Family In Hiding. Valerie Hansen

      It took only minutes for the McIntyre family to return to the family’s midsize white SUV. Grace secured little Brandon while Dylan made sure the other two were safely belted on either side of the toddler’s booster seat in the second row.

      “If you want me to drive, I’ll need your keys,” Dylan said.

      “Why? What happened to yours?”

      “The same thing that happened to my briefcase and cell phone,” he replied, holding out his hand.

      She pulled a ring of keys from her jeans’ pocket and tossed it to him. “Okay. But this better be good.”

      He nodded. “Get in and buckle up.”

      “Where are we going?”

      “Someplace unusual. And public. Can you think of any nearby locations you and I have never visited?” He started the car and pulled into traffic, narrowly missing a passing motorist. “Preferably one with a crowd.”

      “You’re scaring me, Dylan.”

      “Good. That makes two of us.”

      With an eye on his mirrors as well as the road ahead, Dylan headed west on Highway 44. “How about the botanical garden? You used to say you’d like to go there sometime and we never got around to it.”

      “Fine. Whatever.” Grace set her jaw and folded her arms across her chest, clearly defensive. “I suppose you’re going to make me wait until we get there before you explain what’s going on.”

      He met her stare and angled his head back toward their children. “I think that’s for the best. Once I’ve told you everything, I know you’ll agree I’m doing the right thing.”

      “I’d better.”

      Continuing to cut in and out of traffic whenever it was safe to do so, Dylan remained on full alert. Not only were criminals probably after him, so was the law. He knew he shouldn’t have ditched his handlers but once he’d reached the street outside his office, his heart had insisted he go straight to Grace and his children while he was still free to do so.

      He caught sight of Kyle in the mirror and his gut clenched. If Grace was upset, their son was doubly angry. The boy’s brow was furrowed and he was glaring at his father as if he’d already forgotten how glad he’d been to see him.

      The turnoff on Shaw Boulevard took them straight to the Missouri Botanical Garden. “What section?” Dylan asked, attempting to keep the concern out of his voice. “I understand the irises are in full bloom right now.”

      “No,” Grace replied with an audible sigh. “Make it the Children’s Garden. That will give the kids something to do and we won’t have to stay long. I think they close early this time of year.”

      “Okay. You go buy the tickets and I’ll bring the kids.”

      Watching her shoulder her purse and slowly start toward the entrance, Dylan could barely breathe. Look what he’d had—and let slip away. Grace was one of a kind. A loving wife and a great mother. Of all the mistakes he’d made, and there were plenty, letting his work take precedence over his family had been the worst.

      It was more than that, his guilty conscience insisted. You let yourself be blinded by the promise of success and wealth beyond your dreams. And now look where you are.

      Straightening with Brandon on one hip and the older children close at heel, Dylan started for the entrance to the gardens. Judging by the number of cars present they had made a good choice. There were enough others there to provide anonymity without a crowd overwhelming them. And, if necessary, the gardens would provide plenty of places to hide.

      Dylan sincerely hoped it was not going to come to that. If he’d had the slightest inkling that they were being followed he would have driven straight to the nearest police station and turned himself in.

      However, since they seemed to be in the clear for the present he was going to carry out his plan. Grace was a sensible woman. She’d see why his future—and hers— depended upon the choices he was about to make. Given the lives those criminals had ruined and the children they had kidnapped, according to the police, he could hardly wait to help put them all behind bars.

      Finished at the ticket booth, Grace turned back to her family. Dylan saw her hair catch the rays of the afternoon sun and gleam like burnished copper, afire with highlights that gave her a haloed appearance and made him rue the poor choices that had led them to that moment.

      As much as he would have liked to appeal to his alienated spouse on a personal level, he realized that this wasn’t the right time to reveal how much trouble he was in and that he was preparing to face danger.

      The less she knew about all that and the more he nurtured their estrangement, the safer she, and his children, would be.

      * * *

      Hardly anything would have surprised Grace more than her husband’s presence at the elementary school. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Dylan had picked up the kids. So what had brought him this time? And why was he dressed like a refugee from a Cardinals’ baseball game?

      She held up the brochure she’d been given with the tickets and pointed to it. “Let’s go to number ten. It’s an elevated pavilion. We can stand up there and watch while the kids check out the tree house and the frontier fort.”

      “Works for me.”

      Grace led the way, noting that her usually rambunctious children were clinging close to the daddy they hadn’t seen in weeks. Although she felt slightly abandoned she could understand their feelings. They’d missed Dylan. So had she. Not that she’d ever actually admit it.

      They started up a boarded walkway that was edged with a rough-cut rail fence and Grace wished she’d worn more substantial rubber-soled shoes rather than skimpy sandals.

      She faltered once, catching herself on the bordering fencing.

      “You okay?” Dylan asked.

      Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be standoffish and aloof the way he used to be?

      Because he’s trying to drive you crazy, her imagination replied cynically. And he’s doing a wonderful job of it.

      “Grace?”

      “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

      They reached the covered pavilion. Grace turned to her family. “Put Brandon down so he can go with Kyle and Beth.”

      The three-year-old clung to his daddy’s neck. “No. I wanna stay here.”

      More tenderly than Grace had ever seen Dylan behave in the past, he set the child on his feet and kissed his damp cheek. “I’ll be right here, buddy. You go with Kyle and your sister. Mommy and I need to talk.”

      The child clapped his hands over his ears and sniffled. “I won’t listen. See?”

      Kyle took him by the wrist and tugged him away, letting Beth follow at her own pace while Brandon began to whimper. Grace couldn’t tell what the older boy said to quiet his brother but the whining stopped as if someone had shut off a faucet.

      “All right. We’re alone,” Grace said. “The park closes in forty-five minutes. I’ll give you thirty to tell me what’s going on and then the kids and I are out of here.”

      Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of the silky jacket and paced away from her before turning. “It’s complicated. I hardly know where to start.”

      “Maybe I can make it easier for you,” she said wryly. “I already know you were up to your neck in illegal adoptions because the police interviewed me about it. What more can there be?”

      “Plenty,” Dylan said, swallowing so hard she could see his Adam’s apple move. “And it’s much worse than I’d thought. Learning the truth is what finally