Indelible by Kristen Heitzmann Page B

Sara … There’d been near hostility in her greeting. She wished Trevor could have waited to eat. He was like Pavlov’s dog thinking food when he glimpsed Sara’s kitchen.
    “I like your house.” She glanced around. The walls had a faux treatment that made them look marbled, cream and tan in the living room, shades of gray blue in the dining room. In the teakwood mirror over the matching buffet, she caught a reflection of Sara and Trevor in the kitchen.
    “What?” Trevor spread his hands.
    “You know what.”
    “Enlighten me anyway.”
    “If you’re never going to commit, you shouldn’t lead someone on, especially—”
    “So.” Whit led the way in before it got really embarrassing.
    Natalie tried for a light tone. “I love your walls. I was going to paint before I unpacked, but it didn’t happen.”
    “Must not have told Trevor.” With yellow-flowered mitts, Sara pulled two plates from the microwave and set them on the table. “Leftover veggie lasagna.”
    Feeling like a new stray tagging along, Natalie squirmed. “Sorry to trouble you.”
    “Oh, please.” Sara laid out forks and knives. “Trevor has no qualms.”
    “Su casa es mi casa,” he agreed.
    “Well, if my house is yours, you can do the dishes.”
    “You know it.” He took a gooey bite of lasagna. “This is excellent.”
    Better than cold chicken and asparagus. “A family recipe?”
    “The Internet.” Sara leaned back against the counter, arms folded.
    Whit got himself a can of root beer and offered the same. Trevor accepted. Natalie just wanted to see what they’d come for and go home. Before that happened, Braden’s cries came through the baby monitor on the counter.
    An almost frantic look passed over Sara’s face. Clamping her jaw, she threw down her hands. “Guess I’m the food source for everyone tonight.”
    Trevor watched her go out, then turned to Whit. “Is she upset?”
    He was only now noticing?
    Something moved through Whit’s eyes. “Finish eating.”
    Natalie focused on her food, trying to force the expressions to fade. If she stopped looking, she might get away without needing to sculpt them.
    Trevor gulped his down, gathered their plates and forks and slid them into the dishwasher. “So what’s up?”
    “Have a seat.”
    Puzzled, Trevor got back into his chair. Whit set an envelope on the table.
    That was it? Mail that couldn’t wait until morning?
    But Trevor sobered. “Where’d you get this?”
    “It came to the store. Sara opened it before she saw it was addressed to you personally.”
    Trevor slid two snapshots out. Glimpsing the first across the table, Natalie frowned. It looked like a toddler in the middle of a street. Sliding that to see the next, Trevor went horribly still.
    “What is it?” She leaned forward.
    “Don’t.” He put his hand over the pictures.
    “Is that child in the street? Is it someone you know?”
    The skin of his neck had lost two shades. His veins bulged. “I don’t know who it is.” He turned to Whit. “Did Sara see?”
    Whit nodded grimly.
    “Trevor,” Natalie probed. “What is it?”
    He shoved the photos into the envelope and stood. “Let’s go.” To Whit, “Tell Sara thanks and … sorry.” With a hand gripping her elbow, hewalked her back through the sleeping elk to the car. He started the engine. “Do you need the studio?”
    She couldn’t believe it entered his mind. “No.” She’d manage without that if it choked her.
    Outside her house, he parked and got out. He didn’t have to walk her to the door, but he did. “Sure you’re okay?”
    “Are you?”
    He dropped his chin.
    “Maybe that child’s lost, and they want you—”
    “He’s not lost, Nattie.” His voice rasped.
    Her chest stilled as she realized what the second photo must have shown. “My God.” That toddler was close to Cody’s age. Where was his angel?
    Trevor leaned on the door frame. “Are you okay?”
    Of course not. How much worse for him? She looked up, but he