Shirlee McCoy - Safe by the Marshal's Side

“Yes.”

“Could the doll have been left there?”

“The sitter said Sophia didn’t have it with her. I think Joe rushed while he was packing her bag and forgot it. Usually, I was the one...” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“How about you let me decide if that’s the case? You usually did what?”

“Packed Sophia’s diaper bag. Joe wasn’t very good at remembering what she needed, but since she wasn’t supposed to be at the sitter’s that night, I didn’t bother.”

“That’s right. You thought she was going to be at home, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “I’m glad she wasn’t, though. Things could have turned out even worse.”

True. But was she glad she’d been lied to?

Was she glad her husband, who was supposed to be caring for their child, had probably been planning to do a little gambling while his wife was away?

A little?

The guy had been knee-deep in debt with no way of getting out of it.

Hunter didn’t mention that.

It would have been like rubbing salt in an open wound.

Besides, Annie was right—if Sophia had been home, she might have been hurt. Or worse. “You’re sure the doll didn’t go with her to the sitter? Maybe with all the trauma—”

“Sophia was crying for it.” She cut him off, her eyes flashing with irritation. “The sitter left a message for Joe asking him to bring it. I didn’t know about the message until months later since the police confiscated our answering machine. There’s a transcript if you’re interested.”

“You’re angry,” he pointed out, and she frowned.

“No, I’m upset. I’m frustrated. I want my life back. I am not angry.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

He’d have been angry. He’d have wanted a little justice, too.

“Sophia is tired.” She touched her daughter’s dark curls. “I’m going to tuck her in for the night.”

She pivoted and walked away, her hair swaying, her body hidden by a layer of faded denim and an oversize Rams sweatshirt. Was it her husband’s?

Not something that concerned Hunter, but he didn’t want to think that Annie was still mourning the man who’d lied to her, stolen from their family and caused her heartache on top of heartache.

“Not your business,” he muttered as he turned back to the security monitor, grabbed his cell phone and dialed Joshua’s number.

THREE

Annie woke with a start, her heart racing, a scream dying in her throat.

Darkness shadowed the furniture and lay deep and thick in the corners of the room. She sat up, her feet touching cool hardwood.

It took a moment to know where she was.

The safe house.

Safe apartment.

Not the kitchen of the little St. Louis rental she and Joe had chosen after their wedding. Not standing with a gun pointed at her head while Joe moaned on the floor, blood seeping from his chest. Night after night, she dreamed of that moment. The split second when the gun had misfired and the man who’d been pointing it at her had run.

Annie shuddered.

The sun would rise in a couple of hours. She’d feel better then, the nightmare fading, her fear fading with it.

She eased off the bed, trying not to disturb Sophia. She could hear her deep, even breathing, knew she was soundly asleep. Not hungry or scared or cold. She was a blessed little girl. Even under the circumstances. Even without a father’s love. Even with the moves and the disruptions, she had more than so many children did.

Annie had tried to keep that in mind during the past year.

She paced to the window, the old wood floor creaking under her feet. Icy rain splattered against the brick facade of the building, cold air drifting in through the single pane glass. She shivered, rubbing her arms, her stomach growling. She hadn’t eaten much the night before.

She thought about going to the kitchen to search for something to eat, but she didn’t want to face Hunter. He’d brought her the baby supplies Serena had managed to buy, asked if she needed anything. She’d told him no, but she had needed something. She’d needed someone to talk to, someone who could take her mind off the nightmare she seemed to be living in.

She hadn’t told him that, of course. She’d just said good-night and closed the door. Otherwise, she might have burst into tears and made a total fool of herself.

Someone knocked on the door, the soft tap barely sounding above the splattering rain.

She opened the door and found herself looking at Hunter’s chest. His very muscular chest.

She blushed, looking up and meeting his dark eyes.

“Did you get the photo of the doll?” She couldn’t think of any other reason for him to knock on her door at three in the morning.

“About an hour ago. I didn’t think it was worth disturbing your sleep, but when I heard the floor creak, I figured you might have woken up.”

“You were right.” She sidled past him and walked out into the hall, her pulse racing, her cheeks still blazing. She’d known Hunter for over a year. For the past month, she’d seen him almost every day. Somehow, she’d never noticed just how masculine he was. Or maybe she had, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself.

“You hungry?” Hunter asked, following her as she walked into the living room. “Serena scrounged up some groceries. I’m not sure what there is. We can look around, find something to eat.”

“I’d rather just see the photo.” Although she had to admit, food sounded good.

“There’s no reason why we can’t do both.”

“Except that the sun isn’t even up yet.”

“Should that matter?” he asked, walking into the galley kitchen and opening the refrigerator. He pulled out a package of American cheese and a carton of eggs.

Her stomach growled, and he smiled. The second smile in twenty-four hours. She was sure that was a record.

“I guess when my stomach is growling as loudly as it is, it shouldn’t,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you agree, because I’m starving.”

She laughed a little at that, some of her tension easing away. “You should have eaten.”

“I didn’t want to make a bunch of noise in the kitchen while you were sleeping.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“I wasn’t worried about bothering you. I was worried about waking you. Sophia is a deep sleeper. You don’t seem to sleep much at all. At least you don’t on any of the nights when I pull shift.” He cracked several eggs in a bowl and beat them.

It was true. She hadn’t been sleeping much since returning to St. Louis, but she hadn’t realized that Hunter had noticed. As a matter of fact, she’d had the distinct impression that he didn’t pay much attention to anything she and Sophia did. Unless he thought they were going to break a rule. Like the week before Christmas, when he’d cautioned her a half a dozen times, telling her to make sure she didn’t give in to temptation and go shopping for gifts.

She hadn’t actually been tempted. Celebrating Christmas without Joe had seemed too sad, too lonely. She’d been happy to give Hunter some money and a short list of gifts for Sophia.

As far as Christmases went, the last one was the worst she’d ever had.

Next year’s would be better, though.

She’d promised herself that.

“You’re deep in thought,” Hunter said as he poured the eggs into a hot pan and dropped cheese on top of them.

“I’m just tired. Like you said, I haven’t been sleeping much since I came back to St. Louis.”

“Nervous about the trial?”

“Among other things.”

“It’s good that you have a healthy sense of caution but try not to worry too much. It’s not good for you.” He folded the eggs into a fluffy omelet and took a plate from the cupboard. “Are you having nightmares, too? Is that what woke you tonight?”