She brewed a pot of decaf, put some melancholy music on the stereo and wrapped herself in an afghan by the fire.
She wasn’t sure who had affected her most, the girl or her father. The father was a sheriff. And so what if he was? Past was past, right? With her new identity, she had a spotless record, a clear conscience, and a limitless future.
Unfortunately, she also knew both people and the system too well to be neutral. With people, a hint of suspicion would lead to judgment, an impression too quickly became a fact, and past sins were never forgotten. With the system, a single misstep could tumble a person into a legal landslide, and from then on you could kiss a normal life goodbye.
She sipped her coffee, leaned back and closed her eyes. No, society wasn’t perfect, and most people did the best they could. She had no one to blame but herself.
Looking back, her fault had lain in how recklessly she’d followed where her emotions led. She’d let grief after her grandmother’s death lead her into a relationship with Nick. She’d let herself need him so much that she did anything he wanted and made excuses for his abuse. Her love for their baby had made her blind to the downward spiral of her relationship with Holly’s father.
Since coming to that conclusion, she’d worked at self-discipline. She’d practiced deliberating alternatives and thinking before she acted. She’d learned to look ahead and imagine where different alternatives would lead. She thought she’d mastered control.
Ha!
Just today, so many emotions had erupted in such a short space of time, she couldn’t catalog them all. Starting with feelings she hadn’t experienced since losing Holly.
She hadn’t been a part of her daughter’s life since Holly was eight months old. She hadn’t watched Holly learn to walk or count or tell time. She didn’t know if Holly took music lessons or played soccer or could ride a horse. She had never heard Holly sing a song. In giving her daughter a chance for security, she’d forfeited any right to ever be a part of Holly’s life.
Could anyone blame her for enjoying Ariel’s company for a little while?
The girl’s father could. He obviously did.
Margo sighed. It was just as well. She couldn’t picture herself becoming very well acquainted with a cop—no matter how close they might live as neighbors. No matter how much she might like to know his daughter better.
Chapter Two
On a block of light-filled houses, hers looked dark and lonely. A single square of yellow illuminated a room on the ground floor, but it held no life. Instead, it gave the impression of no one home, as if the lights were controlled by a timer. Riley strode up the walk and punched the doorbell.
Ariel had been on him all afternoon to visit her lady friend. It had been one of those days when he hadn’t been able to find anyone. to take care of her, so she’d spent the afternoon at the station, and she’d lauded their new neighbor to everyone who would listen. It had been “she” said this, and “she” did that, until his entire staff had joined her crusade. He was damn glad he had Ariel’s missing shoe as an excuse for this visit.
With Ariel praising the woman nonstop, he’d replayed his encounter with her at least a dozen times. He should have thanked her for her concern for Ariel, instead of reacting like some kind of Neanderthal defending his territory. He must have seemed pretty formidable, for her to back down so quickly. But he’d been too determined to drum some sense into Ariel’s head to think about much else.
He wished he could believe he’d made some progress with his daughter.
Since he hadn’t heard the doorbell ring, Riley punched it again. Still nothing. Through the sheer curtain that covered the window in the door, he saw no movement. Maybe the bell was broken. Or maybe she wasn’t home. He rapped on the door frame, but no one stirred inside. She could be anywhere. Shopping. Taking a walk. At a movie. He pushed the bell one more time for good measure then turned to go.
He was halfway down the walk when the porch light came on, pouring a bluish white glow across the front lawn. He wheeled around in surprise.
She stood behind a screen door with her face in shadow. “Hello?”
Her voice sounded more tentative than he remembered, huskier, sexier. Different circumstances, but the same woman. Yet not the same. In daylight, she’d seemed challenging, austere, remote. In the cool quiet evening, she seemed vulnerable.
“It’s Ariel’s dad.”
“Oh.” She didn’t invite him in, or even unlatch the door.
Not one to be put off by an attitude, especially one he’d had a hand in creating, Riley returned to the porch. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“What do you want?”
He tried to put his impressions of her into perspective. This was Laramie, a friendly little town where most people believed, as Kendra had, that harm would never touch them; most folks still didn’t lock their doors at night. She had none of that affability. He wondered if he’d killed it with his gruff manner that afternoon.
Or maybe her caution was instinctive, gained in a bigger, meaner city. It was exactly the kind of restraint he’d give half a year’s salary to instill in Ariel.
But directed at himself, he hated it. It acted as a barrier between him and this new neighbor, even though they lived within hailing distance of each other. All his life he’d enjoyed the security of trust among his neighbors. Now the sudden comparison between what he wanted for Ariel and what he wanted for himself annoyed him.
The way this woman wrapped reserve around her like a cloak challenged him.
With a grin, he relaxed his stance to put her more at ease. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Ariel lost her shoe this afternoon, and I’m trying to track it down.”
Her reticence turned to concern in an instant. “Oh, goodness. It’s probably still in the fence. Please come in. I saw a flashlight this morning when I unpacked the kitchen, and with any luck I should be able to find where I put it. We can go straight out back from there.”
She found the flashlight in a kitchen drawer, and by its weak glow she led him into the yard, across the lawn, through the gate, and out into the alley. She played the light across her rickety trellis fence, and when it came to rest on Ariel’s shoe, Riley’s gut clenched.
Three feet off the ground, the shoe was wedged almost to the instep. If Ariel had fallen with her foot caught that high, her leg could have snapped like a dry twig.
Riley jerked the shoe free, half scared, half angry, needing to vent. But he’d been a cop too long to lash out.
“I caught her before she fell.”
Neither the woman’s words nor her calm tone reassured him. For the shoe to have remained forgotten in the fence, she must have caught Ariel as she fell. She’d saved his daughter from a broken leg. Or worse.
Because of her, Ariel was home safe, ready for bed and reading stories with her favorite teenage sitter. The alternatives made him shudder. The debt he owed this woman opened his heart, and he wanted to let her know the depth of his appreciation. He wanted to tear down the barriers and start to build the friendship that made for good neighbors.
He didn’t want her to dismiss him before he’d accomplished his full errand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
She shrugged. “I was glad to be close enough to help.”
He smiled, although she wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. “Look, do you think it would be okay if I came in for a minute? Ariel’s been begging me all afternoon to visit you again, but maybe you’d feel more comfortable with that if you felt more comfortable with me.”
She hesitated, but in the dark he couldn’t tell if she was assessing him