LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Of course. Go ahead.” Tim stopped. Russ had already disappeared.

      “I need to show you this, Shel. I have prepared a statement for the press. If you’d like to look over it first, I’d appreciate that. Then I’ll go out and read it to them.”

      She scanned the sheet Daniel handed her, nodded and gave it back. “It’s fine. What picture of Aimee will they use?”

      “I gave them one I’d kept on the security file.” His face softened. “Natalie is against our publicizing it, and I’m sure we will get some crank calls, but if one person remembers her, if just one lead comes of it, it will be worth it.” Daniel held out a hand to Tim. “I understand you initiated the effort to have posters made and distributed all over town. Thank you.”

      “Tim!” Shelby rose, walked over to touch his arm. “I didn’t know. That was kind. Thank you.”

      “A committee will hit the streets with them as soon as a public announcement is made. It’s the least I can do. I want her back, too.”

      “I know.” She smiled through unshed tears which made her eyes shiny and squeezed his heart. He covered her fingers, held them and stared into her lovely eyes.

      Daniel cleared his throat.

      “I’m on my way then.” He leaned over, murmured quietly. “I’m sending you some documents, Shel. Please read them when you’re alone.” He cast a sideways glance at Tim, chewed his bottom lip. “I’d intended to talk to you about it earlier, but—”

      “What is it?” she asked curiously.

      “Just…some business stuff.” He leaned down, brushed his lips against her cheek. “Hang on, Shelby. We’ll find her.”

      “Yes,” she agreed. But the conviction in her voice wasn’t as strong as it had been.

      Tim watched the other man leave, then turned his eyes on Shelby. She slumped in her chair, her gaze on the rose garden beyond. Her forehead pleated in a frown of concentration.

      “Grant loved those two like brothers. They used to argue all the time, but it was good-natured squabbling. Not like what I heard tonight.”

      “Perhaps they’re jealous of each other,” he suggested, wondering why such a thing should happen now, after so many years. Was it because Shelby’s return to Finders threatened each of them? “You’ve handed over the reins of the company to one, given the other permission to conduct his own investigation into Aimee’s abduction,” he murmured, studying her response.

      Shelby shook her head.

      “Russ doesn’t have any illusions about his importance to the company. He knows he’s the top recovery agent we have, probably the best there is. Daniel’s speciality was always information gathering. He’s a master at disguises, at slipping in and out without anyone knowing he was there. Even though he’s management now, he still goes into the field occasionally if he thinks our information is suspect.”

      Tim waited, knowing she was thinking this through aloud.

      “I think this feud goes beyond jealousy, but I can’t figure out what triggered it.” She relayed Russ’s remarks about Daniel being responsible for Grant’s death. “Do you think he seriously suspects that?”

      “I think it’s more important to know what you think.”

      She tapped one finger against her bottom lip, her gaze on something he couldn’t see.

      “Russ is hard to read. He’s of Russian descent and though he’s lived in North America for a long time, he’s very close to his family and retains a lot of ties to the old country.”

      “You’re thinking that might turn him against Daniel? But why? Daniel knew that, surely? And he hasn’t changed, has he?”

      “No, but I haven’t followed things at Finders as closely as I could have. I didn’t want to face going back and so I let Daniel take over for me. Russ is a bit of a wild card. Maybe Daniel had to rein him in. Or he may be nursing a grudge because Daniel ordered him on some mission he thought beneath him. Russ has a big ego. Maybe he’s chafing at having Daniel as a superior—a job he now wants to handle.” She raked a hand through her hair, disturbing the glossy strands of gold. “Maybe I was wrong to set one against the other.”

      “You haven’t done that.” He hated seeing her like this, second-guessing a decision she’d made months ago. “You’re their boss, Shelby. You chose Daniel as leader. If Russ wants to be part of the team, he’s obliged to work under the conditions you set. If he doesn’t like it, he can always ask for a change. Same with Daniel. Don’t let their temper tantrums change your mind. You made your decisions because you had a good reason. Stick to that, or change it if you feel it’s necessary, but don’t be swayed by what someone else wants.”

      “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I’ve been away from it, I suppose. Daniel’s kept me posted on major developments, cases they were handling. But my primary focus has been on Aimee and the rose garden.” She motioned to the bushes heavy with blooms not yet open. “Aimee and I don’t need all this space. The house is too big, too empty. It has historical significance to the community so I thought if I donated it, the rose garden would be a memorial to Grant.”

      “You can still do that.”

      “Yes.” She looked at him, her gaze troubled. “But I need to have Aimee safe before I move on.” Her fingers gripped his. “Inside me a voice is screaming to know why we haven’t had a ransom call, a threat, a demand—something. The only thing I can come up with is that somebody took her because—”

      He watched her struggle and suddenly understood what she meant.

      “No, Shelby. Aimee is alive. You have to keep clinging to your beliefs. You have to hang on to God’s promise to help us when we need Him.” He felt like a hypocrite saying that but this wasn’t about him. It was about Shelby and her missing daughter, a little girl he couldn’t believe God would take from her loving mother.

      But then he hadn’t believed—

      “You’re a fine one to talk about hope.”

      Shelby’s voice broke through the nightmare that waited to creep into his brain. He stuffed it back, concentrated on the conversation.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Well, you haven’t mailed that manuscript yet, have you? Aimee told me before—” She gulped, dashed a hand against her eyes, then continued in a slightly wobbly voice. “Aimee said you told her you have to do some more revisions. How many revisions will you do before you send the thing out to find out if it can be published, Tim?”

      “It’s not the same for me. I am a history specialist. Or I was. I can’t afford to make a mistake. If some date doesn’t jibe with my story, my name will be mud.”

      She tilted one eyebrow at him. “They’re children’s stories, my friend. Delightful tales set in your favorite milieu, which you know like the back of your hand—and you’re trying to tell me you might make a mistake with a date?” She was openly scoffing. “You were a museum curator in London. I can hardly imagine you’d get the job if they worried about you making those kinds of mistakes.”

      “The stories aren’t ready yet.” He refused to look at her, knew he’d see that stubborn chin jut out at his lie.

      “You know those books could help children learn about the past in a fun, nonthreatening way, yet you refuse to send them to a publisher. It doesn’t make any sense, Tim. I think you’re stalling. The question is why.”

      He’d come here to help her through a rough time, to offer his shoulder, if she’d take it. But in true Shelby style, she’d turned the tables and put the focus on him.

      “I’ll get around to finishing my stories, Shelby,” he hedged, “but we were talking about your problem and the reason your

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