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  Before turning on the camera and raising it to her eye, she took a sly look around to see if she saw Brendan, something she could do quickly and without being noticed. Yep, there he was in the opposite corner, doing exactly what she was—scoping it out—and their eyes caught. Shit. His arms were crossed, and he wiggled his pointer finger in a greeting to her. He had obviously been watching her for the last few minutes, enough time to get the special wave down. She laughed.

  The children started singing, catching her attention. There was Chloe, all braids and smiles, dancing around with the gusto that would make any Indian tribal council proud, or at least this mother anyway. That kid did have her dad’s enthusiasm for life, and, God, she also had his enigmatic smile. The thought of Jack gave her the same feeling in the pit of her stomach it always did, as if she’d been sucker-punched. But she would not think about him, or that fateful day almost eight years ago. She would not think about Jack. Not today. As if that could be remotely possible.

  There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of Jack.

  She would definitely not look back over at Brendan O’Neil. Damn him. The bastard had to have not only sinfully green eyes and tousled blonde hair that always looked as if he’d stepped in from a windy day, but he also had that Irish lilt in his voice. And if Holly didn’t watch it, she was pretty sure he could talk her into just about anything. Nuh-uh, no way. She had a daughter, and she had cases to solve, and right now there was a serial killer on the loose to catch.

  A few more chants and a song about a turkey-gobble-gobble led into a poem written by her Chloe. Her beautiful child stood tall, as tall as she could get at seven, and recited her Thanksgiving poem. I am an Indian brave and tall. I shared with the pilgrims one and all. We danced and sang on that first Thanksgiving as we ate corn and turkey and mashed potatoes, too. It was really good. And the pilgrims were my friends. I am an Indian brave and tall. Chloe bowed as applause rang out through the crowd. Filming it, Holly bumped the camera as she lifted her hand to wipe away a tear. That was her kid! Brave and tall. Yep. She wanted to run up to the stage and twirl that angel around, but thought better of it and waited the five more minutes until a few more children had read their poems. Chloe’s was by far the best.

  After the presentation, parents milled around in the classrooms finding their assigned seats for the feast the children had prepared. That was where Brendan found her and Chloe.

  “Amazing. That was some poem, Miss Chloe. If I didn’t think you were going to grow up to be a beauty queen, I’d say you’ve got a mighty good chance at being a poet.”

  Ah, that accent.

  “Thank you, Mr. O’Neil,” Chloe said, her face turning a faint tinge of pink. Brendan’s daughter, Madeline, tapped Chloe on the shoulder and whispered something in her friend’s ear. The girls laughed.

  “Mommy, I’m going to get you a plate now, okay?”

  Holly tried to hold up her hand to stop her, but the girls were off heading toward the cafeteria where the feast was being served. The school was not in its usual organized form. There was a lot of chaos going on today along with the seasonal smells of turkey and cranberry in the air.

  “Ah, let them go, Holly. They like doing this. Gives them a chance to take care of us for a change. And we must take advantage of that, now don’t you think?”

  Holly heard her nervous laughter and stifled the embarrassment she felt. She knew she wasn’t exactly in glamour mode at the moment. “I suppose we should.”

  “Good. It’ll give us a chance to chat. It’s been a while. I’ve tried calling, but you haven’t called back, and you’ve all but disappeared from yoga class.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m on a case, and I’m extremely busy.” His woodsy-smelling cologne wafted her way. Interesting, the way a scent like that could remind a woman of just how long it had been since she’d been with a man. Part of her wanted to smack him and run away for being that reminder. The other part, well, it had ideas, too.

  “You need to take care of yourself, Holly. At least, if you don’t want to call me back you should get in and do that yoga. I know what it’s like to raise children alone and hold a job, remember? The yoga keeps you grounded.”

