[2]

SEVEN MONTHS LATER
COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA
SATURDAY, 8:00 AM

Haley Callaghan woke slowly, the April sun filtering through the blinds she’d purposely left open last night. Saturday mornings were her favorites, mostly because she spent them at the teen center. She threw the covers off, hurried into the bathroom, took a quick shower, then pulled on her gym clothes.

Within minutes, she’d wolfed down a bagel with cream cheese, scarfed some almonds, poured her coffee into the travel mug, and was behind the wheel of her black Hummer. She glanced in the rearview mirror. No one behind her. At least no one who caused any internal alarms to go off. Yet.

Twenty minutes later, she wheeled into the parking lot of the Right Turn Teen Center. She loved the name and all it represented. Teens turning in the right direction and having fun while receiving guidance, unconditional love, and acceptance. And, Haley hoped, they were finding a healthy self-esteem, learning that they were uniquely and wonderfully made by a God who loved them unconditionally—something that was sadly lacking in most of their lives.

Stepping out of the Hummer, she slammed the door and turned. For a moment she stared at the building, satisfaction and peace flowing through her. Located in one of the poorest residential areas of Columbia off of Two Notch Road, the teen center was a bright spot, offering hope as a haven to those who needed it.

She took a step toward the entrance and stopped. The hair on the back of her neck tingled and she whipped around, scanning the parking lot.

And just like over the past week, she knew she was being watched. Last weekend, she’d been working outside with the horses on her property when a blue Toyota Camry had pulled up into her drive, then turned around and left. She’d thought nothing of it since her driveway was often mistaken for a side road. But since then, she’d spotted the car a number of other times. Sitting outside her office building, waiting outside the restaurant where she was eating. Parked across the street from church when she’d come out. Never too close, never invading her space—and she hadn’t been able to snag a license plate.

She frowned and leaned against the car door, standing. Waiting. Watching.

And finally spotted it.

A blue Camry sat snugged up against the curb of the house across the street and two doors down. The empty house with the FOR SALE sign planted in the front yard.

Haley could make out someone in the driver’s seat, but couldn’t tell anything about the person. No one had followed her from her home. She’d made sure of that. So she was either paranoid or someone had learned her schedule and decided to come to the center because he knew she’d be there. Or it could be someone who had a score to settle with one of the kids. But she didn’t think so. The person was following her. This was the third time she’d seen the car in the last couple days.

“That’s it,” she muttered.

Haley crossed her arms and wrapped her fingers around the butt of the weapon resting in the shoulder holster on her left side. She pushed away from the Hummer and started toward the Camry. She’d closed about half the distance when the driver backed along the curb to the driveway, executed a perfect three-point turn, and sped away going in the opposite direction.

And Haley couldn’t see the plate.

She blew out a breath and released her weapon. He’d been watching her for weeks. She wondered how long he’d studied her before she’d finally noticed him. Probably not too long, but she couldn’t seem to catch him. It might be time to start using her resources to figure out who he was. Like finding a way to justify getting some video footage off traffic cams.

Frowning, Haley walked through the glass doors and into the lobby area of the center. The indoor basketball courts were to her right. The dance studio was straight ahead and the art area to her left. Music blared from the sound system and laughter from the volunteers drifted toward her. The atmosphere loosened some of her tension.

Michelle Cox, nicknamed Cupcake, greeted her at the door. Short blonde hair framed her perpetually youthful face. In her midsixties, the years had added a few pounds, but she could still move with the best of them. A former professional dancer turned all-in grandma, she now poured her talent into the lives of the teens who frequented Right Turn.

“How’s it going, Cupcake?” Haley asked.

“It’s going and it’s moving at the speed of light.”

“What is?”

“Time, baby girl, time.”

Haley laughed. “I know what you mean. How’s the rehearsal for the talent competition coming along?”

“Donnalynn’s got it covered. The woman is a dynamo.” And the kids adored her. Donnalynn Davis, one of Michelle’s best friends, was another lady Haley had learned she couldn’t do without. The place would fall apart without the two of them. “She’s got them registered and they’ll be ready to roll next Saturday, perform on Sunday afternoon, and be home by Monday night,” Michelle said. “Thank goodness for a teacher workday on Monday.”

