But what was really important here was that somebody had tried to kill her last night...or had he?

There was no question that something had b.u.mped or pushed her into the pond, but had it simply been a figment of her imagination or some sort of mistake, and whoever was responsible had run away, afraid of what he'd accidentally done?

Maybe it had been one of the drifters who occasionally showed up at the bed-and-breakfast looking for a free handout of money or food. Or maybe a local fisherman who had planned to secretly fish in the private pond and had been startled by her presence.

She finally got out of bed, and after a quick shower, refused to dwell on the horror of the night before. In the light of day, she decided that it was probably just some weird circ.u.mstance, and she'd been the victim of a sort of hit-and-run accident.

She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to intentionally harm her, but she also didn't plan on taking any more nightly walks alone.

When she left her rooms, she smelled fresh coffee. She entered the dining room to find Andrew seated at the table, a cup of coffee and a plate of leftover biscuits from the morning before in front of him.

"Hope you don't mind that I helped myself," he said.

"Not at all," she replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. "Sorry I overslept."

"Not a problem," he replied easily.

She and Andrew had only been talking for a few minutes when Gabriel and Jackson joined them. "Can I get you something to eat?" she asked, half rising from her chair.

Gabriel motioned her down. "Sit and enjoy your coffee. We're heading into town this morning to have a talk with Sheriff Thompson. When I spoke to him yesterday on the phone, I told him I wanted to get the lay of the land here before contacting him face-to-face."

"Jim's a decent man, and maybe he knows something I don't know about Sam and Daniella," she replied.

"Maybe, although he hasn't shared anything useful with us yet. I got the feeling when I spoke to him yesterday that he's still hoping this is a voluntary disappearance and not a crime," Gabriel said.

Marlena shook her head. "There's no way Sam and Daniella would let the people who love them worry about them for this length of time." A new rivulet of fear swept through her for her friends. The only way they wouldn't contact anyone was if they couldn't.

"We have their cell phones in our possession and will be checking any calls that come in, and also looking at those they received before they went missing. Are you going to be okay today with us gone?" Gabriel asked as the other two agents headed for the front door.

She frowned. Last night felt like a nightmare, and even in the light of day a shiver tried to take possession of her, but she shrugged it off. "I should be fine. I'll lock the house and just let in the people I know and trust."

"Have you thought further about anyone who might want to cause you harm?"

He'd asked the same question the night before. "I can't imagine," she said, giving him the same answer. "Maybe I just freaked out a drifter who was hanging around and he accidentally shoved me as he ran away." It sounded lame, but it was the only rational explanation she'd managed to come up with. "Whatever happened, I'm sure it was an accident and whoever was responsible was afraid of getting into trouble."

"Why don't I give you my cell phone number, so if anything comes up, you can call, and we can get right back here?" he suggested.

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks. Just let me get a piece of paper to write it down." She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a notepad then returned to the dining room and wrote down the cell number he gave her.

"We should be back by dinnertime," he said as she walked with him to the door. His gaze held hers for a long moment. "Don't hesitate to call if you need me...us."

As she watched him head to the car where the other two agents awaited him, she decided that maybe Gabriel Blankenship wasn't so bad after all.

She locked the door behind him. Despite what had happened the night before, she felt no real danger directed specifically at her. Still, better to be safe than sorry.

She was back in the kitchen when Cory knocked on the door, eyeing her quizzically through the gla.s.s pane. She hurried over and unlocked it to allow him and John to enter.

"Why the locked door?" Cory asked as he sat at the table in the kitchen. John sat next to him. Most mornings the two of them showed up for breakfast, but it was usually Daniella who did the cooking and serving.

"I had a little unexpected encounter with the pond last night." She explained what had happened, and both men looked at her in stunned surprise.

"Thank G.o.d one of those agents managed to get to you," Cory exclaimed.

"I didn't know you couldn't swim," John added. "Do you have any idea who might have pushed you?"

"Not a clue," she replied, not wanting to think about how close she'd come to death. "I imagine you two are looking for something to eat. Why don't I whip up a quick batch of pancakes?"

"Sounds good to me," John replied.

As she got out the ingredients to make the pancakes, the three of them talked about the pizza place where the guys had gone the night before, the weeding that needed to be done and the continuing mystery of the Connellys' disappearance.

Marlena liked John. The dark-haired man had an easygoing temperament and had bonded instantly with the younger Cory and kept him busy working by his side on the grounds.

After the two had finished their breakfast, they left by the back door, and Marlena relocked it after them. For the remainder of the morning, she busied herself upstairs, making beds and freshening the rooms where the agents were sleeping.

She immediately knew that Gabriel had slept in the lavender room. As she plumped his pillows and straightened the spread, she smelled his cologne and was surprised by the tiny ray of heat that fired up inside her.

