He smiled, smoothing her hair down. "I kind of did. You kind of saved me, too."

"He's . . ." She struggled to speak. "Crazy."

"Yeah." He pressed his fingers to her wrist. Her pulse was so faint, he could barely feel it.

"He said Grant had my parents killed." The words were soft, barely audible. Her entire body began to shake. "Gibbon did it. Karl watched the whole thing."

"Shhhh." He stretched out, spooning himself behind her and wrapping her with his arms in an effort to keep her warm.

"He didn't leave us," she said. "It was them. My father loved us."

He laid his cheek next to hers. "Of course he did."

Logan stood at the rear of the ambulance, its doors spread open. Rylee lay inside it, her rollerblades still on her feet. An EMT wrapped a cuff around her arm and took her blood pressure.

Officers crawled into another ambulance with Karl handcuffed to the stretcher. Nate Campbell closed their doors, then headed toward Logan. "My guys have picked up Grant and George. We haven't found the Cherub's body yet, but we will."

The two friends stood next to each other, neither speaking, while the chaos of the crime scene unfolded around them. Nate kicked at some gravel, shrugging to himself. Logan waited, knowing what was coming.

Nate cleared his throat. "I owe you an apology."

"You owe Rylee an apology. As in, a formal, on-the-air, retraction apology."

The detective's face burned like a teenager caught slipping into the house after curfew. He glanced inside the ambulance beside them, as if he might say something then and there, but the emt was talking to Rylee.

"I'll take care of it immediately." He stepped closer to Logan.

"And I'll do a private one as well. I am sorry, Logan. My only excuse is, I really did think she was guilty."

After a slight hesitation, Logan extended his hand, his knuckles scraped raw.

Nate shook it. "You okay?"

Logan raised his bandaged forearm to show off the second bandage along his side. "Just a few scratches. I'll be fine. She's the one whose whole world just tilted off its axis. So we'll continue this later, okay?"

He climbed into the cab, thanking God her leg would require little more than stitches when he'd feared transfusions were the order of the day. Still, she'd lost a lot of blood.

Patting her good knee, he gave it a squeeze. "It's all over, Rylee.

Karl's been taken under custody to the hospital. Grant's being processed right now."

"Gibbon?" she whispered.

"They'll lean on Karl until he tells them where the body is."

Her eyes filled. "He . . . they . . . All this time I thought . . ."

The emt removed the cuff, made a note on his clipboard, and moved away.

Logan scooted to her side, brushing her bangs back. "I know. It's a lot."

"Nonie won't understand. I can hardly even grasp it all."

He placed her hand against his cheek, then turned to plant a kiss on her palm.

A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. "Toro's gone."

"He's fine," he said. "He's tethered to the piazza."

Her eyes slid closed, pushing more tears to the surface. "Thank God."

He went to work on her rollerblades, loosening the laces.

"He's been hurt," she said.

Logan nodded. "Yeah. But the police went with the ambulance, so you don't need to worry."

"I meant Toro."

Pausing, he looked up. "Toro? No, he's fine. Somebody looked at him already. It was just a nick." He eased the rollerblade off her good foot.

"Poor thing. He's a rescue dog, you know. He's probably scared to death, and he still needs to be walked." She started to push herself up.

"Wait a second." He held his hands up to calm her. "Just wait. There's no way you're taking that dog for a walk. There's no way you're getting out of this ambulance. You're going to the er, and you're going to let them see to that leg, and you're going to take care of yourself."

"But what about Toro?"

He took a deep breath. "I'll take care of him."

"You?"

Me? "Yes, me."

She sank back against the stretcher. "You'd do that for me?"

"What wouldn't I do?"

She bit her lip. "You better find a shirt first, or you'll shock the neighbors."

He glanced down. He'd totally forgotten he'd used his shirt to stanch her flow of blood. He felt heat creeping up his cheeks.

She smiled. The first one of the day. "It's okay, Logan. You look fine . . . especially to me."

He gave her a hooded look. "So do you, babe. So do you."

He gently removed her other rollerblade.

The emt returned with an iv bag in hand. "We need to get moving, sir."

Logan nodded. "I'll see you at the hospital once I finish with Toro." Leaning over, he gave her a peck on the lips, then jumped out of the back doors.

She smiled down at him the way the sun does emerging from behind an eclipse. He wanted to grab the edge of the stretcher and give it a pull. To tilt the metal bed until she sledded down into his waiting arms. Never to let go.

Epilogue.

