Jill stiffened, uncomfortable, but she didn't interfere, as much as she wanted to. She knew it wasn't her place, and since she'd been deceived herself, she could understand Victoria's reaction. On the other hand, she felt for Brian, who was only doing his job, and was obviously crazy about Victoria, job or no.

Abby rested a hand on the bedrail, her young face falling into prematurely sad lines. "Brian, I'm not mad at you. I got to know some of the other FBI agents and I understand why you did what you did, with Victoria. I even get it, about Dad. I love him and I always will, but I know that he was the one doing wrong, not you."

"Thanks, Abby." Brian frowned, in a sympathetic way. "I know this is hard for you, for both of you, and just so you know, your Dad talked about you guys all the time. He loved you both." Brian turned to Victoria, again. "Victoria, I really am sorry. I'm sorry I deceived you. I want you to know that I mean that, whether we stay friends or not."

"We've known each other for a year, and you lied to me every day." Victoria shook her head. "You lied about what you were doing, where you were going, even who you are. What am I supposed to do about that?"

"I had a job to do, and I did it, but I'm really sorry."

"But still." Victoria exhaled, frowning, her eyebrows sloping down, as anger gave way to hurt. "It's just that you lied to me about everything, even your name."

"Not everything. I care about you, that was real."

"How do I know that?"

"I'm telling you, now."

"But you told me before, when you were lying." Victoria tilted her head, pained. "And what about your imaginary girlfriend, in Paris?"

"I had to say that, it was part of the cover. What can I do to convince you?"

"I don't know. That's your problem, not mine."

"What if I proposed?"

Victoria blinked. "What?"

Brian smiled, a new smile, one full of feeling. "Will you marry me, Victoria? I love you, you have to know that."

"What?" Victoria asked, astonished.

"Please, marry me. I don't have a ring and I can't get down on one knee, but I love you, and I've loved you every day for a year." Brian's voice thickened, suddenly. "And when I thought I might die in that car, you were my last and only thought. You. Marry me. Please. That is, if you love me, too."

Victoria's mouth dropped open. Her eyes filmed, but she didn't say anything.

Everybody held his breath, all equally amazed. Sam and Steven exchanged glances. Jill felt tears on the way. Megan's eyes popped with delight.

Abby interjected, "Yes, yes, yes! She loves you, she's crazy about you! She told me she wants to marry you, a million times! Yes, already!"

Victoria burst into teary laughter, rolling wet eyes. "Abby, shut up, please, and let me think."

"Victoria, say yes! You know you want to!"

"Abby, please. This is my business, not yours."

"Tell him!" Abby gestured at Brian. "He's waiting!"

Jill couldn't believe these girls. She stepped in and separated them, smiling. "Girls, don't fight, not now, okay? Abby, please be quiet. Victoria, you have the floor."

"Thank you, Jill." Victoria turned to Brian, trying to compose herself. Her eyes filled with tears, and she pursed her lips, but she didn't answer.

Brian's eyes stayed glued to her, a steady blue, but his face began to fall, and his smile slowly faded. "Vick?"

Victoria smiled sweetly, her lower lip a little shaky. "Brian, please understand, I love that you asked me. But don't you think we should go on a date before we get married?"

Brian laughed, a little sadly, then he nodded. "Okay, if you want, I guess we could do it that way. It's somewhat conventional, but I can work with that."

"Wonderful." Victoria smiled, her eyes shining, and she stepped over to his bedside. "But I can tell you this, I love you, too."

"You do?" Brian asked, grinning again.

"Yes, I do, so much." Victoria leaned over and kissed him, once, then again.

Sam and Steven clapped, and Jill burst into happy laughter, proud of Victoria.

Abby squealed, and Megan chanted, "Victoria's in love! Victoria's in love! Victoria's in love!"

Victoria straightened up, breaking into a huge grin. Her face flushed with happiness, and she turned to Megan. "Mega, can you wait a little longer until we go dress-shopping?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Megan squealed, running into Victoria's arms. "Yes!"

Chapter Seventy-seven.

Sat.u.r.day afternoon swim meets always drew the biggest crowds, with parents home from work and siblings off from school, and the pool gallery was packed to bursting, with the crowd talking, laughing, and joking around. The meet was held at Sequanic High, and the last time they were here, Megan had had that panic attack. Jill prayed that today wouldn't be an instant replay as she and Sam made their way down the row to Victoria, Abby, and Steve, who had driven separately in Steve's rental car, taking Megan.

