Suddenly, she regretted her impulsive action to come here first before checking out the address herself.

"I haven't made contact. We don't know if anything will come from this. Don't get your hopes up, okay?"

"It's worth a shot." He shrugged the rest of the way into his jacket. "We'll take my truck."

She had known he'd react this way, pretending not to hope, but grasping at anything. If the foster parents were still around, they might not remember one little boy who passed through their lives so long ago. And if they did, they probably wouldn't remember where the child had gone from there.

"This is the first new piece of the puzzle I've had in a long time," Collin admitted as he smoothly guided the truck around the orange barrels and flashing lights of the ever-present road construction that plagued Oklahoma City. "Dartmouth Drive is back in one of these additions. I've been out here on calls. Not the best part of town."

A bad feeling came over her. She felt the need to say one more time, "Remember, now. This address comes from a very old file."

"I heard you." But she could tell that he didn't want to think that the trip might be futile.

Night had fallen and the wind picked up even more. An enormous harvest moon rose in the east. Mia had a sense of trepidation about approaching a strange house at night.

"Maybe we should have waited until tomorrow."

"I've waited twenty years." The lights of his vehicle swept over a wind-wobbled sign proclaiming Dartmouth Drive. He turned onto a residential street. "Should be right down here on the left."

She could feel the tension emanating from him like heat from a stove. He wanted to find out something new about his brothers so badly. And now that they were nearing the place, Mia was scared. If the trip proved futile, would he be devastated?

"Here's the address." He pulled the truck to a stop along the curb.

She squinted into the darkness. "I don't think anyone is at home, Collin."

"Maybe they watch TV with the lights off."

They made their way up the cracked sidewalk. In the moonlight Mia observed that the grass was overgrown, a possibility only if no one had been here for a long time. Growing season had been over for more than a month.

She shouldn't have let him come here and be disappointed. But she'd been so excited that she hadn't thought everything through in advance. She'd only wanted to give him hope. Now, Collin could be hurt again because of her.

He banged on the front door.

"Collin," she said softly, wanting to touch him, to comfort him.

He ignored her and banged again, harder. "Hello. Anybody home?"

"Collin." This time she did touch him. His arm was like granite.

He stared at the empty, long-abandoned house. In the moonlight, his jaw worked. She heard him swallow and knew he swallowed a load of disappointment.

Abruptly, he did an about-face. "Dry run."

Inside the truck, Mia said, "This was my fault. I'm so sorry."

He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the empty house. "I should be used to it by now."

That small admission, that no matter how many times he came up empty he still hurt, broke Mia's heart. She couldn't imagine the pain and loneliness he'd suffered in his life. She couldn't imagine the pain of being separated from her loved ones the way Collin had been.

When they'd first met, she'd thought him cold and heartless. Now she realized what a foolish judgment she'd made.

Because she didn't know what else to do, Mia closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for God to help them find Drew and Ian. Prayed that Collin could someday release all his heartache to the only One who could heal him. Prayed that she would somehow find the words to compensate for her bad judgment.

In silence they drove out of the residential area and headed toward Collin's place and her vehicle. Mia was glad she'd left her car at the farm. Collin didn't need to be alone even if he thought he did.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked.

In the dim dash lights he glanced her way, his cop face expressionless. "Sure. You hungry?"

The question had her turning in her seat. "Hungry?"

"As in food. I haven't had dinner."

"Neither have I." She felt out of balance. He had shoved aside what had to be, at least, a disappointment. Was this the way he handled his emotions? By ignoring them?

They parked behind a popular steak house and went inside.

They passed a buffet loaded with steaming vegetables and a variety of meats that had her mouth watering.

"You look confused," Collin said as he held a chair for her.

She was. In more ways than one. "I was expecting a tofu bar with bean sprouts and seaweed."

"I eat what I like."

There went another assumption she shouldn't have made about him.

They filled their plates from the hot bar and found a table. Collin had ordered a steak as well.

"Comfort food?" she asked gently after the waitress brought their drinks and departed.

He shrugged. "Just hungry. This place makes great steaks."

She squeezed the lemon slice into her tea.

"Want mine?" Collin said, removing the slice from the edge of his glass.

"You're giving up vitamin C?" She teased, but took the offered fruit. "Do you eat out like this all the time?"

"Not that much. Mostly I cook for myself."

She should have figured as much. He'd been self-reliant of necessity all of his life, a notion that made her heart hurt. But that strength had made him good at about anything he set his mind to. She wondered if he knew that about himself and decided that he didn't.

"What's your specialty?" she asked.

"Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. How about you? You live alone, too. Do you eat at your folks' or cook for yourself?"

"For myself most of the time. Although I sneak over to the bakery a little more often than I should."

"You any good?"

"Look at this body." With a self-deprecating twist of her mouth, she held her hands out to the side. "What do you think?"

"I think you look great." His brown eyes sparkled with appreciation.

"That wasn't what I meant." A rush of heat flooded her neck. "I meant-"

He laughed and let her off the hook. "I know what you meant." He pointed a fork at her. "But you still look good."

"Well." She wasn't sure what to say. She got her share of compliments, but she'd never expected one from Collin. He was full of surprises tonight. "Thank you."

The waitress brought his steak and they settled in to eat, making comments now and then about the food. After a bit the conversation lagged and all she could think about was the night's failed trip. Collin might want to ignore the subject, but Mia would explode if she didn't get her feelings out in the open.

"Will you let me apologize for not checking out that address before telling you about it?"

"No use talking the subject to death."

"We haven't talked about it at all." Which was driving her nuts.

"Just as well." He laid aside his fork and took a man-size drink of tea.

"Not really. Talking helps you sort out your feelings, weigh your options." And made her feel a whole lot better.

Collin looked at her, steady and silent. If anyone was going to talk, she would have to be the one.

"I'll keep looking. The information has to be there somewhere. We'll find them."

"You could check the adoption files. See if either of my brothers was adopted."

"I'm checking those."

Attention riveted to his plate, he casually asked, "The sealed ones?"

Her breath froze in her throat. "I won't do that."

He looked up. The naked emotion in his eyes stunned her. "Why not?"

Shoulders instantly tense, she had to remind him, "I told you from the beginning I wouldn't go into sealed files."

"That was before you knew me. Before we were friends."

Friends? "Is that what the compliment was about? To soften me up?"

His jaw tightened. "Is that what you think?"

She leaned back in her chair, miserable to be at odds with him over this. "No. Not really, but I can't believe you'd ask me to do such a thing."

Anger flared in the normally composed face. His fork clattered against his plate. "Wanting to find my brothers is not a crime. I'm not some do-wrong trying to ferret out information for evil purposes. This is my life we're talking about."

"I know that, Collin. But the files are closed for a reason. Parents requested and were given sealed records because they wanted the promise of privacy. And until those people request a change, those files have to stay sealed."

He crammed a frustrated hand over his head, spiking the hair up in front. "Nearly twenty-five years of my life is down the drain, Mia. I need to find them. They're men now. Opening those files won't hurt them or anybody else."

She shook her head, sick at heart. "I can't. It's wrong. Please understand."

Back rigid, he pushed away from the table and stood. The cold mask she'd encountered the first time they'd met was back in place.

Chapter Nine.

Collin was not having a good day. In fact, the last two had been lousy.

He pushed the barn door open, stopping in the entrance to breathe in the warm scents of animals, feed and the ever-present smell of disinfectant. He went through gallons of the stuff trying to protect the sick animals from each other.

Since the night he'd let himself hope, only to be slapped down again, he'd battled a growing sense of emptiness.

After work tonight he'd gone to the gym with Maurice and true to form, his buddy had invited him home for dinner and Bible study. For the first time, he'd wanted to go. But he always felt so out of place in a crowd. And a Bible study was a whole different universe.

Not that he hadn't given God a lot of thought lately. Every time he showered or changed shirts and noticed his shamrock, Mia's words rang in his memory. She had something in her life that he didn't. And that something was more than a big, noisy family. Maurice had the same thing, so Collin figured the difference must be God.

One of the horses nickered as Collin moved down the dirt-packed corridor. These animals depended on him, regardless of the kind of day he'd had. He could take care of himself. They couldn't.

As was his habit, he headed to Happy's pen first. The little dog's attitude could lighten him up no matter what.

Mitchell, whom he hadn't seen since the smoking incident, was already inside the stall.

Irritation flared. The little twerp had some nerve coming back around the animals without permission.

Collin was all prepared to give him a tongue-lashing and send him home when the boy looked up.

What he saw punched him in the gut.

The kid's face was bruised from the eyebrow to below the cheekbone. A sliver of bloodshot eye showed through the swelling.

"What happened?" He heard his own voice, hard and angry.

Mitchell dropped his head, fidgeting with the dog brush in his hands. "I won't smoke anymore, Collin."

"Not what I asked."

Mitchell jerked one narrow shoulder. "Nothing."

With effort, Collin forced a calm he didn't feel. "Home or school?"