He began to wonder if he should go back and summon a group with flashlights to help him search the area. He was about to act on that thought when he heard a startled cry.

The boy was close. Much closer than he’d expected. And it sounded as if he’d hurt himself.

It was over. Kennedy had him now.

Creeping forward, he strained to see in the dank, thick darkness. What had happened? He couldn’t imagine—until a shaft of moonlight filtered through the trees, giving him a glimpse of what lay ahead. Evidently, the boy had gotten himself tangled up in the blackberry bushes that covered the low areas near the water.

He was probably pretty scratched up. But Kennedy wore a pair of long pants and wasn’t worried about such minor injuries. Launching himself into the thicket, he grabbed the kid by the back of the shirt and hauled him out of the briars without bothering to make sure his exit was gentle. Then he sat him hard on the ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re—” Kennedy started, but the boy rolled over and tried to regain his feet so he could run, which forced Kennedy to tackle him.

“What’s the matter with you?” Kennedy cried when they hit the ground. But a split second later, he realized that the body under his was far too soft to belong to a boy.

Knocking off the baseball cap that shadowed the burglar’s face, he stared in astonishment.

It was a woman, all right. But not just any woman. It was Grace Montgomery.

7

Grace couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think straight, either. Only one thought crystallized in her mind—and if a thought could be sound it would’ve been a blaring horn: escape! She tried to shove Kennedy off or wriggle out from beneath him, but she was shaking from the adrenaline rushing through her body—and he was too strong.

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“Let me go!”

“Stop fighting!”

She couldn’t. She was desperate. If he caught her with the reverend’s Bible, she stood to lose much more than her job.

“Calm down,” he said. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you—” He pinned her left hand down over her head. “I expected—” he grabbed her other hand as she clawed the ground in hopes of finding a root or something she could use to pull herself out from under him “—you to be a teenage boy.”

Before she could respond, Grace heard another voice. Joe Vincelli was coming through the woods toward them. “Kennedy? Where are you, man?”

Grace froze, wishing the spongy ground would simply give way and swallow her whole.

Kennedy lifted his head but didn’t respond. It was difficult to make out his expression. Everything was a series of dark, wet shadows.

After a long second, she felt his attention shift back to her. “What are you doing?” he whispered gruffly. “Why’d you break into Jed’s auto shop?”

She refused to answer him, refused to so much as manufacture a lie. What difference would any response of hers make? He’d always thought she was trash. In his mind, this would only prove that he’d been right all along.

“It’s okay.” His tone was gentler now. “Just tell me what’s going on. I have no idea what it could be, but I’m hoping you have a good reason for this.”

He spoke as if addressing a frightened child. But that gentleness was too obvious a falsehood for someone who knew him and his friends the way Grace did. They told so many lies with their lips and hands and bodies….

She struggled to control her fear as she glared defiantly up at him.

“Grace?” he prompted.

The rain began to fall harder. The water already absorbed by the ground soaked through her clothes as she blinked to keep the drops out of her eyes. In her peripheral vision, she could see the beam of Joe’s flashlight darting among the trees.

“Hello?” Joe shouted, drawing closer. “Kennedy, where are you? I can see someone’s been through here.”

Obviously, Joe wasn’t having much difficulty following them. They’d left a trail of smashed plants—and he had a light.

Grace squeezed her eyes shut, expecting that light to find her at any second. But it never did. The next thing she knew, Kennedy jumped up, hauled her to her feet and pushed her into the trees behind him. “Get out of here,” he said.

Kennedy couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He’d let a burglar go—and he was running for mayor of this town.

He told himself it was because an arrest would cost Grace her job, and he couldn’t stand to see that happen without knowing the whole story. But deep down, he knew his motivation was much simpler. He’d felt the tremors going through her body, sensed her terror even though she wouldn’t explain or ask him for help, and he’d wanted to protect her. He’d remembered her sitting next to his son saying, “You can’t expect others to save you. You have to save yourself.”

For a split second, he’d been tempted to use his body to shelter hers from the rain while he cradled her safely against him. She seemed so aloof and yet so damn fragile. I’ve got you, pretty baby. I’ll save you.

But that was craziness. She saw him as her enemy, not some kind of savior.

Joe emerged from the trees. “There you are. Why didn’t you answer me?”

Kennedy stepped back—and his foot landed on something square and soft yet solid. A book? It wasn’t a plant or a rock. And he doubted it had just dropped from the sky. Chances were that Grace had lost it when he tackled her.

He blocked Joe’s view of it in case whatever it was might give her away. “Someone else darted out of the auto shop, so I came after him. Nearly had him a minute ago, too.”

Joe pointed his light at the blackberry bushes that sloped down to the water. Because they were more resilient than most plants, it wasn’t quite as apparent that someone had been through them, but Kennedy could see Joe was wondering. “Maybe it’s not too late,” he said, edging toward them. “Come on.”

Kennedy recovered the object on the ground and shoved it up under his T-shirt, into the waistband of his jeans. Then he caught hold of Joe’s arm. “I’ve been in there already.”

Joe kept scanning the area with his light. “Still, whoever it is couldn’t have gotten far. The creek’s right there.”

The wet object pressed against Kennedy’s stomach did feel like a book. But why Grace would steal a book from Jed, he couldn’t imagine. “He’s gone. And it’s raining. Let’s head home.”