At Home in Stone Creek (Silhouette Special Edition) by Linda Lael Miller

the card to him. “There’ll be a slip to sign,” she said flatly, “but that can wait until morning.”
    Jack merely nodded.
    Ashley left the study again, scooped up a mewing Mrs. Wiggins as she passed and climbed the stairs.
    Â 
    Jack waited until he’d heard Ashley’s bedroom door close in the distance, then set up yet another hotmail account, and brought up the message page. Typed in his mother’s e-mail address at the library.
    Hi, Mom , he typed. Just a note to say I’m not really dead …
    Delete.
    He clicked to the search engine, entered the URL of the Web site for his dad’s dental office.
    There was Dr. McKenzie, in a white coat, looking like a man you’d trust your teeth to without hesitation. The old man was broad in the shoulders, with a full head of silver hair and a confident smile—Jack supposed he’d look a lot like his dad someday, if he managed to live long enough.
    The average Web surfer probably wouldn’t have noticed the pain in Doc’s eyes, but Jack did. He looked deep.
    â€œI’m sorry, Dad,” he murmured.
    His cell phone, buried in the depths of his gear bag, played the opening notes of “Folsom Prison Blues.”
    Startled, Jack scrabbled through T-shirts and underwear until he found the cell. He didn’t answer it, but squinted at the caller ID panel instead. It read, “Blocked.”
    A chill trickled down Jack’s spine as he waited to see if the caller would leave a voice mail. This particular phone, a throwaway, was registered to Neal Mercer, and only a few people had the number.
    Ardith.
    Rachel.
    An FBI agent or two.
    Chad Lombard? There was no way he could have it, unless Rachel or Ardith had told him. Under duress.
    A cold sweat broke out between Jack’s aching shoulder blades.
    A little envelope flashed on the phone screen.
    After sucking in a breath, Jack accessed his voice mail.
    â€œJack? It’s Ardith.” She sounded scared. She’d changed her name, changed Rachel’s, bought a condo on a shady street in a city far from Phoenix and started a new life, hoping to stay under Lombard’s radar.
    Jack waited for her to go on.
    â€œI think he knows where we are,” she said, at long last. “Rachel—I mean, Charlotte—is sure she saw himdrive by the playground this afternoon—oh, God, I hope you get this—” Another pause, then Ardith recited a number. “Call me.”
    Jack shuddered as he hit the call back button. Cell calls were notoriously easy to listen in on, if you had the right equipment and the skill, and given the clandestine nature of his life’s work, Lombard surely did. If Rachel had seen her father drive past the playground, and not just someone who resembled him, the bastard was already closing in for the kill.
    â€œH-hello?” Ardith answered.
    â€œIt’s Jack. This has to be quick, Ardith. You need to get Charlotte and leave. Right now.”
    â€œAnd go where?” Ardith asked, her voice shaking. “For all I know, he’s waiting right outside my door!”
    â€œI’ll send an escort. Just be ready, okay?”
    â€œBut where—?”
    â€œYou’ll know when you get here. My people will use the password we agreed on. Don’t go with them unless they do.”
    â€œOkay,” Ardith said, near tears now.
    They hung up without good-byes.
    Jack immediately contacted Vince Griffin, using Ashley’s landline, and gave the order, along with the password.
    â€œCall me after you pick them up,” he finished.
    â€œWill do,” Vince responded. “I take it she and the kid are right where we left them?”
    â€œYes,” Jack said. It was beyond unlikely that Ashley’s phone was bugged, but Vince’s could be. He had to take the chance, hope to God nobody was listening in, that his longtime friend and employee wouldn’t be followed. “Be