“You are a brave soul,” Riley said, lifting her glass to Emma. “I still want to punch Logan. The bastard.”
“Go easy, Riley. He has a job to do. And I’m just guessing but I don’t think he had to date you to do it.” Then she smiled. “Even so, the best news I’ve had lately is that after all this time you and Jock will find a way.”
“Jock,” Adam scoffed. “What the hell kind of name is that, anyway?”
“You know he was named for his grandfather. Are you going to start being nice to him now?”
He took a drink from his beer. “I guess I’ll have to.”
“Emma, do you need a day off to recover from Dragnet?” Riley asked.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Let me catch my breath and then I think we should tell June she’s going to be a grandmother again.”
* * *
Despite the stressful police questioning, Emma was feeling euphoric. Her world was coming into focus and she had so much to look forward to. She had Adam’s perfect love, something she never for one second anticipated when she was making her way home to Sonoma. Riley had finally come around and it looked as though they all might not just be friends but family, as well. June was so happy about the baby she cried. Even Maddie and Jock were excited.
She was anxious to tell Shawna and Dellie, but there were a few details to work out before she went public. A date to get married and merge households would help.
Adam, as protective as when they were kids, asked her to quit work, at least working that hard. His income was modest, but he’d been a teacher for a long time and he could support a family. She said no. She wanted to work.
She spent more time with Riley, a little while after work most days. They had so much to catch up on. “Will you be my maid of honor?” Emma asked her.
“Yes, absolutely! And will you wear a mask while you clean so you don’t inhale bleach? I don’t want my nephew to have two heads.”
So Emma carried a mask in her pocket and discreetly slipped it on when she was using bleach in the bathrooms. But Riley’s concern gave her deep happiness.
And then a text came from Bethany.
I’m sorry, Emma, but it’s just too much. There’s no laughter. There’s just no love here and I’ve had enough.
Emma was cleaning another house but because it was Bethany, she read the text and responded immediately.
What’s too much?
The girl had been mostly cheerful since Christmas. Emma had hoped her feelings of sadness and helplessness were starting to wane.
No reply. If that had been Adam or Riley, she’d have waited until she was between houses, but she smelled an ill wind.
Bethany, where are you?
No reply.
She tried calling, but it went directly to voice mail.
She went to Dellie; Dellie had daughters and there was something about teenage girls, even those not in crisis, that was so terrifying, so filled with drama. “Dellie, Bethany texted me this,” she said, showing her the phone. “I can’t reach her.”
“She’s just wanting some attention, probably.”
“What if she’s not? She took a bunch of her stepmother’s pills a year ago or so and it just knocked her out for a while, but that’s something to think about. What if this means she’s given up? What if she’s suicidal?”
“You don’t even know where she is,” Dellie said. “She might be on top of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“I think I have to go to her house,” Emma said.
“We’re not done here!”
“I’ll call Riley. I’ll go check and come right back. I’ll even stay late and help if we get behind.”
“You’re getting sucked right into this girl’s drama,” Dellie said.
“I guess so. But if anything is wrong and I don’t check on her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Oh, Lord, you’re gonna be the death of me. Shawna!” she yelled. “We gotta go check something and come right back!”
“You don’t have to,” Emma said.
“Better we all stay together. That house ain’t so far from here. Don’t pack up. We’ll be back here in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” Emma said.
While Shawna drove, grumbling about how this day was gonna get long, Emma called Riley. She had to leave a message. She called Makenna and Makenna said, “Do not do this! I’ll call her parents but you just stay out of it!”
When Emma disconnected, Dellie wanted to know what Makenna said. “She said go ahead and good luck.” Then Emma swallowed hard.
When they got to the house, Emma looked up and down the street. All the houses were separated by trees and shrubs, sitting back on huge lots. Running to the neighbors would take too much time. She took the keys and went to open the front door, but it wouldn’t open. There was a security lock that could be used at night, locked from the inside. So she banged on the door and rang the bell. She pulled out her small notebook, looked at the key code for the garage and punched in the numbers. The garage door slowly rose and she ran inside, trying the door to the house. It was bolted, as well.
She was frozen. What if Bethany wasn’t even in there? She called Makenna. “Did you reach her parents?”
