She held out her hand, concentrating with fierce determination to keep it steady. The piercing look he shot her was disconcerting. It was the same look he'd given her when they'd met. It took all her willpower not to look away. Again. She almost collapsed in relief when he shook the proffered hand.

"Deal. Provided you agree not to withhold any further information I might consider important."

His hand was warm and strong, engulfing hers. Nerves jangled in her stomach, like the fluttering of a thousand b.u.t.terflies-nerves that had nothing to do with her being inside the belly of the police station.

Seemingly undisturbed, he dropped his gaze to the notepad in front of him. She picked up the overturned chair and sat back down.

"My mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis when she was twenty-eight," she informed him. "Four years later, she was confined to a wheelchair."

He looked up in surprise. "She was in a wheelchair when she met the commander?"

"Yes. She was thirty-six when we moved to Watervale. She wanted to get out of the city, away from the memories of my father." Kate looked away. Her voice lowered. "Or so she said. I was only a child."

"How did she meet the commander?"

Keeping her gaze fixed on his notepad, she answered with a shrug. "I don't know. No one ever told me and I never asked. All I remember is, it seemed like only a short time between living in the rented house on Sunnyside Lane and moving into his house on Baxter Road."

The detective drilled her with his stare. Kate's breath caught and she wondered if he'd picked up something in her tone. After a few moments of silent scrutiny, he looked down again at his notes and she swallowed a silent sigh of relief.

"What kind of a relationship does your mother have with the commander? Twenty years is a long time. They've obviously made it work."

A barrage of words fought for airtime. Kate gritted her teeth and strove for casual nonchalance. "I really don't know what kind of relationship they have. As I said, I was only four when they married and I left Watervale ten years ago."

"Come on, Miss Collins. You must have some idea. I a.s.sume you lived with them until you were fourteen or so? Even a self-absorbed teenager notices something about the way her parents interact."

"Don't call him that. He's never been my parent."

The words were out before she could stop them. Curiosity lit the dark depths of his eyes. She concentrated with fierce determination on the gray and pale blue geometrical pattern woven into the navy carpet and did her best to ignore the weight of his gaze.

"What kind of relationship do you have with the commander?"

Her head snapped up. The question was even deadlier for its gentle delivery. She met his unwavering stare.

"I fail to see how the question has any relevance whatsoever to your investigation, Detective. It's their relationship you ought to be examining. I've already told you what I think." She shook her head, feigning disinterest. "Really, didn't they teach you anything in detective school? It's quite obvious you never learned to listen."

His eyes glittered with anger and Kate wondered if she'd gone too far. He leaned forward, his bearing now intimidating.

"Oh, I've listened plenty, Miss Collins and all I'm hearing is a load of bulls.h.i.t about a mother who supposedly hasn't bothered to contact you in the last little while and a transparent bid-for reasons I've yet to determine-to implicate one of the town's finest in some unthinkable act. You're not a very good liar, Blondie. I d.a.m.n well know you haven't bothered to call your stepfather."

She tensed and her fingernails bit into the softness of her palms. How had she given herself away?

"What did he do to you?" he sneered. "Grounded you once too often? Cut off your allowance?" His gaze raked over her. "I can just imagine what a handful you would have been. Is that why you're here to accuse him of homicide?"

The detective pushed back his chair and stood, towering above her. He bent over the desk, his face inches from hers.

His voice lowered. "That is what you're trying to tell me, isn't it? That Darryl Watson, Watervale's longest-serving Police Commander, has murdered your mother?"

Kate held his stare, refusing to be intimidated. She'd come this far. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let some macho, misogynist detective deter her now. If he wouldn't help her, she'd find someone who would.

Cold steel lined her backbone and roughened her voice. "If that's the way you really feel, Detective Munro, then I suggest we end this interview right now. I need to find someone who's prepared to listen to what I have to say. I'm not the perpetrator here. Apparently you don't believe that."

The legs of her chair slid easily along the industrial carpet as she pushed away from the desk. She collected her handbag and pulled her coat tighter around her.