  Yes, she did remember. They had this talk over pizza with the kids, which was simply a by chance thing, and again over lunch one weekend while cutting out construction paper states that the children in the class would use to do their own personal puzzles of the United States the following week. Holly had wondered how truly random it was that Brendan also volunteered for the same job. She had to admit they’d laughed quite a bit and had a good time, even agreeing to have a glass of wine together when they were finished, which they did. But Holly left after the wine and an appetizer feeling confused, a little high, and yes, unfaithful, which she knew was absolutely silly. Would she ever get Jack out of her system?

  Brendan had two daughters he was raising alone and was a veterinarian with his own practice. He was a hard man not to like.

  “Listen, Holly, when we had wine a few weeks ago, did I offend you in some way?”

  “No, no, I had a great time.”

  “Then what is it? I can’t understand, because I had a great time, too. I was hoping we could get together again,” he said.

  A paper plate of food came crashing onto her lap at that very moment, and she looked up and saw her wide-eyed daughter looking desperate. “Oh no, Mommy.”

  “Ah, geez,” Brendan said grabbing a napkin and beginning to wipe the mess off her legs.

  Holly grabbed the napkin from his hands, and rather than cleaning it, she wound up smearing canned cranberries into her slacks, along with marshmallows mixed with sweet potatoes. Chloe burst into tears, and Holly muttered, “Shit.” Then glanced around at the eyes of other parents staring at her. “Sorry.” She looked back at Brendan who was wearing a smile of amusement, and she couldn’t help but start giggling. “Okay, I’ll see you at yoga tomorrow night, deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Now, Chloe, come here. It was an accident, baby.” Chloe looked up at her mom. “It could happen to anyone.”

  “Your mother is right. That it could. I drop things all the time. Ask Maddie there.”

  “I’ll get you another plate, Mommy.”

  “Oh sugar, don’t do . . .”

  Too late. The child was off and running again, always aiming to please her mother. Madeline was in tow. As they disappeared, Holly’s cell phone rang, a call coming in from the office. Brendan nodded at her as she gave him that look that said, I’ve got to take this outside.

  She walked around the corner of the school and flipped open the phone. “Jennings here.”

  “We’ve got a locale on our vics.” It was Chad. “Cleaning lady says that the woman and little girl are always there when she arrives, because the mom invariably has a list of duties for her. But today, she uses her own key to go in, starts to get breakfast for the girl, then realizes they aren’t there. We called the mom’s work. She’s a computer analyst. They said that she hadn’t called in yesterday or today. The assumption was she took off early for the Thanksgiving holiday. Apparently she had that kind of leeway being that she was more of a consultant for their company than anything. But they did say that it was strange for her not to call.”

  “Where’s the company located?”

  “2829 State Street.”

  “Not too far from where Patricia and her son lived. Looks like he’s got himself an area. Call the local schools and find out where the little girl went. Maybe there’s a connection, if the kids went to the same school.”

  “I’m on it. I had to leave our scene in the east county. Carpenter is wrapping it up. The call on this came in about a half-hour after you left. Maureen took it, and she’s handled it really well. Better watch out, she might be after your job, too.”

  “Isn’t everyone?” Holly laughed, but knew in all reality that this was a job like any other, and one could be taken down or moved up a notch depending on the way c
ases were handled. Maureen was a good friend on the force, but she was also a damn good detective.

  “Another thing, Holly.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He left us a little something that solidifies the fact that this was the victims’ house. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.” She looked down at her pants. The cranberry matched nicely with the brown wool. Oh, well.

  She walked back into Chloe’s classroom. Her daughter was there, new plate in hand and a huge smile on her face. Holly did what she had to and sat back down in the chair made for little people and frowned as her butt eased over the sides. She should get back into yoga again, maybe add some kickboxing to the scheme. That weight was creeping up on her. Holly felt about five pounds overweight, but her friends told her that was plain silly. She knew by most standards it was, but by hers it wasn’t.

  She quickly ate the mish mash of food Chloe had piled together and drank apple cider out of a paper cup. She glanced back over at Brendan who was seated at Madeline’s table. He made the Namaste sign at her.

