LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWO

      AT THREE O’CLOCK the next morning, little Emmie woke up shrieking.

      Bleary-eyed, heart instantly in her throat, Annabelle jerked upright in bed, ears alert to the sound of tears from across the upstairs hallway. This wasn’t the first time Emmie had stirred, and Annabelle was already at her wit’s end. “I know nothing about taking care of a small child,” she’d told Finn earlier.

      Yet there was no way she would have let the State take over tonight. Emmie was Annabelle’s, what, first cousin once removed? Second cousin? She wasn’t sure of the proper term. Anyway, a relative, and with Annabelle’s parents gone, Sierra and her daughter were the only—if estranged—family Annabelle had left. Even more, Emmie had witnessed a terrible event last night, and she was a vulnerable child. Without her mother, she must feel utterly alone and obviously frightened, not that Annabelle had seemed able to comfort her fears before. What should I do?

      She slipped out of bed and reached for her robe. The night had cooled even more, probably another ten degrees, and her heat wasn’t on yet for the season. The last time Annabelle checked on Emmie, the child’s feet had felt like ice cubes. If she stays more than a night or two here... Annabelle would have to get the HVAC system going.

      But surely this arrangement would be brief. She padded across the hall, cracked open the door then eased into the spare room, taking care not to let the hinge squeak—which it had for her entire thirty-one years.

      She was simply the babysitter until other plans could be made or Sierra got out of the hospital, not that I know what I’m doing.

      As she crossed the bedroom, Annabelle dragged her growing guilt like a ball and chain. Certainly, for reasons of her own she hadn’t been that eager to take Emmie in. Just hours before Sierra had called a few weeks ago, Annabelle had paid the first half of her own tuition to attend a two-week course at a well-regarded academy in Denver that would train her to be an international tour director, a first commitment to the future she wanted for herself. Weeks before that she’d sent in her registration fee and a hefty first deposit, using part of the money her parents had left her. Annabelle tried not to feel guilty that she was using her inheritance to escape the diner. And when Sierra had mentioned coming for a visit after so many years, claiming she had loose ends to tie up in Barren, Annabelle had told her not to come. If Sierra had listened, she wouldn’t be here now lying in a hospital bed.

      Emmie lay almost buried under the covers. Only her eyes showed, glowing in the near darkness, looking suspicious and confused. Annabelle had left a night-light on the nearby bureau for her, but obviously Emmie couldn’t sleep. So neither could Annabelle.

      “Hey, punkin.” She heard a shuddering intake of breath. “It’s all right.”

      Annabelle ventured closer to the bed.

      At the hospital she’d asked Finn about a crib for Emmie. “At three she’s probably done with that,” he’d said. “Kids climb out then start roaming. They can fall and hurt themselves.”

      How would Finn know? He was reportedly single—much to the delight of many other women in town—a fact helpful for Annabelle’s fantasies. As far as she knew, he had no kids.

      Uncertain if he was right about the crib, Annabelle had decided to improvise. Her parents had long ago donated her baby items to charity. Two straight-backed chairs now served as a barrier to keep Emmie from tumbling out of bed and hitting her head. Rubbing her eyes, Emmie cried out. “Want my mama!”

      “I know, sweetie, but she’s not here right now.”

      Emmie didn’t buy that weak explanation, but Annabelle couldn’t tell her the truth. Again, the child burst into tears.

      Annabelle tried her best—which apparently wasn’t enough—to comfort her. Earlier, at the hospital while she and Finn waited for an update on Sierra, neither of them saying much, Emmie had been with Finn’s deputy at the station. By then, Sierra was in surgery. Later in recovery, looking pale and horribly bruised, with tubes snaking everywhere and monitors beeping, she’d still been under the effects of the anesthesia and couldn’t talk. She seemed much worse than Annabelle had expected, and Annabelle had Sierra’s daughter to care for—or try to—tonight. As for tomorrow...what if Sierra didn’t survive?

      Finn had driven them home from the sheriff’s office, Emmie in the back seat clutching her stuffed lamb while Annabelle crooned to her without quite knowing what to say. The little girl had finally relaxed in the car seat Finn had provided, and by the time they reached the house Emmie’s eyelids were fluttering.

      Annabelle thought of Finn standing by the bed when he’d put a then-sleeping Emmie on the clean sheets, a slight—even wistful?—smile on his lips that made Annabelle feel weak in the knees. Finally, he’d said, “It’s late.”

      When he turned from the bed, panic streaked through her. “You’re not leaving?”

      She didn’t know what else she wanted then, except not to be alone with Emmie, but another blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I won’t know what to do if she wakes up.”

      Her heart kept clanging against her rib cage, but Finn had only touched her shoulder as if to say you can do this then left the room. Ever since then Emmie had slept fitfully, waking every hour in this strange house, probably wondering

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