Hideaway At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

vile ways and barely survived.

      Mila had promised to protect her baby. But she’d failed. Now Izzy was in the hands of DiSanti’s goons.

      We know you helped some of our girls escape, the man who’d stormed into her clinic had said.

      She massaged her temple. How had they known?

      Had they been watching her? Or had they found one of the girls and forced her to talk? Maybe they’d discovered the underground ring that helped women and children and young girls escape abuse to find a better life?

      Carina... Was she safe and still in hiding?

      * * *

      BRAYDEN WOKE TO a text from Lucas.

      Bond hearing for Dr. Manchester at ten a.m.

      Brayden took a quick shower, then dressed and rushed out the door. He drove to the diner near him, picked up coffee and a sausage biscuit and wolfed it down as he drove to Dr. Manchester’s clinic.

      It normally opened at eight. A truck and sedan sat in the parking lot while an SUV was parked in the employees’ spaces. He spotted a woman in a nurse’s uniform at the door with an older lady holding a baby, and a thirtyish woman with a teenage boy.

      “I’m sorry, folks, the clinic is closed today,” the nurse said. “Dr. Manchester won’t be here.”

      Brayden hung back and listened to see if she offered more of an explanation, but she didn’t.

      “We’ll reschedule as soon as I hear from her and we adjust our schedule,” the nurse said.

      The lady with the baby walked toward the sedan and the young woman and teenager climbed in the truck.

      Brayden approached the nurse cautiously. If she conspired to help DiSanti, he’d find out.

      The nurse tacked a sign saying Closed on the door, then retrieved keys from her purse.

      “Excuse me, Miss Zimmerman?”

      Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “Yes?”

      “The clinic is closed?”

      “I’m afraid so. Did you have an appointment?”

      He shook his head.

      “Well, if you need one, call back and leave your number, and I’ll have our receptionist get back to you.”

      “I’m not a patient,” Brayden said, then introduced himself. “Were you aware that Dr. Manchester was operating on a wanted fugitive yesterday?”

      The nurse gasped. “What? My God, that’s not true.”

      “I’m afraid it is.” He showed her a picture of DiSanti. “Do you recognize this man?”

      The shock on her face looked real. “No, I’ve never seen him before. Why do you think he was here?”

      “We know he was here,” Brayden said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t see him yesterday?”

      She shook her head again. “No. And Dr. Manchester would never help a criminal, not if she knew who he was. She devotes her time to families, especially children in need.”

      That was what everyone kept saying. “Maybe so, but she performed plastic surgery on him yesterday.”

      A tense second passed. She shifted, then glanced through the glass door with a frown.

      “What is it? You know something,” Brayden said. “Were you working yesterday?”

      She nodded, her eyes dark with emotions he couldn’t quite define. “I did, but Dr. Manchester asked me to clear out the waiting room and sent me home early. She said her daughter was sick and she had to leave.”

      “Her daughter?” That was news. “I didn’t realize she had a child.”

      The nurse’s expression softened. “Her name is Izzy. Dr. Manchester loves that little girl like crazy.”

      “Did she seem upset? Afraid?”

      Her brows furrowed. “Come to think of it, she did seem a little nervous. But I just thought she was worried about Izzy.”

      “Did you see anyone else here? Maybe a car in the parking lot?”

      “I didn’t really notice. There could have been, but I went out the front door.” Worry deepened the grooves beside her eyes. “Why? What’s going on?”

      “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Brayden said. “Sometime after you left work yesterday, the FBI discovered that DiSanti and his crew were here and stormed the clinic. Dr. Manchester was arrested.”

      The nurse gasped. “My God, that’s not right. Mila would never—”

      “She did,” Brayden said. “And I think she may have been threatened.”

      The woman clamped her lips together, then fumbled with her keys. “I don’t know what to tell you. But I’m going to stop by her house and check on Izzy and the nanny.”

      Brayden put his hand over hers. “No, I’ll go by and check on them.”

      If something was wrong with Izzy and the nanny, it might be dangerous.

      He thanked her, then phoned Dexter on his way to Dr. Manchester’s home address and filled him in. “She has a daughter?” Dex asked.

      “According to her head nurse, yes. Her name is Izzy.”

      “That’s odd. There’s no mention of them in anything I’ve found about her. Dr. Manchester must keep her personal life very private.”

      He supposed he could understand that. But usually when people kept secrets, it meant they were hiding something.

      “How about the father?” Dex asked.

      “No information on him.” Brayden pulled a hand down his chin. “Is there any record that she was married?”

      “I didn’t see one,” Dexter said.

      So who was the little girl’s father? “I’m driving by her house to check on the child and nanny, then to the field office for the bond hearing.”

      “I put calls in to the other staff. I’ll let you know if they add anything to what you’ve already learned.”

      Brayden thanked him, then hung up and veered toward Dr. Manchester’s. She lived in a small neighborhood outside Austin, only a few miles from her clinic. He searched the area as he drove down the street. Most of the houses were renovated ranches and bungalows. Judging from the children’s bikes and toys dotting the yards, the neighborhood catered to young families. The yards were well kept, complete with fall decorations and pumpkins.

      Dr. Manchester lived in a Craftsman-style house at the end of the street. Her backyard jutted up to woods and land that hadn’t yet been developed, offering privacy and a yard for her little girl to run and play.

      Everything he’d learned indicated the plastic surgeon was the admirable selfless doctor that Charlotte, the nurse and the media claimed her to be.

      But an uneasy feeling tightened his gut as he parked and walked up the drive. A dark green sedan sat in front of the garage, the only car on the premises. The nanny’s? Two drives down, he noted a white van, and across the street, a black Cadillac. The neighbors’?

      He scanned the front porch and windows, but the blinds were closed, and he couldn’t see inside. Nothing outside looked amiss though. And he didn’t hear signs that anyone was inside.

      He punched the doorbell and tapped his foot as he waited. A minute later, he raised his fist and knocked. If he didn’t get an answer, he was going to check around back, see if a window was open.

      Footsteps shuffled inside. A low voice. Female?

      He straightened and pasted on a smile as the door