"Marcy," she said as she extricated her right hand from Nicole's and offered it.

"Jim here. Glad to meet you," he said. "Thanks for coming, be needing your help with all these young ones. I am feeling better, but still sniffling a bit."

"Sorry you've not been well," Marcy said.

The kids all offered awkward h.e.l.lo's.

It was Cherry Festival time and the airport was crowded with visitors, forcing the Nelson entourage to make their way slowly through the small airport to the baggage claim area. Jim and Steve walked together with Patrick trailing closely behind. Mike and Kevin followed, silently hoisting backpacks and looking glum. Marcy and the twins were last, their hair braided and dressed in matching candy-stripe pinafores, their usually bright faces downcast.

"How's Laura doing, son?"

"Like I told you on the phone, Dad, she's a wreck, meeting with her lawyers day and night. That's why I had to get the kids out of there. That, and the media's everywhere."

Jim frowned. "I just hope they don't follow you here."

"So do I. How're you doing?"

"Better. You know, I haven't seen you since your mother's pa.s.sing almost -"

"It's five years ago. I know, Dad. You've never come to Florida."

"I've got your mother's roses to care for. Last winter we had so much snow I couldn't have come anyway. But you -"

"I know. It's been hectic with my job and the kids and, of course, Laura's always on call. I know it's a lot, us landing on you like this, but I've got a plan. I'll take the boys camping in a few days, and Marcy can help with the girls. That's why she's here."

His father frowned. "Steve, Laura called."

"Not now, okay?" Glancing back at the kids, Steve picked up his pace.

Initially, Steve brightened when they arrived at his father's street. The neighborhood looked unchanged, homes all in good repair, plenty of beautiful shade trees. Neighbors sat on porches enjoying the perfect summer temperatures, the sweet aroma of roses climbing on trellises, and rhododendrons in full bloom. Halfway down the block, now painted the color of celery with slate gray shutters, with the old wraparound front porch, was his parents' house, where he and his twin, Philip, had shared a large bedroom upstairs with full-size poster beds. They spent most of their playtime in the tree-playhouse Dad had built to match the big house. Stepping from the car, Steve looked from the tree stump up into the air where the tree house used to be.

He had been ten years old, the age of his own twins when it happened.

In those rare moments when Steve allowed himself to reminisce about growing up with his identical twin brother, he ruminated over the biggest difference between them. Philip was the aggressive one, making all the plans, pretty much telling Steve what to do. Much like the role of his daughter, Nicole, while Natalie was more like him, the follower. And how Nicole irritated him because of it. Even though he'd resented Philip's control, he still loved him, depended on him. n.o.body would ever know the depth of his pain as a child and his lingering grief still. The day of the accident the boys had been arguing over which twin their Black Lab puppy, Lucky, liked best. Steve had angrily shoved Philip out of the tree house and he'd ended up dead. It was an accident.

An accident.

Once Marcy took over the kitchen to make lemonade and chocolate chip cookies, and the kids discovered the swing beyond the back porch, Steve and his father sat nearby under an oak tree. Jim Nelson brought up Laura again.

"Maybe you should call her and let the kids talk to her."

"I don't want them mixed up in this. No calls to or from the kids. I'm trying to get them away from all her troubles."

"But Steve, I told her I'd have you call. You know that I haven't always agreed with Laura. Your mother never did understand why she was h.e.l.l-bent on going to medical school instead of staying home with the kids. But over the years, I've come to believe she's a good mother. And you said yourself that this was all your fault. Because of - well, you and that dead woman - what you did."

"Dad, I made a mistake. We all make mistakes, right?"

Jim Nelson nodded sadly.

"Before that Laura and I were very happy. Now we have to give her time to work with her attorney. She needs a break from the kids."

"That's not what she said," his father said shakily, "and I did tell her I'd make sure you called."

Steve acquiesced. "I'll call her later, okay? Now let's not worry about Laura."

"And Steve," he continued, "how are we all going to manage in this small house?"

"I'll sleep with the boys in the spare bedroom and Marcy can stay with the girls in my old room. And like I said, I'm going to take the boys camping in a few days, so it's only a couple nights."