Jill and Sam waved h.e.l.lo to the Cohens, the McGraths, and Bill Roche and Jenny Zeleny, then sat down on the hard wooden bleacher, where Jill turned to Victoria. "How was Megan on the ride over?"

"Fine, and we gave her lots of support."

"It has to be hard for her to see that boy again. I hope she'll be okay."

"I know she will. We gave her a pep talk in the car."

Steve turned to Jill, grinning warmly. "I drove and pretended not to hear anything."

"Way to go. I do the same thing, all the time." Jill smiled, then caught sight of the boys' team, grouped on the far side of the pool, against the sunny window. She squinted at the swimmers. "Which one is he?"

Victoria pointed. "The blond in front."

Jill spotted a skinny kid with curly blond hair, and almost growled. "Is his mother here? Can I deck her?"

"Down, girl." Victoria looked over. "Megan's stronger than you think. After all, she's her mother's daughter."

Jill smiled, then eyed the pool deck for Megan. A flock of yellow bathing suits and matching swim caps cl.u.s.tered behind the starting blocks with Coach Stash, and Megan stood at the periphery, looking up at the bleachers the way she always did. Jill raised her bandaged hand. "Hey, honey!"

Megan broke into a grin, waving back. "Hi, Mom," she mouthed, which she had never done.

"She looks happy," Sam said, waving.

"She really does." Jill felt a rush of relief.

"Jill, Jill!" Rita motioned from down the row to Jill, who leaned over. "Victoria and Steven told us about your car accident, in Jersey." She gestured at the bandage. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, thanks," Jill answered.

"I heard what that little jerk did to Megan. How is she?"

"She was upset." Jill knew it had to be the talk of the swim moms, but they'd all be on Megan's side.

"She's fine, you'll see," Victoria said, smiling mysteriously.

Jill turned to her, puzzled. "What, is something going on?"

"Yes, and it was all Megan's idea. Watch."

Jill and Sam craned their necks at a sudden commotion, taking place poolside. Coach Stash had walked away with his clipboard, and Megan and the rest of the girls swarmed like yellowjackets, flying toward the boys' team. Megan grabbed the blond swimmer by his one arm while Courtney nabbed his other.

"What's she doing?" Jill asked, confused. Sam and Steve looked over at the scene, and Victoria and Abby pointed in delight. Heads turned in the gallery as Megan, Courtney, and the rest of the girls whisked the boy to the edge of the pool and pushed him into the water.

"Yay! Yay!" Megan, Courtney, and the girls burst into laughter, applause, and cheering. The boys doubled-over with laughter, shoving each other in glee.

Victoria, Abby, and Steven cheered, and the Valley West parents stood up, clapping, as the blond swimmer swam to the side of the pool. The girls crowded around a grinning Megan, jumping up and down, hugging her.

"Way to go!" Sam laughed.

"Good for you, Megan!" Jill stood up, clapping loudest of all. Her throat caught as she realized that her daughter was growing up, right before her very eyes.

And it was a beautiful sight.

Acknowledgments.

I've written eighteen novels, and in each one, my goal is to write something that's true. That doesn't mean true in the literal sense, at all. It means emotionally true. A novel doesn't connect unless it's emotionally true, and when it's emotionally true and does connect, what happens is magic.

To write a novel that's emotionally true, I have to go within. For it to reach your heart, it has to come from mine. I dug deep for Come Home, because in my own life, during my second marriage, I was a stepmother of three girls, in addition to my own daughter. The first point I need to make here is in the nature of a disclaimer: the stepdaughters in this novel aren't my real stepdaughters, nor are they based on them, in any way. The characters herein are completely fictional, and the same is true of the second husband in this book. But the emotional truth of being a stepmother, and an ex-stepmother, I know that. I lived that, and so I'm free to write about it, and I hope it informs the novel and gives it an emotional truth.

That said, you don't have to be a stepmother or even a mother to recognize the feelings or have them strike a chord in you, because that's the way it is with truth. It rings true, for everyone.

And, of course, the other point to be made is a big thank-you to my (former) stepdaughters, for the years we spent together, and for letting me into their lives. I love all three of you, and always will.