If the way man and dog had bonded wasn't so cute, Rylee would almost have been jealous. Though she wasn't sure, in Logan's case, whether bonding was the right word. He awkwardly frolicked with the rescue dog, tossing the Frisbee across the park lawn and running between trees.

The afternoon sun flashed across the distant water. The breeze, balmy as ever, felt good against her skin. She lay down on the blanket, rolling slightly to check the white line on the back of her leg. The wound had healed nicely, but the more she tanned, the lighter the smooth scar seemed to get.

The police had found matches for most of the trophies in Karl's jewel box. They linked the eyeglasses to a Georgetown law professor who disappeared Karl's second year. The dog collar to a golden retriever who'd lived next door to the Sebastians. It had been tortured and left for dead all those many years ago. Karl had been in high school at the time. There were others, folders full of them, but Rylee had stopped Logan from telling her any more. She shuddered. He was more dangerous than she or Logan had ever imagined. According to what they'd learned, Grant had been desperate to expunge Karl from his law firm, his home, his life.

Karl, however, had no intention of giving up his "deserved" lifestyle. So he began to systematically steal the Monroe keepsakes that his father had profited from years earlier.

His message to Grant was clear: Give me what I want or I'll expose all your secrets.

Grant's duplicity had left her feeling abandoned all over again. Then memories of her parents would rush to the surface. And the oppressive ache that used to accompany those memories was replaced with a bittersweet peace.

Her parents hadn't left her at all. They'd been taken from her. By Grant and Karl, who awaited trial in jail without eligibility for bail.

Grant's assets had been seized by the courts, including Rylee's ancestral home. But she had no desire to live in a house that had been occupied by her parents' killers.

Shaking herself, she sat up. Off in the distance, Logan was trying to teach the mutt a new trick.

"Just let him play fetch," she called. "That's what he likes."

Reaching for a half-empty water bottle, she drank deeply. Logan had surprised her late one night by appearing at her doorstep with what looked like a miniature German shepherd with who-knew-what mixed in.

He'd seen it racing after a car that was speeding away. Pulling over, he rescued the shivering mutt, which at the time was little more than skin and bones.

The two of them had sat on her kitchen floor while she held its shivering body, cooing and soothing it. His hair was so matted and full of sticker burs that she'd resorted to scissors to remove them all. They bathed him and met at the spca the next morning for his shots.

She'd insisted Logan name him. After a great deal of indecision, he finally christened the dog Steve Rogers after his favorite comic book hero, Captain America. And now that he'd signed a three-book contract, he worked out of his home and kept Steve company during the day.

Logan spun the Frisbee to her, but then neither he nor Steve seemed interested in it.

She lifted her sunglasses for a better look. The dog held something while Logan tried in vain to twist it from his grasp.

The mutt growled merrily as they wrestled for the prize.

She lay back down and closed her eyes.

Logan's footsteps approached, and he stretched out beside her.

"You finally give up?" she asked.

"If I ignore him, he won't be able to stand it. He'll be over in a minute."

"You hear from Dora today?"

"Yeah. She e-mailed me a jpeg of my cover."

She lurched to a sitting position. "Get out! Why didn't you say anything?"

He smiled. "It's fantastic."

"I can't wait to see it!"

A week after the Robin Hood case had busted open, she'd received a call from Seth Altmeyer. Logan had walked away from a six-figure book deal because he'd refused to include her in the story.

She'd been stunned. Logan had never said a word. Never even asked her if he could include her in the book. When she'd questioned him about it, he'd said no amount of money was worth exploiting her.

After a great deal of coaxing, she finally convinced him to let her read the manuscript. It was fantastic. And had completely stalled out two-thirds of the way through when it became apparent he'd need to include personal details from her life.

But instead of shying away from the idea, she embraced it. What better way to exonerate her parents than by a book that might sell hundreds of thousands of copies?

"Is he back yet?" Logan asked.

"Not even close."

Sitting up, he gave her a quick kiss, then clapped his hands for Steve.

The Confederate Memorial was silhouetted against the sparkling bay. She counted the months that had passed since that first night. Who would have imagined it would all end up like this?

"He's got something in his mouth," Logan said, "but I can't get him over here. See if you can call him."

"Here, boy! Come here, Stevie!"

The dog stopped mid-lope, cocking his head. But he trotted laterally, not moving any nearer to them.

"Looks like he's got a mind of his own today."

"Try again," Logan said. "I don't want him running off too far or I'll have to go after him."

She smiled. "So what? I already know you can run fast."

"Ha, ha. Now would you call him?"

She inserted her fingers in her mouth and gave a whistle.

Across the park, Steve's ears perked up. She called his name, and he bounded toward them.