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“I didn’t come here to cause you trouble, Maggie.”
“I just don’t want any part of the media hype surrounding you and your son, Eli,” Maggie said. Kane almost believed her.
Almost believed her, but didn’t.
Kane dealt with secrets every day. He knew when a person was hiding something.
Right now, he had no choice but to let her keep her secrets, but Kane had no intention of letting Maggie suffer because of the part she’d played in bringing Eli home.
“Okay.”
“What do you mean, ‘okay’?”
“You’ve got a right to your privacy. Whatever your secrets are, I’m not going to try to uncover them. But if you’re in trouble because of what you’ve done for my family, I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”
“Are you in trouble, Ms. Tennyson?” Eli asked. Kane could have kicked himself for giving his son more to be anxious about.
He wanted to find out what was really going on, but doing so in front of Eli wasn’t smart. Kane would bide his time, wait until he had a chance to speak to Maggie alone, and then he’d try to get to the bottom of things….
SHIRLEE MCCOY
has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of five, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Washington and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her Web site at www.shirleemccoy.com, or e-mail her at [email protected].
Running Scared
Shirlee McCoy
MILLS & BOON
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For you have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.
—Psalms 56:13
To my daughter’s other family. May God bless you abundantly for the love you give to the children whose lives you touch.
And to my parents, Edward and Shirley Porter. You have taught me the two most important lessons of all—the value of faith and the value of family. Thank you.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
The wind howled, throwing ice and rain against the windows and roof of Maggie Tennyson’s attic apartment. She shivered, grabbing a thick flannel shirt and tossing it over her fitted T-shirt. It was a good night to stay inside, snuggled up in front of a glowing fire, reading a book, drinking cocoa, maybe even watching a movie.
Too bad that wasn’t an option.
She grabbed her duffel bag and the satchel that contained the day’s ungraded tests, slipped into her coat and hurried out the door and down a flight of stairs that led to the Victorian bungalow’s spacious foyer. The tinny sound of the television drifted from the living room, its flickering blue light splashing across the hardwood floor as Maggie tiptoed past the open door.
The old wood floor creaked beneath her feet, and she hurried forward, turning the doorknob and pulling open the front door. Cold air blew in, carrying icy winter rain and the sharp, crisp scent of pine needles.
“Maggie Mae? Where in the world are you going?” Edith Lancaster peered out of the living room, her eyes flashing with curiosity.
“Out to the house,” Maggie responded, closing the door and turning to face her landlady. She didn’t have time for explanations and conversation, but trying to dodge either would be like waving a red flag at a bull. Better to give Edith a few answers inside the house than to be followed out into the rain and waylaid on the front porch where anyone could see her.
“On a night like tonight? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Edith stepped into the foyer, her sharp brown eyes taking in everything. The bulging duffel. The satchel. Maggie’s faded jeans and wool coat, her gloves and hat.
“It’s a long weekend. I figure I can get quite a bit done on the house over the next four days.” Could Edith hear the slight trembling of Maggie’s voice? Could she hear the fear in it?
“Maybe, but I still don’t think going out to the Miller monstrosity on a night like tonight is a good idea.”
“It’s