Now to the thank-yous, where I get to thank all of those experts who helped me, and make clear that any and all mistakes herein are mine.

I needed a dynamic duo of pediatricians to help me understand how they think and work, and for this, I am indebted to Dr. Carol Actor, in private practice in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, and Dr. Eileen Everly, of the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Both women took valuable time to answer all of my questions, and I could not be more grateful to them for their kindness, expertise, and guidance-and more important, for all they do for children.

For the intricacies of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I turned to my dear friend and former special agent Linda Vizi, and thanks so much to her. I am so grateful to Linda for her time and expertise, as well as all of the years of service she gave to the FBI to take care of us all. And yes, there really is a Needle & Gun Club of female FBI agents, and I'm proud to have one of their quilts hanging in a place of honor in my home.

Thanks to the police officers at the Sixth Precinct in Philadelphia, as well as the police officers of the Sixth Precinct (a coincidence) in New York City, for their help, and again, their service to us all. Special thanks and a big hug to Detective Kenneth Baker of the NYPD for answering all of my questions.

Thanks to Tom Melvin, genius accountant, who helped me with the financial details herein, as I have math anxiety. Thanks to Mary McMahon, swim mom extraordinaire. Thanks to Danielle Bersch, Elaine Gondek, and Veronica Mendina, too.

Thank you to the gang at St. Martin's Press, starting with the terrific John Sargent, Brian Napack, Sally Richardson, Matthew Shear, Matt Baldacci, Jeanne-Marie Hudson, Brian h.e.l.ler, Jeff Capshew, Nancy Trypuc, Kim Ludlam, John Murphy, John Karle, Sara Goodman, and all the wonderful sales reps. Big thanks to Michael Storrings, for an astounding cover design. Also hugs and kisses to Mary Beth Roche, Laura Wilson, and the great people in audio books. I love and appreciate all of you.

I want to take a special moment to thank my editor, Jennifer Enderlin, to whom this book is dedicated. I came to Jen when my writing life was well-established and my habits somewhat entrenched (if not ossified). But getting to know her, to listen to her suggestions, and to watch her approach to my work has opened my eyes, and heart, in so many ways. A great editor has the talent and power to bring out the best in a writer, and I feel Jen doing that for me, encouraging me to go deeper, and truer, with each book and even each sentence. Jen, I can't thank you enough, and this dedication is only a start.

Thanks and big love to my incredible agent and friend, Molly Friedrich, who has guided me for so long now, with her expertise, brilliance, humor, and heart. Thanks, too, to the amazing Lucy Carson and Molly Schulman, for all of their comments on this ma.n.u.script. Thanks and another big hug to my dedicated and wonderful a.s.sistant and best friend, Laura Leonard. She's invaluable in every way, and has been for over twenty years.

Thanks, too, to my girl pack of Nan Daley, Rachel Kull, Paula Menghetti, and Franca Palumbo. We're all moms of daughters and they're all we talk about, and always will be. Thanks, ladies, for being yourselves, and for helping me, every day.

This is a long way of saying thank you very much to my amazing and brilliant daughter, Francesca, a wonderful writer in her own right, to my mother, Mary, and to my late father. I love you all, and you've taught me everything about everything.

Thank you, always and forever.

Also by Lisa Scottoline.

Fiction.

Think Twice Look Again Lady Killer.

Daddy's Girl Dirty Blonde Devil's Corner Killer Smile.

Dead Ringer Courting Trouble The Vendetta Defense.

Moment of Truth Mistaken Ident.i.ty Rough Justice Legal Tender.

Running from the Law Final Appeal Everywhere That Mary Went.

Nonfiction (with Francesca Scottoline Serritella) My Nest Isn't Empty, It Just Has More Closet s.p.a.ce Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog.

About the Author.

Lisa Scottoline is a New York Times bestselling and Edgar Awardwinning author of eighteen novels. She has served as the president of the Mystery Writers of America, and her recent novel Look Again has been optioned for a feature film. She is a weekly columnist for The Philadelphia Inquirer and her columns have been collected in two books and optioned for television. She has 25 million copies of her books in print in the United States, and she has been published in thirty countries. She lives in the Philadelphia area with an array of disobedient pets. Visit www.scottoline.com.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fict.i.tiously.