Luke's Daughters. Lynnette Kent

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      He shut the passenger door and rounded the truck bed, thinking hard. By the time he sat down, the decision was made. “Okay. I’m going to take you to my place for the night. We’ll get the rest sorted out in the morning.”

      She tried to sit up against the seat belt. “Mr….Officer Brennan…I don’t think—”

      His own throat ached to hear her rasping whisper.

      “Call me Luke.” Backing out of the parking space, he gave her a grin. “I’m going back to work. You’ll have the house to yourself. It’s the easiest solution.”

      He didn’t mention the other benefits—the fact that no one would look for her at his place. And that whoever had her keys could be inside her home by now.

      Maybe he didn’t need to—she suddenly stopped fighting. “Okay.” The next time Luke glanced over, she was asleep.

      Once parked in his own driveway, he left Sarah in the car while he went to unlock the kitchen door. Then he lifted her gently and carried her into the house. In the dining room he hesitated—where should he put her down?

      The lumpy couch in the spare room, surrounded by piles of magazines? Erin and Jen’s room, which usually looked as though a hurricane had hit? Or…

      Luke maneuvered carefully through the doorway to his bedroom. He’d changed the sheets this morning and neatened up. Sarah would have enough aches to deal with tomorrow. Why not give her the best rest possible?

      He lowered her to the side of the bed he didn’t use and covered her with a blanket. Leaving an old football jersey nearby, with a note inviting her to help herself to anything in the house, he moved to the door, then stood for a second watching Sarah…Sarah who?…sleep.

      She looked peaceful in the low light, almost happy. Her mouth had softened into a smile that even the bruises couldn’t dim. After a night of horror, she’d fallen into sleep as easily as a child could.

      But reaction would set in—Luke had no doubt of that. He’d seen victims fall apart immediately, and he’d seen them hold back until they had privacy. He figured Sarah would want to be alone when she struggled with her personal tremors.

      God knew, he always had.

      That thought led him to Kristin, on her honeymoon with Matt. To Jen and Erin, at Disney World with their mother and their new dad. To a family that had once been his and now belonged to another man. His brother. Forever.

      The house closed in on him, airless, lightless. Breathing hard, Luke fumbled his way toward the door, fighting the need to howl. He had to get out. Get back to work, back to a reality he could handle. Back to the outside world, filled though it might be with threats and violence and agony.

      At least there he didn’t stand face-to-face with the total, wretched emptiness that constituted the rest of his life.

      WHEN HE CAME HOME at 7:00 a.m., the only sign of Sarah’s presence was a glass standing on the counter by the kitchen sink. But he could hear water running in the back bathroom. Good for her—she must be a strong woman, to be getting back on track so soon.

      As he walked by the desk in the corner of the dining room, he caught the blink of the answering machine light. “You have one new message,” the tinny recording announced.

      “Hi, Luke.” The soft Southern accent needed no introduction. “It’s Kristin.”

      A vise gripped his gut and twisted. He braced his arms on the desktop.

      “The girls wanted to call and tell you what’s going on.”

      “Hi, Daddy! It’s me!” Erin’s husky voice was as unique as the girl herself. “We went to Sea World yesterday and it was so cool. They have this tunnel under the water you can walk through and the fish swim on top of you, even the sharks. And the whale splashed us with about a zillion gallons of water until we were soaked. Mommy and Daddy Matt just laughed. Jen cried ’cause it made her drop her drink. What?” Her voice died away as someone in the background spoke. “But I’m not finished! Oh, okay. Here’s Jen.” The phone passed, and he heard Erin’s scathing whisper to her sister. “Baby!”

      Luke tried to smile.

      “Daddy?” His four-year-old was as quiet as her sister was talkative. “I’m Jenny. I spilled my drink. Mommy got me a new one and a dolphin hat. We’re going to the Magic Kingdom now. I’ll say hello to Peter Pan like you said.” More background conversation, as his heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to crack cartilage. “Bye, Daddy.”

      “Bye, Daddy!” Erin chimed in. “I love you!”

      His tears didn’t wait for the end of the call.

      “We thought we’d let you know that everything’s just fine down here, Luke.” Kristin sounded her usual sunny, in-control self. “The girls miss you, but they’re having a good time. We’ll be back next Saturday, and we’ll call again before then. Take care.” The machine clicked off.

      Helpless against his own emotions, Luke hunched over the desk. He missed them so much—his daughters and his wife. How was he supposed to live with his heart ripped out?

      “Luke?” Sarah’s bandaged hand closed lightly on his upper arm. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Luke, what’s wrong?”

      A quick turn of his head shook his eyes clear. She stared up at him, her brows drawn together in concern, her face a collage of bruises and scraped skin. His football jersey swamped her.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

      He couldn’t say, “nothing.” And he didn’t know how to explain. “My little girls—”

      The grip of her fingers tightened. “Has something happened? Are they okay?”

      Luke drew a deep breath. “Sure. They’re great.” Sarah started to relax, and he knew he should let the subject rest. Why tell her? Why go over any of it again? “They’re with their mom at Disney World,” he heard himself say.

      Sarah smiled, then winced. “That sounds like fun.”

      “With my brother.” Her look turned puzzled. “He married Kristin on Saturday. They’re on their honeymoon.”

      Confusion, then horror, crossed Sarah’s expressive face. She drew her hand away and stepped back.

      Furious that he’d made such an obvious play for her sympathy, Luke pushed off the desk and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

      The grounds were measured and the brew dripping into the pot before Sarah followed him. He glanced up as she limped stiffly into the kitchen. “Milk? Sugar?”

      She lowered herself into a chair at the table, shaking her head. “Black, please. Luke—”

      He held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. Let’s just forget it, okay? I brought some doughnuts for breakfast. Have one.”

      But she didn’t make a move toward the box on the table, just stared at him with that serious, green-gold gaze. “You’re divorced?”

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