Hideaway - Hannah Alexander Mills & Boon Silhouette

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didn’t say.”

      “He thinks one of us did it,” Willy said.

      “He does, doesn’t he?” Jinx blinked sleepily, his bright-red hair reflecting itself in the freckles that covered his face like an uneven tan. He’d been up late last night playing chess with Cook after chores and homework.

      Jinx, the “big brother” of the family, would be graduating from high school with honors in a few weeks. He took it personally when someone criticized his foster brothers.

      “Austin ought to know better,” Cook said.

      “He wants to blame us,” Jinx said.

      Willy tugged one of Blaze’s dreadlocks. “Bet he thinks it’s you, Dr. Doolittle.”

      Blaze leaned away and shoveled potatoes onto his fork. “Blaze is my name, blazing’s my game.”

      “This isn’t something to joke about,” Dane warned. “And there’s more. Mrs. Potts found her cat shot dead on her front porch this morning.”

      The kids stopped eating. Blaze displayed an unappealing glimpse of his breakfast.

      “Close your mouth, please, Blaze,” Dane said.

      Blaze swallowed. “Somebody killed her cat?”

      “That’s what the mayor said.”

      A storm gathered in Blaze’s eyes.

      “Bet it was Danny Short,” Willy said. “He’d do it. Danny’s such a jerk.”

      “Watch the names,” Dane warned.

      “He’s always picking on the littler kids at school,” Jinx said. “And just about everybody’s littler than he is. He calls Blaze a—”

      “He don’t call me anything I haven’t been called before,” Blaze said. “Let him talk.”

      “If Dr. Doolittle didn’t wear pigtails, Danny wouldn’t pick on him,” Willy said.

      “They’re not pigtails, and he’d do it anyway,” Blaze said. “All he sees is my color.”

      “Austin has no real reason to blame any of us,” Dane said. “We’ll just have to stay squeaky-clean.”

      “I don’t know how we can get any squeakier,” Jinx grumbled.

      Blaze pushed his plate back. “I need to go check on Starface. She was limping this morning.”

      Dane nodded and watched him leave.

      As soon as the mudroom door closed, Willy said, “Blaze wouldn’t do anything like that, Dane.”

      “I know.”

      “Guess somebody started the fire, though. And somebody killed that lady’s cat.”

      Dane nodded. He hoped they caught the culprit quickly, because until the town had someone else to blame, his kids would take the brunt of it.

      “I’d like to see Barlow try to prove anything,” Cook muttered.

      Dane picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip. “Maybe we should do a little sleuthing ourselves.”

      By the time Cheyenne finished reading the final page of Susan’s medical record her whole body trembled and she felt sick to her stomach. Leaning away from the call-room desk, she rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head.

      “Hey, there, pal,” came a comforting voice from the corridor. Ardis hovered in the open doorway, looking fresh and well rested in her green scrubs. Her curly salt-and-pepper hair looked damp.

      “Hey.” Cheyenne gestured for her to come in. “Raining?”

      “Haven’t you heard the thunder? What’s up?” Ardis entered the untidy room and perched on the side of the unmade bed. “You should’ve been gone hours ago.”

      Cheyenne held up the legal request for medical records.

      Ardis tilted her head backward so she could read the print through her bifocals. Her lips moved silently, then her eyebrows lowered. “You’re kidding.”

      Cheyenne shook her head.

      “Your brother-in-law hired an attorney? He’s going to sue?”

      “Maybe they’re going after the people who hit Susan,” Cheyenne said. “I don’t know.”

      “When they read the report, they won’t come after you, that’s for sure. You did everything right. You did far more than most—”

      “What I did was prescribe a controlled substance for her. She wasn’t supposed to be driving.”

      “I’m the one who administered the drug, and I heard you tell her not to drive. You told her more than once, and so did I.”

      Cheyenne returned the request form to the desk. “But she was under the influence of a tranquilizer when we told her.”

      “She also received her discharge sheet, which she signed. It clearly stated that she was not to drive under the influence.”

      “Again,” Cheyenne said, “she signed that sheet after you administered the IV dose. And I didn’t document as completely as I ordinarily would have, because she was my sister. I had…other things on my mind.”

      “I don’t know what she was doing behind that wheel, but she—”

      “Ardis, you’re a Christian. Would you tell me how someone who claims to be a good servant of God could defraud the government and a spouse?”

      A soft whisper of air escaped Ardis’s lips as they parted. “What on earth are you talking about?”

      Okay, that had sounded pretty stupid. “I’m sorry.” Cheyenne closed the folder that held the medical records. “Forget I said anything.”

      “You’re talking about your brother-in-law?”

      It was tempting to spill what she knew—that Susan’s initial visit the day of her death had been because of Kirk.

      “Fraud, huh?” Ardis murmured.

      “It’s…probably not something we should even be discussing.”

      “Okay, you’re right. If the unthinkable does happen, and Kirk decides to slap a suit on you, then I could be forced to tell what I know on the witness stand. So don’t tell me anything.”

      “Fine.”

      “But let me tell you something.” Ardis leaned forward and touched Cheyenne’s hand. “Don’t let Kirk’s behavior affect your impression of Christ.”

      “I don’t have any impression of—”

      “People attend church for different reasons. Some are earnestly seeking God, even if they haven’t found Him yet. Others are making business contacts, improving social skills, looking for entertainment or warm fuzzies. Church attendance doesn’t necessarily make nicer people with high moral standards.”

      “Good sermon, Ardis.”

      “I haven’t even warmed up.”

      Cheyenne forced a smile.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “I’ve been relieved of duty.”

      There was an uncomfortable silence. Cheyenne turned in her chair and studied Ardis’s face. Obviously, this wasn’t news.

      “Medical leave isn’t the same thing,” Ardis said.

      Cheyenne straightened. “You knew about this?”

      “Kind of hard to miss the schedule change for two months. Dr. Brillhart explained it to me.”

      Cheyenne felt as if she’d been slapped. “Jim

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