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MARISA TIPTOED OUT of the bedroom, careful not to wake Ana as she closed the door gently behind her. There was just enough light coming from outside that she didn't need to turn a lamp on. She crossed the room into the kitchen and started the coffee machine. It steamed and gurgled, and she thought about shutting it off so it wouldn't wake Sam. But she needed coffee, badly. After she'd brewed a cup, she turned and saw a lump on the sofa.
Wait. There was a lump on the love seat, too. Sam was on the love seat.
Who was on the couch?
She crept forward, thankful that her noise in the kitchen hadn't woken either of them. When she got closer, she barely made out the sleeping face.
Nate.
When had he gotten here?
She set her coffee on the counter and sat on the coffee table across from him. His curly hair was tangled, his body mostly hidden beneath his blanket, a landscape of rises and valleys that hid the man who'd nearly sacrificed everything for her. Just one hand was visible, hanging off the narrow couch and nearly touching the floor. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly open.
She looked at the head wound. Two staples. A wave of discomfort flowed over her midsection as if it were she who'd endured that pain, not Nate, this man that she...
Yes, she could admit it.
She loved him. And it wasn't because he'd saved their lives. She loved him for a million other things he'd done. She loved him for the meals he'd delivered to her when she'd been in hiding—Greek salads stuffed in pita bread he refused to call sandwiches, not to mention pizzas and subs and soups and noodles and whatever else she'd requested. She loved him because he'd stayed with her to eat so she wouldn't be lonely. She loved him for flying to Mexico, simply because she'd asked him to. She loved him for the way he'd stood beside her every terrifying moment of the previous week, worked just as hard as she had to find her daughter, and never once lost hope. She loved him for the way his eyes had filled with tears when he'd seen her daughter again. Marisa loved him for the way he'd kissed her on the dock, and then, when she'd climbed into his bed, she loved him for the way he'd not kissed her.
She loved him for all of it, and all of it wasn't enough to describe the reasons she loved Nate.
Her fingers itched to touch him, but she wouldn't risk waking him. She brushed a light kiss on his temple and stood. She lifted her coffee from the counter and headed for the bedroom.
* * *
MARISA SAT ON A CHAIR on the back porch, Ana asleep in her arms. They were both wrapped in a blanket off their bed. She'd sat beside her daughter for less than an hour before Ana awoke, crying, from yet another bad dream. She'd had them all night. Not surprising, all things considered.
Marisa had pulled her daughter into her arms and tried to get her back to sleep, but Ana had wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, they'd come outside.
Ana had fallen back to sleep within just a few minutes.
The back door opened, and Sam stepped out. She surveyed the scene, smiled, and sat in the other chair. "How's she doing?"
"Considering the week she's had, great."
Sam sipped her coffee. "How about you?"
"I kept waking up to make sure she was really with me. All in all, not a great night's sleep. But the best I've had in a long time."
"I bet." Sam set her coffee on the little table between them. "Nate's sound asleep."
"Yeah. I don't know why he didn't stay in the hospital."
"Really? You don't know?" Sam's smile said the answer was obvious to her.
Marisa shrugged and looked at the calm lake water.
A car's tires sounded on the gravel road in front of the cabin. It had been such a quiet morning, the noise surprised her, as did the slamming of a car door a moment later.
Sam stood. "Bet that's Brady. I'll just get him before..."
Her words trailed off as the sound of knocking came through the house.
"Too late." Marisa stood and followed Sam inside, careful to keep Ana cradled in her arms.
Her daughter stirred. "Mama?"
"I'm right here, pajarita." She kissed her head. "You're safe. I promise."
The girl settled and fell back to sleep.
Marisa smiled at Brady and Rae, then at Nate as he sat up slowly. She ducked into the bedroom and laid her daughter on the bed. She kissed her head and waited to be sure Ana was asleep.
She returned to the living room and looked around. Like every other morning she'd been here, Nate, Brady, Rae, and Sam were congregating in the kitchen. This time, Nate wore scrubs he must've gotten from the hospital. He yawned and turned toward her. "Hey."
"You should sit. You don't look good."
"You look..." He seemed suddenly aware of the others in the room and cleared his throat. "How's Ana?"
"Perfect. Please sit."
Nate hobbled to the sofa, and Marisa got him a cup of coffee and a muffin. Rae must've brought a fresh box of pastries from McNeal's. They'd had enough from the diner in Nutfield in the last few days that Marisa looked forward to going to the place for a meal soon.
As if she were staying right here in Nutfield.
Was she staying? There was nothing for her in Mexico. Nothing for her in New York, either.
A phone rang. Sam hurried to her purse and pulled hers out. "Hey." Her skin tinged a little pink before she turned away. She listened while she stepped on the back patio.
Had Sam been blushing? Interesting.
Marisa sat beside Nate and ate her banana nut muffin. Unlike everything else she'd tasted in the last week, this was delicious. Nate picked at his.
