As the sedan driver struggled to regain control from the fishtail, Mitch wedged the Jeep in between it and the service road. The incline was steep and gravel made it difficult for his tires to maintain purchase at high speeds.

  Thankfully the silver sedan slowed.

  As the Camry made another play for the shoulder, Mitch hesitated. The choice to keep going and risk Isaac’s life or leave and risk Amy, Kimberly and the children was a hot poker inside his chest.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Isaac ground out.

  “What are you? A mind reader?” Mitch shot back even though Isaac was dead-on with his assessment.

  “I know what’s at stake, boss. Stay on the Camry.” Then he added, “Please.”

  Under normal circumstances, Isaac wouldn’t argue. This was extreme and Mitch was all too familiar with the guilt that came with letting someone get away who could do damage to the people he loved.

  The sun was bright on the horizon, causing Mitch to squint in order to see clearly. Beams burst from the back windshield.

  Mitch had cut off access to the service road, using the Jeep to block it. He prepared himself for another gunshot but instead the Camry’s driver spun the wheel right into him, edging him off the road.

  The tires of the Jeep struggled for purchase on the gravelly incline.

  Before he could jam the brake, the Camry slammed into him, tipping the Jeep over and into a death roll.

  Even with his seat belt securely fastened, Mitch’s body got tossed around and his brain scrambled. Everything was happening too fast but seemed to be in slow motion at the same time—an odd feeling. One he was familiar enough with to realize his mind was playing tricks on him. It was most likely the shock coupled with another jolt of adrenaline. His brain tried to wrap around the idea that he was taking a tumble. All he could think about was Kimberly, Amy and the kids.

  The Jeep sounded like it was cracking in half as it rolled.

  Mitch’s head snapped back before a lightning bolt of pain exploded, the aftershocks bouncing around inside his skull, creating an echo-like effect before...blackness.

  * * *

  MITCH HEARD AN unfamiliar voice hovering over him. There was shouting—all male voices.

  His brain cramped, his head felt like it would split in two and he couldn’t open his eyes.

  The smell of smoke filled his lungs. He coughed. His eyes and nose burned.

  His eyes blurred as he tried to blink them open. Pain shot through him.

  And then it dawned on him why.

  The Jeep had rolled off the highway.

  His first thought was of Isaac and then Kimberly, Amy and the children. His mind railed against the thought of anything happening to them.

  And then blackness pulled him under again.

  * * *

  “HOW LONG DO the babies usually nap?” Kimberly checked the clock on the SUV’s dashboard, resigned to the fact that she’d have to rely on someone else to learn the daily habits of her children. And although she’d met the entire Kent brood, cousins and all, she’d used the pregnancy as an excuse to keep to herself. She had no idea how Amy truly felt about her and especially now that everyone knew she’d deceived them.

  The younger woman had always treated Kimberly with kindness. Amy was a good person. She was most likely just being polite now for her cousin’s sake. The whole Kent/McWilliams clan was tight.

  Now she wished she’d gotten out more, spent more time with people. To be fair she couldn’t risk having her face show up on social media pages and that was a big part of the reason she’d secluded herself. A voice in the back of her head called her out for lying.

  Thankfully the Kents were a private bunch but that had lulled her into thinking she and Mitch could live a quiet life together.

  She’d gone to great lengths to ensure she had legitimate-looking documentation that could prove she was Kimberly Smith. She’d given herself a new identity and believed she could have a new life to go along with it. Her judgment had been off base and her heart had overruled logic when she’d met Mitch.

  She’d allowed herself to get swept up in the fantasy that life would somehow turn out all right despite the fact that the one person in the world whom she’d trusted aside from her foster mother had been involved in illegal activity right under her nose. Her stubborn mind said her father couldn’t have done anything wrong. He didn’t have a criminal bone in his body.

  By living so much of her life on her own, she’d become good at reading people for survival. One of her foster mothers was nice after two drinks but turned into a depressed wreck after the fourth. At five, her anger turned outward toward anyone who was near. Kimberly counted drinks the first six months she lived in the Monger home. After six months she could tell how much Olivia drank with one look at her eyes. She’d become adept at identifying the tipping point where the society woman became downright mean. Thankfully the house had been large enough for Kimberly to hide in a new place every few weeks. Olivia would hunt for her on the really bad nights. The clicks of high heels against wood floors still echoed in Kimberly’s thoughts.

  Kimberly had learned to hide well. Olivia would eventually pass out. The next afternoon when the effects of the prior evening wore off, she’d take Kimberly out for ice cream, making sure to snap plenty of pictures to show the social worker.

  That and other similar experiences had taught Kimberly to read people well. At least she believed she’d become good at it. If Randy Bristol could be a criminal, anyone could.

  “They’re usually awake by now,” Amy said in an apologetic voice. No doubt she picked up on Kimberly’s melancholy tone despite her best efforts to cover it. “Car rides always put them to sleep.”

