LITMIR.BIZ

      “What do you mean, she’s gone? You’re being paid to take care of her. Not lose her.”

      “She was watching TV, just as lucid as could be. Asked me to run out and get her some chocolate ice cream. I thought she’d be fine for a few minutes.”

      “Martha.” Shane Montgomery stopped, raked a hand through his hair and took a calming breath. “We talked about this when I hired you. Aunt Abby cannot be left alone.”

      “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Martha’s quiet sniffles turned to deep sobs. “I thought she’d be fine. I never imagined…What if she’s gone to the lake? What if she drowns? It’ll be on me. On my head. Lord, forgive me.”

      Shane bit back impatience. He didn’t deal well with hysterics and that was where Martha was heading, her round face red and wet with tears. “Let’s not panic yet. Aunt Abby has gone off before. She always comes home. There’s no reason to believe she won’t do the same this time.”

      Except that Abby had gotten worse in the past months. So much worse that Shane was beginning to wonder if home was the best place for her. Unfortunately there wasn’t another option. He’d made a promise to her. He’d keep it. “Let’s call the police. Get them started on the search. Then we’ll—”

      The phone rang, adding fuel to Martha’s fear. “What if it’s the police? What if she’s dead? It’ll be my fault. My fault.”

      “Calm down, Martha. I won’t be able to hear above your crying.” Shane grabbed the phone on the third ring. “Hello.”

      “Is this Shane Montgomery?” The voice was soft and pleasant.

      “Yes.”

      “My name is Raven Stevenson. I’m renting the Freedman property. Nora said you have an aunt. Abigail Montgomery.”

      “That’s right.”

      “She’s here at the cottage with me. I’m afraid she got a bit confused and—”

      “I’ll be right there.”

      Shane knew he was being rude, knew he should have given the woman a chance to speak, but his relief at knowing his aunt was safe overwhelmed his social skills. Not that he had many to begin with.

      “Is she—?” Martha’s voice trembled, her wide brown eyes still overflowing with tears.

      “She’s all right. I’m going to get her. Do me a favor and brew some of that tea she likes. What’s it called?”

      “Chamomile?”

      “That’s the one. I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

      He knew the cottage. Had been there as a child and had no trouble finding it now. The driveway was still dirt and gravel, the house still pale yellow. Shane pulled up close to the porch and hopped out of his Mustang convertible.

      The front door opened before he had a chance to take a step, and a woman walked out. Flower child. That was Shane’s first impression. Curly, untamed hair, flowy confection of a dress, and bare feet scraped and covered with dirt. He figured her to be flighty, naive, maybe a little scattered. Then he met her gaze and was surprised at the calm intelligence he saw there.

      “You must be Shane.” Her voice still sounded pleasant, though decidedly cooler than it had on the phone.

      “And you’re Raven.”

      “Yes. Come in.” She stepped aside, allowing him to pass.

      He caught a whiff of something flowery and light, heard the rustle of her dress as he brushed by, and thought of summer nights and fancy parties. Then he saw Abby and froze. She looked frail. Old.

      “What am I going to do with you, Aunt Abby?”

      Raven heard the pain in those words and her judgment shifted. She’d thought the man careless, unconcerned, but realized now she’d been wrong. She moved beside him, placed a hand on his arm and was surprised by a jolt of feeling. She’d thought herself immune to men, hoped herself immune.

      Apparently she’d been wrong. She dropped her hand, but couldn’t resist the urge to comfort. “She’s all right. No harm was done.”

      “No? I disagree. Look at her. Sleeping like a baby. How will she feel when she wakes up, not knowing where she is? Maybe not even knowing who she is?”

      She sensed his frustration. He wanted to fix things, couldn’t, and was angry at his own inability. Raven could understand that. She was ready to say as much, when Abby surged off the couch, screeching, screaming, arms flailing as she lunged across the room.

      “Dead! Thea’s dead!”

      Chapter Two

      Raven sidestepped, not quite avoiding the clawed fingers aimed at her face. Heart hammering, she moved behind the older woman, brushing against Shane who’d leaned in to help, and slipping an arm around Abby’s waist. “It’s okay, Abby. You’re dreaming. Wake up now. Your nephew is here.”

      As she spoke she led Abby back to the couch and settled her onto the cushions.

      “I need to go home.”

      “Shane’s come to take you there.”

      “Shane? Such a fine boy. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, you know.”

      “Well, you’re in luck today. He’s here.” Raven wished the man would take his cue and step forward instead of watching with such concentration.

      “Really?”

      “Yes. Right there.”

      She gestured in his direction and Shane finally got the hint, hurrying forward and placing a kiss on his aunt’s cheek.

      “Aunt

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