There was no question that she was physically drawn to him, and there was also no question that she had no intention of following through on that attraction. The most important thing right now was that he stay focused on finding Sam, Daniella and Macy.

When she'd finished upstairs, she returned to the kitchen to start a large roast cooking for dinner that evening. An hour or so before mealtime, she'd add in potatoes and carrots.

During the slow months of July and August, Pamela was scheduled to clean two days a week, Mondays and Wednesdays. Since it was Sat.u.r.day, Marlena would take care of the daily duties to keep the place in shape. Even though Daniella was gone and there were no guests, Daniella would want the routine of maintaining the bed-and-breakfast to continue.

Marlena sank down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, her heart crying out for answers. Where were the Connellys? n.o.body would ever make her believe that they'd just walked away without a word to anyone.

Daniella was living her dream, loving a man she'd never expected to find, working in this business that had been her desire since she'd been in high school and raising her daughter in the coc.o.o.n of family love. No way would Daniella willingly leave her life behind.

Marlena nearly jumped out of her chair as a loud rap sounded on the front door. Her nerves were on edge. Even though there were no guests scheduled, that didn't mean someone couldn't show up.

She relaxed as she approached the front door and saw Thomas Brady on the other side, his pleasant features radiating concern for her. She unlocked the door, and he instantly pulled her into his big arms.

"I just heard about the Connellys," he said as he continued to hold her. "I was working out of town for the past couple of days and got back home only an hour ago."

She was grateful when he finally released her and sat on the sofa in the great room. "How are you doing? Is there something I can do to help? I heard you've got a couple of FBI agents staying here. Do they have a theory on what happened?"

Marlena waited until he'd run out of breath to begin to answer his questions. "I'm doing as well as I can, although I'm terribly afraid for the family. There are three FBI agents staying here, and, no, they don't have a clue yet as to what happened and who might be responsible."

"I don't like the idea of you being here by yourself, especially with n.o.body knowing what happened to Sam, Daniella and Macy," Thomas said. He leaned forward, his brown eyes earnest. "You should move in with me. You would be safe under my roof."

"You know I'm not going to do that," she said softly. "Besides, I just told you there were FBI agents staying here. I also have Cory, so I'm definitely not by myself. Now tell me about the job you just finished."

Thomas was a local carpenter who not only did renovation work but also specialized in spectacular decks and patios. His skills often got him work in the larger cities in the state.

As he told her about his latest job in New Orleans, she listened absently. She had known for some time that Thomas had a thing for her. They'd even gone out on a couple of casual dates.

Sam and Daniella hadn't thought the carpenter was good enough for Marlena, but they didn't have to worry because Marlena knew her future wasn't with Thomas. She just couldn't seem to make Thomas understand that.

She enjoyed his company as a friend and thought he was a nice man, but she had no romantic feelings toward him at all. She'd told him that a hundred different ways over the past month or so, but he was still a frequent visitor and a man who obviously didn't take no easily. He seemed to think that, if she just spent enough time with him, he could change her mind about their relationship.

He couldn't. She'd rather be alone than be in a relationship without real pa.s.sion, without true mutual love. Been there, done that, and the results had nearly destroyed her.

As he rambled on, Marlena realized it was the first time that he sat in the house with her. Normally Sam made it uncomfortable for the man to be anywhere but on the porch when he came to visit Marlena.

Thomas was a big man, with wide shoulders and thighs the size of tree trunks. Physical labor had given him the muscles of a bodybuilder, but he had always been gentle and soft-spoken when around her.

He had to have known that Sam and Daniella didn't approve of him. They hadn't hidden the fact that they thought he was all wrong for her.

Her heart began a slightly faster unsteady beat as she stared at the man on the sofa. Was he so obsessed with her that he had removed the people who disapproved of him? Left her alone in the house and frightened, hoping he could step in and be her support, the man she turned to in her need?

Ridiculous, a tiny voice whispered inside her. You're looking for a bad guy in a friend who has never shown any violent tendencies, a man who has never pushed you to accept any unwanted advances.

Still, she was grateful an hour later when he finally left with the promise to check in with her soon.

Maybe it was time she moved up her schedule for leaving Bachelor Moon.

And maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to mention Thomas's name to Gabriel.

Chapter Four.

Sheriff Jim Thompson was a font of information about the history of Sam and Daniella's relationship, which had formed when Sam had come to the bed-and-breakfast for a vacation.

During that two-week stay, it had become apparent that Daniella was in danger-the first indication the murder of Samantha Walker, the daughter of Mayor Brian Walker.

It had later been determined that the bed-and-breakfast gardener, Frank Mathis, had been obsessed with Daniella and little Macy. He'd killed Samantha Walker as a gift to Daniella, because Samantha had planned on opening a bed-and-breakfast that would directly compete with Daniella's business.

Armed with this little bit of history, the three agents were now on their way to see Brian Walker. "Maybe the old man blamed Daniella for his daughter's murder and exacted some kind of revenge against the family," Jackson said as Gabriel drove down the tree-lined street that would take him to the ex-mayor's house.

