CHAPTER THREE

      WAITING WAS REALLY HARD.

      After one look at Lina when she first arrived at the Moreno’s house, Isabel sent her two kids to their bedrooms. Then she sat Lina down in the kitchen and insisted she nibble on soda crackers and drink ginger ale while she told the whole, awful story.

      Well, she didn’t mention that, to complete the trauma, she had just come face-to-face with the father of her baby. Who happened to be the investigator.

      Not even Maya had known who the father was. All Lina would ever say was that it had been a mistake. Admitting that she’d gotten drunk and willingly had repeated sex with a complete stranger in a cheap motel room? No.

      Steadier, Lina was able to have a bowl of soup and half a sandwich with Isabel and both kids, who were told only that Lina was waiting for a friend to call. At three and five, they nodded incuriously and chattered away. Predictably, they were excited about Christmas. Their tree was up in the living room, but without gifts under it.

      “Carmen might be able to keep her hands off them,” Isabel said, once the children had trotted off to the living room to watch a Disney movie on DVD, “but Ricky never could. They’ve both been hyper from the minute I left work Tuesday.”

      Of course, the women’s conversation reverted quickly to the horrific scene at the bank. Isabel had met Maya through Lina and had to deal with her own shock.

      “In Clear Creek!” she kept exclaiming.

      Lina felt the same. She read in the newspaper about things like this happening, but it never did in this small, rural county. Except now she wondered if she hadn’t been naive. Crimes of some kind must occupy Bran and all those other cops she’d seen swarming the bank.

      Eventually she wound down as if her battery was failing. She had to ask if there was someplace she could nap. She was afraid she’d have had to lay her cheek on the table and sleep right there otherwise.

      Once alone, exhaustion claimed her before she could shatter. It was as if her body had to shut down.

      Hours later, she woke up disoriented. Night had somehow fallen. She’d have been completely in the dark if not for a night-light glowing softly on the dresser.

      She was in Carmen’s room, Lina remembered. Posters, wallpaper border and curtains all featured horses. Five-year-old Carmen had told her earnestly that she wanted to grow up to be a horsie rancher and a ballerina. She was dainty enough to be a ballerina, but admitted to having been on a pony only twice. Mama and Papa—she had looked daggers at her mother—wouldn’t buy her a horse.

      Lina stumbled to the bathroom across the hall where she washed her face and brushed and braided her hair. For a minute, she stared unseeingly into the mirror.

      Oh, dear God. Maya. She wanted it to have been a nightmare, but knew better.

      From the smells, Isabel must be cooking. Lina felt queasy, as if the morning sickness had reappeared.

      Isabel looked her over anxiously when she appeared in the kitchen. “You look better. Would you like a pop? Or juice?”

      That might help. Lina poured herself a glass of cranberry juice and sat down. “I’m being useless. I’m sorry.”

      “No, no. I wouldn’t have let you help,” her friend said. She nodded toward the bag Lina had plopped at her feet. “You should call the detective. He called me because you weren’t answering. I think you scared him.”

      “I didn’t hear it ring.” Lina checked her phone. He’d tried her four times and left two messages. Listening to them, she realized Isabel was right; he did sound worried.

      He answered on the first ring.

      “I’m sorry,” she said before he could say anything but her name. “I took a nap. I must have really conked out.”

      “So Isabel said. She checked on you for me.”

      “She did?”

      “I’m winding things up here. Why don’t I come over? I can update you on what we’ve learned, and then I think you can safely go home.”

      “Oh, thank goodness! Does that mean the camera was pointing at him?”

      “Not exactly. I’ll explain when I get there.”

      Either somebody was within earshot or he was determined to sit down face-to-face with her.

      Or it wasn’t really the bank robbery and Maya he wanted to talk about. He wouldn’t confront her about the pregnancy here, with Isabel and maybe Eduardo or the kids within earshot, would he?

      If not, he’d want to follow her home. There’d be no escaping the conversation she dreaded.

      The one we have to have, she reminded herself. She’d always known she would have to tell him about the baby and give him the chance to be involved in her life. She just...kept putting it off.

      “Okay,” she said. “I’ll wait until you get here.”

      “Ten minutes,” he promised, and was gone.

      He hadn’t asked for directions, but she supposed he could find any place, even if it was within the city limits and therefore not in his jurisdiction, which was unincorporated county.

      Predictably, Isabel insisted they should at least stay for dinner. She’d made plenty. Lina thanked her, but said, “Detective Murphy is a police officer. He feels obligated to tell me some of what they’ve learned, but after that he’d probably like to just get home.”

      “But it will be ready—” Isabel laughed and shook her head. “I have this ridiculous need to feed people. I’m turning into my mother. Ignore me.”

      Laughing for the first time in many hours, Lina hugged her petite, dark-haired friend. “If you’re turning into your mother, it can’t be such a bad thing. And if you mean it about dinner, I’ll ask Bran—I mean, Detective Murphy—when he gets here.”

      Isabel’s eyes sharpened at Lina’s slip, but she didn’t comment on it. “Either way is fine.”

      Bran had been more than kind today, but the closest thing to real emotion she’d seen on his face was the shock when he recognized her...and saw that she was pregnant. Otherwise, he’d been