Born in the Valley. Tara Quinn Taylor
part of a planet that was drowning in need.
Yet this town also housed what was most important to her. Keith. Katie. Greg and Beth and little Ryan. Her friends. Her home.
So she ran. And when the Bonnie Nielson no one knew was hidden far enough inside her, she jogged toward home.
KEITH NIELSON was used to having the sheriff of Shelter Valley in his family room. Sprawling on Keith’s couch, eating Sunday dinner, baby-sitting three-year-old Katie, Sheriff Greg Richards visited regularly.
But not in uniform.
And never before in an official capacity. There’d been a fire, and Sheriff Greg Richards was there to break the news to his sister.
“She always out this late?” He was standing, hands in his pockets, between the kitchen and the family room—keeping watch on the garage door at one end of the kitchen and the sliding glass door in the family room.
Keith appreciated the look of concern on his brother-in-law’s face. Bonnie and Greg were the only living adult members of the Richards family.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, arms resting on his knees, Keith dropped his head, staring at hands that wouldn’t stay still. Staring at the wedding ring that had been a source of joy to him—until recently.
“Not often,” he said. But the truth was only partially revealed in those words. If he measured the number of times Bonnie had been out late at night during their whole marriage, it wasn’t often. If you measured the number of times she’d been out late since Christmas, it was higher. A lot higher.
Greg leaned back against the wall. “I figured this jogging thing would fade quickly.”
Keith thought about that. “Me, too,” he answered slowly. “Just like the aerobics and weight training did.”
Greg nodded. Glanced toward each door. Keith wished Tuesday was a good TV night. At least then they could pretend to be distracted.
“She’s sure looking great.”
“Yeah.” He’d rather see every one of the twenty pounds Bonnie had lost if he could have back the cheerful woman he’d married almost seven years before.
Keith’s head shot up, eyes trained on the garage door.
He thought he’d heard Bonnie come in. He waited, not looking forward to the moments ahead. Little Spirits Daycare had been Bonnie’s dream since her early teens. How badly was Greg’s news going to affect her? She hadn’t been herself for months as it was.
And how much did Greg know about that? Just because Bonnie hadn’t been open with him didn’t mean she hadn’t gone to her brother.
Or maybe Greg hadn’t noticed anything at all.
Keith listened and waited. For nothing.
“Katie’s sleeping soundly.” Greg hadn’t straightened from the wall.
Keith studied the grain in the hardwood floor. “Bonnie put her down before she went out.”
More silence. More door checking and glancing at watches. She’d been gone twenty minutes longer than her usual hour.
“Ryan’s had two dry nights in a row.”
Keith grinned at his brother-in-law. “That’s great, man!” he said, in a way only two men who were close would do.
Greg nodded, his smile slowly dropping to a frown. “You want to break it to her?” he asked.
“You’re the cop.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
“You’ve known her longer.”
“You’re married to her.”
Slapping a hand against his jean-clad thigh, Keith stood. “Who the hell would’ve done this? I mean, set a fire in a day care.”
“I don’t know, but you can be damn sure I’m going to find out.”
Keith believed him. Against every conceivable probability, Greg had solved a ten-year-old carjacking/murder that past spring. He’d found his father’s murderer.
Keith thought he heard Bonnie in the garage again. Moved into the kitchen. Ran a hand through hair that was straight and blond and a little long.
He peered into the refrigerator. “You want a beer?”
“Yeah.” Greg wandered over to the kitchen sink. “No, not really,” he muttered.
Closing the refrigerator door empty-handed, Keith said, “Me, neither.”
What he wanted was to go to work. Picturing the brand-new bigger studio, his general manager’s office, the monitors and cameras and constant activity, calmed him slightly. At MUTV—the Montford University television station—he was in control.
Or, barring work, he’d like to go to bed with his wife. But only if she’d snuggle her body up to him the way she used to.
He couldn’t just keep standing there, looking at his watch.
When he seriously considered searching the streets for his wife, knowing damn well he’d see her sooner if he just waited for her here, Keith went in to check on his daughter for the third time in an hour. Bonnie didn’t run particular routes. She could be anywhere in town. And unless he got lucky and chose the one street she happened to be on…
Katie was sound asleep, her thumb hanging out of open baby lips, her sweet cheeks plump and red and begging for a kiss. Keith touched the soft curls that were dark like her mother’s but still baby-hair wispy. He pulled pink sheets with little princess crowns up over the three-year-old’s shoulders and quietly left the room. He worried about Katie. Wondered if she was noticing the changes in her mother.
Was anyone else noticing?
Greg certainly hadn’t said anything.
So was it only with Keith that she was different? Was this a marriage thing?
His blood ran cold. God, he hoped it wasn’t. Anything else they could beat. As long as they were fighting it together.
Bonnie, sweaty and breathing heavily, was just coming through the garage door as Keith returned to the kitchen.
“What’s up?” she panted, looking from one man to the other. She frowned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded before either of them had replied to her first question. “It’s not Katie….” She glanced at Keith, who immediately shook his head.
She stared at her brother. “Did something happen to Beth? Or Ryan?”
“No.” Greg shook his head. “They’re fine.”
Keith braced himself as Greg’s hands dropped to Bonnie’s shoulders. “It’s Little Spirits.”
“What about it?”
She looked damned cute standing there in navy sweats with the bottoms hacked off to fit her short legs, and a white T-shirt under the matching hooded navy jacket. Too cute to be the recipient of distressing news.
“There’s been a fire.”
“At the day care?” She was hiding her grief well.
Greg nodded, then looked at Keith as if asking for help. Keith, however, was still waiting for Bonnie’s horrified gasp. “In the back supply closet.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No.”
Bonnie pulled out a chair, sat down, one arm leaning on the table. “Was there much damage?”
After that initial glance, she had yet to look at Keith, to give him a chance to offer his support.
Dropping into the chair across from her, Greg said, “You lost everything in the closet, but the fire was stopped before it spread any farther.”