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  “I have moved.”

  “Not far.” Gabe touched her shoulder before she could move away. “It’s not just you, Siddah. My parents are the same way. I know you loved Peter. Everybody did. But don’t you think he’d rather see you all enjoying life again?”

  Siddah glared at him, but she waited to speak until a couple on the sidewalk had passed them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said when they were alone again.

  “I know my brother. I know how much he liked to laugh. I know how much he enjoyed life. Of the two of us, I was the serious one. So I know how much he’d hate seeing my mother so sad and my dad so angry. I’m sure he’d feel the same way about you and Bobby.”

  “We’re trying,” Siddah snapped. “Helene’s already different since you’ve been back. But I can’t just flip a switch on my feelings.”

  Gabe’s expression remained kind. Too kind. “I’m not suggesting that you should. But you wouldn’t be betraying Peter if you rejoined the human race.”

  Siddah opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Much as she hated what he said, there was a ring of truth to it. But he was the last person she wanted advice from, especially since she knew Peter would have told her the same thing.

  She fought to hang on to her irritation, but she had missed Peter’s optimistic outlook on life, and there was one small part of her that wanted to find pleasure in life again. She just didn’t know if she could, and the thought of trying terrified her. Already, Peter’s memory was fading, and the thought of losing him completely sent her into a panic. And more to the point, she was terrified of what she might feel if she stopped resenting Gabe. If he wasn’t the family ogre, then who was he?

  Siddah was afraid to answer that question.

  BY TWO-THIRTY the next afternoon, Siddah knew she was in trouble. Evan had assigned her to complete the revisions on a pleading that was due in court, along with courtesy copies for the judge, his clerk and opposing counsel, before five o’clock. It should have been easy. She’d modified a hundred pleadings just like it in the past year. But computer problems had thrown her behind schedule. Not only that, but the phone had been ringing off the hook all day, and Bobby had called no less than four times to share something he’d just done with Gabe.

  As the clock inched toward three o’clock, Siddah polished off the last of the sandwich she’d eaten at her desk and tossed the garbage into the can at her feet. She saved the work she’d done so far to a disk and flipped to the next page, where Evan had scribbled between the lines and in the margins in such tiny handwriting she wondered if she’d be able to read it.

  A shadow fell over her shoulder, and she looked up to find Evan scowling at the thick pile of unrevised pages still beside her keyboard. “How’s it coming?”

  “I’m getting there,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I have the first section finished if you want to look it over.”

  Evan waved off the suggestion. “I would, but I’m out the door for that order-to-show-cause hearing. It shouldn’t take long, though. Do you think I’ll be able to look at the whole thing when I get back?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Great. Just leave it on my desk.” He started to turn away, but caught himself and turned back. “I almost forgot. Chris wants to go over a few things with you on the Whitman case. Three-thirty okay with you?”

  After checking the wall clock, Siddah nodded. “If I don’t have any more interruptions. Amanda’s fielding my calls, so I should be fine.”

  “Do you need help with the revisions?”

  Some assistance would be a lifesaver, but Siddah would never convince Evan and Chris that she deserved the promotion if she started passing off her work. Trying for another confident smile, she shook her head. “I’ll have it done, Evan. Don’t worry.”

  Evan had barely stepped through the door when the telephone on her desk rang again. Siddah thought about ignoring the call, but Amanda wouldn’t have put it through without a good reason. Maybe it was Judge Allen’s clerk returning the message she’d left earlier. Or opposing counsel on the Whitman case calling to schedule the first of their depositions.

  She picked up the handset, propped it between her chin and shoulder, and turned back to her computer. “Evan Jacobs’s office. How can I help you?”

  “Guess what, Mom. Guess what me and Gabe did.”

  Call number five. Holding back a sigh, Siddah searched the document for the next revision she needed to make. “Can it wait, sweetheart? I’m in the middle of something important.”

  “But it’s cool, Mom. You’ll never guess.”

  “I can’t right now, Bobby. You’ll have to tell me later.”

  “Okay,” he said, his voice small and quiet again. “Will you call me when you’re done? I need to ask you something.”

  Guilt inched up Siddah’s spine. “Sure, honey. But I just found out that I’m supposed to be in a meeting at three-thirty, so if I can’t call before that, I’ll call right after, okay?”

  “But you have to call before. I can’t ask you if you don’t, and after will be too late.”

  “Okay, then, why don’t you just ask me now?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. What do you need?”

  “Well, first I have to tell you what me and Gabe did.”

  This time, Siddah couldn’t hold back her sigh of impatience. “Just ask the question, Bobby. I don’t have time to listen to the story.”

  She regretted her harsh tone immediately. She regretted it even more when Bobby fell silent.

  “Bobby? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll just tell you later.”

  “No! Bobby…”

  But the click in her ear told her she was too late. Feeling about an inch high, she found a dial tone and started to punch in Helene’s number, but the sound of Chris’s voice in the hall outside her door changed her mind. Evan didn’t mind personal calls as long as she kept them to a minimum, but Chris wasn’t so understanding. She’d have to wait until he went back into his office or left for court.