"But we don't have enough beds."

"Sleeping bags will be fine for the kids. Really, Dad, it'll be okay."

It was a struggle to talk to his father now, because Steve had become irritated as well as preoccupied. Coming back home, he realized he saw Traverse City as a security blanket, one that was more than a thousand miles away from Frank Santiago. Though Steve had tried to avoid thinking about it, the reality was that Santiago was one violent - and dangerous - son of a b.i.t.c.h. The mob! It was everywhere, wasn't it? Were they looking for him right now, here in Michigan? A personal vendetta because he had screwed the woman Santiago wanted to marry? He sank deeper into his chair and stared up at the sky as he wondered why he hadn't thought more about all this when he agreed to do the G.o.dd.a.m.ned TV interview.

Because he was in shock, that was why. Kim. That gun. Laura. That night was all too much.

Well, he'd lay low in northern Michigan. He'd be able to think once he got to the Upper Peninsula. Not only did he need to calm down, he needed a plan. A long-term plan.

Late Sunday afternoon, Mike picked up the phone in his grandfather's kitchen on the first ring. As he'd so hoped, it was Laura. "Mom," he breathed, not daring to talk too loudly. He'd heard his dad tell Grandpa Nelson when they'd arrived on Wednesday that the kids were not to talk to their mother.

"Mike, is that really you? Oh, honey, how I miss you all. How are you?"

"Not so great, Mom. We're supposed to go camping, but Dad doesn't want to take the girls. Dad's sending Mrs. Whitman home too."

Laura paused. "Yes, Marcy just called to tell me."

"I tried to get Dad to take Natalie and Nicole, but he says it's a guy trip."

"Honey, I'm going to try to get you all back to Tampa as soon as possible, but now Dad doesn't even want me talking to you guys."

"Dad says that you don't have time for us, that's why we have to stay up here."

"Of course I have time for you. I'm frantic with worry about you. I can't think of anything else except how to get you home."

"Then why don't you just come and get us?"

"Mike, I'm not allowed to leave Tampa. It's legal stuff. Otherwise -"

"I didn't know that. Kevin and I were wondering why you didn't come."

"Mike, of course I would if I could. The problem is, I can't. Honey, will you please try to make the younger ones understand?"

"Sure, Mom, but I gotta hang up. I think Dad's coming."

Before the connection was broken, Laura heard Steve in the background, "Mike, how many times have I told you -"

Laura had walked the streets of Davis Island Sunday afternoon following a thunderstorm that temporarily cooled the humid Florida summer air and left a cloying smell of jasmine. She reflected on the dreadful week since she'd stumbled upon Kim Connor's body - the end of her marriage, the nights in jail, the absence of her children. Roxanne Musing called every day with hospital news, but Laura's practice, her patients, her entire professional life so quickly seemed unreal, something from the past. Even Roxanne's reports on the Ruiz family served only to remind her of the night she'd found Steve with Kim.

After her walk, Laura had returned home determined to talk to her children. She'd put the call in to Traverse City and to her relief Mike had picked up. And before Steve yanked the phone away from him, she'd learned more distressing news. What was Steve trying to do to her? Now he was taking the boys camping, but where and for how long? And why was he sending Marcy home? Why wouldn't he send the girls home with her rather than leave them alone with his father in Traverse City? It wasn't that she didn't trust Jim, but he apparently had some kind of medical problem. Surely he wouldn't want that responsibility. A guy who never even bothered to visit his son and grandchildren?

This was just so wrong, so unfair. She needed to do something. She needed to be with her children, but she was trapped, helpless to do anything to get them back.

Once she'd finally stopped shaking after talking to Mike, Laura dialed Greg's home number. It was July first, a Sunday. What had he told her? Was he going to Atlanta to see his fiancee or was she coming to Florida? Please be home, she prayed.

"h.e.l.lo," a woman's upbeat voice answered.

"h.e.l.lo," Laura said faintly, "is Mr. Klingman available?"

"I can hardly hear you. Can I say who's calling?"

