âLet me help.â
His hands took the key from hers and he slid it into the lock with careful deliberation. But it wasnât the key that had Juliaâs attention. It was the feel of his leather jacket beneath her cheekâ¦the scent of sawdustâ¦the rugged shoulders, sheltering her from the late-winter wind.
Hope stole over her. She tried to fight the emotion, but couldnât. It began in his gentle, strong manner and was nurtured by his serious gaze and his bright smile. Heâd seemed downright prickly last week, but she saw none of that now.
But you did see it, so donât be fooled. People arenât always what they seem.
The key turned easily when Tanner tugged the door their way. He finished locking it, dropped the key into her hand, then tipped his gaze down from over her shoulder. âWeâre good.â
His words reminded her of old dreams, gone awry. A home, filled with children and a set of loving parents. Was she shortsighted to think the dream could still exist?
Chapter One
New York state trooper Tanner Reddington scanned the sketchy neighborhood with a practiced eye. All was calm at present, but after a dozen years on the force, Tanner was no stranger to lifeâs quick changes.
A winter storm warning had advised local businesses to shut down for the day. Most had heeded the warning, but scattered bright windows said not everyone had closed up, despite the harsh conditions about to descend on Western New York.
Typical, thought Tanner as he sipped his coffee. When he burned his tongue, he scolded himself and pushed to keep his mind on his work. Normally, that wasnât a big deal. Tanner lived his job.
But with the first days of March looming?
The next few days were always tough, a face-to-face reckoning with anniversaries he couldnât forget. And then the calendar mercifully flipped and time moved on.
Lights shut off south of him as a short stretch of shops called it a day.
There were always a few that stayed open till the last possible moment, then made a bad situation worse by trying to get home in rough winter conditions. Todayâs storm would be no exception, but as he scanned the interstate entrance to his left, the low volume of traffic said a lot of folks had paid attention this time.
His peripheral vision caught something out of place. He swiveled in the driverâs seat, sure heâd seen a blink of light that hadnât been there minutes before. He scanned the thin gray light of late afternoon to determine what he saw.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Focused, he set his coffee down and studied a group of buildings just south of the above-grade interstate entrance.
Another blink of light pinpointed the action. But what was it? And why was it coming from that vacant building?
He put the cruiser into Drive and headed toward the decrepit structure. Other than a long-established shoe shop run by an eccentric but knowledgeable distance runner, the neglected strip mall had sat empty for several years.
Cops hated empty buildings. Empty buildings offered shelter for shady characters and an opportunity for foolish kids to create trouble. This scruffy stretch of decay had been slated for demolition twice. Both times, legal mumbo jumbo got in the way. Last he heard, some do-gooder had bought it for back taxes, promising the world.
That was months ago, and so far, nothing had changed. Tanner reported his location and his intention, knew backup was on the way, and slipped into the parking lot at the far end by the shoe store.