuttle driver at the ranch to take them to the Austin airport.”

      Kara frowned. “Why on earth would they do something like that?”

      Sam rested back on his heels, eyeing Kara. Something wasn’t adding up, but she was an experienced attorney, accustomed to not tipping her hand to the other side. And somehow, he’d become the other side. He’d felt it the second she opened the door. “The Austin police are checking with the airport, taxis, buses. The kids told the shuttle driver they were meeting their mother. They claimed to see her and took off. He didn’t realize anything was wrong until he got back to the ranch.”

      “Allyson knows? Someone called her?”

      “The people at the ranch. Jack talked to her brother-in-law, Hatch Corrigan. He’s some kind of adviser?”

      Kara nodded, her dark eyes distant, unreadable. “He must be having fits. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into Henry and Lillian—” She sighed, breaking off. “What’s your involvement? Austin isn’t your jurisdiction.”

      “Wrong. All of Texas is my jurisdiction.”

      “That’s not what I meant. I meant you’re stationed in San Antonio—” She stopped herself, squaring her shoulders as she eyed him coolly. “Sam, is this an official visit?”

      “Do you mean if you lie to me can I arrest you?” He took a step toward her, aware he was even more intense than usual. She drew back, as if a little shocked at his closeness, but he didn’t ease off. “You opened your door loaded for bear. Why?”

      “For God’s sake, Sam, it’s the middle of the night.”

      “You knew it wasn’t an intruder. Your door has glass panels. You saw me.”

      She took a breath, the light from behind her casting shadows over her face. He saw her intensity, her determination, and knew she had no intention of easing off, either. “Okay. I didn’t want you to think I open my door to near strangers unprotected.”

      As if he was a near stranger and a vase would have protected her. Sam decided not to push his point. “Why didn’t you tell me about Governor Parisi’s death?”

      His question seemed to catch her off guard. He saw her swallow, remembered kissing her smooth throat. She averted her eyes. “I couldn’t get the words out. It was as if saying it out loud would have made it real.”

      “Kara, we were together for a long time.”

      Her dark eyes lifted to him, met him dead-on. “I know what you must think. It was a weird weekend. Let’s just forget it.”

      “I don’t regret what happened between us.”

      “Neither do I.” She took a breath, dropping her hand from the door. “Look, it’s late, and I’m worried about Henry and Lillian—”

      “I smell popcorn.”

      “What? Oh—oh, yeah. I didn’t have any dinner.”

      Sam leaned toward her, making no secret that he was trying to peer into her living room. “You’re not going to invite me in?”

      “Not without a warrant, Sergeant Temple.” She smiled, but there was no mistaking her seriousness of purpose. He wasn’t getting past her. She had her vase, and she had the law.

      “Kara, if you have something to tell me, get it out on the table. Now.”

      No impact. “It’s been a long day,” she said smoothly. “We’re both worried about Henry and Lillian. So, let’s not do this. You turn around and go do your Texas Ranger thing, and I’ll let you know if I need you.”

      He had to remember she was a respected attorney. If she was afraid or troubled, she could handle it. She knew where to turn for help.

      She also knew how to skirt the truth with him if it suited her. She’d come right up to the line—if not cross it.

      Sam placed one foot on the threshold and narrowed his eyes on her. He saw her lips part and knew she was thinking he might kiss her. He was tired enough that it seemed a natural thing to do, kissing Kara Galway in the doorway of her little house, never mind that she was trying to get rid of him—hiding something from him.

      Instead, he tapped her chin with one finger. “I wouldn’t cross me if I were you.”

      She shrugged, unintimidated. “Fine. I won’t cross you.”

      “If you know anything about the Stockwell kids—”

      “It’s a family matter, Sam, not a law enforcement matter. It’s sure as hell not a matter for the Texas Rangers. You’re supposed to assist in major criminal investigations. This isn’t one.”

      “Are you sure you never told anyone Mike Parisi couldn’t swim?”

      “Go away, Sam. I’m tired.”

      “When did you find out? Did he tell you for a specific reason or did he just let it slip? What

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