Mystery Child. Shirlee McCoy

wouldn’t sit well. Maybe Chance could work a little magic and make sure that didn’t happen.

      “You go ahead. I...need some air.” Quinn walked to a small alcove at the back of the kitchen. A door led from there out to a porch.

      Malone had already scouted the property, looking for areas that might be security risks. Quinn had been run off the road and chased into the woods. There was no guarantee the perpetrator wouldn’t return, but there were law enforcement officers all over the property and along the road where Quinn’s Jeep had been abandoned. She’d be fine outside on her own, but he followed anyway, stepping into the cool night air.

      “You don’t have to babysit me,” Quinn murmured as she settled onto a bench swing that hung from porch eaves.

      “Who said I was?” He settled down beside her, the chains creaking.

      “You were going to call your boss.”

      “It can wait.”

      “Until?”

      “I make sure you’re okay.”

      “Why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was tiny. Probably a foot shorter than Malone, but her personality seemed bigger—her voice, her gestures, those eyes that seemed to take up most of her face.

      “You were lied to. You were put in danger. You trusted someone, and you were betrayed.” They were all good reasons for not being okay, but Quinn shrugged.

      “I’ve been through worse.”

      “I’m sorry for that.”

      She turned her head, looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze dropping to the scar on his cheek, the one on his hands. “I think you’ve been through way worse, so I don’t think you should be sorry for me.”

      “Trouble is relative.” He stood and paced to the porch railing, because he didn’t want her to ask about the scars. It wasn’t something he discussed—the torture, the sorrow of losing brothers in arms, the helplessness of watching it happen. “Is there someone you want me to call?”

      “About?”

      “You. Your brother is busy with the police. I thought you might want some moral support.”

      “If my husband were alive,” she said quietly, “I’d want him here. He’s not, and there’s no one else.”

      “I’ll say I’m sorry again. For your loss, this time.”

      “Thanks.”

      “I know it doesn’t change anything.”

      “It doesn’t, but after a while, the agony fades to a dull ache.”

      He’d been there. Done that. He knew how it felt to lose someone and to move on from it. The ache never left. It simply became tolerable.

      “Quinn—” he began, not really sure what he was going to say, not actually sure he should say anything.

      They were strangers, and nothing he could say to her would make any difference.

      “Are you going to let Daniel know about the birth certificate?” She cut him off.

      “Daniel?” he asked, confused for a split second before the name registered. “Boone. That’s what he goes by. I’ll send him a text. Our boss will, too.”

      “Boss?”

      “Chance Miller. He owns HEART.”

      “I’d like to say I’ve heard of it.”

      “But you haven’t? Neither have most people. We’re a privately owned hostage rescue team. We also provide security, do cyber forensics. Lots of things.”

      “Including tracking down a coworker’s missing child?”

      “That, too.” He stood, the swing creaking as it moved. “Hopefully, this will all pan out. I’d hate for Boone to get his hopes up and then have them dashed.”

      “I have a feeling it will. I just hope that it pans out for Jubilee, too. She deserves to have a happy ending, because I don’t think her beginning has been easy.”

      “I saw the bruise on her cheek.”

      “There are a few on her arms, too. And, she doesn’t talk. Boone will have his work cut out for him.”

      “He’s up for it. He’s been waiting for this for five years, preparing for it.”

      “Maybe you can give me a call after they meet, let me know how it goes.”

      “You could stick around. Find out for yourself.”

      “I need to get back to Echo Lake. I’ve got a job, a whole classroom full of kindergartners who won’t know what to do if I’m not there.”

      “You like the little kids, huh?”

      “I do, but it’s also the only grade that I could be guaranteed to be taller than all my pupils.”

      That surprised a laugh out of him, and she smiled. “Yeah, it was a joke, but I have met third graders who are almost as tall as me.”

      The back door opened, and August stepped outside.

      “I’ve been looking for you, Quinn. Is everything okay out here?” he asked.

      “Just waiting to get permission to go home,” she responded.

      “You have it. The authorities have your contact information, and Agent Spellings said you’re free to go when you’re ready.”

      “I’m ready.” She stood. “I’ve just got to get my Jeep...”

      “I drove it here,” August said. “But I think you should stay until the sun comes up.”

      “It’s almost up now,” she responded. “And the sooner I get on the road, the sooner I can get home. I’ve got a classroom full of rowdy five-year-olds to face on Monday morning.”