“If that’s what works,” Chris said, “then it’d probably be best if you took the master bedroom. It’s a lot bigger than the others, more room for both cribs.”
“But that’s your bedroom,” she protested. “I don’t want to put you out of—”
Chris shook his head. “I’ve never lived here. Never slept a night in that room. So you wouldn’t be putting me out.”
I did it again, Holly thought as that closed expression replaced Chris’s smiling demeanor. She put Jamie down, and he clung to her leg. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet. “You’re going out of your way to help us, and I...I keep saying the wrong thing.”
Chris lowered Ian to the floor but kept a wary eye on him so the toddler didn’t wander off. “Not your fault,” he said gruffly. He herded Ian toward Holly with a gentle foot. “Why don’t you give these two some lunch while I get everything unloaded? I’ll bring in the groceries and the high chairs first.”
* * *
Chris set up the fold-a-cribs in the master bedroom while Holly fed the twins. As he’d told Holly, the master bedroom held no memories for him, except...Laura had picked out the furniture. She’d picked out everything in the house...without him. Her dream house, she’d laughingly called it. But he’d been too busy to go with her, so she’d gone without him. She’d driven into Fort Worth with her sister, armed with the platinum credit card Chris had given her, and she’d furnished the house, room by room.
That was where she’d been exposed to viral meningitis. Somewhere in Fort Worth she’d come into contact with a carrier of the disease. Much later the Center for Disease Control had reported a mini outbreak of viral meningitis in Fort Worth—too late. Laura had never mentioned the subsequent symptoms she’d experienced to Chris—the severe headache, fever and neck stiffness—and he hadn’t noticed. He’d been too busy to—
His cell phone rang abruptly, startling him out of his sad reverie. “Chris Colton,” he answered, recognizing the phone number.
The voice of one of the administrative assistants in his Fort Worth office sounded in his ear. “Chris? It’s Teri. Angus McCay just called. He wants to know the status on his case. I told him you’d call him. Do you need the number?”
“No, I’ve got it, thanks. Oh, and, Teri, I’ll send an email, but can you let everyone in all three offices know I won’t be in for the next few days? Something personal has come up I need to take care of. They can reach me by phone or email if it’s urgent. And if any other client calls come in, have Zach or Jimmy deal with them.”
“Sure thing, Chris.”
He sensed the question Teri wanted to ask but wouldn’t. His staff knew not to ask because that’s the kind of manager he was—he kept his personal life and his business life completely separate. Chris disconnected, then thumbed through his phone book until he found the listing for Angus McCay and picked the office number. The phone rang only twice before it was answered.
“Angus McCay.”
“Chris Colton here. You called me?”
Angus McCay cleared his throat. “I know you told us you’d let us know if you found Holly, Mr. Colton, but...it’s been a week and we haven’t heard from you. My wife...well, she wanted me to call you and see if you’ve made any progress.”
“Not to worry, Mr. McCay,” Chris assured him, his mind working swiftly. “I tracked Holly to Grand Prairie, but she gave me the slip.” He deliberately named Grand Prairie because Holly had stayed there...just not recently. And Grand Prairie was southeast of Fort Worth, nowhere near Granite Gulch. “I’m hot on her trail, though. I think she might have moved northeast to Irving.” Another place Holly really had stayed...briefly. “Just sit tight, and I’ll let you know as soon as I have something concrete.”
“It’s not just our grandchildren at stake, you know. They still haven’t caught the Alphabet Killer and...well...you see how it is. Holly’s name begins with H.”
Yeah, Chris thought. Keep beating that drum. How stupid do you take me for? “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mr. McCay. Both Grand Prairie and Irving are closer to Dallas than to Fort Worth, and the Alphabet Killer isn’t striking anywhere near there.”
“Okay, well...just remember, if you find Holly, we don’t want you to do anything to scare her off. Just let us know and we’ll fly up from Houston immediately. If we can just see that the boys are okay...if we can just talk to Holly...”
“You bet,” Chris told him. “I’ll keep you posted. And don’t worry, Mr. McCay. Holly won’t slip through my fingers next time.” He disconnected just as a sound from the doorway made him swing around. Holly stood there, white as a ghost, a twin balanced on each hip.
“You...you said you believed me about the McCays,” Holly managed, despite the way her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe.
Chris tucked his phone back in his pocket. “I do.”
“Then why... What were you telling my father-in-law? It sounded like you—”
He cut her off. “Just throwing him off the scent, Holly. I had to tell him something, and part of the truth is better than an outright lie—I did track you to Grand Prairie...after I’d already located you in Rosewood. And I wasn’t lying...you did move on to Irving after you left Grand Prairie. But you only stayed there two weeks, too.”
“How do know that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
One corner of his mouth curved upward in a half smile. “I told you, I’m damned good at what I do. After Irving you moved to Mansfield, then Arlington. After Arlington you stayed almost a month in Lake Worth before you moved here.”
He walked toward her as he said this, and she backed away on trembling legs, clutching Ian and Jamie as if they were talismans. I was so careful, she thought feverishly. How could he know all that?
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Chris gave her an “are you kidding me?” look and said, “You make a lousy criminal, Holly. But that’s a compliment, not an insult.”
When Holly bumped into the hallway wall outside the bedroom doorway, she realized she was trapped. But all Chris did was take Ian from her, hefting him under one arm like a football and gently swinging him until Ian laughed at the game. “Time for your nap, bud,” Chris told him. “You and your brother.” His blue eyes met Holly’s brown ones, and there was a gentleness in his face. An honesty she couldn’t help but believe. “I’m not going to hurt you, Holly. Ever. And I’d never do anything to hurt your sons.”
* * *
Holly was so mentally exhausted and emotionally drained that after she read the twins a story, sang them two songs and tucked them up in their cribs, she lay down on the bed, telling herself she’d rest for just a moment. Then she’d unpack their suitcases, wash the lunch dishes, put away the dry-goods groceries she and Chris had bought and decide what to make for dinner. But before she realized it, she was out like a light.
At first her dreams were of happier times, when the twins were newborns and Grant was there. He’d been so proud and nervous at the same time, like most new fathers. Then her dreams segued into nightmares, starting with the devastating news of Grant’s death...the lawyers trying to probate Grant’s will and the McCays attempting to contest it...followed swiftly by the McCays trying to seize custody of the twins, along with control of the trust Grant had set up for his sons. A dazed and bereft Holly had been forced to fight, not only for custody and to carry out Grant’s last wishes but for her