Regan Black - A Soldier's Honour

All of them remembered the car as a dark, four-door sedan. Matt gave them the probable make, though none of them had caught even a glimpse of the license plate.

No, her security system didn’t have a camera facing the street. No, Caleb didn’t have friends with guns or friends in gangs. No, she hadn’t seen the car before. No one new had moved in recently. No, no, no. The questions only underscored the pervasive sense of helplessness in the air.

At the buzzing of the oven timer, she seized the opportunity and dashed away to take the Greek chicken out of the oven. Matt’s voice drifted after her as he answered more questions.

His voice had changed as well, deep and mellow. That solid, sturdy sound had always made her want to lean in close and accept the support he offered. One more reason she’d kept her distance since Caleb’s birth. Better to avoid temptation than risk her willpower snapping like a weak thread.

She’d always been weak where Matt was concerned.

“Mom?” Caleb wandered into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him. “Just debating how best to keep this hot.” She covered the baking dish with two layers of aluminum foil and set it at the back of the stove top.

“Matt gave me the get-lost look,” Caleb whispered. “He wants us to stay in here.”

She bristled, as she’d done when he wanted to answer her door. Yet, he was the one injured and he’d had the best look at the car. He was also a major in the US Army. What he said would carry more weight with the authorities.

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