“No,” Makenna said with a sigh. “I said it was important but I haven’t gotten a call back.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m scared,” Emma said. “She’s fragile. She’s been talking to me and she’s... She has good days and bad days but her mother died, her stepmother moved right in and... She’s fragile...”
“Oh, crap, you’re involved...”
“She needed someone...”
“Emma, you are at least on probation!”
So Emma called the police. Once they established that there was no missing person, no cry for help, no family member seeking a welfare check, they said they’d send a patrol by when they could.
She dialed another number.
“Logan Danner,” he said in answer to her call.
“Logan, it’s Emma. Listen, I have a situation. I’ve been talking to a fifteen-year-old girl from one of the houses I clean. She’s troubled. She’s maybe suicidal. I might be suicidal in her situation. It’s complicated, it’s—”
“Bethany Christensen?” he asked.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I listened to your telephone conversations,” he said. “We were a little confused about that one but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the transfer of funds.”
“I’m at her house. She left me a suspicious text—it’s all too much, she said. She said she’s had enough. And the doors are bolted from the inside.”
“Did you call the police?”
“They weren’t impressed. I’m calling to tell you to get out your handcuffs because I’ve decided to break in. I really want to be wrong...but I’m going to break in...”
“Can you wait for me? I’m not far away.”
“I can’t wait for you. I’m sorry, but I can’t let anything terrible happen. Her parents aren’t returning calls, no one cares about this girl. No one.” She hung up the phone.
I am clearly insane, Emma thought. I don’t know that much about her but I’m completely involved, totally sympathetic, terribly scared for her.
There was a workbench in the garage that, like the rest of the Christensen home, was far too clean and tidy. She eyed a hammer, a big screwdriver, a crowbar. She took the crowbar and wedged it into the tight space right where the doorknob was and started prying with all her might. She was at it for a good five minutes when she heard a car pull into the drive. She looked over her shoulder. Shawna and Dellie were standing in the driveway behind her, staring in wonder. Logan strode toward her.
“Give me that,” he said. “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it.?
??
“Thank you,” she said, rubbing her upper arm.
It took him three powerful tugs with the crowbar, some splintering wood and a great big kick and the door opened. Logan was inside first. “Bethany!” he shouted.
“Look through the downstairs,” Emma said. “I’ll check the upstairs bedrooms.”
Their feet pounded through the house, each of them shouting the girl’s name. Emma went immediately to Bethany’s bedroom and found the room undisturbed, the bed made as usual. She checked her bathroom—it was spotless. She called out, checked the master bedroom—again, everything in order. The master bath was clean as a whistle and she thought, I’ve made a terrible mistake...again!
She heard a soft moan and opened the door to the large, walk-in closet and there, in a little pile on the floor was Bethany, covered in blood. “Logan!” she screamed. “Up here! Help me!”
She rolled Bethany to the side and it seemed the blood was coming from her thin, pale wrists. “Oh, God, Bethany! No!” She put her fingers to Bethany’s neck and felt a faint pulse. “In here!” she shouted again.
“Is she alive?” he asked.
“Yes, but unconscious and her pulse is weak.”
Before Emma even finished talking, Logan had grabbed a white shirt from a hanger, bit a tear in the hem and ripped it into a couple of strips. He tossed one to Emma. “Pressure,” he said, ripping the shirt again and again. “Nice and tight.”
When that was done he got on his cell and called for paramedics.
* * *
Over the next fifteen minutes, the master bedroom began to fill with people. Emma and Logan stayed beside Bethany, Emma holding her gently, rocking her, telling her she must be all right, must. First Dellie and Shawna were there, watching. Then Makenna, followed quickly by Riley. Both of them were stunned and angry that this poor girl could have suffered so much and there seemed to be no one to help her. Finally paramedics arrived and by that time Bethany was moaning and whimpering weakly. After an IV was started and the gurney stood ready to take her to the ambulance, Olaf and Liz Christensen appeared. Liz gasped and covered her mouth while Olaf rushed to his daughter.
As the paramedics transferred Bethany, Olaf Christensen faced Emma. “Who are you? And how did you know my daughter was in trouble?”
“I clean your house, Mr. Christensen. And she reached out to me. I wanted her to reach out to you, but she didn’t think you could handle it. She’s been in a lot of pain since her mother passed away.”
