Garrett could almost feel his daughterâs arms wrapped around his own neck.
He watched as Annie put her down. The image of his little girl waving goodbye as the door closed burned itself into his head.
When he met Annie back at her house, the first thing out of her mouth was, âYour Megan is absolutely adorable. Sheâs just wonderful.â
âHow was she?â he asked. âI mean, did she seemâ¦happy?â
âShe seemed good, Garrett. Happy, affectionate.â
He nodded, looking over her shoulder, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. Annie touched his chin and he met her gaze. âShe squealed and hugged herself when she thought of you,â she added.
He smiled slowly, a bittersweet, tear-at-the-heart kind of smile. He had a lot to make up to his little girl. How had every good intention he had turned out to be wrong?
He had to get Megan back. There was absolutely no other option.
This book is dedicated to Elisabeth Naughton and
Lisa Pulliman, roommates extraordinaire
Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.
Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. SASE for reply is appreciated.
Garrett Skye âAccused of killing the woman he was paid to protect, heâs on the run. His goals: recover from the wound sustained in his escape, regain custody of his three-year-old daughter and disappear forever.
Anastasia (Annie) Ryder âThis cookie-baking preschool teacher turns down her private detective fatherâs last attempt at reconciliation. Can she atone for her behavior by completing his last case: finding Garrett Skye?
Megan Skye âThis three-year-old charmer is the center of Garrettâs heart. Heâll do anything to protect herâ¦.
Shelby Greason âShe hired Annieâs father to bring her motherâs killer to justice.
Robert Greason âStill grief stricken by his wifeâs death, heâs now receiving death threats of his own.
âCurlyâ and âMoeâ âTwo thugs with deadly intent.
Rocko Klugg âAwaiting a new trial, everyone knows heâs a murderer and that he wanted Elaine Greason dead. But what is he looking for now and how far will he go to get it?
Jasmine Carrabas âKluggâs girlfriend. This slick beauty has a scary mean streak.
Randy Larson (Red Thunder) âHave his dreams corrupted him?
Tiffany Boothe Skye âGarrettâs ex. Her interest in being a mother is less than her interest in a new man. How far will she go to destroy Garrettâs credibility?
Ellen Boothe âTiffanyâs mother, Meganâs reluctant babysitter.
Brady Skye âGarrettâs older brother is a lawman in Oregon. Will he help or hinder his brotherâs efforts to clear his name?
Lara Skye âBradyâs beloved wife, the sister Annie never had.
Annie Ryder was ready to call it quits. Two days of lurking around in the cold, snapping pictures of old buildings, old streets and old ranchers had left her stiff and grumpy. Plus, the unfamiliar black-framed glasses rested heavy on the bridge of her nose while the thick brown wig atop her head itched to the point of distraction.
Oh, who was she trying to fool? Or, worse, impress? âYou canât impress a dead man,â she mumbled to herself.
A badly tuned engine jerked her from her thoughts. She peered down the street in time to spot a beat-up blue truck approaching. She didnât need to consult the photograph in her pocket to know at long last this was the truckâand hopefully the driverâsheâd been waiting for. Round bumpers, dented hood, broken antenna, a faded Forty-Niners bumper sticker, California plates. This was it.
Hallelujahâ¦
Lifting the camera, she flexed numb fingers. âStop at the grocery store,â she whispered as she watched the truck ramble down the road.
For a second, she thought it would pass by and her stomach twisted into a knot that just as quickly unraveled as the truck pulled to the curb no more than ten feet from where she stood concealed in an alley. The driver got out of the truck and without locking his door or glancing back at Annieâs location, limped across the road toward the grocery store on the corner. He wore faded blue jeans and a black jacket. Worn leather cowboy boots looked like the real deal.
He reached into his left pocket, emerged with an old fashioned gold watch that he snapped open, glanced at and snapped shut. He dug a few coins from his other pocket.