simply stared at each other, silent, assessing, as if sharing some private moment.
“You gots an Indian name?” Sara asked in a whisper.
Caleb nodded. “Firewalker.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “You walks on fire? Does it hurt?”
Caleb shook his head then pressed a hand to his chest. “No. Not if you hone in on your inner strength and power. On peace and faith.”
Sara smiled. “I gots faith that you’re gonna find Cissy.”
A pained look crossed Caleb’s face. “I will do my best, Sara,” he said gruffly.
Madelyn’s heart melted. Sara had not only missed her twin sister, but she’d missed having a father, as well. And she had been so caught up in raising her little girl, on being a single mother, surviving the loss of her husband and Cissy and making ends meet, that Madelyn hadn’t once considered a personal relationship with a man.
Or finding a father for Sara.
She didn’t need a man, she’d decided long ago. Sara had her, and she would be enough.
Only she wasn’t enough. And now she needed this detective’s help.
Her breath fluttered as he swung his gaze up to her. His dark eyes sparkled with questions, yet she also sensed that she could trust him.
She hoped to hell that was true.
Sara dropped his hand and skipped to the door.
“Caleb, you’ll let me know what you find.” She didn’t know if she could bear to be at the exhumation.
He nodded, then extended his hand to her this time. Wariness filled Madelyn, but she slid her hand into his. An odd sensation rippled through her at the feel of his rough, leathery skin against her own. It had been so long since she’d touched a man that her belly fluttered with awareness.
She pulled away immediately. She couldn’t afford to indulge in a romantic flirtation. Finding out the truth about Cissy and ending these nightmares for Sara was all that mattered.
AS SOON AS MADELYN LEFT, Caleb set the wheels in motion for the exhumation.
“Sheriff Gray said he expects this won’t be the last request for one,” Gage said. “Damn Dr. Emery.”
“Damn him for killing himself,” Caleb said. “He should have to face every patient he deceived and make things right.” Although there was no restitution, nothing that could make up for the loss of a child.
“The sheriff said workers will be meeting at the cemetery early in the morning for the exhumation. They want to make sure it’s as private as possible,” Gage said.
Caleb nodded. “I’ll meet them there.”
Yanking on his rawhide jacket, he headed outside. Time to pay his respects to Mara.
Wind battered his Jeep as he plowed across the mountain toward the Native American burial grounds. As he parked and climbed out, the sounds of ancient war drums and echoes of fallen friends bombarded him. Stones and wooden markers etched with family names stood in honor of loved ones, while handmade Native American beads and baskets decorated others, holding treasures.
Gripping a bouquet of lilies in one hand, he crossed the graveyard, grateful he’d managed to bring Mara here where her own parents were also buried. He paused at their markers, then stopped in front of Mara’s, his heart heavy as he placed the flowers on her grave.
Today would have been Mara’s twenty-eighth birthday. If she had lived.
And his son, if he’d been born, would have been two.
That hollowness he’d lived with since Mara’s murder gnawed at him, and he traced a finger over Mara’s name. His throat tightened as an image of what his son might have looked like materialized in his mind.
A toddler with chubby cheeks, thick, black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes like Mara’s. His son would have been walking and climbing onto everything now.
But his little boy had never had a chance…
The icy cold of the winter wind seeped through him, adding to the chill he’d felt for the past three years. Three years of living alone. Of wondering why Mara and his unborn child had been taken instead of him.
Three years of living with the guilt.
Gritting his teeth, he stood, the vision of his son disappearing in the foggy haze. But Mara waited, an ethereal beauty in her traditional white wedding dress.
Although each day he sensed her fading. That her soul was preparing to move on. That she was waiting on something…something she needed from him…
For him to let her go? He wasn’t sure that was possible. The guilt alone kept him coming back, kept him praying, kept him…prisoner.
Why couldn’t it have been him instead of her?
Sara’s insistence that her sister was still alive echoed in his mind. He understood the draw Sara felt, the difficulty in letting a loved one go. Did Sara suffer from survivor guilt as he did?
The sound of a flute echoed in the wind, and he closed his eyes, remembering their marriage ceremony. The traditional Love Flute playing, the fire ceremony with the golden glow illuminating Mara’s beautiful face, the Rite of Seven Steps, the moment the traditional blue blanket had been removed from around them and the white one enfolded them, signifying their new ways of happiness and peace.
Yet that happiness and peace had been shattered a month later with bullets that had been meant for him. Mara had been struck instead and died in his place.
Hell. A fat lot of good his vision or gift, whatever the hell it was, had done him.
He hadn’t foreseen Mara’s death or he might have been able to stop it.
“What should I do, Mara? I don’t want this gift, and I sure as hell don’t want that little girl to have it.”
But he had felt something kinetic pass between them when he’d touched Sara’s tiny hand. He’d seen the dark images in her mind. Felt the violence she felt.
And he’d witnessed a little girl identical to Sara running for her life, disappearing into the dark woods just as Sara had described….
What if Sara was right? What if her sister was alive and in trouble?
“I know I failed you,” Caleb said in a pained voice. “I just pray I do not fail this little girl.”
Madelyn’s big, green eyes and frail smile flashed in his head, and a twinge of guilt assaulted him. He had also experienced a faint flicker of awareness when he’d touched Madelyn, a current of desire he hadn’t felt since Mara.
But that was wrong. Mara had been his wife. He owed her his dedication. His life.
The wind suddenly whipped through the trees, hissing as it tossed dry leaves to the ground and sent them swirling across the cemetery. The