He watched her without comment, his face implacable. Debilitating despair weighed heavily in her limbs. She couldn't believe it had all been for nothing. She hid her shaking hands in the pockets of her coat, unwilling to let him witness another instant of her distress. With her shoulders taut and head held high, she walked toward the door without a backward glance.

His voice reached her halfway across the room. "I'll track down Commander Watson in the morning. I'm sure he'll be able to sort this out."

She barely broke stride. With her lips compressed against the pain, she left the room and made her way to the top of the staircase and started down.

Riley stared after her, frowning. d.a.m.ned if he knew what was going on, but she was definitely hiding something. He hadn't been a cop for nearly a decade without picking up a few tips, despite what the woman thought. She was a bundle of inconsistencies. And it was obvious she knew far more than she wanted him to believe.

By her own admission, she'd lived with the Watsons for ten years and had kept in regular contact with her mother after she left. He didn't buy for a second that she wouldn't know how it had been between the two of them. Especially being a woman.

Having two sisters, Riley knew firsthand how intuitive women could be. He'd never been able to keep anything secret from either of them. Except the one he'd been carrying around for the last three months. The one he'd managed to hide from everyone-even his twin. As far as his family knew, he'd been the one to request the transfer.

Familiar feelings of anger and disappointment permeated his bloodstream. Riley scrunched his eyes up in an effort to ward them off and focused instead on the woman who'd just left. The woman who looked like a million dollars, but every now and then let her guard down and spoke like a tramp. The woman who obviously had secrets of her own.

She had all the trappings of a well-educated, successful, intelligent woman, yet she hadn't called the commander. He'd bet his house on it. There was something about the way she'd stared at him when she'd answered, as if willing him to believe her. It might have worked on a rookie, or someone less observant, but not on him.

And her story just didn't make sense. No one went to the police before they'd done the most basic of enquires. Calling her stepfather, the person in the best position to know her mother's whereabouts, was a no-brainer.

It's what he would do. It's what anyone would do. Pick up the phone and call. But she hadn't. She'd flown halfway across the world and still hadn't contacted her stepfather.

His frown deepened. He doodled on his notepad, giving his thoughts freedom to roam. What was it with her and Darryl Watson? Riley hadn't been in town long enough to meet the retired officer, but you didn't get to be the Local Area Commander-or the LAC as they were known-for a quarter of a century and have your picture hung from an impressive gold frame smack bang in the middle of the main wall of the reception area if you weren't looked upon well.

Maybe she was jealous? It wasn't unusual for kids to feel like the spare wheel when a parent remarried. Perhaps she'd spent her childhood feeling left out and harbored some sort of grievance against him? Maybe she'd left home in a fit of teenage rebellion over some slight-real or imagined-and it had never been resolved? She'd admitted she hadn't been back to Watervale since she'd left.

If she'd run away at fourteen, there was every possibility there'd been some kind of falling out. It didn't necessarily indicate fault on the part of her parents. Teenagers ran away from home all the time. Most stayed away for only a week or two, but not all of them.

CHAPTER 3.

Kate pulled the pins out of her hair and tugged at the elastic. The tight bun was released and she sighed. Her hair fell in a cascade across her shoulders. Tossing the accessories onto the top of the cracked Formica vanity, she braced her arms on either side of the stained sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Tired, pallid skin shone sickly under the cheap fluorescent light. Dark smudges bruised the delicate skin under her eyes, emphasizing her fatigue. She hadn't slept properly since the last email she'd received from her mother.

At the thought of her mother, she squeezed her eyes shut. Despite the physical distance between them, over the years since she'd left, they'd renewed and strengthened the bond that had always been there between them. It may have been weakened during the last decade her mother had lived with Darryl, but even he hadn't been able to sever it.

Whilst Kate had never found the nerve to tell her mother the truth about her abrupt departure, Rosemary had finally accepted her explanation and, over the ensuing years, they'd formed a closeness once again.

Kate hadn't been lying when she told the detective she communicated with her mother on a daily basis. Living so far away, and knowing what her mother's husband was capable of, Kate had felt an even greater need to stay in contact. To check on her.

