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“This is a girl I knew years ago. I’m not even sure she lives here. Her name is Lorna Hathaway.”

      “Lorna! Well, sure, sugar, I know Lorna. Shoot, I’ve known all them Hathaways since they were born.” Taking the phone book back from Amy, the woman flipped it open, found the appropriate page, then handed it back. “She’s right there,” she added, pointing about midway down the right page.

      Sure enough, there it was: Hathaway, Lorna. That would never happen in one of the bigger cities. Women in places like Mobile almost always listed by their initials if they listed at all. When it came to danger, Amy guessed living in a small town was very different from living in a city. Today she was very grateful for that difference.

      After paying for her gas, Amy wrote down Lorna’s phone number and walked outside to the public phone booth.

      Unfortunately, Amy’s cell phone could no longer be used, not unless she wanted to take a chance on the call being traced. Would Lorna be there? It was only five-thirty. Maybe she had a job and wouldn’t get home until later. The phone at the other end rang six times with no answer. Amy was just about to hang up in disappointment when a breathless voice said, “Hello?”

      “Lorna?”

      “Yes?”

      “Lorna, this is Amy. Amy Summers.” Summers was her maiden name. “Do you remember me? From freshman year at Florida State?”

      “Amy! I can’t believe it. Why, it’s been years. Of course I remember you. Are you still in Florida?”

      “Um, actually I’m in the process of moving.”

      “From Florida?”

      “No, from Louisiana.”

      “That explains it.”

      “Explains what?”

      “Well, last year I was in Orlando for a couple of days, and I thought of you and tried to call you.”

      “You did?” That seemed promising.

      “Yes. I was really disappointed not to find you. I even checked with the alumni office at the school, thinking maybe they had an address for you, but they said they didn’t.”

      Amy thought about how Cole had discouraged her from holding on to any part of her old life and how he’d gradually cut her off from everyone and everything he considered a threat to his total domination of her. He had even tried to keep her from visiting her father, but in that, Amy had put her foot down.

      “So where are you now?” Lorna asked.

      “Actually, I’m right here. In Morgan Creek.”

      “You are?”

      “I don’t blame you for being surprised.” Amy grimaced. “It’s a long story. I’m just traveling through, but I was hoping we might be able to get together.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “I thought I’d try to find a hotel around here, at least for tonight.”

      “I’d love to get together. And forget about finding a hotel. You’re staying with me. I’ve got tons of room. Oh, Amy, I’m so thrilled you called! Okay, where, exactly, are you?”

      Amy told her, and Lorna quickly gave her directions to her place. “It’s the third house on the right-hand side of the street. You can’t miss it. A yellow Victorian with dark-brown trim.”

      Just as Lorna said, Amy had no trouble finding her street or the house. It was lovely—a beautifully kept, gingerbready Victorian with a cupola and a wraparound porch filled with wicker furniture and even a porch swing. What a perfect house, yet it seemed far too big for just one person. Though Lorna’s name had been listed in the directory as Hathaway, Amy wondered if she might be married, and if she had children.

      Amy parked her silver Toyota on the street in front of the house and had barely gotten her driver’s-side door open when Lorna came bounding out the front door and down the porch steps.

      Amy would have recognized her old friend anywhere. Lorna was older, yes, but she was still slender and blond, although her hair, which used to be halfway down her back, was now worn much shorter, in one of those messy styles currently popular. Amy, whose own dark hair was wildly curly, would have loved to pull off that more sophisticated look but knew it would never be in the cards.

      “Amy!” Lorna’s smile was huge, her bright-blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Before Amy could open the back door to retrieve Calista, Lorna had enveloped her in an exuberant hug. “Oh, it’s wonderful to see you.” Releasing Amy, she stood back and studied her. “You look great. Not a day older than the last time I saw you.”

      Amy made a face. “You never were a good liar. I look terrible and I know it.”

      “You couldn’t look terrible if you tried.”

      “Mommee!”

      Lorna’s eyes widened and she stooped down to look into the car. “And who’s this precious little one?”

      “That’s Calista, my daughter. Here, let me get her out.”

      Lorna stood back to allow Amy to free Calista from her car seat. Calista stared at Lorna curiously as Amy lifted her out of the car.

      “Well, hello, Calista,” Lorna said. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

      Calista, who even at three loved compliments, grinned, revealing the deep dimples she’d inherited from Amy’s mother.

      “Oh, Amy, she’s beautiful.”

      Amy couldn’t help noticing the wistful note in Lorna’s voice. While continuing to coo over Calista, Lorna helped Amy gather her belongings. Then the three headed up the walkway to the house.

      Amy wished she could properly appreciate the well-cared-for lawn and the abundance of colorful summer flowers and shrubs surrounding the house, but she was too on edge to truly enjoy anything but the possibility of at least one night’s respite from worry.

      The house felt wonderfully cool in contrast to the heat outdoors and smelled of lemon furniture polish. A quick look around the entry hall revealed shining hardwood floors, beautiful antiques and gorgeous carpets, that gave her an overall impression of both good taste and charm. A fan whirred softly overhead.

      “The house is actually clean, thank goodness,” Lorna said. “I have a woman who comes in twice a week, and today was one of her days.”

      “It’s lovely.” It was more than lovely. It was tranquil. Amy immediately felt less nervous and frightened just being there. It was as if nothing bad could possibly happen to her—to them—in a house this peaceful.

      “Before I show you around, shall we take your things upstairs to the guest room?”

      “This is so nice of you, Lorna.”

      Lorna made a disparaging gesture. “Hey, we’re friends. Besides, I’m so excited to have you!”

      “Well, I really appreciate it.”

      Lorna took one of the suitcases and the tote Amy’d had in the car, then led the way up the graceful, curved staircase to the right of the entry hall. Upstairs she showed Amy to a large front bedroom that overlooked the street.

      “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Amy said. The walls were covered with a creamy wallpaper in an old-fashioned pattern of big pink cabbage roses and garlands of ivy. It was charming and reminded Amy of the wallpaper that used to be in her grandmother’s bedroom. The furnishings were just as charming: a four-poster bed with a pale-green comforter and matching dust ruffle, a walnut chest of drawers and armoire, a desk and accompanying chair, and best of all, a wide window seat covered with a thick green pillow. A large teddy bear sat on it.

      “Bear!” Calista pointed, eyes wide.

      “Oh, dear,” Amy said as Calista immediately headed for the stuffed animal.

      Lorna smiled, watching her. “She

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