LITMIR.BIZ

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      But God demonstrates his own love for us in this:

      While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

      —Romans 5:8

      Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.

      —Hebrews 13:5

      To my cousin, friend and published author,

       Kathleen Bacus. We’ve come a long way from writing and performing plays in Grandma Belle’s basement.

       Chapter One

      The last time she saw Rob McGuire, he was down on one knee in front of all their friends, diamond ring in hand, and gazing up in hopeful expectation—at her college roommate. So what on earth was he doing seven years later on her parents’ doorstep? And with a cop no less.

      With a quick intake of breath, Olivia Diaz stared from one man to the other, finding Rob’s frowning demeanor more encouraging than that of the solemn-eyed officer of the law. But she focused on the latter.

      “What’s wrong?” Had something happened to her parents? She’d arrived in Canyon Springs shortly after midnight—Tuesday before Labor Day weekend—to an empty house. And now at 7:00 a.m., she’d thought it still too early to call any of her sisters to find out where their folks might be.

      “And you are—?” The stocky Native American officer presented a polite smile, a light breeze ruffling his hair.

      “Olivia Diaz.” She motioned to the rugged, ponderosa-pine-studded acreage encompassing the rental cabin property her family had run for decades in the high country of Arizona. “My parents—Paul and Rosa Diaz—own Singing Rock.”

      She shot an anxious glance at Rob, then stepped out the door and onto the front porch of the two-story log home. It was Rob, wasn’t it? She’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but surely she wasn’t hallucinating. The same trim build, broad shoulders and square jaw. Something in the expressive gray eyes flickered. Did he remember her?

      The officer held out identification, again drawing her attention. “I’m Deputy Nate Karel of the County Sheriff’s Department, here to see Mr. or Mrs. Diaz. Mr. McGuire here indicated they were out of town, but when we saw signs of habitation at the house, we thought they might have returned.”

      Tension drained. Her parents were okay.

      “No, they’re not at home, but in their absence you can speak with me.” They’d probably gone on an overnight trip to the Valley of the Sun—the Phoenix area—but she herself would be managing the property in the not-too-distant future. That was her parents’ hope, anyway—or had been. After last year’s episode it might take some convincing, but she was determined to win them over.

      “There’s been vandalism to the property.” The soft, Navajo cadence of the officer’s tone thrummed gently in her ears as he produced a small notebook and pen.

      She glanced again at Rob, who seemed to be following the conversation with almost proprietary interest.

       What was he doing here?

      “And you arrived when, Ms. Diaz?”

      Refocusing on the officer, she cringed inwardly, belatedly self-conscious of her bare feet, cut-off shorts and battered Phoenix Suns tank top. Appropriate late-August attire for hanging around the house, but not for hosting a visit from law enforcement—or the man who’d populated her dreams for more years than she cared to admit.

      “I got in not long after midnight. Drove all the way from Mississippi to surprise my folks.”

      Some surprise. No one home. Nothing edible in the fridge. Not even their aging pooch, Maverick, had been around to offer a tail wag.

      The officer nodded, seeming to weigh her response as he jotted down a few words. “Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary at that hour?”

      “Such as?”

      “Vehicles. Voices. Lights.” Amazingly, Rob’s mellow tone still sounded familiar to her ears despite the passage of time. “Someone broke into one of the cabins and trashed it.”

      Great. He appeared out of nowhere in the middle of her world and this was the welcome he got. “Your cabin?”

      Rob shook his head. “A vacant one. Timberline.”

       Then what business was this of his?

      “Ms. Diaz?” The deputy drew her attention again. “Would you like to take a look at it? Tell us if anything is missing?”

      Like she’d know? She hadn’t been out to Timberline in almost a year. To any of the cabins on the property for that matter. Her most vivid memory of the farthest cabin to the west wasn’t of its furniture and fixtures, but of a heated argument she’d had there with her oldest sister, Paulette.

      “I wouldn’t be much help. I’ve been out of town for quite a while.” Besides, much to her shame, now that she knew her folks had come to no harm, her mind wasn’t on the issue

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