Sadie stared down at this child. Her child. Her son.

I allowed them to keep something I shouldn’t have. But I’ve made it right now.

Her father had traded whatever deal the feds might have offered him for her son—the son no one else knew existed . . . the one she thought had died.

More of those overpowering sensations fired through her. Her chest felt so full she could scarcely breathe. Whatever she was feeling, she understood that when the shock wore off, it would evolve into sheer terror.

What did she know about kids? She had no idea what to feed him or . . . anything. She couldn’t possibly be a good mother.

Sadie dragged in a deep breath and reached for his hand. “Let’s take your things and go inside. Then we’ll go meet some friends of mine.”

Devlin was a good mom. She would know what to do.

50

8:15 p.m.

Devlin Residence

Twenty-First Avenue South

Birmingham

Kerri watched Falco and Tori going at it with whatever video game they were playing. Put a game controller in his hand, and Falco turned into a big kid.

He’d made the most amazing rice and orange chicken for dinner. They’d devoured the meal as if they were starving. And maybe they were, a little. More for the unfettered companionship than the food. The past week had been hell, but it was over now.

Kerri was taking a couple of weeks off. She and Tori were going on another vacation. This time Falco was going with them. Warmth and a kind of happiness that made her feel giddy spread through Kerri at the thought. She didn’t know where this relationship between her and Falco was going, but she was ready to take the risk and explore it.

She had called Diana and Jen and given them the good news that the nightmare was finally over. She’d also shared her little secret about Falco going on vacation with her and Tori. Kerri had never heard such uninhibited squealing.

Eventually, she and Falco would figure this all out, and life would get back to normal.

Whatever normal was for a couple of detectives who spent most of their time investigating homicides.

The doorbell rang, and Kerri wandered to the door. She peeked around the blind, and Cross gave her an odd little wave.

“Looks like Cross decided to join us,” Kerri called out to the others as she unlocked the door.

“Better late than never!” Falco tossed back.

Kerri pulled the door open, and Cross had the strangest look on her face. Kerri blinked, realizing she hadn’t come alone.

A child—a little boy, maybe three or four—stood next to her. “Hey,” Kerri said to the child before her questioning gaze shot back to the other woman’s.

“This is my son, Edward.” Unadulterated terror shone in her eyes. “I’ll explain later.” Cross took a big breath and pasted on a wide smile. “I’m determined to do this right—I have to—but I have no idea where to start. I was hoping you could help.”

Her son? But her baby . . . wow. Kerri reminded herself to breathe. This was incredible. She smiled, grateful for one more good thing to have come of these tragedies. “Come on in. I think we can figure this out.”

She ushered Sadie and her son inside and made the introductions. Falco did a good job of recovering quickly from his own shock. Tori immediately got down on her knees and started talking to the little boy, who spoke perfect English.

They solved complicated, high-profile homicides every day. She and Falco could certainly handle whipping Cross into a good mommy in no time.

“Come on,” Kerri said to Cross, “we have a lot to talk about.”

Maybe that vacation would have to wait a bit.

Sadie Cross was pretty much family now.

And family came first.

Always.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are many amazing authors out there who write incredible series. I have too many favorites to name. When I first started writing with the hope of publication, I created a cast of characters I wanted to expand into a series. Thankfully, that dream saw fruition, and I went on to write many multibook series. I always fall in love with my characters—it’s my weakness—and I like keeping them around for a while. They become a part of my life.

But it’s really you, the reader, who allows me that privilege. Thank you so very much for buying and reading my books. You have given me the opportunity to live the dream of a lifetime. I was nine when I wrote my first story, and from that moment I knew—no matter what else happened in my life—I would continue writing stories, if only for my own entertainment. I am so very grateful that I can write my stories for you. I hope you enjoy this one as well as all the ones to come. I plan to write many, many more.

Oh, and please do leave a review at Amazon. It means so very much.

Cheers!