Funny. Devlin would have sworn that, unlike the women who usually appealed to him, Karen Howard’s values were traditional ones. That, because of the intenseness of their relationship, she might have been interested in exploring a more lasting connection. But, as intimate as the two of them had been, he hadn’t really known her, even though they had been together for many weeks.

He’d told himself he was lucky, that a commitment was the last thing he wanted, anyway. The truth was, she had hurt him when she walked away without a backward glance. Hurt him for a long time, though eventually he’d managed to forget all about her. Or so he had believed. But now…

Damn, this was no good. Even if, technically, she wasn’t a married woman, he needed to stay away from her. He’d learned this afternoon that he couldn’t trust himself anywhere near her, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be wounded again. For all he knew, she was madly in love with the bastard who had deceived her, would forgive him and go on loving him.

Checking his watch, Devlin decided it was time to head back to Michael Ramey’s office, which was located near the Metrodome. If Ramey still wasn’t there, he was prepared to wait for him. This was the part of his work that he hated, spending long hours in a parked car watching a building and hoping your objective turned up before your backside went totally numb.

He’d hoped surveillance wouldn’t be necessary, that Karen could have told him exactly where to find Ramey. Actually, it had been his major reason for seeing her. Yeah, sure it was.

Starting the car, he left the parking lot and edged out into the traffic. He knew that, if Ramey didn’t show by closing time, he had no other choice. Despite his promise to avoid Karen, he would need to go to their home.

He was still whistling softly as he neared the Metrodome. Still trying to understand why she had turned her back on him four years ago.

KAREN FOUGHT for self-control as she faced Mildred Gustafsson on her front porch. She tried to quiet the panic that gripped her.

“What you’re telling me—I don’t understand it. Why did he take Livie?”

The woman was concerned, but she also looked uncomfortable with a situation that had suddenly become awkward. “There’s nothing to be worried about, is there, Mrs. Ramey? I mean, he is Livie’s father. He had every right to—”

“What did he tell you?”

“That, since you were going to be gone for a few days, he’d decided to spend some quality time with his daughter. I understood that he was going to forget work and that they were going to enjoy a little holiday together until your return. Livie was all excited about it when he told her, though I’m not sure she actually understood—”

“Where? Where were they going?”

“Now that he didn’t say. I suppose he could have meant just a holiday at home with outings around the city, like the zoo and that new kiddie park. But, of course, if you’ve been to your house already—”

“I haven’t—not yet.”

“Well, there you go. When you get home you’ll either find them there or an explanation of where they’ve gone.”

Karen shook her head. “He should have told me what he was planning. I should have known about it beforehand.”

The apprehension must have been all too evident on her face. The woman placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I had the impression it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing but that he would let you know. There’s probably been a mix-up. He could very well have left a message at your hotel in Atlanta, and they neglected to get it to you.”

Karen knew that Mildred Gustafsson didn’t share her fear. Why should she when Michael Ramey had always been a responsible, devoted father? The woman was convinced it was nothing but a misunderstanding.

The little boy, Joey, had followed Mildred out to the porch and was now pulling at her slacks, demanding attention. Karen had no further reason to keep her, and she didn’t think anything could be gained by telling her about Michael’s bigamy. In any case, she was anxious to get home.

Back in her Camry, making every effort to hurry through the frustrating traffic, she tried to tell herself that her alarm was needless. That her recent discovery about Michael could in no way be connected with this, that he wouldn’t have taken Livie and just disappeared. Nothing to be scared about. Michael would never hurt Livie. Just as Mildred Gustafsson insisted, it was all a mix-up. An innocent mix-up.

But why hadn’t Michael made certain she knew about this holiday of his? Knew about it and approved of it. She had a bad feeling driven by a powerful maternal instinct, and she couldn’t shake it. She wanted Livie with her, and she wanted her now.

Her heart was racing with anticipation, and a prayer for delivery from her growing anguish, as she came in sight of their home on Summit Avenue. The house behind a cast-iron fence was a shingled Victorian with a mansard roof and dormers. It was in no way as large and imposing as its red sandstone neighbors along St. Anthony’s Hill, but it had always given Karen pleasure. Now it was nothing more to her than a property that was too expensive because Michael wanted luxuries and could afford them.

One of those luxuries was the tan BMW that he drove, which she hoped to find parked in the drive. It wasn’t there. When she let herself into the house, there was no familiar squeal of her daughter galloping to meet her at the door on a pair of chubby legs. There was no sound at all. The place wore the silence of desertion.

Karen went from room to room searching for a note that Michael might have left for her, checking the answering machine for a possible message from him. Nothing. She was trembling with terror when she went upstairs to look into his closet. Suppose it was empty, all of his things gone? She kept thinking about that other wife in Denver and how Michael had left her without an explanation and how she had never heard from him again. But this was different. This time he had Livie with him.

Her relief, when she went into his closet and found his suits still hanging there, lasted only a moment. Looking further, she discovered that some of his more casual clothing was missing, along with a pair of their suitcases. And several items of Livie’s clothes had been taken from her bedroom as well.

They weren’t spending a holiday at home. They had left the city, and she had no knowledge of their destination.

Trying to remain calm, Karen went to the phone. She rang Michael’s office. No one picked up. Then she tried to reach his assistant, Bonnie, at her apartment. Again no answer. She began to phone friends and neighbors. But Michael had confided in none of them. No one had seen him leave. No one knew where he had gone.

She was frantic by now, unable to convince herself he had merely taken Livie on a short vacation somewhere. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She knew it.

No longer hesitating, she called the police. While she waited for a patrol car to arrive, she made an effort to contact her lawyer. Aggravating. With the long Fourth of July weekend coming up, people were already out of town. He was among them.

Minutes later, she was seated in her kitchen with a uniformed officer who listened to her politely. Even before she finished expressing her deepening anxiety, she knew he wasn’t going to help her. She could see it in his narrow face. And she could hear it in the way he cleared his voice when he finally responded.

“Ma’am, I don’t see that we can do anything for you. This doesn’t qualify as a child abduction or a denial of custodial rights. If your husband legally adopted the little girl, he’s entitled to have her with him.”

“But they’re gone!”

“On vacation for a few days while you were supposed to be out of town. That’s what you say your sitter told you, and there’s no reason to think otherwise, even if he did neglect to inform you of his intention. Ma’am, he hasn’t broken any law.”