“Wow, it’s so close. You’re right about time flying.” Haley rubbed her hands together and blew out a breath. “And they’re really ready for this? A national audition?”

Michelle laughed. “Yes, darlin’, they’re ready. They’ve got the dance moves down and the choreography is mind-blowing. JC can do three flips in the air and land on his feet. These kids have been working every day for hours on end. They’re good and they’ll get through this first round. They’re going to Vegas, you wait and see. Better start planning the fundraisers. You’re still planning on going with us to the audition, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Excellent.”

“How excited is Donnalynn?”

“Beside herself. And everyone else too. She’s already shown me the route four times, telling me where we’ll stop for lunch, for restrooms, for a little bit of sightseeing, and for everything else in between. She’s got it down to the minute, so we’d better leave on time.”

“Did Donnalynn bring you some cupcakes this morning?” Haley asked.

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?”

Haley smiled. “That it is.” It was well known that Michelle was the cupcake queen. That woman loved cupcakes almost as much as she loved her grandchildren. “You’ve got a little something on your desk too.”

Haley laughed. M&Ms, no doubt.

Donnalynn walked over, her short curls bobbing with each step. “You’re talking about me, aren’t you?”

“Michelle was just bragging about your organizational skills. I’m in awe.”

The woman laughed, her dark eyes glistening with an inner joy that automatically attracted people to her.

The teens started filtering in. Michelle gave her a quick hug. “Now hush up and let’s get busy. We’ve got work to do.” The young men and women came from the neighborhood across the street, some from much farther. Those who were fortunate enough to have jobs and cars drove, the rest walked. It was hard to believe the first day they’d opened, they’d only had four kids show up. Now operating seven days a week at almost full capacity, they were going nonstop. She loved it.

“Haley, you made it this morning!” Fourteen-year-old Madison Tipton launched herself at Haley and she caught the girl in a hug. Baby lotion and teen perfume mingled together and Haley drew in the scent. Madison pulled away, her dark eyes gleaming with a gladness that tightened Haley’s heart. “I love Saturdays, I love to dance. I love you!” Haley laughed and marveled at the girl’s zest.

Madison had a rough history and a rougher home life and still she smiled. Haley hugged one teen after another—kids who didn’t hug anyone, but hugged her. Tears stung her eyes and she cleared her throat.

Once all of the kids were through the door, she shut it and locked it. If someone wanted in, the buzzer would alert her or someone in the office to check the door.

She peered back into the parking lot. The Camry was gone, but the creepy sensation of being watched still lingered, crawling up her spine in a way that made her want to rub it. She stared out at the street from behind the safety of the door, wondering what she was going to do, flipping through ways to figure out who the person was who kept following her. No one idea stood out to her. At least not a good idea.

But she would figure it out.

And soon.

“I think you should come home, Steven,” his mother said. “Your father’s not doing well. The pathology report came back and it’s . . . not good. Naturally, we’re going to fight it, but it’s hard right now. I think your father needs you.”

Detective Steven Rothwell hung up the phone and lowered his head into his hands.

He’d been expecting the call, he’d even been making arrangements for when it came.

So. This was it.

The job offer had come last week. All he had to do was accept it, pack up his belongings, and go home. His head pounded with the thought. With everything in him, he wanted to stay in his happy place of denial, but his dad needed him.

His mother needed him.

He’d be the dutiful son and do what he had to do. And truly, it wasn’t duty that was sending him home. He loved his parents. His reluctance had nothing to do with them directly. It was him. He was the problem.

He prayed the memories didn’t swoop in to haunt him, to steal what little peace he’d found by burying himself in work. Catch the bad guys, put them in jail, come home and eat a bit, sleep, then get up and do it all over again the next day. It had been very effective in allowing him to exist in a rather numbed state for the past few years. And numb was good. He’d searched for it long enough and had finally been successful in finding it.

But as soon as he went home, that would change.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out in one long, slow stream of air. “Okay, then,” he said to his empty den. “Okay, then.”

He picked up the phone and dialed the number that would take him back to South Carolina. Back to his past and back to the place where his brother had been murdered.