Chapter 3

      Dawn broke through the windows of the hospital room, and Sloane gave up trying to sleep. In the past hour, Chloe’s fever had inched down slightly, but Little Bug was starting to vomit. Sloane sat by the crib with the side lowered, and Chloe curled around Sloane’s hand pitifully, clinging to it tightly.

      Sloane’s heart broke to see her daughter suffering like this. Thankfully, the doctor came in a little before 8:00 a.m. to check on Chloe.

      “She’s doing worse,” Sloane murmured to him.

      “Actually, vomiting is the next stage of the infection, so she’s progressing through the illness,” the doctor replied.

      “Does that mean she’s getting better?” Sloane asked hopefully.

      “If this progresses like it has in the other children, the last stage will involve chest congestion, and that will actually be the most...delicate...time.”

      Sloane frowned. Delicate wasn’t the word he’d been on the verge of saying. Ten to one he’d been about to say critical. “There has to be something more we can do for her, doctor.”

      “We’re monitoring her closely. We’re pumping fluids, nutrition and massive antibiotics into her to take the load off her immune system. All we can do in the case of a virus like this is provide palliative support, meaning we can only treat the symptoms.”

      “Aren’t there any specific antiviral drugs you can give her?”

      “Not that have had any efficacy on this particular strain of virus,” he answered.

      “Is this some sort of flu?”

      “Although it looks like a flu, Chloe tested negative for influenza. It’s something else with similar symptoms. Just be patient and let this run its course, Mrs. Durant.”

      “Colton. I’m not keeping my ex-husband’s name.”

      “Sorry. A Colton, huh?”

      She winced as the doctor looked at her speculatively and then beat a quick exit. An orderly brought her a tray of breakfast, and she nibbled on a piece of toast without any appetite. She downed the glass of orange juice but ignored the oatmeal. A nurse had no sooner pushed out the breakfast tray than Mara Colton swept into Chloe’s room.

      Rats. The doctor had betrayed her and called the matriarch of the Colton clan.

      “Sloane, dear, why didn’t you call me last night? We could have had a specialist down from Denver by now to look at our sweet girl. How is she?”

      Chloe, who’d recently drifted off to sleep after throwing up, stirred and whimpered. Sloane waved her mother out of the room and leaned over Chloe quickly, kissing her hot forehead, and murmuring against her daughter’s skin how much she loved her and to dream about angels.

      Chloe settled, and her eyes drifted closed once more. Gently, Sloane disengaged her hand from the child’s grasp, placing Snuffles, Chloe’s beloved plush elephant, into her daughter’s arms. God. She looked so tiny and vulnerable curled up in the middle of all those wires and tubes.

      Sloane hurried from the room, fighting back the tears. She had to be strong for her baby. She was a tough, independent woman. She could do this.

      “How are you holding up, dear?”

      Mara might not be the most maternal person in the world, but even this brief show of concern was enough to strain Sloane’s steely self-control. She would not break down, darn it!

      She took a deep breath. Lawyers never cried in court. This was just like that. She took note of the nurses and orderlies nearby, a doctor walking down the hall, a visitor looking for a room number. She was in public. She was a professional.

      Her years of courtroom experience kicked in, and her emotions steadied. Receded.

      Better.

      She heard her own voice answer, “I’m fine, thanks, Mother. Worried, of course. But Chloe’s getting excellent care. They’re monitoring her closely and have seen this virus before. They know what to expect.”

      Liar, liar. Pants on fire. She was a wreck and to say otherwise was blatantly untrue.

      “Have you eaten, dear?”

      “I just had some breakfast,” she replied.

      “Is there anything I can do for you?”

      Sloane stepped forward on impulse and gave her mother a hug. Mara stiffened in surprise for a moment, then returned the hug briefly before backing away and straightening her suit.

      “I never knew being a mother was so scary. How did you survive raising five of your own kids plus Fox and me?”

      “I raised seven of my own kids. You and Fox are as much mine as any of the others. And it was a trial at times.”

      “Weren’t you scared that something awful would happen to one of us?”

      Mara smiled gently, real warmth and understanding glimmering in her blue eyes. “Always. Terror is the constant state of being a mother.”

      “I’m so afraid I’ll mess it up and that Chloe will pay the price.”

      “Oh, darling. No parent is perfect. You’ll do your best, and you’ll make mistakes. But at the end of the day, Chloe will know how very much you love her, and she’ll forgive you.” She sighed. “God knows, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes.”

      “Really?” Slone would’ve loved to hear more about what mistakes Mara thought she’d made, but Chloe let out a wail just then, and Sloane whirled and raced back to her daughter’s side.

      “Mommy’s right here, sweetie. I would never leave you. I love you, Little Bug...”

      * * *

      Liam strode into the Roaring Springs Police Department first thing in the morning. The institutional metal cubicle dividers and plastic chairs were disguised with wood paneling and dark green trim paint. The place tried to be, but didn’t quite achieve, a national park office. At the end of the day, it was a cold, hard police department at its core.

      When he’d first gotten his badge, he’d reveled in the small town feel of this place. But recently, he’d hankered for something a little...more interesting...in his career.

      He might as well do some digging into the mystery of those cameras in Sloane’s house. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten a wink of sleep last night, what with worrying about Sloane and her daughter, anyway.

      He started by calling every security company in Roaring Springs and the surrounding towns. Not one of them had installed a security system at the address in question. He did luck out, though, when he discovered that one of the places had installed window locks at that address a few months back as part of a renovation. That company had the name of the contractor who’d remodeled the house. A quick phone call to that gentleman confirmed that no security system had been in place at Sloane’s house at the time she purchased it and moved in.

      Interesting.

      Liam picked up his phone and placed one more call, this time to the FBI field office in Denver.

      “This