Nanny Witness. Hope White

him. Whit could tell he wanted to say something cop-to-cop but held back.

      “Could you help us piece together what happened today?” Harper said.

      “Someone broke into the house and shot Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton, that’s what happened,” Carly said in a defiant tone.

      “Ma’am, I’m speaking to Detective Whittaker.”

      Whit looked at Carly, who wore a protective expression on her face.

      “It’s okay,” Whit said to her. “Let’s talk this through.”

      She nodded. Didn’t look pleased.

      Whit redirected his attention to Harper. “I went to visit my brother and heard gunshots.”

      “Do you visit your brother often?”

      Guilt sparked inside his chest. “Not often, no. He hadn’t returned a few phone calls, so I decided to check on him.”

      “From Dallas.”

      “Yes.”

      “Which meant you were worried about him. Why?”

      How could Whit explain that?

      “I don’t know, gut instinct?” That and Harry had a way of getting into trouble, at least as a teenager. “Besides, I hadn’t met my niece yet.” He shot a slight smile toward Mia.

      “Were you inside the Bremerton home at the time of the break-in?” Harper asked.

      “No. When I got to the property, the gates were open, which I thought was odd. Once on the grounds I heard gunshots and decided to investigate. That’s when I saw Carly fleeing the scene.”

      “Fleeing?”

      “Bad word choice,” Whit said. “Escaping, with my niece in her arms. A tall man, dressed in black, was in pursuit. He fired off a warning shot and she kept running. I saw her disappear into the forest and followed.”

      “The man in black didn’t follow her?”

      “He kept to the trail. She did not. Nor did I.”

      “Then what happened?”

      “I helped Carly and the baby into a boat and we went downstream. The perp followed us on foot. I sent Carly to what I thought was safety, but the perp—” Whit hesitated, not wanting to admit this part “—overpowered me and went after her.” Whit glanced at Carly. “Didn’t you give him your statement?”

      “I did,” Carly said with a lift of her chin.

      “I’d like to hear your version,” Harper said, nodding at Whit.

      “I regained consciousness and climbed up to the property. I knocked the guy out just as he was about to shoot Carly. That’s when deputies arrived.”

      Harper directed his attention to Carly. “Would you care to fill in any blanks, Miss—” he hesitated “—Winslow?”

      “That accurately describes what happened after the break-in.”

      “You have no idea who broke in to the Bremerton home?”

      “As I said before, I was upstairs. I heard gunshots through the monitor and called 9-1-1.”

      “And left the premises,” Harper said. “You didn’t consider waiting for police?”

      “Wait where? They had guns. They shot Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton.”

      “So, they did shoot my brother?” Whit said.

      “There’s no evidence of that,” Harper said.

      “I heard it through the baby monitor,” Carly said. “I heard Mrs. B. screaming her husband’s name and said he was hurt.”

      “And you ran,” Harper said, accusation in his tone.

      Carly clenched her jaw tight.

      “Because what, you changed your mind about kidnapping the kid?”

      “Excuse me?” Carly said. “They tried to kill me, too, just like the Bremertons.”

      “Back up, they killed my brother?” Whit said, struggling to control his panic.

      Harper shook his head. “No one was killed today. When we got to the house it was empty, ransacked and shot up pretty good, but empty. The Bremertons weren’t home. So...” He looked at Carly. Waited.

      “I know what I heard through the monitor,” Carly said.

      “That your final answer?” Harper pressed.

      “Hey, ease up,” Whit said, having developed an inexplicable need to protect Carly Winslow. Maybe not so inexplicable considering she’d saved his niece’s life. “The guy who was shooting at us was very real.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m wondering if this was a burglary-kidnapping gone wrong. The nanny had a change of heart and the guy came after her.”

      “Wait, you think I—”

      “You’re basing that on what, exactly?” Whit interrupted Carly.

      The cop looked Whit straight in the eye. “The fact that the nanny has a record.”

      * * *

      And there it was, Carly’s past rising to destroy any chance she had at a normal life. She didn’t miss the dimming of Brody Whittaker’s eyes, or how his expression changed from protective to skeptical. She thought she even read betrayal.

      Shame flooded her chest, making her feel three feet tall, like that confused child. The trauma burned raw and painful, and so very real.

      She was thirteen again, being questioned by police. Feeling bullied, shamed and, worst of all, abandoned by her parents.

      “Carly?”

      She glanced at Whit, who looked like he expected her to explain herself, proclaim her innocence. She couldn’t lie. She had, in fact, broken the law, thinking she was doing so to protect her baby sister, Greta. Only years later, as an adult, did Carly truly understand what had happened. Carly’s parents could be so convincing, so manipulative. Mother was especially a master at it.

      “Yes, I have a record.” Carly glanced at Detective Harper. “From when I was thirteen. And it’s expunged.”

      “Which doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Harper said.

      A shudder trickled across her shoulders. It was just a matter of time before the wound would be ripped open again, and Whit found out the truth.

      “Okay, something’s not making sense here,” Whit said. “Did my brother know you had a record?”

      “He did,” she said.

      “Yet he hired you to take care of his child.”

      Right, because someone who’d been tricked into making a horrible mistake at thirteen years old wasn’t redeemable. Bad was bad. Forever. Or so many people believed.

      Thankfully Carly’s aunt Vicky had taken Carly in with a warm and compassionate heart at a time when Carly could have drifted deeper into the darkness. Aunt Vicky believed in second chances, in the power of prayer and healing. She believed in Carly, and challenged her to believe in herself. With the help of her aunt and God, Carly had found a modicum of peace.

      “Miss Winslow?” the detective pushed. “Or should I say Miss Garber?”

      “You changed your name?” Whit said, suspicion coloring his voice.

      How could she explain that she didn’t want any connection with the criminals who were her biological parents?

      “Yes, I changed my name,” she said. “I met Mr. and Mrs. Bremerton when I was working for Palace Catering. They were at a party and—”

      “Wait, you worked