  “Listen, Chloe, you need to go to aftercare today. I’m sorry, but I have to go back to work.”

  “But you said that you were coming home early, and I could go with you after the feast like all the other kids get to,” she whined.

  “Not all of the other children get to go home with their parents right now. You know that, and you like aftercare.”

  “They do too get to go home, and I don’t want to go to aftercare. I want to go with you.”

  “Baby, please. I need to go to work.”

  “You always need to go to work. I want to play with you. You said we could go to a movie.”

  “I know, and I’ll be home as soon as I can. Maybe we can stay up late and pop popcorn and eat candy, okay?” She hated doing this to her little girl, but there was no choice. Doing this job was what put food on the table.

  Chloe frowned. Brendan approached them. “A dilemma?”

  “My mom said that she would take me home after the feast, and we could go to a movie. And now she’s going to work.” She did a good job of making the word “work” sound like the epitome of evil.

  “Well,” Brendan said as he got down on his knees to Chloe’s level. “Sometimes mommies and daddies can’t help that their work calls them. Trust me, I know your mother would much rather be with you than go to silly old work, but it’s just the way it is. Like you have Mrs. Franz as your teacher, and you can’t always go off and play when you want. That is sort of how it is for mums and dads. Their bosses are kind of like their teachers.”

  “Stupid,” Chloe muttered.

  “Agreed.” Brendan nodded, crossing his arms in front of him in an imitation of Chloe’s stance. Then he brought his finger up to his head and tapped it. “Listen, something has just come into my brain, a wonderful idea. Why don’t you come to our house today and play with Madeline? We would love the company, and we just got the new Zac Efron movie on DVD. You do like Zac, now, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Chloe said, a hint of a smile spreading across her face. “Can I, Mommy, please?”

  Holly flashed Brendan an Are you sure? look and replied, “Of course. What a wonderful idea.”

  “Good, then we’re set.” Brendan smiled.

  “I’ll call you. I don’t know what time it’ll be.”

  “No worries. I’ll save you some dinner.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that,” she replied.

  “Then I’ll wait until you get there to make it,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I’m not getting out of it, am I?”

  “No way. You make it sound like you have to go to the garbage dump or something. I promise it will be better than that. We’ll have a great time.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered as she left her daughter’s classroom. She knew that Chloe already liked Brendan and Madeline, and he was definitely using the girls’ friendship to his benefit. Who knew? Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was time to let go and find someone to come home to and snuggle with.

  Maybe it was time.

  But thoughts of Jack came rushing to her, and she had to admit to herself that the time might never be right. Could you love someone again after loving the only man you ever thought you would love? Vowed to love? Holly didn’t know if that was possible, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out. Her life fit her the way it was. No complications. There was work, and her child, and everything ran on a schedule in an organized manner. That was how she liked it.

  She did not need the extras life could bring. Or did she? Was Brendan O’Neil an extra? Or could he, in fact, be a necessity?

  CHAPTER THREE

  God, they were so fucking beautiful to watch! Young thirty-somethings in khakis and white t-shirts, looking as if they’d just stepped out of a Gap ad. Some of them had the requisite denim jacket, others wore sweats with tight sweaters, one or two needed help badly and definitely did not fit in . . . But oh, dear God, the others!

  Young, scrumptious, delicious women, all here with their sweet children, here in La Jolla, where all the beautiful people lived. But much to Gunter’s consternation, most of them were attached—and deeply so—with wedding rings that marked dollar signs in the millions. Maybe he’d get lucky, though. Doubtful.

  Look at that one go by. Wow! There’s a personal trainer on Daddy’s pay roll, indeed, with that tight ass and the abs peeking out from under the belly shirt. Her nips nice and pointy from the chill in the air. He licked his lips. Oh, and what a cute kid, with that golden hair shimmering in the sunlight. Thank God the rain had let up a couple of hours earlier. Being locked up inside was no place for a man like Gunter Drake. He needed sun, and the laughter of young children, and, yes, the sight of their beautiful mothers. He still couldn’t understand how the last two turned out so very badly. It had all gone so wrong.