“But I got her a counselor!” Liz Christensen said.
“Yes, and you also cleared out all the family pictures and started wearing her dead mother’s clothes. How you thought that was going to be okay, I’ll never know.”
“I asked,” she said defensively, looking a bit confused. “I asked permission! From Bethany! And the pictures... I didn’t think that was helping us become a family!”
Emma took out her phone and revealed the text. “Bethany lost her family. She told me when her mother was alive they laughed a lot, they hugged and laughed and fell asleep together. She told me your assistant bought her birthday and Christmas presents. She was so, so lonely.”
Olaf Christensen read the text. “God,” he said. “I just wasn’t looking, was I? I don’t know how to thank you for finding her. I don’t know how you knew she would need you.”
“Well, I’ve looked the other way at times in my life when I shouldn’t have. I won’t ever do it again.”
Epilogue
June Kerrigan threw a nice party for her family and friends two days before Christmas. It was a buffet featuring her favorite dishes. Her house was decorated to such an extent it made her shudder to think about the taking down and putting away. She may have gone a little overboard, but this was a very special holiday to her.
Emma Shay Kerrigan no longer cleaned houses for Riley. Now she was a full-time student and mother. John Shay Kerrigan was born in October, a little early but a good size, while Emma was supposed to be in a lecture at UC Davis where she was studying toward a masters in counseling. Now at his first Christmas, John was being passed around to every person present.
Adam was married and a new father, something June had nearly lost hope for. Riley and Jock were married, too. Riley had just announced that Maddie would be getting a little brother or sister in the spring.
Penny Pennington had been invited and had spent a lot of time in the kitchen with June and was busily monitoring the buffet table to make sure fresh hors d’oeuvres were always available. Ethan and Lyle were literally waiting in line for their shot at John. Aaron Justice had come, bringing a huge wreath with him. Beatrice, the particularly ugly rescue dog, had found her forever home with June, though she had not gotten very much prettier. And Bethany, Liz and Olaf Christensen were there, together, laughing at all the old Kerrigan family stories.
But the nicest thing—June saw Riley and Emma lifting their glasses in a secret toast. Smiling. Emma had her favorite wine and Riley had sparkling cider. They were friends again.
They’d been each other’s maid and matron of honor and would be raising their children together. After all.
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my readers for the continuous outpouring of support and encouragement. You make my pursuit of creating good fiction such a joy.
Special thanks to Kurt A. Johnson, Esq., for showing me the path through the complex world of wills, trusts, and miscellaneous estate details and laws.
To my favorite financial wizard, Kayla Koeber. Thank you for helping me understand the many mysteries of the world of finance. You are so patient and wise.
Any errors or alterations in the technical aspects of the story are not the fault of my adviser but mine, most often license to create a strong story, and I appreciate the reader’s indulgence.
Thank you to a very hardworking PR machine: Michelle Renaud of Harlequin, Nancy Berland of Nancy Berland Public Relations and Sarah Burningham of Little Bird Publicity. I would be so lost without you!
My deepest gratitude to Craig Swinwood, Loriana Sacilotto, Margaret Marbury and Nicole Brebner, my Harlequin Dream Team. Every day of working with you all is a privilege.
To Dianne Moggy, thank you for that special day eighteen years ago when you said yes to a submission from me, changing my career path and my life. I am so grateful for the opportunities that started right there.
To my agent, Liza Dawson, thank you for your dedication and loyalty through the years. It’s been quite a wonderful trip and an honor to call you my friend.
Keep reading for an excerpt from WHAT WE FIND by Robyn Carr.
“A thought-provoking look at women…and the choices they make when they realize their lives aren’t exactly what they expected—or thought they were.”
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What We Find
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Bring Me Home for Christmas
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My Kind of Christmas
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What We Find
by Robyn Carr
Chapter One
Maggie Sullivan sought refuge in the stairwell between the sixth and seventh floors at the far west end of the hospital, the steps least traveled by interns and residents racing from floor to floor, from emergency to emergency. She sat on the landing between two flights, feet on the stairs, arms crossed on her knees, her face buried in her arms. She didn’t understand how her heart could feel as if it was breaking every day. She thought of herself as much stronger.