ONE

      Kristen Lang had to be mistaken. The same vehicle that had followed her from her office to the courthouse where she’d picked up her mother, the Honorable Julia Lang, could not be tailing her down the Eisenhower out of Chicago. The world was surely full of gunmetal-gray SUVs.

      With her mother’s job, threats were not uncommon. For the past ten years of her life, Kristen had learned to be vigilant of anything out of the ordinary.

      Seeing the same—or very similar—vehicle three times in one afternoon was out of the ordinary.

      Kristen took one second to glance at her mother. “Is everything all right with you?”

      “When is it not?” Mom’s voice sounded a little too bright.

      “Oh, I don’t know, Mom. Maybe when someone threatened to blow up your car, or you had that stalker two years ago, or—”

      “Why would you think anything is wrong now?”

      “Because you’re not answering my question with anything but questions.” Kristen checked her rearview mirror.

      The dark SUV loomed closer.

      Beside her, Mom sighed. “I have no reason to think anything is wrong. I haven’t had any threatening phone calls or mail.”

      “But?” Kristen squeezed the word past the tightening of her chest.

      “Nothing that doesn’t make me sound like a silly old woman.”

      Kristen laughed at that. “You are the last person I would call silly or old.”

      “Thank you for protecting my ego.” Her mom patted Kristen’s hand on the steering wheel. “Now tell me what’s going on with you.”

      Defeated for the moment, Kristen shrugged. “Everyone else left the office early for one reason or another, and I decided to finish up paperwork at home. You know I don’t like being there alone.”

      “I don’t blame you. If you had an office in a better part of town, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

      “We’re there to be closer to our clients.”

      “If you had better clients, such as ones who pay—”

      “Someone has to advocate for poor victims of crimes. And I get paid, Mom, you know that.”

      “A tenth what you would make if you’d gone to law school.”

      Kristen sighed over the age-old conversation. “I wouldn’t be doing as much good as I am now for those who can’t afford to pay to get help.”

      The work she was certain God wanted her to do, but her mother didn’t want to hear that.

      “You could do pro bono work with better support staff than you get at that nonprofit organization you work for now.”

      With the rain starting to fall more heavily, Kristen concentrated on her driving and didn’t answer. Rain made the road slick, and her tires weren’t the best. One moment of inattention, one need to slam on the brakes, and they could hydroplane into the path of a larger vehicle like a truck.

      Or an SUV appearing out of nowhere again.

      She shivered, and her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

      “It’s not too late to change your career.” Mom’s voice broke her concentration. “You’re only twenty-five. It’s too late to get into a law school this year, but if you apply this fall, you can start next year. You’ll only be twenty-nine when you finish.”

      Kristen didn’t want the sort of corporate lawyer job her mother thought good enough. She liked being a social worker, helping rebuild people’s lives.

      “I thought you wanted me to get married.” Hearing the sarcasm in her voice, she opened her mouth to apologize.

      “I would, of course, but you don’t seem to meet any men on your own or like any of the men I introduce you to,” Mom said first. “I saw Marcus Ashburton today, and he said you turned him down for a second date. Why?”

      “He’s boring.”

      Traffic was anything but boring, especially with that SUV behind her. Kristen wanted to concentrate on driving, not discuss her love life—or lack thereof—with her mother, the matchmaker.

      “That young lawyer you went out with last week is a good man,” Mom continued. “He does a great deal of pro bono work.”

      Kristen grimaced. Marcus had spent nearly the entire dinner talking about his “charity” work and how good a person it made him. Not a way into Kristen’s good graces. If someone had to tell her he was good, he was probably drawing