“Yes-Katherine.” A smile flickered briefly. “From what I understand, Kate was…well, she was very different from Sam’s other wives. Different from him, too. The odd thing is, he was married to her longer than anyone, and yet it was a marriage of convenience-for both of them.”

“How so?”

“Kate was from back east-a very old family, politically connected. Like…they were close friends with the Kennedys, that kind of connected. But their family had fallen on hard times, and I guess she needed money to keep up the home and business her grandfather had founded. At that time, Sam-Mr. Malone-he wanted the social acceptance-and political influence-she and her family could give him, so they got married. And, as I said, I think they were happy for quite a long time. But then, when tragedy came-” Josie lifted her shoulders “-I guess they just didn’t have the kind of love you need to weather that kind of storm.”

“Tragedy?”

“Yes. You see, like her close friends, the Kennedys, Kate wanted their son, John Michael, to go into public service. And, like so many of the Kennedy family, he died too early because of it. He and his wife, Rebecca, died in a plane crash while they were on some sort of mercy mission in Pakistan. Thank God the twins were too young to go with their parents.”

“Twins?”

“Miranda and Yancey. They would be the youngest of Sam-Mr. Malone’s granddaughters.” Josie smiled. “We’re expecting them, too. Soon.”


“So,” J.J. said, “let me get this straight. Sam Malone has just four heirs-the twins, Miranda and Yancey, and Sunny and Rachel. That’s it?”

“Four granddaughters,” Sage corrected.

“Ah-sure,” J.J. said, nodding. “I get it. Long-time, loyal employees-I guess you and your mom would stand to come in for a share of the old man’s money, too, right?”

Sage smiled in a way that was hard for J.J. to read. “I can tell you’re a cop. You think like one-cynical.”

J.J. shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

The other man straightened up and pushed away from the fender of J.J.’s truck he’d been leaning on and made a slight hand gesture that brought the border collie to his side. He gave J.J. a long, sideways look, squinting against the sun. “Sam Malone always took good care of my mom, my sister and me. Put both of us kids through school-just like he did Rachel, you know? I know my mom will always have a home here, and me-I don’t need anything I haven’t already got. So…think what you want, Sheriff Fox.” He took a few unhurried steps, then turned back.

“Oh-feel free to use the computer in the study-we have the internet, if you need to keep tabs on…things. You don’t need a password, nothing like that. Use the pool if you want-it’s down below on the other side of the house. Let me know if you want to use the horses, or if you need anything. Just…make yourselves at home. Or, you can go back to your life, if you need to.” He jerked his head toward the house. “She and the baby, you know, they’re safe here.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” J.J. stayed where he was and thoughtfully watched the man and his dog go walking off down the long curving drive between those stands of sentinel poplars and evergreens, leaving in the same unhurried and confident way they’d arrived.

Interesting guy. Although there was still something about the man he wasn’t sure he ought to trust. Definitely more going on there than met the eye. Well, time will tell, he thought. Meanwhile, he wasn’t going anywhere.

He bent down and picked up his duffel bag and the car seat/baby carrier and started up the flagstone steps. He made it about halfway to the front door before it hit him. Hit him like a fist to the belly. Hit him so hard he had to stop and set the bag and carrier down and bend over to catch his breath.

Put both of us kids through school-just like he did Rachel…

Questions hurtled dizzily through his mind: Did Sam Malone pay for Rachel’s education? If he did, why didn’t she mention it? Does she even know?

One thing he knew for sure: if Sam Malone had funded Rachel’s education, it changed everything. Rachel had said there wasn’t anything connecting her with her grandfather, Sam Malone, but that wasn’t true. Because money left a trail-a trail not of breadcrumbs, but pebbles, so easy a child could follow it.

Let alone the likes of Carlos Delacorte.

He had to tell her about this. Ask her if she knew. That’s what he told himself as he picked up the carrier and bag and fumbled his way through the front door and into the house-that he needed to talk to Rachel about this new development. But the truth was, he just felt a powerful need to see with his own eyes that she was safe, even though he knew perfectly well she was, at least for the moment.

Or maybe he just felt a need see her. And he didn’t stop, then, to ask himself why.

