appeared anywhere on his mental list.
He narrowed his gaze, his curiosity beginning to percolate. “Go on.”
“How did they work the identification?”
It was a simple question. Too simple for someone like Sophie. She knew the ropes. Hell, she’d covered the story. Gary’s investigative nose began to itch.
“I thought you knew the case.”
“I do.” Her features brightened and she ran the fingers of one hand across the table. To the left, then to the right. To the left. To the right.
She stilled suddenly, catching herself in the nervous move.
“I want to hear it from you. Step by step. Just in case there’s anything I’ve forgotten.”
He frowned, not believing her motivation for a second. “Why?”
“I have a source who’s wondering about a child’s parentage.”
“A kidnapping?” He straightened now, wanting to know every detail.
Sophie shook her head and tucked her wispy brown hair behind her ears. “Not necessarily. Could be mistaken identity.”
He leaned forward, close enough that Sophie sat back, pressing herself against the padded bench seat.
“I’m not following you.”
She measured his expression, her eyes reading his face. She tipped her head and pressed her lips together, her stare never leaving his. “Off the record?”
Now she had his full attention. “Sure.”
“What if a child was presumed dead, but there might be a possibility that child was alive? Where would you start?”
Now Gary was the one who straightened against his seat. “What about the body?”
“No body.” Her features tensed.
Gary pursed his lips. “How?”
“Fire.”
The images crystallized in his mind. The black-and-white of the burned-out home. The photos of the mother and daughter who had perished in the blaze, the child’s remains obliterated by the heat of the inferno.
He’d heard rumor of how crazed Sophie had been after the deaths. Not that he could blame her, but did she really believe anyone could have survived? After five years, hadn’t she let go of the grief and moved on?
“You’re not talking about a source, are you?”
Her eyes widened, as if the fact he’d seen right through her surprised her. She shook her head.
“What brought this on?”
“I saw someone.”
The pain in her voice gripped at his gut and twisted. For a crazy moment, he longed to reach across the table and take her hands. Longed to pull her into his arms and smooth away her heartache. But seven years was a wide void to cover, and he had no intention of bridging that gap.
“Who?”
Sophie shook her head. “No names. Just help me.”
Help her? Words Gary thought he’d never hear uttered from Sophie’s gorgeous lips. She’d never let herself need anyone, had she?
“Please, Gary.” Her eyes pleaded with him now, eradicating any bitter feelings he still held for her. “Tell me where to start.”
And so he detailed every step of the Hernandez case. Every inch of the investigation, the identification, the reunion of the kidnapped child with her mother.
As he walked back toward his car, he found it impossible to quiet the whirling thoughts and questions racing through his brain.
Who had Sophie seen? When? Where?
What had sparked her reporter’s brain to question the validity of her niece’s death?
Then one thought silenced all of the rest.
She’d reached out to him. She’d asked for help.
Maybe Sophie’s sharp edges hadn’t won out yet after all.
“THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE these fluff pieces,” Cookie said as he drove the WNJZ van across town toward the Alexander home.
“It’s not a fluff piece.” Sophie wondered momentarily if her tone sounded as defensive as it felt. “The powers that be loved the profile angle.”
She glanced out the window, watching as the South Jersey scenery shifted from row house to duplex to suburban chic. “You have to admit Maggie Alexander is the perfect example of an everyday citizen who’s making a difference.”
“Her brother’s not bad either.”
Sophie cringed at her cameraman’s teasing tone. When would she learn never to confide in the man? She’d told him about her connection to Gary on the way back to the station after the fund-raiser. Cookie might be quiet behind the camera, but otherwise, look out.
“All I’m saying is that you could do a lot worse.”
Sophie traced her finger along the edge of the door handle. “I don’t want to do anything at all.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Can it.” She cut him off before he could launch into his standard lecture on love and family and security.
Sophie knew he meant well, but she didn’t need anyone to remind her of how alone she felt in the world, not that she had anyone but herself to blame. She’d had plenty of opportunities for romance. She’d merely chosen not to take them.
She’d watched her mother’s dependency on men spiral out of control during her childhood. After her father had deserted their family, her mother had bounced from one man to another—or rather, the men had bounced in and out of their lives.
No one had stayed around long enough for Sophie and Becca to grow attached. Thankfully.
After the two sisters had grown and left home, their mother had done the unthinkable. She’d taken her own life, choosing to leave this world rather than live alone.
Sophie shuttered her heart to the pain that threatened with the memory. She was not her mother, and she’d never allow herself to be that needy. Never.
As far as she was concerned, being alone was safe.
Being in love was not.
She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat just at the thought of being in love—at the thought of Gary. She’d seen the look in his eyes during their meeting, felt the question that had hung unspoken over their table.
Why?
Why