  Gunter Drake hated killing children. It’s not like they ever deserved it. Their bitch mothers were the ones who really deserved it, and they were always the ones who started the problems—the lying, conniving, and manipulations. And these were the reasons Gunter Drake had to punish them until . . . well, until they descended into hell. Because that was where they were going. Gunter’s children, however, would all be in heaven waiting for him. Because, after all, he was a good daddy. The children told him so, but it was way too hard to raise a kid without a mother, and until Gunter could join them all in Heaven and get a little help, he would keep looking until he found the perfect family.

  The truly sad part for Gunter was that this last wife and daughter he had taken had seemed so perfect. The little girl with big blue eyes and long sunny-blonde curls cascading down her back. He knew that if she had given him a chance, those gorgeous eyes would have learned to light up at the sight of him. Gunter Drake had so much to give. He knew he was the best daddy. But then there had been the other one, his wife. She’d made a good first impression—petite, same blue eyes as her daughter, thirty-something, with the body of an avid kick-boxer. That hadn’t helped her in the long run, though, after she’d turned on him.

  It was always the woman, wasn’t it? They were really good at making the kids dislike him. What the hell was that about, anyway? Women . . . His eyes brightened from his thoughts as he glanced around the park and watched a brunette beauty pushing a toddler on a swing. He leaned back against the bench and took in the sights.

  He would find another pair. That much he was sure of. No problema, baby. At 6’2”, he was built with plenty of muscle to squeeze. Longish dark curls framed his high cheekbones and he had deep, dark-brown eyes that Gunter knew could mesmerize women. He loved to hear people say that he reminded them of Johnny Depp, but old Johnny had nothing on Gunter. He was a wuss. Gunter was a real man.

  He glanced at his watch, noticing a smidge of blood on its face. He wiped it with his leather jacket sleeve.

  He reflected on the other night again. The police would not fi
nd many leads. Except for what he’d intended them to find. His footprints would be hard to locate because of the rains. But, damn, that had made it so slippery, and it had taken all his strength to hold onto the child and make it the twenty feet down to where he’d positioned her gently and kissed her cheek. “Goodbye, darling.” His gloved hand had grazed her neck. Ah! A treasure to keep. How foolish! Can’t forget a trinket from the sweet child. He had torn the keepsake from around her neck and taken one last look, brushing the back of his gloved hand along her pale face. Should’ve covered it, too. He didn’t like leaving it exposed after having wrapped her so painstakingly in cellophane, like the true gift she had been. Idiot! Gunter reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the necklace, the one with a ruby in the center of a gold heart. He fingered it. It was sweet. Like Sara had been. This was his reminder—Sara’s sweet little gold heart.

  Gunter hadn’t bothered to take such care with the wife. All her damn fault anyway. If she’d been a good girl, done as she’d been told, none of this would have happened. Once he had finished her off, he’d had no choice but to go back into the girl’s bedroom and take care of her, too. It was so difficult to raise a kid on your own these days. Gunter didn’t want that responsibility. He really hadn’t had a choice.

  The child had pleaded, “Where’s my mommy? Where’s my mommy?”

  He had hated seeing the tears in her eyes. Her crying for her mother was not at all pleasant. Whining was so nerve-wracking. Gunter hated it. He’d had to do it quickly, because he had already become emotionally attached to the little girl. He had covered her mouth with his beefy hand and remembered the way he’d killed her mother. He couldn’t do that to this precious child. She didn’t deserve to suffer because of the sins of that bitch she had been forced to call Mother. He’d removed the pistol from his belt. The silencer on, just in case. He’d been through this before, and sadly it had ended the same way. He’d squeezed the cold, metal trigger and pulled. She’d gone limp in his arms. He’d held her tight, rocking her. “I’m sorry, baby. Daddy is so very sorry.”