Not that the man's evilness had ever extended toward her mother. At least, not that Kate was aware, but it hadn't completely alleviated the guilt that had surrounded her every time she thought of leaving her mother behind.

Rosemary had suffered one blow after another. Kate's father had died not long after she'd been born, leaving her mother alone and almost penniless. The multiple sclerosis had struck her down in her prime, robbing her of her youth. Then, Darryl had appeared on the scene.

To Kate's mother, he'd been a knight in shining armor, rescuing her from the harsh knocks life had dealt her. She'd found someone who loved her, cherished her and wanted to protect her from the challenges that had been thrown her way. Outwardly, he'd even loved her daughter.

Kate's heart thumped hard at the memory. Familiar fear coiled deep inside her, ready to strike the moment she paid it heed. She didn't blame her mother for not knowing the truth. Rosemary's handicap forced her to live downstairs. She was clueless to what went on above her after dark and Kate had loved her too much to share her pain.

Scrubbing at her eyes in an effort to banish the images that lurked behind them, Kate turned on the faucets and splashed water over her face. Blinking droplets from her eyes, she pressed a towel against her skin and breathed in its clean, lemony smell. In contrast to the overall dinginess of the motel room, the blindingly white bath towel was soft and luxurious.

Her thoughts returned to the detective. Anger reignited inside her. He was no better than the rest of them. He'd treated her with barely disguised disdain. The wall of blue-solid, impenetrable, impa.s.sable.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

She thought he'd be different. The sound of his honeyed tones on the end of the phone had lulled her into believing it was possible and when she'd seen him, the genuine warmth in his eyes had given her hope. He'd looked open, friendly, willing to listen-nothing like the policemen she'd grown up around.

But then he'd started the interview and the illusion had disintegrated to ashes. He was exactly like all the rest. Despite his pretty boy looks and his killer smile, he'd paid her lip service and had done squat. And then he'd taken the insult even further-he hadn't even pretended to believe her.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She padded out of the tiny bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. It squeaked in protest, but she lay down anyway, too tired to care. At least the heating worked. The room was pleasantly warm, cozy even. Clad only in her underwear, she curled up in a ball and replayed the afternoon's events.

He'd known she lied about calling Darryl. She'd seen it in his eyes and in the subtle turning down of his mouth. It wasn't like she hadn't tried to build up the courage. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. Each time she picked up her phone to dial Darryl's number, panic had stiffened her fingers and nausea had choked her throat.

Even now, congealed fear moved in the pit of her stomach, sliding with insidious intent through her veins. For almost a decade and a half, it had been ever present inside her, but from the moment she realized she'd have to return to Watervale, it had intensified into cold, stark terror.

Rage exploded inside her, white-hot and searing. She hated the power he still held over her. She thrashed against the feelings of helplessness and panic, rolling across the bed with her arms locked hard around her waist. She wasn't a child anymore. She wouldn't let him best her. Not again.

Never again.

Fierce determination surged through her. Pushing herself upright, she reached for her phone before her courage withered. Her heart hammered against her chest. She could almost smell her fear.

She'd do it. For her mother's sake, she had to. It was obvious the police weren't going to help her. Just as she'd always known, she was on her own. She dialed his number with fingers that trembled.

Riley strode through the doorway of Watervale's local drinking establishment and waved to Sonia from across the room. Although there was a golf club on the hill that catered to a more upmarket clientele, he preferred the dimness and casual camaraderie of The Bullet. Besides, he could always catch up with Sonia here. She worked the bar four nights a week. Her friendly brown eyes lit up as he approached.

"Hey, there," she greeted him. "How was your day? It looks like you could do with a beer."

He smiled his thanks and pulled out a stool, resting his elbows on the bar. "You know me so well."

"Not as well as I'd like to." She winked and her gaze lingered on the open expanse of skin at the base of his neck and then moved lower. "I'm always happy to extend our acquaintance."

