Forever Home. Allyson Charles

      LYRICAL SHINE

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

      LYRICAL SHINE BOOKS are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by Allyson Charles

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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      Lyrical Shine and Lyrical Shine logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      First Electronic Edition: April 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0624-0

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0624-5

      First Print Edition: April 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0625-7

      ISBN-10: 1-5161-0625-3

      Printed in the United States of America

      Chapter One

      Flipping up the collar of her tan, belted trench coat, Isabelle Lopez couldn’t deny that her latest task was a just a teensy bit thrilling. She looked down at the street below and took another surreptitious photograph of the buildings on the next block. She was like a spy gathering classified intel. Or a private eye getting the dirt on a no-good cheating husband. She was Carmen Miranda and Sherlock Holmes all rolled into one pint-sized package.

      A city bus rumbled past, and Izzy’s own face smiled up at her from the glossy advertisement plastered on the bus’s side. A stark reminder that this spy was in actuality…a real estate agent, scoping out property for a client who prized secrecy over efficiency.

      Mission accomplished, she retraced her steps to the rear entrance of the abandoned apartment complex and flipped the dead bolt open. She felt a bit guilty that she’d be leaving the building unlocked. Just because her little stint of B&E had only been to snap some elevated shots of the nearby properties, that didn’t mean the next person to come along would act so innocently. She should leave the same way she’d entered, through an unlatched window she’d managed to haul her butt through. But she already had one bruised knee from that window. She didn’t need another. Besides, the building was deserted. Nothing in it to steal. And in Crook County, Michigan, the crime rate was so low it could be underwater.

      Just then, a low wail met her ears, the ghostly sound echoing down the hall. She paused, one foot out the door, the hair on the back of her neck rising. The sound came again, low and plaintive, and creepy as hell. Her legs bustled her out the door and halfway through the parking lot before her brain registered the second noise she’d heard. A faint yip.

      Heart thudding, she turned back to the apartment building. No crazed maniac chased after her. No phantasm floated across the lobby. But the building definitely wasn’t vacant.

      She shifted on her two-inch pumps. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not only had she broken into a building, but no one could know that she was assessing the neighboring properties for sale. It had been tough enough getting to this position: one of the top two sellers for her firm, finally having enough money to take her daughter out to eat once in a while, to pay for Ana’s soccer camp. An arrest wouldn’t get her any new clients.

      As a single mother, she’d thought real estate would be the perfect career—flexible hours, high commissions, and a job that didn’t require a college degree. Easy. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t easy. But it was finally starting to pay off. And she didn’t need to blow it by getting caught poking around where she didn’t belong.

      “Dammit,” she swore under her breath. Shoulders slumped, she trudged back into the building. Everything was silent.

      “Hey, doggy,” she singsonged. “Where’re you hiding?”

      She searched through the first floor, checking apartments and whistling. Maybe she’d imagined the noises. How would a stray have found its way inside the building, after all? She’d almost convinced herself it had been her imagination when the mournful howl sounded again.

      Izzy knocked on the door to the apartment the sound had come from, then rolled her eyes. No one lived here. She stepped into the entry and paused. Could someone be living here? A vagrant who’d broken in as she had and liked to keep an attack dog at the ready? Cautiously, she tiptoed inside. The stench of ammonia and ripe dog assaulted her nostrils. Peering around the hallway wall into the living room, she saw nothing.

      She stole to the bedroom and pushed open the door. Huddled in the far corner, a large dog struggled to her feet, positioning herself between Izzy and the litter of puppies that slept on the floor. She growled.

      “Easy, girl.” Izzy blinked, her eyes burning. From the stench of urine, she told herself. She wasn’t an animal person, never had been. Certainly wouldn’t be caught crying over one.

      But the poor thing was nothing but skin and bones. And some bastard had left her and her babies here to die. Without taking her gaze from the mama dog, she dug in her boho bag, finding a plastic baggie. She pulled out the stash of Goldfish crackers she never left home without and poured out a handful. She edged a few steps closer and placed the pile on the carpet. Slowly, she backed away.

      Wary, the dog stepped forward and sniffed at the snack. Her pink tongue rolled out, and she licked up a single fish. Obviously satisfied it was edible, she gobbled the rest of the pile in two bites and looked up at Izzy expectantly.

      Izzy knelt and poured more crackers onto the floor in front of her. The dog, a bit smaller than the golden retriever that lived