"More than two years is a long time to let rage fester," Gabriel replied. "If he does have something to do with the Connellys' disappearance, then there had to have been some sort of trigger."

"A week ago was Samantha Walker's birthday," Andrew said from the backseat where he had a laptop open, checking facts.

"That could definitely be a trigger," Gabriel replied.

"There...on the left," Jackson said, pointing to the house where Brian Walker had lived for the past two years. Gabriel pulled into the driveway of the small, ill-kept house.

Weeds had long ago choked out any semblance of yard and an air of desolation hung upon the faded forest-green ranch house. Gabriel turned off the car engine and the three agents got out.

The heat was nearly overwhelming, pressing against Gabriel's chest and making it difficult to draw a deep breath. He unfastened the safety snap over his gun and knew the two agents behind him had done the same thing. They had no idea what they might be walking into. Brian Walker could be a dangerous man.

Gabriel knocked on the door, his emotions cold as he went into the survival mode that had kept him alive through many heinous cases.

It helped that he knew Jackson and Andrew had his back. He'd worked with them long enough to know they could handle almost any situation that might fly their way.

Gabriel knocked again and heard a faint cry from inside. "I'm coming. Hold your d.a.m.ned horses."

Gabriel drew his gun from his holster, not liking the man's tone nor his delay in opening the door.

When the door finally opened, a man in a dirty white T-shirt and a baggy pair of black slacks stared at Gabriel and then the gun he held in his hand.

"It would be a great blessing in my life if you'd just shoot me, but I would like to know why you're doing it before you pull the trigger," he said.

Gabriel holstered his gun and instead pulled out his identification. "May we come in and have a chat with you, Mr. Walker?"

"Why not? I haven't broken any laws. Drinking too much, being slovenly and wishing yourself dead isn't a crime if it's done in the sanct.i.ty of your own home." He opened the door wider to allow them inside.

The blinds were partially pulled as if to ward off any sunshine and cheerfulness. The living room reeked of alcohol, stale cigarette smoke and old food. Gabriel's initial a.s.sessment was that Brian Walker was a man on a mission: to wish himself dead.

"Mind if my partners take a look around the house?" Gabriel asked as Brian eased into a recliner where he'd created a nest of trash around him.

"Help yourself." Brian waved airily and picked up a gla.s.s with contents that looked like scotch. "I don't suppose I could interest you in a drink."

"Thanks, but no." Gabriel lowered himself to the sofa.

"I bet I know what you're thinking," Brian said, and then took a deep swallow of his drink.

"And what's that?"

"How hard the mighty fall." Brian took another drink and then set the gla.s.s on the nearby end table. "A little over two years ago I was happily married, mayor of this little town and encouraging my beautiful, divorced daughter to follow whatever dream she had in her busy, ditzy head."

"And then Samantha was murdered," Gabriel added, his gut already telling him that this sad, broken man had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Connelly family.

Brian nodded. "And within that moment of insanity in Frank Mathis's violence, he ripped apart my entire world. A month later my wife had left me, I had resigned my position as mayor and had crawled into the bottom of a bottle and a hole that I have no desire to ever crawl out of."

"You've heard that the Connelly family is missing?" Gabriel asked.

"I heard, but if you're here because you think I had something to do with it, then you're wasting your time. I never held Daniella responsible for what happened to Samantha. Daniella was just another victim of Frank Mathis's craziness. The only difference between her and Samantha is that Daniella was lucky enough to survive his insanity."

By that time Andrew and Jackson had returned to the living room, indicating with shakes of their heads that they'd found nothing to link Brian to the Connelly family disappearance.

Minutes later the three agents were back in their car and headed out to check on another man, who Sheriff Thompson had mentioned might have reason to harm Sam Connelly.

"You can't help but feel bad for Brian Walker," Andrew said from the backseat. "Poor guy lost everything he loved-his job, his wife and his daughter."

That's why it is easier not to love, Gabriel thought. Better to keep people at bay, better to not expect kindness or love from anyone else, because when it went bad, it went so terribly bad. Certainly Gabriel had learned, at the absence of his mother's knee and at the end of his father's fist, that some people weren't meant to be loved.

"I think we can pretty much rule Brian out as a suspect," Jackson said. "I'm not sure his alcohol-addled brain could summon the cunning and savvy that our attacker had to possess in order to control the kidnapping of three people all at the same time."

"I definitely agree," Gabriel replied. "Let's see if Ryan Sherman shows a little more potential."

"Ryan Sherman, thirty-four years old," Andrew said from the backseat, once again on the laptop utilizing FBI access to the most information possible about a person.

"He spent two years in prison on an a.s.sault-and-battery charge. He's been out of the joint for the past three years and works as a mechanic at Glen's Garage," Andrew continued.