  “Right. You mentioned that before and so did Mitch,” Kimberly said in a low voice, making a mental note. She wanted to learn all of the ins and outs of the twins’ habits. And then it occurred to her that someone was missing. Mitch had said the babysitter would accompany the twins to Colorado. “Where’s Joyce?”

  “She was scheduled to fly in after we arrived. Mitch didn’t want anyone to know the twins were away from home. News travels fast in small towns. Joyce reported to work as usual this morning so no one would be the wiser,” Amy informed her.

  She shouldn’t be surprised that Mitch had thought of everything.

  “It’s been quiet. Should we try to call Mitch again?” Kimberly turned the phone over a couple of times in her hands. All contact had been broken off and she’d been waiting impatiently for Mitch or Isaac to check in.

  “As much as I want to do just that, we should wait for word,” Amy said.

  “You’re right. I know you’re right. Not knowing what’s going on is hard.” Kimberly could only imagine what Mitch had gone through when he’d believed her to be dead. Stabs of guilt jabbed at her stomach over the pain she’d caused.

  Looking back at the babies, she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be better off without her in their lives. She seemed to bring pain and sadness to the ones she loved.

  “Thank you for being so nice to me after—”

  “Don’t give it a thought,” Amy interrupted.

  “Not many people would be willing to pitch in let alone risk their life after what happened, knowing that I lied to them,” Kimberly continued, wiping away a stray tear and wondering why the waterworks were springing now? She’d gone eleven months dry as a draught in a Texas summer and it seemed that the floodgates were cracking since she’d returned to the area.

  Seeing her babies—and her husband—again had caused the weakness. Distance had made it easier to block everything out, to stuff her emotions down so deep she could get through the day. Feeling dead to the world was an improvement over loneliness and loss.

  “I know your situation is...complicated. I won’t pretend to understand it all. But sticking together, covering each other’s backs—it’s what family does.” The words spoken with such conviction cracked a little more of the casing around Kimberly’s heart.

  Every last one of them had been part of her family. “I’m sorry for...putting everyone at risk. I was trying to protect the people I love but made a mess instead.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Amy said with a half shrug, like putting Mitch and the children in danger ranked right up there with forgetting to pay the electric bill.

  “Mitch won’t forgive me,” Kimberly confided. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

  “As for me, who said I forgave you?” Amy asked with a wink. She was trying to lighten the mood. She really was wise beyond her years.

  “When it comes to Mitch, he’ll get over this in time,” she conceded. There was so much confidence in her tone.

  Could it be that easy? There was no way he could accept what she’d done, but if there was even a chance that he’d accept her as an acquaintance—could she dare hope for something more, like a partner in raising their children?—she’d be overjoyed.

  She flashed a smile at Amy.

  “It’s nice of you to say that but he won’t.” Under normal circumstances, maybe Mitch could forgive family for an error in judgment. He’d view what she’d done as flat-out betrayal. And he’d be right. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes every time he looked at her now. Well, almost every time. There’d been something else leading up to the moment he’d kissed her.

  She thought about that kiss, that moment between them that he’d shut down before feelings could spiral out of control.

  They’d “been there, done that” dozens of times. A welcome-home kiss heated up until clothes were in a pile on the floor and they were tangled in the sheets. The memory caused her heart to squeeze. He was right to pull back before they slipped down that path again.

  She would’ve stopped it herself if she hadn’t been so caught up in what was happening between them, in the all-consuming, all-too-familiar heat that simmered between them until that one spark ignited an out-of-control flame.

  Reality struck her again.

  How much time did Kimberly have? Was there even a remote possibility that she could go to jail for her foster father’s actions?

  The deputy who’d interviewed her had made it clear that he couldn’t wait to find evidence linking her to the investigation. If she landed in jail she wouldn’t want her children to grow up knowing they had a mother who was behind bars. They would be better off believing that she was dead.

  “Hey, it’s all going to work out,” Amy reassured.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Kimberly said, grateful for the attempt to make her feel better.

  “You got quiet. Mitch does the same thing. Gets all inside his head with worry and stops talking to everyone,” Amy stated.

  “I noticed that about him, too.” It felt good to remember.

  She just hoped that Mitch wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere with Isaac, paying for her foster father’s sins. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to confess to Amy. Maybe it was the younger woman’s kindness and understanding. She had a down-to-earth quality that belied the money she’d grown up having.

  “There’s a mess with my father. I really don’t know what he got himself into,” Kimberly admitted. “He was a good man. I mean, look, he took me in when no one wanted me. I’d already been bounced around in the system. Some bad things happened to me and my younger sister before they split us up. Losing her is probably what made me lose hope in humanity.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Amy’s voice held so much reverence. “That couldn’t have been easy on either of you. She was all you had left. And none of that was your fault.”

  “It sure feels like it was,” Kimberly admitted.

  “You were kids,” Amy said with so much sympathy, tears sprang to Kimberly’s eyes.

  She sniffed them back and faked a cough to cover a sob.

  “Getting in trouble with the law was a choice I made, though,” she said.

  Amy sat quiet with a steady grip on the steering wheel.

  “What did you do?”

