No One Needs to Know. Debbi Rawlins

mode. When she looked at Annie again, her blue-gray eyes showed only concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It must be horribly difficult. Do you have a large family?”

      “Mom, Dad, my younger sister. I left them a letter explaining so they wouldn’t think I was dead. But I can’t call.”

      “You must miss them.”

      Annie sighed. “Every day.” She jumped down from the table and looked Shea in the eye. “Please, you have to keep this between us.”

      “Of course.”

      “Thank you.” Annie maintained eye contact, hoping Shea understood that meant not telling Jesse. “And thanks for taking down the picture without even asking why.”

      Shea, who wasn’t a toucher, put her hand on Annie’s arm. “Whatever I can do to help, all you need is to ask.”

      Annie wanted to hug her, but just nodded and led the way outside, remembering in the nick of time to get the bag of equine medication. Despite the chance someone from her past had seen her on the internet, she felt lighter than she had in years.

      “I INVITED HIM TO COME LIVE here,” Irene said, just before she sipped her bourbon and sweet tea.

      Tucker put down his fork. “What did he say?”

      She sighed. “No.”

      He wasn’t surprised. “He’s got a life in New York. Friends.”

      “But we’re family.” Irene’s voice had gone rough, which wasn’t unusual however much he wished she could accept the situation.

      “Christian needs time, Mom. It hasn’t been long since he found out his father refused to let you see him. Most of his life he thought you didn’t want him.”

      “You stopped being angry ages ago, and Rory Andrews stayed away from you out of spite.”

      “I had Dad. And you. I was lucky. Christian only had Rory and whatever stories he made up.” Funny how Tucker never thought of Rory as being related, much less his biological father. His hazy memory of the man didn’t even seem real, more like a fictional character in a story Tucker had read as a kid.

      “You know I wanted to keep both of you.” She took another drink, and this time it wasn’t a mere sip. Soon she’d ask him for a refill, and he’d give her one. The drinking wasn’t a problem, though it could head that way if she wasn’t careful.

      But how could he blame her? Tucker’s own guilt weighed on him, and he’d been a child during the divorce. Was that the reason his desire to find Leanna Warner had become a borderline obsession? Why he’d been tempted to go early, to hell with his commitments?

      No, he had to play it smart. He’d already baited the hook by suggesting the possibility of a large donation to Safe Haven. He’d put time between the email he sent and the day he was to arrive. She wouldn’t be suspicious because no one looking for her would give her that much time to run. She’d accept that he was exactly who he claimed to be—a rep for a benevolent foundation.

      All he had to do was be patient, observant and ready to take her down.

      WELL PAST MIDNIGHT, TUCKER stretched his neck before he looked again at the papers he’d spread over the desk in his bedroom. Every one of them related to Leanna Warner, and every one of them intrigued him in a way that was keeping him awake despite his exhaustion.

      She didn’t quite add up. Her parents had been and continued to be social climbers. Joseph Warner was an attorney who’d worked for one of the most prestigious firms in New York, but he’d never made partner. His wife was an assistant manager at a design firm, again, second tier, but living among the elite.

      According to Christian, Leanna had fit in so well with the wealthy young Manhattan scions and entrepreneurs that he’d been shocked to find out that she was a fund-raiser. When he’d looked closer, though, he’d seen that her “designer” clothes and accessories were clever knockoffs. It was her personality and flair that let her get past all the normal barriers.

      Christian would know about that kind of thing because he was in the same boat. His finance degree had gotten him only so far in a city that thrived on connections, but his audacity had helped make him a hell of an investment manager. No wonder the two of them had decided to team up. They each wanted a lifestyle that was just out of reach.

      Reading the background material was helpful, but he had to check his bias at the door. If he let his emotions take the reins there was a risk he’d miss something important, or jump to conclusions. But there was no denying that Leanna was extremely clever.

      On paper, she seemed the least likely person in the world to have stolen money. But if she’d had nothing to do with the fraud, why disappear? The logical conclusion was that she’d wanted to let Christian take the fall—except she hadn’t tied him to any real evidence. One transaction record, even an email referring to an offshore bank account, could have put Christian squarely in the bull’s-eye. Instead, Leanna had been forced into a life of hiding and his brother had just enough of a stain on his reputation to cripple his future.

      Though she’d made off with over $500,000, she’d left each charity’s seed money in the account, which, he suspected, was a clever way to avoid notice. At least until the whistle was blown, and then things had happened quickly. She probably hadn’t had time to clean out the rest of the funds. But who could be sure of her reasoning?

      So many discrepancies and oddities made it difficult to figure out her end game. Good thing Tucker was a patient man. He wouldn’t make the mistake of acting rashly. If she had something that would nail her, he’d find it. Then turn her over to the D.A. gift-wrapped all nice and pretty.

      He turned off the computer and gathered his materials. Most of what he had were printouts, but there were also several articles from New York newspapers, two yearbooks, four different brochures that Leanna had created and a short stack of photographs. The alarm was going to ring in under six hours, and his agenda was full all the way through Sunday. He wished he wasn’t committed to the Rangers game, but it was more business than pleasure, so no choice there. It had been a long time since he’d been to a game for the fun of it.

      He stripped down to his boxers and climbed between the sheets. As tired as he was, he should have been out like a light, but images of Leanna…Annie…kept spinning on a loop that wouldn’t quit.

       3

      ANNIE LOVED THIS TIME OF YEAR. She breathed in the cool spring air and squinted at the Rockies still wearing their lacy snowcaps. Safe Haven didn’t have many cows or calves to monitor. Even if they had she wouldn’t have minded the job of running stock. Working out here in the big north field under the open sky seemed more like therapy than a chore.

      She heard the pounding of hooves and forced herself to calmly turn in her saddle. Of course it was Will Woodruff riding out to take her place and not guys wearing suits and badges coming to slap handcuffs on her. Twenty-four hours had passed since Shea had deleted the photo, long enough to assume that if the wrong person had seen it, Annie would’ve been picked up by now. But not long enough to stop her from jumping at every shadow.

      That didn’t mean she’d let down her guard, but…she had to stop dwelling on it. The odds were in her favor and she’d decided to take the risk. In the meantime, she had a hell of a lot of animals and people counting on her.

      “Afternoon, Annie. Anything I should know?” Will, who’d been a wild man in his heyday, a cowboy renowned for breaking the meanest horses and taming beautiful women, was in his sixties now and a valuable volunteer.

      “Everything’s fine. Anything exciting back at the ranch?” she couldn’t help asking.

      He looked at her as if she were nuts. “Not a thing.”

      They chatted for a minute, then she took off for home base, ready for some lunch before she moved on to chores in the barn.

      Her first task