  Forcing her attention to the job, she studied Evan’s notes for a few seconds. When she was satisfied that she’d read them correctly, she began to type. Before she’d even finished the first sentence, the cursor froze in the middle of her screen and the computer made a sick, beeping sound.

  Frozen again! She’d never finish at this rate.

  Chewing her lip in frustration, she tried every trick she knew, but she couldn’t get the computer working again, nor could she get the disk she’d been using to save an extra copy of her work out of its drive.

  Finally, in desperation, she rebooted the computer and checked the pleading she’d saved to the hard drive. When the file opened without a glitch, she breathed a sigh of relief. But as she scanned down to where she’d left off, she realized that all the changes she’d made in the past half hour were gone. Holding back tears of frustration, she compared the document to the rough draft on her desk and finally located the last place where her changes had been saved. But as she began typing again, she hoped Bobby would understand why she wasn’t able to call him.

  And for the first time, she wondered if she was asking her son to pay too high a price for their security.

  WITH ONLY A COUPLE of minutes to spare, Siddah printed a clean copy of the pleading, left it on Evan’s desk and sprinted down the hall toward the conference room, where Chris was waiting for her. He sat at the long table, surrounded by thick file folders, stacks of documents and a library’s worth of law books. His suit jacket lay over the back of a chair, and he’d rolled up his shirt-sleeves so he could dig in to work.

  He looked up impatiently as she breezed into the room, his pale brows knit in consternation, his light eyes icy. Chris was a good attorney—bright, ambitious and honest—but as different from Evan in personality as a fence post from a tree. While Evan made a point of looking at the employees’ family photos from time to time and even ab
sorbing a few details about their personal lives, Chris made no secret of his disdain for individual touches within the office, and he resented every interruption caused by family and friends.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” he said, motioning Siddah toward an empty chair at the conference table. “Why don’t you sit there? I’ve been sorting documents, and those are the ones I want you to start with.”

  Trying to catch her breath, Siddah slipped into the chair and pulled her pen from behind her ear. “What am I doing with them?”

  “I want you to create a time line for the night of the stabbing. All the testimony we’ve gathered so far is there. I want to know where As a Whitman was from the minute he got up that morning until the moment his wife and her friend were killed outside the Timberline. I’ve got a dozen witnesses who’ll testify that he was at the bar shortly before the stabbings occurred. I’ve also got two women who are prepared to swear that he was with them across town when Cheryl Whitman and Dallas Trimbull were killed. I want to find a hole in their stories before the depositions.”

  Nodding, Siddah pulled the stack of documents toward her. “I can do that. When do you need it?”

  “By morning. If there’s so much as five minutes unaccounted for, I want to know about it.”

  By morning? Bobby would never understand this. Siddah kept a smile on her face and hoped the stack wasn’t as large and confusing as it looked. “Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Chris turned his attention to another file folder on the table, but Siddah decided to take advantage of this rare moment alone. “I wanted to thank you for considering me for the paralegal position. I appreciate the chance more than you’ll ever know.”

  He frowned up at her as if she’d spoken gibberish, and it seemed to take him a few seconds to process what she’d said. “I guess we’ll find out if the job’s too much for you, won’t we?” Gesturing toward a sort stack of manila file folders, he shifted subjects without taking a breath. “When you finish with the time line, I want you to go over the police reports until you know them as well as you know your own name.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I have a meeting with defense counsel in the morning. Is there a problem?”

  Siddah’s heart dropped, but she shook her head quickly. “No. That’s fine. You want the time line first?”

  “I do. I spoke with both women yesterday,” he said, still focused on what he was doing. “I’m convinced they’re lying, but I couldn’t get anywhere with either of them.”

  Nervous sweat moistened her fingers, but she resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her pant legs. “Maybe someone else should try.” At Chris’s sharp look, she added quickly, “You know how sometimes people respond to one person and not another?”

  His lips thinned. “I know how to do my job, Siddah.”

  “I know you do. That’s not what I meant. I only thought—”

  “Well don’t, okay?” Chris tossed something onto the table and planted his hands on his hips. “Evan might think you’re right for the paralegal position, but I don’t.”

  Gasping as if he’d punched her in the stomach, Siddah tried not to let him see that he’d just devastated her. “May I ask why?”

  “Do you need to?” When she didn’t say no, he launched into a list, ticking off points on his fingers as he spoke. “You’re a single mother. You’re doing the work of two people at home already. You’re a recent widow, and I don’t care what you say, you’re not ready for a job this demanding.”

  “Don’t you think I would know if I’m ready or not?”

  “No. Frankly, I don’t. And I haven’t even gotten to the most important strike against you. Your son.”

  Siddah sat up sharply. “How do you consider my son a strike against me? You have children, and so does Evan.”

  “Yes, but neither of us is a single parent, and Evan’s children are grown.”