"Would you rather trade? I can eat the blueberry."
"Not hungry," he said, leaning against the back of the sofa.
"You're hurt. Why don't you lie down? I'll sit on the floor."
He took her hand. "Please. Stay."
She did, and Nate scooted closer to her, wincing in pain but trying to cover it with a smile.
Sam stepped back inside and closed the door behind her. "That was Garrison."
"He disappeared on us the other day," Nate said. "Did he ever say why?"
"His son needed him. Teenager."
"Ah. I talked to the kid when I called."
Sam met Marisa's eyes. "He says to tell you he's glad you got Ana back."
"We couldn't have done it without him."
"Agreed," Sam said. "He also wanted me to gently remind you that you need to go to New York"
A little ball of dread settled in Marisa's stomach. "Right. I have to identify my sister's body."
"Yeah. Sorry."
"I can do it," Nate said. "I have to finish packing. I'm supposed to be out of my house by Friday."
"I'd love you to be there," Marisa said, "but I need to see her."
Nate nodded like he understood.
Brady came around the bar and looked at Nate. "You're in no position to carry furniture."
"I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow."
"I'll drive down with you," Brady said.
"You have much packing left to do?" Sam asked.
"We were almost finished." He looked at Marisa. "Your sister was really helpful while we waited for you to email us back." He took her hand. "I'm so sorry."
It was going to take her a little time to believe her sister was really gone. "I know. Me, too."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Rae broke it with, "So, what else did the hot FBI agent have to say?"
Brady gasped. "Hot? The guy was a total dog."
Nate barked, chuckled, and then groaned.
Sam rolled her eyes, but the blush was back. "Whatever." She took her seat in the living room, and Brady and Rae did, too, as if it were perfectly normal. After all the times they'd done it this week, it felt as if it were.
Brady cleared his throat. "Been at the station a while. I have a few things I can tell you." He shifted toward Marisa. "First, they matched fingerprints at the apartment in Chelsea where"—a slight hesitation before—"Ana was held."
Where you sister was murdered. Those were the words he hadn't said.
"They found Rick's and your sister's fingerprints. They found Ana's in the bedroom."
Marisa let the small relief fill her. "That's good, right?"
"Proves he was there. They haven't finished DNA analysis yet, but when they do, they'll prove it's your sister's blood. It's a mountain of evidence."
Marisa let the little bit of good news reach her heart. They couldn't bring Leslie back, but at least they could make sure her killer paid for what he'd done.
Brady continued. "They searched Rick's Audi and found a purse that belonged to your sister. I can't get possession of it, but I thought you'd like to know what they found inside."
"Something important?" she asked.
He took out his phone. "I took some pictures." He navigated through it while he spoke. "I thought you'd like to see." He reached it toward her, and she took it.
On the screen, she saw snapshots of herself, her mother, and Leslie from when they were children. She flipped through them, tears filling her eyes.
"She had a little album she must've carried everywhere with her. It held photos of you and your mother."
"Yes." Marisa's voice cracked. She kept flipping through the pictures on Brady's phone, seeing her own younger face, Leslie's, their mother's. So Leslie hadn't completely wiped them out of her life after all.
"She showed me that when we first met," Nate said. "I'd forgotten."
Brady added, "I thought you'd like to know."
Marisa looked up and nodded. "Thank you, Brady. It doesn't change anything, but, maybe it kind of does. She wasn't who I thought she was, but maybe she loved us, a little. She got pulled into something she couldn't control, and when she did try to control it..."
"She paid with her life," Nate said.
"Another thing I thought you'd like to know," Brady said. "Garrison's old partner, Simon, has been trying to put the new pieces of the puzzle into place. On a hunch, he went to Pamela Gray's house this morning to deliver the news about Richard. He told her what Richard had done, and the woman confessed that she was the one who'd taken the money all those years ago. Seems she wasn't willing to share the information when it was Ana's life at stake, but when Simon suggested that coming clean might help Richard, she told him everything."
"All this time," Nate said, "the money Richard was trying to get his hands on has been in his mother's bank account?"
"Looks like it," Brady said.
Marisa closed her eyes, let the new information skim off her like rocks on a lake. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, because Ana was safe.
"Their twisted family drama has nothing to do with me," Marisa said. "Never did."
"You were just collateral damage," Rae said. "First to Charles, then to Pamela."
"Just the cleaning lady," Marisa said.
Nate's grip became firm. "You were never just anything, Marisa. And you never deserved to be treated that way."
She turned at the vehemence in his voice, saw it in his narrowed eyes, his set mouth.
"It doesn't matter now. They'll all have to deal with what they did." She turned to Brady. "And I'm free, right? Not wanted for anything? Free to come home? Free to stay in America without fear of being hunted or accused?"
Brady nodded. "You're free. It's over."