Still, that apprehension niggled at her. Innocent people went to prison all the time. She watched plenty of television, had seen the documentaries. A mistaken eyewitness here, a botched forensics collection there. It happened. She couldn’t let Luke be one more of those wrongly convicted.
Her phone rang just as she pushed the cart into the supply room for the staff to refill the next morning before their rounds.
She glanced at the incoming caller ID. Speak of the devil.
“Hi, Luke,” she answered. “I was just talking about you.”
A long silence met her thoughtless words. “Oh?”
She should never have brought it up. She certainly couldn’t tell him she had been conversing with a certain FBI agent about him—or that Elliot was digging into Elizabeth’s disappearance while he was in town.
“It doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”
Luke hesitated before continuing. “We’re trying to finish the trim on this house and I need a few more hours. I hate to leave the job site, especially when we’re so close to finishing, but the kids’ babysitter can’t stay late tonight. Any chance I could have her drop them off at the inn for a couple of hours?”
She thought of all she still had to do before she could head back to her cottage and work on photos again late into the night. That didn’t matter. The kids came first. “Of course. I love having them here.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
“I try,” she joked.
He took her words seriously. “I don’t know what I would have done without you the last seven years,” he said quietly.
“I love them. You know I do.”
“They’re lucky to have you. So am I,” he said gruffly.
“Go Team Hamilton,” she said.
He gave a short laugh, just about all she could ever get out of him these days. “Thanks again. I owe you. I should be done about nine.”
“Perfect. Just enough time for me to fill them with sugar and get them all jacked up for you so they’re awake all night.”
“I can always count on you to have my back.”
She smiled, said goodbye, then returned her phone to her pocket. He meant his words in jest but both of them knew they were true. She would protect her family no matter what.
Even if the threat happened to come from the entirely too attractive Elliot Bailey.
* * *
SHE MANAGED TO avoid Elliot for several more days, until circumstances and the intertwined nature of their lives made that impossible.
“Isn’t this a stunning reception?” Charlene Bailey gave a happy sigh Saturday evening. “Probably the most beautiful you’ve ever photographed, wouldn’t you say?”
Megan couldn’t help but smile. “Simply breathtaking,” she answered. “Katrina makes a lovely bride.”
Charlene preened. “I always knew she would be. She was a pretty girl who grew into a beautiful young woman.”
It was true. The couple was perfect together. Bowie Callahan was lean and sexy, with longish dark hair and sculpted features, while Katrina had always turned heads. As perfect as they seemed together, the most adorable part of this particular wedding reception was the two children they were raising as their own—Bowie’s young half brother Milo and the young girl Katrina had recently adopted in Colombia.
“I wish you could have been at their wedding. Everything was perfect,” Charlene said.
“That’s what I understand. I’m so sorry I missed it.”
The pair had chosen to be married in a last-minute ceremony at a small destination wedding a few months earlier on a private island off Cartagena.
Megan would have moved heaven and earth to be there and had been planning on shooting it for Katrina, but Luke ended up needing an emergency appendectomy the day before she was supposed to leave and she couldn’t leave when he needed her.
“The backup photographer you helped us find did a wonderful job of capturing the day.”
“Is there anything else in particular you want me to shoot at the reception today? I want to be sure I don’t miss anything on your list.”
In the last five years of photographing wedding celebrations, she had learned to always ask that question of the mother of the bride. It could save a great deal of heartache later.
“I can’t think of anything, except maybe a few more shots of her brothers together over there.”
Megan tensed. She didn’t even want to talk to Elliot Bailey, let alone photograph the man. “Sure,” she answered, with what she hoped was a pleasant smile that hid any sign of nervousness.
Photographing this reception was Megan’s gift to Katrina and Bowie. What she might prefer personally in this situation didn’t matter. If Katrina or Charlene wanted her to climb to the top of the tallest pine tree and shoot the wedding from above, she would do her best. Instead, the mother of the bride was only asking for some pictures of her handsome sons.
“Any particular pose?”
“No. Just them interacting would be fine. It does a mother’s heart proud that her children enjoy each other’s company. I love seeing them together, even if they’re only comparing notes on cases.”
Was Elliot talking to Marshall about Elizabeth? Probably not. She could imagine they had scores of cases they could discuss. Their conversation didn’t necessarily need to involve her sister-in-law.
Still, nerves crackled through her stomach. Why did he have to come home and stir everything up again?
“Sure. I’ll just shoot the two of them being mad, bad and dangerous to know.”
“Exactly.” Charlene smiled. “Thank you, my dear.” With a vague air-kiss, his mother fluttered away to speak with McKenzie Kilpatrick.
Megan squared her shoulders and picked up her camera bag. She had worked hard to avoid Elliot throughout the wedding celebration but apparently that state of affairs couldn’t continue.
Sunlight glinted in the brothers’ dark hair as she walked across the impeccably manicured lawn of Bowie Callahan’s home on Serenity Harbor.
The two Bailey boys really were good-looking. Seeing them together, she couldn’t help thinking about the brother who was missing. Wyatt should have been here.
In the past year, three of the four surviving Bailey children had married. First Wyn, then Marshall, now Katrina. At each ceremony, Megan knew she wasn’t the only one who keenly felt Wyatt’s absence.
She shifted her camera bag higher on her shoulder, annoyed with herself for letting those sad feelings intrude on what was an otherwise lovely day.
Wyatt was gone. She couldn’t change that. She had grieved for him and the dreams they had only been in the beginning stages of building together and it was way past time she moved forward with her life.
She pushed away the little pang in her heart as she approached Wyatt’s brothers.
Marsh was the larger of the two—broad shoulders, square jaw, solid strength. That didn’t make Elliot appear any less predatory next to him. He was leaner, yes, but every bit as dangerous—the contrast between a shotgun blast or a precisely timed knife thrust.
Was it her imagination or did Elliot tense when she approached? She could read nothing in his gaze but she could swear his shoulders tightened and his head came up as if sniffing for trouble.