  “No matter who you put into the paralegal position, they’re bound to have a life,” she argued. “Mine might be different from yours, but that’s no reason why it should work against me.”

  “It has nothing to do with your life,” Chris said with infuriating calm. “It’s just a question of the time and attention you can give to the office and our caseload. Your life requires too much of your focus, Siddah. Surely, you aren’t going to deny that.”

  No, but she sure wasn’t going to admit it. If she did, she could kiss the promotion, and her chance to pay off Peter’s debts goodbye. “I do deny it,” she said, hating how weak she sounded and trying to conceal the fear and anger in her voice. “Yes, I occasionally take a break to talk to my son, but any good parent would do that. And yes, maybe being a single parent does require a lot from me, but I’m still capable of doing the job.”

  Chris shrugged and turned back to his work. “We’ll see. Evan wants to give you the chance, and so we are. I just thought you should know where I’m coming from, that’s all. If you can prove me wrong, I’m sure the job will be yours.”

  Still shaking, Siddah pulled the stack of files he’d assigned her and began reading. But she couldn’t make sense of the words swimming on the page in front of her. The realization that Chris felt so strongly against giving her the job rolled around with the thought of Bobby waiting for her call. He’d be growing more disillusioned and hurt as the minutes ticked past, and knowing that made it hard to concentrate.

  What if she couldn’t prove Chris wrong? What if she couldn’t save the house and get the growing stream of creditors off her back? What if she couldn’t give Bobby a better life than the one she’d had? The need to escape her life had driven Siddah to make some desperate choices. She didn’t want that for Bobby. But would she be able to prevent it?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JUST AFTER SUNRISE, Gabe stood, stretched and opened the door of the guard shack to let in the morning. He’d passed another uneventful night at the sawmill with nothing but newspapers, a good book and his own thoughts to get him through. He sure hoped Carlos was right and Monty would move him into another position soon. Something that required the use of his brain might be nice.

  He wasn’t going to hold his breath, though. He’d been back in Libby for nearly two weeks now, but he had yet to hear a good word out of the old man, or get more than a dip of the head when Monty drove through the gates in the morning.

  But Gabe wasn’t going to quit trying.

  As he did every morning, he put coffee on to brew and strolled around the mill’s yard to make sure everything was secure. He walked slowly, taking his time and relishing the cool breeze that blew into the valley from the canyons. Two weeks of breathing clear, dry air had made a little difference in his physical health—at least he thought it had. He hadn’t had a recurrence of the fever in days, and last night he’d made one complete circuit of the mill’s perimeter without getting winded.

  On the mountaintops, the rising sun draped a golden web across the treetops, and Gabe realized again how much he’d missed this valley. He’d have to make it a point to get back here more often. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t just the scenery that made him want to come back. He found himself looking forward to the hours he spent with Bobby, and he couldn’t deny the rush of anticipation he felt in the evenings when Siddah came to pick the boy up.

  He finished his circuit just as the coffee finished dripping, and he carried a steaming mug into the warming sunshine to wait. Just like clockwork, the old man’s truck rolled into view a few minutes past six-thirty and Gabe unlocked the gate to let him into the yard.

  As he had every morning, Monty gave the barest dip of his head to acknowledge Gabe’s presence, then turned his eyes straight ahead and drove toward the office. Knowing that the morning crew would start arriving soon, Gabe secured the gates open. But instead of heading back to the guard shack as he usually did, this morning he strode toward the office.

  He’d been cooling his heels for a week now. Biding
his time. Waiting for the old man to get used to having him around. But he couldn’t wait much longer or Monty would read his silence as weakness.

  Gabe left his cup on the ground near the door and let himself inside. Joan hadn’t arrived yet, so Gabe hurried past her desk and into his father’s office. He found the old man sitting, eyes closed, hands linked together on top of a stack of paperwork. The sadness that had become so much a part of his expression seemed even heavier this morning.

  Suddenly uncertain, Gabe knocked softly. “Do you have a minute?”

  The old man’s eyes flew open, the sadness disappeared, and the rigidness that seemed reserved for Gabe replaced it. “You got a problem?”

  “Not exactly.” Gabe stepped inside then nodded toward an empty chair. “I’d just like to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Peter.”

  A mask of anger covered Monty’s face. “No.”

  “Why not? We’re going to have to talk about him sometime.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “Because he’s standing right here in between us, and we’re never going to resolve anything until we do.”

  Monty stood abruptly. “Peter was never the cause of our problems.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that he was. But you’re still angry with me for not coming home sooner. Until we can get past that, we can’t even begin to work on the rest.” Gabe took a few steps into the office, moving closer to his father’s desk. “Carlos told me what happened the day of the accident. Why didn’t you tell me that other people had been injured?”

  “Why should I? It’s not as if it’s anything to do with you.”

  Gabe didn’t want to argue that point right now, so he ignored it. “How did it happen?”

  “How does any accident happen? Something went wrong.”

  “Was it human or machine error?”