  “It was mostly petty crime, stealing. At first I did it to keep from starving but then I took what I wanted. Candy bars. I’d slip into the movies when people were coming out,” Kimberly said.

  Amy inclined her head and even though she never broke focus with the road, there was a lot of sympathy and acceptance radiating from her. “No wonder you wanted to keep to yourself when you first showed up.”

  As much as Kimberly appreciated the kind gesture, the woman wasn’t hearing her. “I’m telling you that there’s something broken in me that causes me to hurt people. I take what I want and leave.”

  It wasn’t accurate to the letter but it was close enough to call.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Amy said after a thoughtful pause. “You might be able to convince yourself that story’s true. And that’s fine. But I see a strong person who has survived more than any one person should have to endure. That makes you a hero in my book, not a criminal.”

  Those words, that acceptance, brought out another sob in Kimberly.

  “But those things I took. I didn’t need them to survive,” Kimberly continued, shame a tightrope around her neck, cutting off her oxygen.

  “How old were you when this happened?” Amy asked.

  The question threw Kimberly off guard. “Eleven, twelve. I don’t exactly remember. Old enough to know better.”

  “When I was twelve I took a candy bar from Tom’s Grocer just to see if I could get away with it. Does that make me a criminal?” Amy asked.

  “Well, no. You were just being a kid,” Kimberly admitted.

  “Exactly. I was a good kid by most accounts. I had a good family. My brother went on to become sheriff. I knew right from wrong but I was testing the boundaries,” she said. “Let me ask you this. The candy that you stole—you enjoy eating it?”

  “Made me sick. I couldn’t finish half of one bar,” Kimberly said. “Threw the whole lot in a dumpster.”

  “But there was nothing wrong with the chocolate or any of the other ingredients. The bar wasn’t past the expiration,” she said.

  Kimberly cocked a brow. She couldn’t see where this was headed. “It was fresh.”

  “And have you eaten candy since then without getting sick?” Amy pressed.

  “Of course.”

  “Then it would seem the action made you sick. Not the candy bar. Same thing happened to me. I couldn’t enjoy what I’d stolen. I had two bites and wanted to vomit. Had to throw the rest of it away,” she said. “I was too embarrassed to admit it to my family or to the owner, Tom. He goes way back with my family. He’d always been good to me. Gave me a summer job. That weighed heavy on my mind for a long time. When I got old enough to start babysitting for relatives, I learned that kids do all kinds of things while they’re figuring out who they are. Stealing that candy bar taught me that I’m not a thief. As much as I can’t take any of it back, I’m not sure I would if I could. I learned a valuable lesson about myself that day.”

  Kimberly allowed herself a small smile. She couldn’t argue against Amy’s logic. It made perfect sense. Her heart leaped at the thought that her actions could be forgiven so easily. She’d always been so hard on herself, she’d never once considered absolving herself of her crimes. A small part of her had believed she’d gotten what she deserved with Olivia and the others. “I guess if I’d really thought about it, I would’ve come to the same conclusion.”

  “Which proves you’re not a bad person now and you weren’t then, either.”

  Looking at the back seat, at her babies, she wasn’t ready to let herself off the hook. She didn’t deserve to.

  And she was certain that Mitch wouldn’t see it the same way. Speaking of whom, where was he and why hadn’t he reached out?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Any word?” Kimberly asked Deputy Hanson as soon as Amy pulled the SUV alongside his in the parking lot of the Dairy Dip. They’d made it to Broward County and the sight of a law enforcement officer on their side was a welcome reprieve. Until Kimberly remembered that her real name was out there and she had no idea if she was wanted for questioning in New Mexico.

  “Sheriff wants to fill you in himself,” he responded. He was in his early thirties with black hair and brown eyes. He worked out and Kimberly remembered that he liked to talk about his CrossFit training. He wore reflective sunglasses and she didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t see his eyes.

  Did Zach plan to arrest her?

  “That can’t be good,” Kimberly said to Amy.

  “They’re alive, right?” Amy’s voice trembled.

  The deputy nodded and she blew out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Follow me and I’ll get us there in no time,” Hanson said, shooting a look of apology before turning on his lights and siren.

  The escort got them to the sheriff’s office in less than half an hour. The sirens woke the babies, who cried on and off during the entire ride.

  Amy shot a look toward Kimberly as though steeling her resolve. “Let’s get these guys changed and fed. I can take Aaron.”

  Kimberly hopped out of the seat and opened the back door to her daughter, grateful to have this time with her children. The thought that she might be sent away for years sat heavily on her chest as she fumbled with the car seat buckle.

  “Like this,” Amy said, demonstrating the release valve.

  She mimicked her and was holding her daughter within a few seconds. “Thank you.”

  Amy gave a quick nod. “I got the diaper bag.”

  Deputy Hanson was already next to Kimberly, ready to escort the women and children into the sheriff’s office. Kimberly wondered if his being nice was an act. On second thought, she realized he was being especially nice to Amy. He apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that she had feelings for Isaac, which also probably meant that Zach wasn’t aware, either.

 

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