Deadly Competition. Roxanne Rustand

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      Rain. Endless, miserable rain. The last few weeks had been one endless drizzle, unseasonably cool, and the weather was a constant reminder of the gray day in January when Leah had dropped off Sarah and disappeared without a trace.

      Clint sighed wearily, the ever-present weight of sorrow pressing down on his chest even as he summoned up a cheerful smile. “Time to go, punkin’,” he said. “We need to take a little drive.”

      “Don’t wanna go!” Sarah wailed as she kicked over the pile of blocks she and Clint had just stacked ten high.

      She clearly knew what was up and wasn’t having any part of yet another long, boring stint in the office of his construction business while Clint talked business with a client—even with all the toys and DVDs he’d set up for her there. But she had no choice.

      His parents had died when he and Leah were in high school. There were no other relatives in the area. And the babysitter Sarah liked wouldn’t be done with school and softball practice until after four o’clock.

      Clint just couldn’t send Sarah to daycare or preschool, not since someone had tried to kidnap her shortly after her mother disappeared. No, he needed someone he could trust to keep Sarah in his home—and keep her safe and secure. Sarah had been through too much. Clint wasn’t sure what she’d witnessed around her father’s death, but now she was a troubled little girl who desperately missed her momma, and who’d begun acting out at the least provocation if separated from her uncle Clint.

      His ads for a nanny-housekeeper hadn’t yielded a single good prospect. Some applicants who called sounded uneducated. Lazy. Some asked “when the kid took naps and for how long.” One volunteered that a little strong cough medicine could keep a kid quiet for hours.

      The few applicants he’d interviewed hadn’t been any better—from the one who’d actually been casing his house to the one who visibly withdrew in distaste at Sarah’s tentative approach.

      So now he was struggling to be a substitute dad while trying to keep his construction company together and search for his sister, and he felt as if he was failing at every turn.

      Looking for his shoes in the wall-to-wall rubble of toys filling his living room, he stepped over the scattered blocks, landed barefoot on a LEGO, bit back a yelp of pain and sank onto the sofa.

      Sarah scrambled up into his lap and wrapped her little arms around his neck. “I want Mommy,” she said somberly, her eyes sad and defeated. “She does Band-Aids and kisses on owies.”

      He closed his eyes against the familiar wave of pain that swamped him whenever he thought about what Leah must be going through, if she was even still alive. The terror and pain she might’ve faced on the day she disappeared. Had she been injured? Was she wandering aimlessly now, suffering from amnesia? Or was she being held against her will?

      The darker possibilities haunted him, day and night, especially since right after Leah went missing.

      The police had found signs of some kind of struggle in Leah’s little apartment above the pawnshop. The police thought she might have staged it to cover her tracks—and her involvement in her husband’s death, but Clint knew better. Leah had become a Christian six months before Earl died, and she loved her new faith—and Sarah—far too much to harm anyone, even the deadbeat Earl.

      Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Clint focused his attention on his young niece.

      “Your momma wants to be back here, too, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m praying every day for that to happen.”

      His cell phone vibrated against his belt, and he reached down to grab it. With luck, it would be his client needing to delay the appointment this afternoon….

      He frowned at the unfamiliar number. Nearly let it ring through to his voice mail, then relented and caught it at the last second.

      “Um…Hi, I’m calling because I understand you might be looking for a housekeeper and nanny?”

      At the quaver in the woman’s voice, Clint’s instant, silent response was Not you, sweetheart. She sounded wary and unsure, and the faint note of desperation in her voice sealed his impression. The last thing I need is someone with troubles. I’ve got enough troubles. “I’m not looking any longer. Sorry.”

      Silence. Then the woman cleared her voice. “Does that mean you found the right person, or you’ve given up? I promise you, you won’t be disappointed if you just give me a chance.”

      He dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then set the child aside with one arm and stood. “That advertisement has run for a couple of weeks. I’ve changed my mind about wanting a nanny.”

      “But you do need childcare. Right?”

      “Look, miss—”

      “And it would be convenient to have someone on-site—someone who would be available 24/7, if need be. I understand that there’s an apartment available as part of the deal?”

      “Thanks for calling.” He started СКАЧАТЬ