Some sort of spell he couldn't break.

But that was his problem.

And problems were something he never let interfere with his work.

If he did, he wouldn't have been able to remain on the police force for

as long as he had.

He would have been a walking liability, to himself and his partner.

Being a cop, a good cop, was all he had ever wanted to be.

She was still standing, Caitlin realized.

Her legs hadn't dissolved under her.

Funny how the hurt could spring up so fast, so fierce after all this time.

What had it been?

Ten?

No, eleven years.

Eleven long years.

Long enough for feelings to fade.

Most feelings.

There wasn't enough time in the world, she thought, to completely

separate her from the anguish that had once claimed her.

But with time, she had managed to successfully numb it and function.

Struggling to strip all emotion from her voice, Caitlin turned icy blue

eyes toward Graham.

She scarcely noticed the shorter, sandy-haired man with him.

But then, Graham had a way of filling up spaces the way no other man

could.

"May I help you?"

There wasn't an ounce of feeling in her voice.

But what had he expected?

She'd evaporated out of his life as if she'd never existed.

He had gone to her house looking for her when at the last minute she

had abruptly changed plans for their elopement.

He'd gone looking, hoping she could be convinced to change her mind again.

Praying she would.

Knowing he had no right to ask her to start a life with him, thinking

he would die inside if she wouldn't marry him.

She hadn't.

And he hadn't died.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, he thought.

It was one of those trite sayings that rang true.

He had had a wealth of Native American sayings passed on to him,

guiding his steps as a child.

He'd had precious little else.

Graham nodded at her, stiff, polite, as if he'd never sampled the

warmth of her mouth.

"Caitlin."

The years had been kind to him, etching their stamp upon his face and

giving him a rugged warrior appearance.

Given his heritage, it was appropriate.

What was he doing here after all this time?

Her voice was as formal, as stiff as his.

"Graham."

There was enough frost in here to make a man go rummaging for his

overcoat, Jeffers thought.

He looked from his partner to the attactive woman.

They looked like two boxers, entering the ring just before the bell

sounded.

Whatever had gone down between them must have been big.

Taking the lead, Jeffers fished his wallet out of his jacket.

He flipped it open to his shield and raised it toward Caitlin.

He had to hold it up to get her attention.

"Ms. Cassidy, we're with the Phoenix P.D. I'm Detective Jeffers and I

gather you already know Detective Redhawk.

" A police detective?

Her eyes shifted toward Graham in surprise.

She remembered that he'd talked about entering law enforcement, but she'd thought him too much of a rebel to work within the system.

He'd never been one to take,orders.

This was all she needed, to be haunted by a ghost from her past.

Caitlin pressed her lips together and nodded in response to Jeffers's question.

64yes, I do.

Definitely something big, Jeffers thought as he noted the look of animosity that ricocheted between his partner and the woman.

Unless he missed his guess, it was going to be a hell of a challenge

not to get caught in the cross fire.

"You placed a call to 911 earlier this morning," Jeffers prodded gently when the other two remained silent.

"About a murder."

The last word roused her and brought back the cold chill she'd felt.

Caitlin was, if nothing else, a survivor.

She had a reputation to maintain as well as an aura to perpetuate for

the sake of her business.