Inside, he found himself in a large foyer paved with Mexican terra-cotta tiles, which stretched across the width of the house to where double French doors opened onto a veranda. Beyond that he could see a sunlit courtyard filled with flowers, and hear the music from a large tiered fountain. Beyond the fountain, he could see Rachel sitting in a rocking chair, holding her baby. He couldn’t see her clearly because she was in the shade of the veranda, but his heart stumbled anyway. Breath gusted from his chest, half relief, half consternation.

What the hell was that?

Before he could come up with a reasonable answer to that question, the housekeeper-Josie-entered the foyer through open double doors on his right.

“Oh-here you are,” she exclaimed, smiling another one of her warm welcomes. “Come-I’ll show you to your room. I…you know, I thought you’d want to be right next to Rachel’s.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything, too shaken by his unanticipated response to seeing a woman he had no intimate connection to-if you didn’t count delivering her baby and saving her life-to form coherent phrases.

He did recover enough to give Josie a smile to go with the nod, then followed her through the living room-a massive room with a high-vaulted and beamed ceiling that still managed to feel cozy, thanks to warm colors and comfortable furniture arranged in small, intimate groups-and a formal Spanish-style dining room with a table roughly the size of a tennis court. Beyond that was the kitchen, which appeared capable of providing food for a decent-sized restaurant, with all the modern conveniences he could think of and some he didn’t even know the use for. All three rooms had big windows that looked out across manzanita and juniper and rock-studded hillsides to the green valley far below and the blue and purple mountains beyond. Impressive view, he thought. Not so great from a security standpoint.

He felt better, though, when Josie led him through a door off the kitchen and into what was obviously a bedroom wing. Here a wide hallway ran along the outside wall the entire length of the house. From it, doors opened into rooms which in turn opened onto the veranda and center courtyard. There were no doors in the outer wall, and the only windows were small and high. Except for the “public” wing, the house was built like a fortress.

“I hope this is okay-there are two more bedrooms on this side, and four more across the courtyard.” Josie was standing in an open doorway, smiling at him.

He moved past her and into the room-a nice room, he noted; spacious, comfortable, clean-what else would he have expected? “This is fine.” He could see Rachel through the French doors, sitting in a rocker, nursing her baby. He took a breath and felt himself relax a little. He glanced at the housekeeper. “Mind if I ask, where would Sam Malone’s quarters be?”

“Oh-Sam-Mr. Malone’s suite is down at the far end-next to the chapel.” Was it his imagination, or did her cheeks seem pinker?

“Would you like something to drink?” Josie asked, one hand on the doorknob. “Coffee?”

“That would be great,” he said absently as he set his duffel bag on the floor and walked toward the double French doors. Beyond them, he could see Rachel, her face turned away from him as she gazed at the baby nursing at her breast. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders like a shawl woven of black ink. Behind him he heard Josie’s soft affirmation, then the door closing. He hesitated for a moment, then opened the doors and stepped out onto the veranda.

She turned her face toward him without surprise or alarm. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her smile sleepy…sexy…sweet.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the emotion that flooded him then, but not so long he had trouble recognizing it for what it was.

Happiness.

Well, hell, he thought.

Hey, you’re a cop-homicide. Tough guy. Who knew you’d be such a sucker for a broad with a baby?

Look, so you’re attracted to her. She’s drop-dead gorgeous-who wouldn’t be? Get over it. What matters is what you’re planning to do about it. Right?

Right. Which is nothing.

For all kinds of reasons. One, she just had a baby. Two, she just lost her husband. And three, she’s a potential witness to a double murder in your protective custody, and the one who’s going to save your miserable career.

So…hands off, Jethro.

“Hey,” he said, his smile safely professional, “I see you and the little guy are settling in.”

“Yes.” She glanced down at the baby, and when she lifted her eyes to him again, he saw they were misty with tears.

He ran over in his mind all the reasons he’d just given himself to stay detached and braced himself.

“Thank you, Jethro,” she said in a soft, choked voice.

He jerked back a little bit and said, “What for?”

“For bringing me here. I don’t care what happens with my grandfather. I just…I feel safe here. You don’t know how much that means to me.”