Alyssa cupped Holly’s cheek in her hand. ‘There is nothing, absolutely nothing, more important to me than this family. Furthermore, you know that.’

‘I know. That’s why I’m here. Even though I don’t know what this is supposed to mean.’

‘We’ll find out, but for now, I’ll take these with me to work tomorrow and see if we’re lucky enough to lift any prints off of them.’ Alyssa shifted her gaze down the hall to her husband’s closed office door. ‘And we’re going to need to tell Dad.’

Holly frowned. ‘I know.’ With her fingers tapping a staccato rhythm against the counter behind her back, she sucked in a lungful of oxygen through her nose before slowly releasing it in a low whistle through pursed lips. ‘But he’s going to get all weird and insist I move back home.’ Her lips flattened, and she stiffened her spine in a move that was one hundred percent Alyssa. ‘I won’t do it. I’m staying at the duplex.’

‘I don’t doubt it for a second,’ Alyssa said, even if secretly she backed her husband’s stance on this topic.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Monday, October 7

The sky was still dark when Alyssa pulled into the precinct at quarter to six Monday morning, consumed with thoughts of the contents of the envelope delivered to Holly. To her detective’s mind, it was meant to send the clear message that her daughter was being watched. And as suspected, when they’d told Brock, he’d demanded his ‘baby girl’ move home that night, and Alyssa had found herself the buffer between two pieces of dynamite ready to detonate because neither her husband nor her daughter was about to budge. On one hand, she was filled with an immense sense of pride at Holly’s fierce independence, but on the other, she was firmly in the court of playing mama bear so she could more easily protect her cubs. But for now anyway, Holly’s obstinance had won out, much to both Alyssa and Brock’s dismay.

She was still replaying the scene in her mind when she spotted Cord sitting inside his vehicle, head pressed against the headrest, rubbing his temples, and basically looking like death warmed over. Though he’d called last night to tell her he’d be in, that Sara was fine, and the early labor scare had been nothing but a false alarm, she was having second thoughts as to the wisdom of his choice to work today.

She rapped her knuckles on the window, and Cord jerked upright, his hand automatically going to the weapon in his holster before realizing it was her. He unwound his tall frame from the car, lobbing a rare scowl of displeasure her direction.

‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack or just get yourself shot?’