LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      ACT ONE

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      ACT TWO

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      CURTAIN CALL

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Middlewood, 50 Miles.

      The sign on the highway flashed by. Fifty miles to her future. Less than an hour away.

      Rachel glanced at the speedometer, resisting the urge to press down on the accelerator. What was the hurry? What difference would another few minutes make? She’d already waited twelve years—twelve long, painful years. If not for the dreams, she would have been content to let the years become a lifetime.

      No, not content. Resigned.

      She gripped the steering wheel tightly as she recalled the private investigator’s five simple words. Five simple words that had changed her life forever.

      They lived in Middlewood, Connecticut.

      So close.

      How could she not have known? How could she not have felt it?

      An hour and a half after leaving Hartford, she checked into the Colonial Inn. Her room with adjoining bath was cozy in charming New England–style, but it was out of her price range. She knew she would have to find an apartment soon, something small and reasonably priced. The P.I. had been expensive, and she was still paying rent in Hartford. Of course, if her plan succeeded, she wouldn’t need the apartment in Hartford. She’d be living here in Middlewood.

      After unpacking, she freshened up and changed into her green linen suit. She wanted to look professional yet feminine. Striking but not too brassy. First impressions lasted a lifetime, and a lifetime was what she was after.

      She checked her watch. She still had half an hour. Sitting at the desk, she opened her briefcase. She picked up the large manila envelope and pulled out a photograph.

      The girl in the picture, with those long lashes and high, angular cheekbones, might appear delicate to someone else, but Rachel wasn’t fooled. The longer she stared at the glossy black-and-white image, the more the girl’s nature seemed to emerge. Shoulder-length hair, clustering in curls around a heart-shaped face, made her look fragile, but the eyes, hard and direct, gave her away. “I dare you,” they seemed to say. “I dare you to know me.”

      Rachel smiled to herself. She’d always said that when she had a baby, she would name her Katie. Katie McCarthy, Rachel’s grandmother, had been a willful and proud woman who had never turned down a challenge.

      Rachel had handled the picture so many times these past few days, she was surprised that the finish hadn’t worn away. “Katie,” she whispered, tracing the outline of her daughter’s face. Rachel had been seventeen when she’d given her up, twelve years ago. The adoption had been closed, the records sealed. According to the report, they’d named her Megan.

      For years Rachel had held off searching for her, telling herself that her daughter was happy. Safe. Loved. What right did Rachel have to try to reclaim what she had relinquished? What right did she have to disrupt her daughter’s life?

      For years she had tried to ignore the longing, and for years she had failed. It had become as much a part of her as breathing. But then the dreams began, and her longing took on a life of its own. Something real, something human, began to call out to her, no louder than a whisper, as plaintive as a song on the wind. When the dreams began to warn her of danger, she embarked on a mission to find her daughter.

      And now the search was over.

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