"It's Laura Nelson."

"Oh, Dr. Nelson," the voice cooled. Celeste had just poured two gla.s.ses of Chardonnay to tide her and Greg over as the swordfish marinated in olive oil and orange juice. "It's Celeste Marin. May I take a message?"

"Oh yes, Celeste. Please, will you ask Greg to call me tonight? It's important."

"Surely, I will."

But it wasn't until after they'd finished dessert, pecan pie with French vanilla ice cream and their second cup of coffee that Celeste mentioned that he'd had a call from Laura Nelson.

"When did she call?"

"About six." It was now nine forty-five.

"On a Sunday night? I should have gone into taxes or contracts." Greg reached over to the phone on the table behind the couch and dialed Laura's number.

She answered on the first ring. "Greg, is that you?"

"Yes, Laura. What is it?"

"Sorry to bother you, but there's something I need to tell you. Steve's going away with the boys."

"What do you mean, 'going away'? He's already away."

"Camping. He's leaving the twins with his dad and sending our housekeeper home. And he won't let me even talk to any of them. Greg, I'm frantic."

"I see. Will the girls be okay with his dad?"

"It's just that Jim Nelson is like a total stranger to the kids, Greg. The way Steve's neglected the twins, they'll be so upset. Isn't there something you can do to get them home?"

"Neglect to abandonment," Greg grumbled. "Listen, first thing tomorrow, we'll intensify our look at custody issues. So far we've just gotten the runaround on jurisdiction - Michigan versus Florida. I'll get Chuck involved. You can meet us at the office at eight, okay? Oh, that reminds me. I got a call from Carrie this weekend. She mentioned that Cliff Casey brought up another case - a malpractice case - that you're involved in. A Wendy Ruiz? What's your involvement?"

Laura let out a long breath. "Nothing, really. I was contacted by a lawyer who was interested in representing her father."

"For what purpose? What's your role?"

"I was called in for emergency surgery. I said I would tell what happened to Wendy," Laura admitted. "The ER neglected the patient's chest wounds, and they called me too late to save her. The child died."

"Does that mean you'll testify against the hospital, against other doctors? That's pretty sticky, especially given your present circ.u.mstances."

"Look, I just can't -"

"I hope you reconsider. My firm does the defense work for the hospital. If I'm defending a client who's a hostile witness to another client, it'll be a perceived, if not real, conflict of interest. Do you understand?"

"Well, not really. But I don't want to cause problems for -"

"Does that mean you'll drop out as a witness for the plaintiff?"

Laura inhaled. "Would that be right? I mean, the reason I agreed to help was because of all that poor family has been through."

"With all due respect," Greg said gently, "you have to worry about yourself right now. Agreed?"

"Okay, Greg, if that's how it has to be. I do apologize for calling you at home. I...I just didn't know who to call."

"Hey, just stay put. Promise?"

Laura hesitated. "I will," she said. But no promises, she thought.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

When Laura arrived at Klingman Law a.s.sociates at seven thirty the next morning, a sleepy security guard let her in. She paced the reception area until Greg's arrival just before eight, her mind filled with images of the kids, what they must be going through - especially the girls. They'd be confused and scared. And not only that, did they think she was a killer?

"Morning, Laura," Greg greeted her. "Aren't you the early one?" He walked into his office suite and carefully hung his jacket in the closet before joining her at the window where she stood staring out at the clump of coconut palms in the courtyard below.

"I couldn't sleep," she said.

"Well, come on in."

Greg motioned for her to take a seat on the burgundy leather sofa in his private office before stepping out to the hallway's utility cabinet to start the coffee maker.

"I've scheduled an update meeting first thing," he said. "We'll focus on this new situation first. Then we'll go over your case. So, tell me what you think your husband's doing."

"Besides running away, you mean?"

"I am sorry. Will the kids will be safe where they are?"

"I guess so. I have no idea where Steve is taking the boys, but the girls should be okay at Jim's."

"We'll get Chuck to check their whereabouts and we'll develop our options. Carrie'll dig into disputed custody issues -"