glass-fronted cabinet door and removed the picture, placing it on the kitchen island in the center of the room. He studied the photograph. Her parents were standing on a beach with nothing but ocean behind them, no identifying landmarks to be found. He focused on the couple. Abby’s father was a handsome man, her mother pretty and petite, same as her daughter. A smiling child was held in the father’s arms. All wore big smiles. Life looked perfect.
“Are you sure you’ve never seen this before?”
She rubbed her arms. “I’m positive. I’ve never seen the photograph or the frame. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of my parents, but none of them were taken on a beach.”
The phone on the wall awoke with a high shrill and Abby jumped. Noah held his hand up when she took a step forward. “Let me answer it.”
She nodded.
“Sheriff Galloway.”
A moment of silence filled the phone line before a strong voice almost shattered his eardrum. “What’s a sheriff doing at my granddaughter’s house at five thirty in the morning?” The woman didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I woke up a little while ago and felt the urge to start praying. You listen, and you listen good. I want to speak to Abby this minute.”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Noah would have grinned at the older woman’s audacity. Abby crossed the room and Noah was glad to see her eyes shining with laughter instead of concern.
“Sorry about that. It’s my grandmother. I heard her clear across the room.”
Noah handed Abby the phone and she started talking. “Grammy? No, ma’am, everything is fine. There’s been a break-in, but Sheriff Galloway is here. I’ll explain everything in the morning...Yes, Baby Bates did his job well and I have my pistol. I keep it on the nightstand right beside the bed.” She sighed. “Yes, I do believe it’s connected to what happened in North Carolina. I’ll call you tomorrow after we know more, but, Grammy, please be careful.”
Noah’s ears pricked when Abby turned away from him and lowered her voice. “Grammy! That’s not important. Fine, yes, he’s good-looking. Now, go back to bed and stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
Noah cleared his throat, buried his grin and busied himself by looking at the photo again as she hung up the phone. She swung around and her face had turned that sweet shade of pink he was coming to adore.
“That was my grandmother.”
They both knew he was already aware of that and the pink turned a shade darker.
Noah briefly wondered what it would be like to have a grandparent who loved you enough to call at five thirty in the morning to check on you. His grandfather loved him, but the crusty old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call cuddly. He almost grinned at the thought, but cleared his throat instead.
“I’ll have Deputy Cooper dust the picture frame and the break-in area for prints tomorrow.”
Bates moved into position beside Abby. Noah had always wished to be a K-9 handler, but his position in the FBI hadn’t warranted it. He’d heard a lot about the Belgian Malinois breed. Alert, ready for action and easy to train.
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll stay the rest of the night in the squad car and keep watch.”
She nodded, but then stopped. “I won’t be able to sleep. Why don’t I get dressed and make us some breakfast?”
Her offer was better than sitting in the patrol car. “Sounds good.”
* * *
Abby beat a hasty retreat upstairs. She had been more shaken than she had let on. Deep down, the terror still reigned. She couldn’t believe this mess had followed her all the way to Texas. She wanted her grandmother, but wouldn’t dare move Grammy here until the situation was resolved.
She pulled pants and a sweater from an antique wooden wardrobe, shed her pajamas and dressed. In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and groaned. “My hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Not that it mattered under the circumstances, but Sheriff Galloway was a sharp-looking man. She smiled, thinking about her grandmother’s antics. The older woman was forever nudging Abby back into the dating game.
She brushed her teeth and tamed her hair before hurrying back downstairs, only to realize Bates wasn’t dogging her heels. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw why. Noah had started the coffee and was rooting around in the refrigerator with Bates glued to his side. The dog was definitely food driven, just like the trainer had said.
“You’ve stolen my baby boy’s affection.”
Noah jumped and hit his head on the rack above him. Abby rushed forward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Noah glared at Bates. “Some guard dog you are.”
Laughter bubbled up and it felt good. “He does love his food. The trainer told me to keep him on a strict diet, but I slip him a few goodies now and then.”
Rubbing his head, Noah straightened and froze when he looked at her.
Her hand reached for her hair. “What? Is my hair sticking out?”
The right side of his mouth kicked up and her heart pattered.
“No, it’s just... Never mind.”
An awkward silence filled the room and Abby practically ran to the refrigerator. “We can have eggs, toast and coffee if that’s okay.”
He nodded and took a seat on one of the bar stools.
“How do you like your eggs?”
“I’m not picky. Whatever is easy.”
Eventually an easy camaraderie filled the room while she cooked their simple meal. She remembered spending many mornings similar to this one with John. The memory filled her with mixed emotions.
Loading the food on the plates, she placed them on the kitchen island counter, took a seat across from him and bent her head to pray. “Lord, bless this food we’re about to eat. Keep us safe and help us solve the mystery surrounding me. Amen.”
“Amen.” Noah picked up his fork and began eating. “We’ll start by making a list of possible suspects.”
Abby chewed and swallowed. “But there are no suspects. That’s what I keep telling everyone. And I have students coming for piano lessons today.”
“We’ll work around that.”
A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Are my students safe coming here after what happened?”
His jaw turned to granite and those electric-blue eyes hardened. “We’ll keep you and your students safe, Ms. Mayfield.”
Warmth and a sense of well-being filled her. She believed him. “Thank you, and please call me Abby.”
They finished eating their meal in silence. Abby glanced at the photograph still sitting on the opposite end of the kitchen island. Her hand, holding a forkful of scrambled eggs, froze halfway to her mouth.
Noah straightened in his chair and his gaze sharpened. “What is it?”
She didn’t want the photo anywhere near her, but she had to be sure. Laying her fork aside, she stood and slowly walked around the island. Chills snaked up her spine as she leaned over and studied the picture of the happy couple holding a laughing child.
Almost a living thing, dread crept into the very core of her being. “The child in the picture? It isn’t me.”
The call of the investigative hunt pulsated through Noah’s veins. Every instinct screamed this was a major missing piece of the puzzle, but Abby’s obvious devastation shook him to the core. His first impulse