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.“How could you know? I barely told my mother before this whole nightmare began.I didn’t want to hear the I-told-you-so.She never liked Darren much.I think she always hoped I’d marry someone more like—”She stopped short, as if realizing how the revelation would sound.An awkward silence fell between them.A deep pink flush stained Abby’s cheeks.“Want more?” the girl asked, offering the princess cup to Alex.“No thanks, Hannah.It’s very good tea, but I have to get going.”“Mommy sad,” the little girl said, her small, star-shaped hand resting on his knee.“Yes, but I know you’re taking good care of her.” Alex brushed his hand lightly over the child’s soft hair.He admired her perfect beauty.Pixie face.Blond hair in wispy curls.Hannah looked a lot like Natalie had at her age.A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard.“I help.”“I’m sure you do.” The smile he gave Hannah was soft, but his eyes fixed on Abby.Her head was lowered, and he couldn’t see her face through her soft curtain of blond hair.But he didn’t need to see her expression to know that she was crying.Her hands balled into tight fists as she tried to pull herself together.Hannah caught sight of the cat walking across the room and took after it at a run.Alex stood up.“I need to get going,” he said softly.“Sorry.I just don’t seem to be able to stop crying.” Abby nodded and rose to her feet, roughly wiping the tears from her eyes.He wanted to say something, but the endless platitudes that came to mind sounded trivial.Instead, he held out an arm.She closed the distance between them, burying her face in the front of his coat.Alex could feel her shudder with silent sobs, and he flattened his palm against her back, wishing there was something he could do to ease her pain.The smell of her hair filled his senses.Warm peaches.The welcome feel of Abby in his arms felt achingly familiar.She was the first girl he’d kissed, and a flurry of memories flooded back in a rush.He could remember the first time he’d kissed her, at a friend’s house.His hand buried in her hair, he realized he didn’t want to let her go.He also realized that was probably reason enough to get the hell out of here.The appropriate length of time to hug a friend had long since passed, and he tried to step back, but her arms remained closed tightly around him.She tipped her head back, and he stared into her blue eyes.She looked so lost.So vulnerable.His hand cupped her cheek.Stroking a thumb across her soft skin, he brushed away her tears.He wanted to kiss her, like he’d done a thousand times before.He could almost taste the salty sweetness of her lips.He knew it wasn’t right.“I’ve got to go,” he said quietly as he gently disentangled himself from the circle of her arms.Abby stepped back.Her lips formed a pursed white line.“If you hear anything …” Her voice trailed off.“I’ll call.”He waved good-bye to Hannah before turning to leave.The feel of Abby in his arms stayed with Alex long after the door to the small house in Greenwood closed.CHAPTER TWENTY FOURThanksgiving feast at the Shannon household was something Alex always looked forward to.Football on the television, beer in the fridge, great food.What could be better? Today, though, as he stood outside his parents’ brick Tudor house, Alex tried to get into the spirit of the holiday.Family.There was one family who had little to be thankful for.He tried to push the image of Natalie Watson’s dead body out of his head.The desire to find Jerry Honeywell consumed his every waking thought.Squaring his shoulders, he took the concrete steps two at a time.The house smelled like turkey and sage, and his stomach rumbled in appreciation.An afternoon with his family promised a welcome distraction from the case.“Alex,” his mother said, a smile on her lined face as she greeted him.Crossing the room quickly, she enveloped him in a warm hug.After spending thirty years as a nurse, his mother had turned her passion for caring for people into a love of everything green.She took pride in tending her garden, which was now the showpiece of the block.“Hi, Mom.”Rebecca Shannon looked behind him.“Where’s Jill?”“She’ll be along in a little while.” He ignored the frown on his mother’s face and stepped through the curved entry into the living room.Bending over to kiss Emma’s cheek, he held out a hand to Mike, who shook it warmly.“Where’s Dad?” Alex asked.“In the kitchen pretending not to watch football,” his mother said, casting a sly look over her shoulder.Alex followed the delicious scents down the hall and into the kitchen.Michael Shannon Sr.’s large frame was bent over the oven door, one hand gloved with an oven mitt while the other held the turkey baster, poised over the perfectly browned bird.“Another fifteen minutes and this baby will be ready to come out.” Michael eased the turkey back into the oven and swung the door closed.“Good news.I’m starving.”“Can I get you a beer, son?” His father’s ensuing smile was wide.“Absolutely.”Michael grabbed a bottle from the fridge.Then he froze in mid-stride, staring at the television as the Detroit Lions completed a long pass downfield
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