His Brother's Bride

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“It’s obviously been a long time since any kids lived there, so whatever child might have lost that ring during play would have had to lose it a long time ago.”

“Unless it was a neighbor kid.”

Maybe. But he didn’t think so.

“Remember that bracelet the Miller kids were fighting over today?”

“Oh, my God!” Laurel jumped up and grabbed her purse. “It was the same kind of plastic jewelry.”

“Katy said Leslie plays with the kids all the time. That ring must have fallen from her pocket, or her purse. Maybe she dropped her purse.” Yeah. That sounded more likely to him.

“They’re at Dennis’s,” Laurel said, waiting by the door as Scott collected his keys.

“Or at least they’ve been there,” Scott said. He looked up at her. “My guess is they’re locked somewhere in the abandoned side of that house....”

* * *

OTHER THAN THE QUICK phone call Scott made to Murphy, tense silence filled the Blazer. Although Laurel found it uncomfortable, small talk was impossible. Thoughts of what they might find—two older people locked up without food or water for a full week—were too frightening.

“I didn’t see that ring in the yard today,” Scott finally said. “Good work.”

“Hurry, please??

??

“Of course,” Scott said, pushing a little harder on the gas. “You know, I’m wondering if maybe Leslie was an innocent pawn in all of this, as well,” he said. “Maybe she dropped that ring on purpose, to let someone know where they were.”

“Maybe.” Laurel liked the sound of that. “It would certainly make more sense. Otherwise, where has she been all this time?”

“Running? Hiding? Scared to death?”

“Or she could be coming late at night to bring food and essentials and is just keeping them there until she can figure out what else to do.”

It could have been any of the above.

“Don’t worry,” Scott said in response to Laurel’s heavy sigh when he finally exited the highway. “We’ll find them.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he reached across to take Laurel’s hand where it rested on the console between them.

She wrapped her fingers around his, gathering up his warmth and the innate goodness that had compelled her to be near him all the years she’d known him.

Until she remembered him telling her why he’d been responsible for Paul’s death.

Feeling guilty as hell for liking the feel of his strong male hand wrapped around hers, Laurel slid her fingers away, folding her hands in her lap.

* * *

SCOTT STOPPED THE blazer in front of the partially renovated house. Murphy knew the landlord and was bringing a key to both sides of the house.

That instinct that he’d learned to respect when he was still too young to understand what it meant had taken over. With complete confidence, he followed where it led.

The end was coming. There was no longer any doubt.

He just wasn’t sure which end. For Cecilia and William? For Leslie? For him and Laurel? For all of them?

Once they reached the house, he had to stop himself from suggesting—begging—that Laurel stay in the Blazer. He wanted her safe. And if Leslie was still there...