“You’re a reminder of the past.” Before she could disagree, he said, “That was poorly phrased. I meant it in a positive way, because we go back as friends. And I’m attracted to you.” He knew she was aware of this—how could she not be? But he certainly hadn’t recognized it eighteen years ago, with Reba complicating his emotions. This feeling had crept up on him in the past week. But what he’d said was true. He also realized that what he felt now was more than simply attraction.

“I’m not sure I buy that,” she said. “Anyway, the past is past, if you’ll forgive the cliché.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I can forgive the occasional cliché. And can you forgive me for being such an idiot…that night?” He paused. “That night and a few others,” he acknowledged, thinking of Reba singing “Piece of My Heart.”

“You were in love with her.”

“That was, what? Almost two decades ago? What I realize now is that I missed an opportunity with you.”

He could hear her intake of breath. “Oh, Cord, if you only knew.”

“If you only knew…” He put his key in the ignition.

“Wait. Don’t start driving yet.”

She released her seat belt and leaned toward him. Her arms went around his neck. And that was when they kissed. And kissed again.

ON HIS WAY back to the station, Eli considered the evening and what he’d learned. Interesting situation with Christine Fletcher. Who knew if she was still alive? And if so, where? His own law experience told him she’d probably been living under an assumed name; fake ID was more readily available these days—and had been for years, much longer than a lot of people realized.

What he couldn’t grasp was how she could’ve left two-year-old Shallie behind.

And if he remembered correctly, poor Della had been related to her and been kind enough to give Christine and Shallie a place to stay. Yeah, it was a wreck even then, but still… Christine had abandoned all of them, her child and her family, without a word.

There was certainly something desperate about her disappearance. He snorted at his own conclusion. Obvious or what? His first guess was something related to a man—a partner, either business or, more likely, personal. Could be money. Or both. A man and money.

One thing he knew, having looked through old records at the office, was that no one had called the sheriff at the time of her disappearance.

J.P. had made a good point about pursuing the license plate number, if at all possible. The phone number was probably a hopeless cause. According to Shallie, all this new information came from Russell. So he’d kept his mouth shut all these years.

That sly old slob was certainly harboring some secrets.