Liz Shoaf - Betrayed Birthright

She pulled pants and a sweater from an antique wooden wardrobe, shed her pajamas and dressed. In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and groaned. “My hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Not that it mattered under the circumstances, but Sheriff Galloway was a sharp-looking man. She smiled, thinking about her grandmother’s antics. The older woman was forever nudging Abby back into the dating game.

She brushed her teeth and tamed her hair before hurrying back downstairs, only to realize Bates wasn’t dogging her heels. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw why. Noah had started the coffee and was rooting around in the refrigerator with Bates glued to his side. The dog was definitely food driven, just like the trainer had said.

“You’ve stolen my baby boy’s affection.”

Noah jumped and hit his head on the rack above him. Abby rushed forward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Noah glared at Bates. “Some guard dog you are.”

Laughter bubbled up and it felt good. “He does love his food. The trainer told me to keep him on a strict diet, but I slip him a few goodies now and then.”

Rubbing his head, Noah straightened and froze when he looked at her.

Her hand reached for her hair. “What? Is my hair sticking out?”

The right side of his mouth kicked up and her heart pattered.

“No, it’s just... Never mind.”

An awkward silence filled the room and Abby practically ran to the refrigerator. “We can have eggs, toast and coffee if that’s okay.”

He nodded and took a seat on one of the bar stools.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever is easy.”

Eventually an easy camaraderie filled the room while she cooked their simple meal. She remembered spending many mornings similar to this one with John. The memory filled her with mixed emotions.

Loading the food on the plates, she placed them on the kitchen island counter, took a seat across from him and bent her head to pray. “Lord, bless this food we’re about to eat. Keep us safe and help us solve the mystery surrounding me. Amen.”

“Amen.” Noah picked up his fork and began eating. “We’ll start by making a list of possible suspects.”

Abby chewed and swallowed. “But there are no suspects. That’s what I keep telling everyone. And I have students coming for piano lessons today.”

“We’ll work around that.”

A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Are my students safe coming here after what happened?”

His jaw turned to granite and those electric-blue eyes hardened. “We’ll keep you and your students safe, Ms. Mayfield.”

Warmth and a sense of well-being filled her. She believed him. “Thank you, and please call me Abby.”

They finished eating their meal in silence. Abby glanced at the photograph still sitting on the opposite end of the kitchen island. Her hand, holding a forkful of scrambled eggs, froze halfway to her mouth.

Noah straightened in his chair and his gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

She didn’t want the photo anywhere near her, but she had to be sure. Laying her fork aside, she stood and slowly walked around the island. Chills snaked up her spine as she leaned over and studied the picture of the happy couple holding a laughing child.

Almost a living thing, dread crept into the very core of her being. “The child in the picture? It isn’t me.”

THREE

The call of the investigative hunt pulsated through Noah’s veins. Every instinct screamed this was a major missing piece of the puzzle, but Abby’s obvious devastation shook him to the core. His first impulse was to comfort her. He wanted to promise he would make this situation go away, but that wasn’t going to happen. They needed answers.

Maybe trying to find solutions to her problems would calm her down. He pulled out a notepad and pen, making it routine. “You’re certain you’ve never seen the photo before?”

Sliding into a chair across from him, she stared at the picture a moment, then jerked her gaze back to his. “I’ve never seen that picture in my life.”

“And the child? You don’t recognize the child?”

She slowly shook her head. “No. I’m an only child and I don’t have any cousins.” Her eyes brightened. “You know what? The boy in that picture looks to be about a year old. I bet this was taken before I was born and my dad is holding a friend’s child. Maybe my parents went to the beach with another couple.”

Noah’s gut told him otherwise, but he needed more information, so he kept his opinions to himself. “Let’s begin by writing down the names of any new people in your life.”

“I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt me.” Her voice rose in anger and frustration. “I love living in Blessing, and after so many months passing with no more incidents, I was convinced I’d left this mess behind in North Carolina. I was ready to bring Grammy to Blessing, but this dangerous situation has to be resolved first.”

Noah lifted a brow. Abby’s back straightened and her shoulders squared. The steel had overridden the putty, and the transformation was amazing. Determination lit her eyes. Abby would be a fantastic mother—deep down, he knew she would fiercely protect a child of her own. He pushed that crazy, unprofessional thought aside and returned to the important issue at hand.

“You said you moved to Blessing eight months ago. Besides the permanent residents in town, have any new people entered your life? Choir members, music students?”

She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I'm fairly new to town, so everyone is new to me, but all of my piano students are from Blessing. The only new people I can think of are two that recently joined the choir, but surely they didn’t have anything to do with the break-in.”

Noah raised a brow. “Their names?”

“Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming. They’re both nice people. She’s been here about four months and he joined a couple of weeks ago. He’s the best tenor I’ve ever worked with.”

Noah almost smiled. Abby was such an innocent. “So, because he has a great voice, he can’t be a bad person?”

Her lips puckered and he choked back a laugh. He hadn’t laughed much in a long time. Not since his wife died, and especially not after the threats against his son’s life in retaliation for Noah killing Anthony Vitale’s father, Big Jack. Both men had been involved in the attempt on the mayor’s life in New York, but they were only able to find evidence on the mafia father. Noah had his own reasons for living in Blessing.

“That’s not what I said.” She popped out the words, then took a deep breath. “I apologize. Please, go on, but we have to hurry. I have students coming.”

“Aren’t they in school?”

“Yes. Normally I give lessons later in the afternoon, but we have a recital coming up and the principal allowed them to miss a few classes so we can get in some extra practice. There’s an advantage to living in a small town.”

Abby’s enthusiasm was contagious and Noah’s spirits lifted. “I’ll hurry it along. We should delve into your background,” he said. “Your parents died when you were six years old?”

“Yes. They were on vacation in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and both died in a car crash. The police deemed it an accident. Neither one had any siblings. My dad’s parents passed away when he was in his twenties, and Grammy is my only living relative.”

“Where were your parents born and raised?”

Exasperation filled her voice. “What does that have to do with the break-in?”

“Humor me.”

“Fine. They were born and grew up in Mocksville, North Carolina. It’s a small town located between Charlotte and Winston-Salem.”