He grinned and returned her once-over. The low-cut black top she wore was covered in sequins that sparkled under the overhead lights, drawing attention to her generous cleavage, as it was no doubt meant to. A short black skirt molded to a sweet a.s.s and was complemented by a pair of black fishnet stockings.

They'd first swapped stories over the scarred wooden bar on his second night in Watervale and Riley couldn't deny he'd felt a spark of interest. It had been months since he'd parted ways with Iris. His ego might have taken a bruising, but he was still a man with physical needs that he'd ignored for far too long.

Sonia's cute b.u.t.ton nose and spontaneous smile was just the medicine he needed after the uptight austerity of his ex. Iris had even controlled their most intimate moments, directing the how and where and when until most of the fun and all the impulsiveness had been taken out of it. Looking back, he couldn't believe he'd put so much time and effort into the relationship. He almost felt sorry for the man she'd left him for.

Pushing the memories aside, he picked up his gla.s.s and took a healthy swallow. The beer was cold and refreshing and slid easily down his throat-a welcome feeling after the day he'd had.

Images of Kate Collins immediately clamored for attention. She was beautiful, in a cool ice-blonde untouchable way. But then she'd gotten angry and her controlled facade had cracked. Pa.s.sion, albeit anger, had flamed in her eyes-eyes so wide and blue he'd felt lost in them. Even now, the thought of her made his pulse race. His response to her hadn't helped his objectivity and that had irritated him all evening.

"I see you made it out of there, after all. You certainly smell a lot fresher."

Riley glanced up as Chase pulled out the empty stool next to him and ordered a beer.

"Yeah, it didn't take as long as I thought."

"So, what was the story? They found the old girl wandering down the road, right?"

Picking up his gla.s.s, Riley took another swallow. "Nope, nothing like that. The daughter took offence to my manner and stormed out of the office before I could do more than cover the basics."

"Sounds like you're losing your city-boy charm. Maybe the women of Watervale have started to catch on?"

Riley ignored Chase's jest. "For your information, she's not a local, although she did spend most of her childhood in town."

Chase looked curious. "Really? I've lived here all my life. Who is it? I might be able to shed some light on her."

"Kathryn Collins. Goes by Kate."

Chase frowned. "Kate Collins. Can't say I remember her. How old is she?"

"She's a couple of years younger than you, but she says she left town ten years ago. Her mother's married to Commander Watson."

Chase's eyes widened. "Kate Watson? Christ, is she back in town? I wonder how she turned out? I had a hard-on for her all through high school. She was a real looker!"

Riley bit back an instinctive protest. "Yeah, well nothing much has changed. She's a looker all right."

Sonia placed a schooner of beer in front of Chase and hovered close, making no attempt to disguise her interest in their conversation.

Picking up the gla.s.s, Chase nodded his thanks and took a sip before turning back to Riley. "So, Kate came in to report her mother missing?"

"Yeah, but she went further than that. She thinks the commander's murdered her." Riley shook his head. "Can you believe it?"

"She always was a bit of a drama queen," Chase replied. "I was a couple of grades ahead of her at school, but I remember her having a reputation for being a bit of a troublemaker. She was always getting into strife with the princ.i.p.al, Mr Savage. Not that it mattered to me. With looks like hers, she could get away with anything. Besides, old man Savage was a bit of a jerk."

Chase nodded toward Sonia. "You remember Kate Watson, don't you? You were in the same cla.s.s. What do you think she was like?"

Glad for the invitation to partic.i.p.ate in their conversation, Sonia leaned across the bar. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in full view, pressed provocatively against the wood.

"Kate Watson. Yeah, I remember her. She took off halfway through the eighth grade. Never saw her after that. It was right before the athletics carnival. Most of us were glad. It meant at least some of us had a chance at winning a ribbon or two."

"She was an athlete," Riley stated, raising his eyes from Sonia's chest.

She shrugged. The movement sent her cleavage wobbling. Riley braced himself, half-expecting the bountiful flesh to spill out onto the bar.

"I guess so. She wasn't compet.i.tive or anything. You never saw her training. But she was fast. She used to win all the sprints."

"What was she like in school? Did she have many friends?" Riley asked.