Father Formula. Muriel Jensen

half brothers, Brandon, twelve, and Brady, ten. Alexis had known them just a matter of days, but she thought they were wonderful.

      Equally wonderful was Ferdie, the boys’ 110-pound Great Dane and Saint Bernard mix.

      Alexis rolled her eyes at her. “I think I can handle that. I can’t believe that you’ve turned from a warrior into some kind of Donna Reed and you still think of me as incompetent.”

      Athena turned to her, an aggressive tilt to her chin. “I do not think you’re incompetent. It’s just that, as an artist, you sometimes forget the normal, day-to-day things.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m not much of an artist at the moment.” Alexis pushed her gently out the door. “And though I know your trip east isn’t exactly for pleasure, I’m sure the two of you can use a little space after all you’ve been through since Gusty was pulled out of the water. And we can’t even continue the search for her until Holden gets an answer on the passenger lists.”

      Brandon and Brady had confused Athena with a redheaded woman they’d seen at the Portland Airport while running away from their mother’s home to stay with David. It had been the first time Gusty had been seen since she’d disappeared from the hospital.

      Since then, Officer Holden of the Astoria Police, who’d been handling the investigation, had been checking the passenger lists for flights arriving at the baggage carousel where the boys had seen Gusty. It was a long and tedious process.

      She’d been traveling with a man the boys had described as “scary looking,” and the police were checking the identity of every passenger, presuming that they were probably traveling under assumed names, since Gusty reportedly no longer remembered hers.

      Alexis wrapped her free arm around Athena’s shoulders as they walked down the hallway to the stairs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help you the past couple of weeks.”

      Athena dismissed her apology with a shake of her head. “My only concern was that, when I couldn’t locate you either, I wasn’t sure which one of you they’d found.”

      Alexis made a scornful sound. “Like I’d ever turn up seven months pregnant.”

      Athena gave her a look Alexis found unsettling—as though she had knowledge Alexis didn’t share. “Someday,” she said with a curious little smile, “you’ll meet the right man and wonder why you ever thought that.” Then Athena squared her shoulders before going down the stairs. “The boys, the dog. Holden’s number on the fridge. Is there anything I haven’t covered?”

      This efficiency was a glimpse of the old Athena and Alexis frankly considered it a relief.

      “No, I’ll take it from here. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll look after everything and prod Holden every day for something to go on. You just enjoy the East Coast and your new husband. Maybe we’ll even have Gusty here to welcome you back.”

      At the bottom of the stairs Athena wrapped her arms around her and for a moment they held each other fiercely, trying to make up for the gap Gusty’s absence created in their lives.

      “Yes,” Athena said, composed again. “Try to make that happen. I’ll call you from D.C.” She picked up her bag and started out the door toward the car.

      Alexis followed with her tote bag.

      “And don’t start any fights with Trevyn.”

      “He’s the one who starts everything,” Alexis argued.

      “Yeah, right.” Athena countered.

      TREVYN MCGINTY HELPED his friend and landlord, David Hartford, pile luggage into the trunk of David’s blue sedan. “Now, if you sell your book to these guys,” Trevyn said, moving the toolbox and blankets aside to make room for David’s brown leather bags, “what’s the first thing you’re supposed to demand in your contract?”

      David handed him a fat briefcase. “That my portrait on the dust cover be taken by you.”

      Everything in place, Trevyn dusted off his hands and patted David on the back. “Very good. I’m glad I saved your life that time in Bangkok after all.”

      “As I recall, the idol I was hiding behind saved my life.”

      “Only because I arrived in time to return fire.”

      “You were three minutes late.”

      “And you’re still here to continually remind me of that. Where’s Bram, anyway? He can’t still be in Mexico.”

      “He is. That wayward husband he was following loaded his SUV with pretty girls at the Barkley Regis and Bram followed him—into Mexico. He called me before he crossed the border. Some kind of big meeting going on, or something.”

      Bram Bishop had often been the third member of their CIA team, a security expert with more than twenty years experience. He’d retired with them almost ten months ago and had opened a detective agency in downtown Dancer’s Beach. He lived in the apartment above Cliffside’s four-car garage.

      Trevyn frowned. “You think it’s drugs? White slavers?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since. I tried to call him a couple of times when Gusty was first reported missing for some advice on where to start a search, but I couldn’t get through on his cell phone.”

      “How long’s it been?”

      “Three weeks.”

      Trevyn considered that, then dismissed it. “If it was anybody else, I’d worry.”

      “I know. He’s fine.” David grinned at him as Athena and Alexis walked out of the house toward them. The boys, shooting hoops on the edge of the driveway, stopped their game, shouldered their backpacks for school and fell in behind them, the dog loping along in step. “Are you going to be okay with Lex and the boys while Dotty’s at her son’s? Or should I arrange for a nanny and police protection?”

      “Funny.” Trevyn shoved him, then eyed the bags the women carried and reached into the trunk to rearrange its cargo. “The boys are great. And Alexis has the house, I’ve got the guest house and if there’s a just God, never the twain shall meet.”

      From what he’d learned so far, Trevyn guessed Alexis was the evil triplet. Though as beautiful as Athena with her long dark red hair and deep blue eyes, she had none of her courtesy. She was outspoken and outrageous—and she’d tried to bean him with a frying pan. It was hard to feel kindly toward a woman like that.

      “What if Holden gets some news about Gusty?” David asked.

      “I’ll find her,” Trevyn assured him, “without Lex’s help.”

      “But she knows her better than you do,” David argued, “even though you…”

      Trevyn sighed impatiently at David’s hesitation. “Even though I got Gusty pregnant. You can say it aloud. It isn’t as though we don’t all know she’s seven and a half months along.”

      “You’re sure you were with her?” David asked. “Considering how identical the girls are. I mean, with costumes and masks and just a brief glimpse of her face…”

      “I made love to her,” Trevyn said firmly, lowering his voice as the women approached. “She’s the only sister who’s pregnant. It was me.”

      “You’re not going to go too nuts waiting around, are you?” David asked. “I know you’d like to try to find Gusty on your own, but I’ve got Wren still looking for her and I’ll feel so much better knowing you’re here with Lex and the boys.”

      Wren was an old friend of theirs from their “company” days who’d also retired and now freelanced his spook skills.

      Trevyn would have preferred action, but he owed David a lot. When they weren’t on “company” business, he and David had worked together at the Chicago Tribune, David as a journalist, Trevyn as a